Chapter 2
The Queen's Champion
Gottestag, Gotland
Although the people of Gottestag were crowded along the King's Road on the way to the royal palace of Engelsberg, it was no true hero's welcome for the Witch Queen's Champion. There were no cheers or songs, no dancing or flowers. It would not be beyond the Witch Queen's power to compel these things, but she seemed to favor simple, honest displays of obedience such as this. It had been nine years since she set foot in this city and named it her capital, crowning herself Empress in the Southern Lands. The last sparks of resistance to her reign had long since been snuffed out. Events such as this only served to prove her uncontested dominance.
The horns sounded and the palace gates opened for the procession. Of the nearly twelve thousand in the Champion's army, only a thousand were allowed into the city and of that thousand, only about two hundred were permitted past the palace gates to assemble in the courtyard. Finally, it was only the Champion, the Empusa with him, and his twelve captains who proceeded into the keep for an audience with the Witch Queen.
Engelsberg had taken on a gloomy atmosphere since it was occupied by the Witch Queen. The carmine trappings of House Amalric were replaced by the Witch Queen's royal purple, which appeared nearly black by the pale light of the blue witch-fire that illuminated the halls.
The throne room had all the warmth of a crypt. The Queen's Guard lined the way to the throne, tall spearmen in black armor like the Champion and hooded witches, six and six to the left and six and six to the right. The Witch Queen sat upon the King's throne in her flowing garment of purple linen with a silver diadem on her brow. Like a faithful dog, the Witch Queen's 'son', the malformed Hekation, knelt by her side. Gathered at the base of the throne were the Witch Queen's courtiers, mostly lords and ladies of the conquered kingdom who had betrayed their kings to side with the conqueress to save their rank, their lands and their wealth.
The Champion's captains stopped and knelt a greater distance off while the Champion and the Empusa went as far as the base of the throne before kneeling themselves. In many other courts, those arriving for an audience were announced first, but it was not so in the court of the Witch Queen, for none would be permitted to approach except by her will and so there was no need for an announcement.
"My queen, your Champion has returned."
"As has your servant," the Empusa said.
"My heart is glad to see you, my Champion," the Witch Queen said. "These past months have been lonely without you by my side. Though winter comes to us outside these walls, it is as spring now that you have returned."
The Witch Queen had no such honeyed words to welcome the Empusa and if any would observe her rather than be looking to the Witch Queen, they would see her grit her teeth at this slight.
The Witch Queen then asked her Champion, "How goes the war in the West?"
"Skadia has fallen, my queen," the Champion replied. He then set down a jar he had been carrying under his arm and said, "The head of King Magnus, as you commanded."
"It will make a fine addition to my collection,"the Witch Queen said, "but I only have four of the eight now. Three kings escaped you, my Champion, and one still stands against me."
"The last of the Eight Kingdoms will fall once the spring campaign begins, my queen," the Champion said. "Lothria has held her ground against our forces in the south, but she no longer has Skadia defending her northern marches. There are not men enough to defend north and south at the same time. We will make short work of them."
"Bold words, my Champion," the Witch Queen said, "but your deeds give them weight. I trust we can welcome the solstice with glad hearts and gather our strength for the coming victory." She then rose from the throne. "Andronikos, Gisela, come to my chambers. I would speak with you more there."
Both the Champion and the Empusa bowed their heads low as the Witch Queen withdrew with Hekation hobbling after her. Once she had gone, the two of them rose to their feet and headed to what was known as the Chamberlain's Door, which would take them to the royal quarters. Before they could exit the throne room, however, a voice called out to the Champion.
"Sir Andronikos, on behalf of all the Queen's Court, allow me to congratulate you on your victory in Skadia. By next year's solstice, I hope to see the Eight Kingdoms united at last under our queen's banner."
It was Duke Helmfried, a Criemian noble who was quick to side with the Witch Queen, pledging himself to her before her armies even reached Criemus' borders. He was the unofficial leader among the courtiers who had long sought a rank for himself such as seneschal—nothing that would place him on the battlefield, of course—but as of yet he had not been granted the boon he sought. And that was not the end of his ambition either, which was why there was no love lost between him and the Witch Queen's favorite.
The Champion only acknowledged him with a grudging nod, but the Duke was not done with him yet.
"Once the Eight Kingdoms have all submitted to our queen, we would hope that she will pay more consideration to securing her dynasty. The day for her to take a consort is long overdue."
And there it was. The Witch Queen had many suitors, but Duke Helmfried was the most brazen of them. He claimed descent from several royal houses and made no secret of the fact that he considered himself worthy of being king. He could not claim the favor the Witch Queen had for her Champion, but he was at least pleasing enough to her to remain this close for so long.
"Our queen is beautiful, strong, and wise," the Duke continued, "but for the sake of the realm, we would hope that she would set aside her toy and seek something of greater substance."
The Champion's hand rested on the pommel of the dagger hanging off his belt. It could have been taken for a casual gesture if not for how his fingers curled tensely, as if it were taking the greater part of his willpower not to take hold of the hilt and open up a few new holes in the Duke.
Heedless of the danger, or perhaps daring it on purpose, the Duke pushed further.
"It would not be fit for such a glorious personage to debase herself with some mean cast-off. Mere earthly kings are humble before her, but she deserves the best we mortal men can offer."
This was not yielding a sufficient reaction, so the Duke took up a different angle of approach.
"Oh, how our queen languishes during the long months of campaigning. And if the worst should happen to some creature she regards fondly, how it would pain her. We can only hope a comforter can be found in such times."
If the Duke's aim was to provoke the Champion to anger, he succeeded. The Champion seized him by the doublet, prompting several of the surrounding courtiers to shrink back in fear.
"Lay one finger on her and I'll cut it off," the Champion growled.
Unlike so many of his fellows, the Duke was unafraid, even bold enough to smile smugly at the Champion in spite of his threats.
"Whatever may touch our queen is for her to decide, Sir Andronikos. You would do well to remember that. It would be a pity if one so dear to her would displease her."
"Andronikos," the Empusa hissed. "Come along. Our Lady awaits."
The Champion released the Duke and without another word, he and the Empusa exited the throne room.
As they were making their way down the narrow corridor, the Empusa said to the Champion, "Remember your place, dog. You are only to bite when your mistress commands it."
The Champion said nothing. Though the Empusa would not likely have enjoyed whatever the Champion might have said to her, being ignored seemed to annoy her more, but you would see the sun rise in the west before she could be found in a good mood.
A witch and spearman pair of the Queen's Guard stood outside the door to the Witch Queen's chambers. In the antechamber was Hekation and a chamber maid. Hekation's disfigured face brightened when he saw the Champion. He could not form words, but those familiar with him could gather his general meaning by the tone of his grunts.
"Hello there, little prince," the Champion said warmly.
The Champion held up his hand and Hekation drew back his crooked arm to deliver a solid punch.
"A fine hit, my prince!" the Champion said. "I can rest easy knowing your mother has you protecting her."
Hekation proudly puffed up his chest. His mouth was twisted in as close an approximation of a smile as he could manage. The chamber maid dutifully wiped away the drool that dribbled down his chin. In contrast with the Champion's kind regard for the unfortunate boy, the Empusa merely sneered in disgust.
The Champion and the Empusa walked into the bedchamber just as the Witch Queen was being dressed in a simple gown by a pair of maids. The timing was almost certainly deliberate.
The Witch Queen turned around, waving off the maids when they moved to lace up the front. As such, the gown was left to hang loosely off her shoulders, open nearly down to the navel. The Empusa could not easily hide her annoyance at the display.
"Leave us," the Witch Queen said to the maids, who curtseyed and promptly withdrew. Once they were gone, the Witch Queen took up a goblet of wine and drank from it before saying, "Now we can speak more freely."
She set down the goblet, then walked over to the Empusa, getting very close, and asked her, "Have you been taking liberties with my Champion, Gisela?"
"No, my lady," the Empusa replied stiffly.
The Witch Queen pressed herself against the Empusa and drew in a long, slow breath through her nostrils. She did this once on the Empusa's left side and again on her right. When that was done, she took a step back, saying, "And so it is. I was right to choose you for Andronikos' army. You are fair enough of face and form, but your heart is more twisted and ugly than my poor dear Hekation. I have nothing to fear of my Champion ever loving one such as you. You are dismissed."
The Empusa bowed and withdrew. Some poor creature would have to bear the brunt of her frustrations later, but that was a concern for another time and another place. Now that it was just the two of them, the Witch Queen smiled. Not the stiff, formal smile she showed in the throne room but the smile of a frolicksome girl with more than a little bit of a temptress to her.
"How long are you going to keep that helmet on, beloved?" she asked her Champion.
The Champion unbuckled the chinstrap and removed his helmet. The squire Maus had grown into his manhood favorably, but the years of campaigning had left their mark. He had a weariness to him you would expect in a much older man and a melancholy that was no clearer than when he would look on the one who was outwardly the woman he loved but inwardly an ancient, proud goddess who could be warm as a hearthfire one moment and cold as hoarfrost the next.
The Witch Queen took her Champion's helmet from him and set it aside, then embraced him and began kissing him eagerly. He did not respond in kind, though, yet he did not resist her either. Such a one-sided exercise was not half so satisfying, prompting her to stop when she saw her affections were not being returned.
"We have been apart for so long," the Witch Queen said. "Why are you so cold to me, my love?"
"You kiss me with Loreley's lips, my queen," the Champion said, "but you are not Loreley."
"How many times must I tell you, beloved? I did not kill your Loreley when I took on this flesh. She and I are one. Why do you think that I, who never looked twice at a man in my old life; I, who was chaste as ice, came to love you? It is her love for you.
The Witch Queen took the Champion's hand and placed it on her chest.
"You are not being untrue to her by embracing me. This heart, this is the same heart that has loved you since you were a child."
"Would that I could hear that from her, in her own words," the Champion replied.
"It cannot be," the Witch Queen said. "We are of one substance. She is not apart from me. She is a part of me, and I of her."
The Champion said nothing.
"You know I could use my arts to compel you to do whatever I wish," the Witch Queen said, "but I do not. I want you to love me, fully and freely. I will accept nothing less. I have not hesitated to put kingdoms under my feet, to crush any who would defy me. I deny myself nothing my heart desires, and yet I am patient with you. Do you not see this as the power of love? Loreley's love for you. My love for you."
Such entreaties were nothing new and the Champion had wavered little in all this time. Still, he was not made of stone. He could not resist her forever. Eventually his justifications for refraining would wear too thin to stand. That day was not far off and the Witch Queen knew it.
"I saw your exchange with Duke Helmfried," she said. "He and others like him would try to woo me, thinking they can make me subject to them. Me! Are they so blind that they think they can make me theirs? Surely they are. No man shall rule over me and my kingdom. Except for you, beloved. For you, I would bow my head. For you I would give all that I have, all that I am.
"Those others, they are fools, but they are not total fools. They are right that I should establish my dynasty. Though I have the power to conquer Death, I have died once before and may yet die again. Were I to leave a legacy on this earth, it would not take so long to return should I taste death a second time."
The Witch Queen drew herself close to her Champion once more.
"Lothria," she said. "Lothria will be my bride price. Win the last of the Eight Kingdoms for me and you shall be my king and rule as Emperor in the South. Then, together we will go north and east and west, until all the world kneels before us. Princes and princesses of your seed and their generations shall rule our domains. All power under the heavens shall be ours and then the very heavens themselves will quake as we march to claim them as well."
Were it any other, such ambitions would be nothing more than the ravings of a lunatic, but with all the Witch Queen had accomplished thus far, was anything impossible for her? So far, there were none who could even come close to being a match for her. If such a power existed in the world, it had not shown itself yet.
"But first Lothria," the Champion said.
"Yes," the Witch Queen replied. "First Lothria."
She rubbed her leg against his.
"Hekation could use a brother or a sister," she said. "I would like our firstborn to be a daughter. I will give you sons after that. It is good for a young man to have an elder sister to guide him."
The Champion's mind went to his own experience, the youngest of nine with five brothers and three sisters over him.
"Sisters will either dote too much or be cruel to vent their ire with the male sex," he said. "Neither is good for raising strong men of chivalry."
"I imagine you were doted on," the Witch Queen said. "I doubt you knew many girls who were cruel to you."
"Doted on so much I was called the fourth daughter instead of the sixth son," the Champion replied. "It was a relief when I was sent away."
The Witch Queen ran her hand along the line of the chest muscle molded into the Champion's cuirass.
"You do not speak truly, beloved," she said. "You miss them even now. Shall I send for them?"
"They are dead, like as not," the Champion said, "and if they do live, they would hate me as a traitor. Leave them be, I pray, be they living or be they dead."
"I shall be for you a mother and a sister, a lover and a wife all," the Witch Queen said. "You will need no other woman in your life. I am your all."
She began kissing him again. Even if he did not return her kisses now, she was confident that the day was not far off when he would pour out his heart to her in full.