The Queen's Poisoner
Page 36
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Owen scrunched up his face. “That’s not fair!”
Ankarette smiled. “You’re right. It wasn’t. And the king ended up losing his crown to the duke because of it. One day, years later, some of the new king’s men began to rebel against him. They created an army to depose him.”
“Why? Had the king done something to them?”
“Yes, but it wasn’t over money. What happened was he did not show them enough gratitude. People can be strange sometimes, Owen. They will rebel for small reasons. The king was old and sick at the time, so he could not lead his armies anymore. He sent one of his sons to lead it in his place. When his son arrived, the leaders of the rebels tried to talk to him first in the hopes of avoiding a battle, which would have killed many people on both sides. The prince listened to their complaints and made promises in his father’s name. He told them that if they disbanded the army, they would be heard and their problems would be solved. The rebels listened . . . and they believed him because he swore an oath of honor in the king’s name. The young prince suggested that both armies disband at the same time. The soldiers would go home and no one would be injured or killed. Do you know what happened next, Owen?”
“No,” he said. He had never heard this story before.
“The prince sent his captain out, but he did not disband his army. They waited until the other army was disbanded and the soldiers were leaving. Then they hunted down what remained of the rebels and started killing them as they escaped. The leaders were all taken to the river and drowned because they were wearing heavy armor. This is a sad story, is it not, Owen?”
Owen’s heart had filled with horror. “But . . . but . . . the prince lied!”
Ankarette nodded, her expression sad. “That is the way of princes and power, Owen. That is the nature of the kingdom of Ceredigion. In truth, it is the nature and disposition of most men. So think on this. If you were one of the rebel leaders and the prince promised you forgiveness and reward, it would matter, very much, if you had discernment. He needed to make a decision based on what type of man he believed the prince to be. Was he a man of honor? Or was he willing to say anything, do anything to help his father keep his crown?” She folded her hands together. “That is why discernment is the most important thing you can learn, Owen. It takes time and experience. Sadly, one wrong judgment can lead to . . . well, you heard the end of the story.”
Owen had no doubt that King Severn was like the prince who had so ruthlessly killed his enemies. He had made Owen promises and promptly broken them. He would say or do anything to maintain his power. Maybe that’s what Ankarette was trying to teach him.
She smoothed her silk skirts. “Why don’t you go back? Jewel will awaken soon and then you can have some supper. I hope to see you later tonight.”
He smiled and rose, feeling little tingles in his feet from the way he had been sitting. He gave her a hug—she liked it when he did—and she patted his back and kissed his cheek.
“You really are a darling little boy,” she whispered, grazing her finger down his cheek.
“Have you thought of a way yet?” he pressed.
“No, but I have some ideas. I’ll keep thinking as I work.” She reached for her needles and embroidery.
Owen went back down the narrow stairwell and slipped down the secret corridors. He found Jewel in the room, still snoring softly. He waited a moment, listening to her breathing, and then grabbed a book and read it until she awakened with a fitful snort.
“I’m hungry,” Owen said, slamming the book shut and putting it away. “I’ll meet you at the kitchen.”
Without waiting for her reply, he dashed out of the room, hearing her scold and chide him as he went. “Wait for my old bones, lad! Wait a moment! Owen Satchel, you get back here! Owen!”
As he rushed around the corner, he collided with Dunsdworth, who was coming the other way. The older boy grunted, “Watch where—oh, it’s you! Kisky!” He seized Owen’s arm, clearly intent on giving him bruises.
Owen, almost without thinking, grabbed Dunsdworth’s little finger and yanked backward. It was something Ankarette had taught him about the body and its weak points. The little finger wasn’t easy to grab, especially if someone was expecting it, but Dunsdworth wasn’t. He yelped in pain and surprise and released his grip. Free, the wiry little boy started running toward the kitchen.
“You little urchin!” Dunsdworth bellowed, starting after him at a run.
Owen’s stomach twisted with fear as he ran down the corridor, cursing himself for not having waited for Jewel. It was a long way to the kitchen, and Dunsdworth’s legs were much longer.
Ankarette smiled. “You’re right. It wasn’t. And the king ended up losing his crown to the duke because of it. One day, years later, some of the new king’s men began to rebel against him. They created an army to depose him.”
“Why? Had the king done something to them?”
“Yes, but it wasn’t over money. What happened was he did not show them enough gratitude. People can be strange sometimes, Owen. They will rebel for small reasons. The king was old and sick at the time, so he could not lead his armies anymore. He sent one of his sons to lead it in his place. When his son arrived, the leaders of the rebels tried to talk to him first in the hopes of avoiding a battle, which would have killed many people on both sides. The prince listened to their complaints and made promises in his father’s name. He told them that if they disbanded the army, they would be heard and their problems would be solved. The rebels listened . . . and they believed him because he swore an oath of honor in the king’s name. The young prince suggested that both armies disband at the same time. The soldiers would go home and no one would be injured or killed. Do you know what happened next, Owen?”
“No,” he said. He had never heard this story before.
“The prince sent his captain out, but he did not disband his army. They waited until the other army was disbanded and the soldiers were leaving. Then they hunted down what remained of the rebels and started killing them as they escaped. The leaders were all taken to the river and drowned because they were wearing heavy armor. This is a sad story, is it not, Owen?”
Owen’s heart had filled with horror. “But . . . but . . . the prince lied!”
Ankarette nodded, her expression sad. “That is the way of princes and power, Owen. That is the nature of the kingdom of Ceredigion. In truth, it is the nature and disposition of most men. So think on this. If you were one of the rebel leaders and the prince promised you forgiveness and reward, it would matter, very much, if you had discernment. He needed to make a decision based on what type of man he believed the prince to be. Was he a man of honor? Or was he willing to say anything, do anything to help his father keep his crown?” She folded her hands together. “That is why discernment is the most important thing you can learn, Owen. It takes time and experience. Sadly, one wrong judgment can lead to . . . well, you heard the end of the story.”
Owen had no doubt that King Severn was like the prince who had so ruthlessly killed his enemies. He had made Owen promises and promptly broken them. He would say or do anything to maintain his power. Maybe that’s what Ankarette was trying to teach him.
She smoothed her silk skirts. “Why don’t you go back? Jewel will awaken soon and then you can have some supper. I hope to see you later tonight.”
He smiled and rose, feeling little tingles in his feet from the way he had been sitting. He gave her a hug—she liked it when he did—and she patted his back and kissed his cheek.
“You really are a darling little boy,” she whispered, grazing her finger down his cheek.
“Have you thought of a way yet?” he pressed.
“No, but I have some ideas. I’ll keep thinking as I work.” She reached for her needles and embroidery.
Owen went back down the narrow stairwell and slipped down the secret corridors. He found Jewel in the room, still snoring softly. He waited a moment, listening to her breathing, and then grabbed a book and read it until she awakened with a fitful snort.
“I’m hungry,” Owen said, slamming the book shut and putting it away. “I’ll meet you at the kitchen.”
Without waiting for her reply, he dashed out of the room, hearing her scold and chide him as he went. “Wait for my old bones, lad! Wait a moment! Owen Satchel, you get back here! Owen!”
As he rushed around the corner, he collided with Dunsdworth, who was coming the other way. The older boy grunted, “Watch where—oh, it’s you! Kisky!” He seized Owen’s arm, clearly intent on giving him bruises.
Owen, almost without thinking, grabbed Dunsdworth’s little finger and yanked backward. It was something Ankarette had taught him about the body and its weak points. The little finger wasn’t easy to grab, especially if someone was expecting it, but Dunsdworth wasn’t. He yelped in pain and surprise and released his grip. Free, the wiry little boy started running toward the kitchen.
“You little urchin!” Dunsdworth bellowed, starting after him at a run.
Owen’s stomach twisted with fear as he ran down the corridor, cursing himself for not having waited for Jewel. It was a long way to the kitchen, and Dunsdworth’s legs were much longer.
