Queen of Sorrows--Part Three, Chapter Three

[Evie]

Previous chapter: https://rhemuthcastle.com/index.php/topic,3485.0.html


Chapter Three

June 17, 1465
Horthánthy
The Zöldhegy Road
The darkest hours before dawn

The two drays laden with barrels of wine moved slowly up the winding path towards the palace at the crest of the Great Hill of Orsal. Horses were not permitted to traverse up and down the narrow street, which was little more than a wide footpath in certain sections along the route which the pedestrians of Orsal had to share with the ubiquitous jinrikisha, the hand-drawn carts used to convey passengers, but on occasion an exception was made for goats or mules drawing carts of varying sorts to convey supplies up to the Palace. Fortunately at this hour of the morning, there were no jinrikisha porters or pedestrians out and about, only a few solitary carters here and there to bear witness to their slow ascent towards the Palace, most of the other carters descending rather than ascending now, having already unladen their burdens in the Palace storerooms which had been brought up earlier from Horthánthy's port.

Two of his men-at-arms who came from common stock had taken on the appearance of draymen, charged with leading the mules with their expensive cargo of Fianna wine up the winding slope. Each dray was laden with four barrels, each stamped with the vintner's mark of a prestigious vineyard in Fianna, and walking before and behind the small two-dray convoy were two other men dressed as hired guards for the Hort's imported wine shipment.

Joss had intended to lead the way dressed as one of the guards, but his men had deemed him too conspicuous-looking, even though he had taken the precaution of altering his features and dimming his golden blond hair to a mousey brown. He carried himself like a nobleman, they said, which he had to admit was hardly surprising, since there had never been a moment in his life when he hadn't been a Duke's son, then an Earl in his own right, and now Corwyn's Duke. Still, he had to concede they were probably right, and that if anyone happened to be watching their slow progress up the Zöldhegy Road, his presence at the front of the small procession of draymen was more likely to draw others' attention to them than help them blend in with their surroundings, so like the majority of his other men, he was currently stuffed inside a wine cask. An otherwise empty cask, of course. Fortunately it had not been filled very recently, or Lord Davorin might be able to detect his presence upon their arrival just by using his nose.

The winding journey up the Great Hill seemed to take forever despite the lack of traffic on the road, and Joss was very glad he was not particularly susceptible to motion sickness, for despite having taken the precaution of creating a few inconspicuous holes in each barrel, both to facilitate air flow for breathing and so that they might have some means of looking out, the interior of the barrel was hot and stuffy. The lingering Orsalian summer heat was not doing them any favors despite it being many hours after sunset and the heights being cooler than the port town below. Just as he was beginning to think the plan was unworkable and that they ought to give up the attempt and try some other means of entering the palace, the mules drew the drays around one more bend in the road, and he could see the large gate at the entrance of the Palace storerooms in the near distance ahead.

#

June 17, 1465
Horthánthy
The Royal Nursery
Just before dawn

It had taken a surprisingly long time for the mercenaries of the Corps Phénix to get past the barricades that were blocking the entrance to the Royal Nursery. The heavy palace doors had been locked, which they had expected, and the hinge pins were on the inside, making it impossible for them to simply remove the doors from the door frames to gain access to the rooms beyond. That meant the doors were also meant to open inwards, but once the lock had been skillfully picked by one of the Deryni among their company, the doors themselves turned out to be barred as well, some sort of sturdy plank or similar object having been thrust through both door handles to keep them from being pushed open.

That also could be dealt with, although removing the obstacle took more time. A sturdy saw was brought up from one of the carpenter workrooms, and with some effort the mercenaries were eventually able to saw through the wooden bar they could see through the small gap between the doors. At that point, only the smaller effort of combining their weight to push the large doors open despite the piles of furniture stacked up against them was required.

By that point, Lord Davorin and his daughter had retired for the night, but as their employer had given them instructions to inform him once the Nursery had been breached, one of their number was sent to fetch him back once they'd managed to gain entry into the space. It was easy enough to find the children and their minders once they had done so; they were in the very last chamber in the small row of joined rooms, surrounded by glowing wards. As the children slept on makeshift pallets made from their cradle or crib mattresses, the adults seated around them within the wards glared up at the mercenaries surrounding them through the luminescent glow.

Lord Davorin barked a reluctant laugh when he found them thus a quarter of an hour later. He peered in at the Queen's Mistress of the Robes, her husband the priest, and the three Tralian nursemaids guarding the sleeping children.  "Nice work! I see you didn't intend to make this easy for me."

Lady Genevieve smiled sweetly up at him. "Rot in hell, Lord Davorin." Beside her, her husband shot her a look of warning.

"Perhaps someday, but not today," the would-be usurper replied, circling the glowing wards like a cat circling his prey. "Tell me, my lovely one, just how much food and water did you manage to squirrel away in there with you? Or breech clouts for the babies? A chamber pot? Will it be enough to go around? We're in no hurry out here."

Genevieve's fake smile slowly faded as she realized the protective dome her charges were under was just as effective at preventing her from accessing those necessities as it was at keeping Lord Davorin and his hired men at bay. She had thought to bring a few bags hastily stuffed with nappies and snacks into the circle before raising the wards, but there wouldn't be enough to last for more than a few hours, or maybe a day at the most. It was the Lord Chief Chamberlain's turn to smile.

#

June 17, 1465
Somewhere in the Lendour Mountains
The Camberian Council chamber
Dawn

Lord Geoffrey Arilan had just stepped off the portal stone in the underground warded structure that housed the Camberian Council chamber when, much to his surprise, he sensed the silent Call of another Council member summoning the others to an emergency Council. Wondering who else had arrived here before him and why, for this meeting was not one that had been planned in advance, he stepped through the double doors to discover Lord Alexei Petrovich of Beldouria already seated in his customary place, his gaze intently focused on the summoning crystal overhead.

As Lord Alexei completed the summons and noticed his arrival, Lord Geoffrey gave him a sardonic smile. "I see you've saved me the effort. May I ask what brings you here?"

The Beldourian Patriarch's brother swept his hand towards Geoffrey's seat. "In good time, my friend. Let's wait for the others to arrive so I need only tell the tale once. I suspect your reason for being here so early is closely related to mine, at least if you are here regarding matters in Orsal and Tralia."

Geoffrey confirmed his fellow Councilor's guess with a curt nod. The doors opened again, and several times after that in the next few minutes as other members of the Council arrived and took their places.

At last their number was complete, Lady Emmanuelle de la Flamme being the last of the members to arrive, her hair looking as though it had been braided back in haste and her clothing in some disarray, shooting Lord Alexei a disgruntled look as she took her seat. "This had better be important, Alexei," said the Fallonese courtesan. "I'm at a loss to know how I'm meant to explain my hasty disappearance to the Comte d'Enghieux the next time I see him!"

"Maybe he'll take it as a not so subtle hint that his performance as a bed partner needs to improve if he wishes to see you in future," the Nabil Da'ud joked, earning himself a withering glare.

Alexei suppressed a smile as he cleared his throat, drawing everyone's attention back to himself. "I'm truly sorry for your inconvenience, Emmanuelle, but I'm afraid a matter has come up that is of far greater import than le Comte d'Enghieux's injured pride. Yesterday evening, the King of Beldouria received a most unexpected visitor. Are the rest of you at least marginally aware of who Comte Réhon-Rogan von Horthy de Nouveau-Richemont is, and why he is of some importance in Orsal and Tralia despite his preference to avoid Court politics as much as possible?"

"He's the Hort's heir, isn't he?" asked Aoife of Llyr. "Or at least he was until the recent birth of the new Hortic Prince." She glanced at Lord Geoffrey. "What's the wee lad's name again? Létald, is it?"

Geoffrey nodded. Alexei continued. "Indeed he is, or rather was, the Hortic Heir, and even with little Létald the Heir Apparent now, Réhon-Rogan is still second in line to the Hortic Throne, which means that certain other parties, presumably not including little Létald, would very much prefer him to be dead. There was an attack on Réhon-Rogan's chateau at Nouveau-Richemont yesterday in the early afternoon by a band of men who were wearing the badges and colors of the Corps Phénix."

He waited a moment for the news to sink in, then added, "Réhon-Rogan and his family were able to escape, using their private portal to travel to his wife's family's home in Furstánán. From there, his mother-by-marriage, fearing they would still be unsafe so close to the Tralian border, arranged for them to be brought directly to Beldour to make a formal appeal to King Miklos for assistance. Réhon-Rogan suspects the attempt on his life was likely the spearhead to even greater ambitions."

"What sort of ambitions?" asked Mikhail of Andelon, although his expression suggested he had already guessed at the answer.

"Réhon-Rogan believes the Corps was likely hired by Lord Davorin in hopes that if something unfortunate were to happen to The Hort in the near future, he would end up in the very fortunate position of becoming Létald's regent...at least until conditions are right for Davorin to rid himself of Létald as well and become the next Hort."

"And speaking of something unfortunate happening to the Hort of Orsal, that brings me to my own news," said Lord Geoffrey quietly. "But before I get into that, please continue with what you were saying, Alexei."

The other counselors cast swift, speculative glances towards Geoffrey briefly before returning their focus to what Alexei was sharing, their attention fully captured now as the gravity of the situation had begun to sink in.

"King Miklos, not liking at all the prospect of a sudden regime change happening right on his doorstep, much less one that could have Lord Davorin at the helm, very quickly responded with a promise of aid to the Tralian Comte, including a number of warships sailing down the Beldour River as we speak, purportedly just to ensure a safe homecoming for Comte Réhon-Rogan and to deal with any lingering Corps Phénix mercenaries who might still be in the area of Nouveau-Richemont making nuisances of themselves, but since Orsalis and Horthánthy are only a short distance farther down the coast...." He gave an expressive shrug. "They are also very likely to stop in for a brief visit with their neighbor the Hort–whoever that might happen to be at this particular moment–just to make sure everything is still going along swimmingly in the Hortic Court."

Mikhail cracked a faint smile. "It's good to have caring neighbors."

"And that, I suspect, brings up to whatever it is Lord Geoffrey has to share," said Alexei, leaning back in his chair, as keenly attentive to Geoffrey's news as everyone else at the table, since Geoffrey had not shared even a hint of it with him yet.

Geoffrey took a quick look around the table. "The King of Gwynedd also received two unexpected visits late last night. The one more closely related to Lord Alexei's news was the visit from his sister, the Hortic Queen." He paused, waiting for the stir of speculation to die down. "The Hort is dead; long live the Hort."

There was a hushed silence. Mikhail broke it at last. "Long live Hort Létald, I hope? Not Hort Davorin?"

Geoffrey sighed. "Your guesses are as good as mine or hers at this point. Queen Miranda was able to escape the Palace at Horthánthy along with one of her ladies-in-waiting by means of a portal adjacent to her apartment, but as that apartment's guards were under attack by the Hort's assassins at the time, she did not know how much longer her men would be able to hold them out. She left for a two-fold purpose–to summon help, and also to get yet another potential claimant to the Hortic Throne to safety." He waited for the surprised murmur to die down again before clarifying. "Adémar von Horthy had an illegitimate son by one of the Queen's ladies, but according to Orsal and Tralian law, the boy can inherit the throne if there are no living legitimate claimants. Lord Davorin was only the fourth in line, not the third. So for Davorin to claim the throne for himself, he would first have to eliminate Comte Réhon-Rogan and then both boys. A few years ago Adémar had a separate nursery set up for his legitimate children, one which was located on the same floor as the Queen's Apartment, but unfortunately there was no way to get from that area of the Palace to the Nursery without first passing through the guard room that protected both. And of course the guard room at the entrance to both areas was the first place the enemy went after assassinating the Hort. Queen Miranda was able to use her Deryni powers to send a warning to the children's guardians in the Nursery, but no one knows at this time if they have managed to keep the enemy forces out or find some means of escape with the Hortic heir and princesses."

"You keep referring to them as 'the enemy,' not 'Lord Davorin and his men,'" the Gräfin Violette de Rhupen, sister to the Prince of Thuria, observed. "Do you have some reason to believe that they are not one and the same?"

"None," said Lord Geoffrey, "except that my King only has the word of two witnesses who didn't actually see the attackers prior to fleeing the Palace at Horthánthy. Queen Miranda sensed the Hort's death, and both ladies heard what sounded like a sizable group of men bursting through the guard room doors mere moments later, followed by sounds of fighting, but their escape route didn't take them past where they could see the actual attackers or what they were wearing. So we have no absolute proof at this time that Davorin was behind the coup. However, the Hortic Queen believes they are most likely Lord Davorin's men, or at least men temporarily hired by Lord Davorin to help him assume the Regency, with an eye towards taking the throne itself at a later time."

"What is to stop him–or whoever is responsible, although I agree Davorin is the most likely culprit–from simply killing Adémar's infant heir now, rather than waiting until later?" the Gräfin asked.

"Absolutely nothing, unfortunately, aside from his own self-interest," said Geoffrey. "If Davorin intends on stealing the throne directly, he would need to devise a very convincing cover story indeed to convince the populace of Orsal and Tralia that in the space of a few days, the Hort dropped dead of natural causes, as did Prince Létald and Réhon-Rogan, at a time where there is no convenient pestilence sweeping through the land that could be blamed for the odd coincidence. The other boy's death might be easier to conceal, as very few people are even aware of his existence, yet 'very few' is not the same thing as 'no one.' Either Lord Davorin or his daughter Jesaminda–a particular rival of young Dmitri's mother for the late Hort's affections–are suspected of attempting to poison little Dmitri three years ago, and that attempt resulted in the death of the boy's sister instead. Adémar's Queen had been trying to convince him for years that Davorin was likely to attempt something of this sort, and more recently, so had I."

"The late Hort was a stubborn bastard," Aoife of Llyr observed with a wry smile. "If you'd been a scantily dressed woman, he might have at least humored you by pretending to pay attention, but you would have needed to convince him the notion was his own idea before he'd consider it further. Ask me how I know." She chuckled, her last visit to the Hort's Palace, accompanied by Nabil Da'ud and Devyn McLain, a few months earlier still fresh in her memory.  "Still, he didn't deserve this, or at least Queen Miranda certainly doesn't!"

"So no one knows as of yet if the Royal Nursery has been breached," mused the Nabil. "What of the Queen's other ladies-in-waiting? Were they able to escape as well?"

"Again, unknown," said Lord Geoffrey. "Another lady-in-waiting assisted the Queen and Dmitri's mother in bringing them through the Portal to Dmitri's mother's country home, where they were able to rescue the boy. From there, that lady returned to Horthánthy Palace with the stated intent on bringing the other ladies through, while Queen Miranda continued on to a portal in Coroth along with the boy and his mother to inform the Duke of Corwyn first of what had happened and request his assistance. They continued straight on from there to Rhemuth. So again, they didn't linger long enough to see if the other lady was successful in her attempt to rescue others from Horthánthy."

"Understandable," said King Mikhail. "If the other lady went back and was captured, her captors would likely force her to bring them to where she had taken the Queen and the other lady, thus discovering the boy as well, if they'd remained there rather than continuing on into Gwynedd. You've said the boy's name is Dmitri–a common enough Tralian name, to be sure. Who is his mother?"

Geoffrey smiled. "I was hoping you wouldn't ask. I'm under strict instructions not to say." At Mikhail's upraised eyebrow, he added, "I'm pretty certain my King suspected I was heading here next after leaving the emergency Royal Council meeting where I learned of all this. His sister has very good reason to trust no one at the moment, and while I'm sure she is less than thrilled about her late husband having a by-blow son, she intends to protect the child and his mother. So Nicholas has requested and required that I share the news of the coup itself with anyone who might be able to lend their assistance, but has specifically forbidden me to name Dmitri's mother. However, he did happen to forget to forbid me not to mention Dmitri's name." He gave a philosophical shrug. "There, at least now I've ensured that neither he nor the rest of you will be entirely happy with me."

"All right, fair enough," said King Mikhail, "but unless Queen Miranda intends to return to that country house by herself–which may or may not be overrun by mercenaries hunting for her by now–how is anyone meant to determine if there are other escaped ladies from Horthánthy Palace hiding out there in need of rescue?"

Geoffrey swore under his breath. "Good point. I suppose I ought to add that to my ever-growing list of things to check into in my nonexistent spare time."

The Banoidhre leaned back in her chair, eyeing Lord Geoffrey with a speculative look. "Earlier on, you mentioned two unexpected visitors to King Nicholas. If the first was Queen Miranda with the news of the Hort's death and the coup, who was the second? Or were you simply referring to Dmitri's mother?"

Geoffrey briefly buried his face in both hands, scrubbing at it briskly. "Forgive me, my lords and ladies, I'm extremely sleep deprived this morning and clearly not thinking at my sharpest!" He looked back up at them. "The second visitor was Prince Camber, unexpectedly back early from what was meant to be an overnight visit to Joux with the Héritière Alixa and her entourage. Evidently King Renier, despite being allegedly paralyzed from the neck down, has either managed to escape or has been abducted from the Palace at Trebaçeaux, no one knows how or why. The Prince returned to Joux once the Council meeting was adjourned, and has likely returned to Gwynedd with the Héritière and the rest of her party by now, so hopefully I will have more to share about that news soon, but for now all I have is that the King plans to send a few extra ships to Horthánthy to provide additional support for the Duke of Corwyn and his warships, and send other ships to patrol the Jouvian shoreline, with any additional action to be determined once more is known about Renier's intentions, or perhaps those of his captors."

Gräfin Violette of Thuria, the missing King's nearest neighbor, stared at the Gwyneddan intelligencer. "That's a rather big chunk of information to simply forget to mention, Geoff!  Bloody freaking hell!"

#

June 17, 1465
Horthánthy Palace
A storeroom in an undercroft
Later in the morning

The fake draymen and their guards had offloaded the barrels purportedly filled with wine in the Hort's wine cellars, the cellarer distractedly pointing them in the general direction of where shipments from Fianna were meant to go, but his attention clearly elsewhere. As Joss and his men decanted themselves from their unusual mode of transportation, once the two guards had given them the all-clear, the four Deryni among them swiftly cast a form of glamour over themselves and their human brothers-in-arms. As concealment served, it was far from perfect, and was unlikely to prevent them from going unnoticed in broad daylight, but here in the torchlit shadows, it would suffice, especially if they took careful pains not to do anything that might attract special notice. It would not hide them so much as simply make them too uninteresting to take any note of, so long as they did not do anything to draw closer attention to themselves. It was a skill the small band of brothers-in-arms had perfected during the recent war when they had used it to scout out enemy encampments or evade enemy scouts themselves. These men happened to be extremely good at the job. Those who were less skilled had not survived the war.

Now they loitered near one of the servants' entrances, looking like any other band of manservants who were huddled together belowstairs doing their best to avoid tiresome duties assigned by their demanding betters above ground. But they were huddled in this particular intersection of serving passages for a reason. They had discovered that sound traveled down the service tunnels fairly clearly, clearly enough for even the humans among them to catch much of what was said and for the Deryni to understand nearly all of what the various voices drifting towards them had to say. And the Palace was rife with speculation and rumor this morning.

"...heard it was a lady what done 'im in," one man's voice said, "though to my mind, Lady Marija ain't the sort to do such a thing. Mebbe Jesaminda, now there's a bold 'un! But she ain't been 'is favorite in ages, one o' the chambermaids said, an' mad as blazes she is about that too! Mebbe she figured if she couldn't have 'im, Lady Marija wasn't goin' to either."

"Naw, 'tweren't a paramour, t'was his Queen done him in, I heard tell! Caught 'im in the act with th' beautiful Lady M, she did, an' next thing he knew, he had a knife straight in his heart...."

"An' then what, Queen Miranda ran off together with Lady Marija? I think not!" said another voice, cackling at the very idea.

"None of our business, men, best t' keep our heads down, yeah? Lord Davorin be struttin' around like a cockerel this morning, I heard tell, an' with a surly lookin' lot of Jouvians combing through th' Royal apartment block up to God only knows what, with them as ought to be in there tidyin' up and bringin' up breakfasts bein' firmly shut out this mornin' and told to be about their business–as if bein' up in there of a mornin' ain't their business! I'm curious as th' next man 'bout what's goin' on, but I ain't about to get on th' wrong side of Lord Fancy Pants, oh no sir!"

It was all useful information for Joss and his men, even if obviously not all of it was true. Yet there were likely glimmers of truth scattered throughout the rumors they overheard. The trick would be sorting out genuine facts from fiction, and in this case Truth-Reading would not be very helpful, as each manservant was fully convinced of the veracity of his own version of the tale being spread about the previous night's events. Joss wondered if the 'surly lot of Jouvians' spotted in the company of Lord Davorin might be one of the various mercenary corps available for hire. Miranda hadn't mentioned professional soldiers being among the suspected usurper's hired men, but then again, how would she have known the nationality and occupation of brigands attempting to batter down her door and force their way past her guardsmen in another chamber out of sight from where she and her ladies were hiding?

"Naw, best not to get on th' wrong side o' Lord Davorin," said someone else. "He had me cousin Ivan whipped just f'r missin' a spot in shinin' 'is boots. A harsh man, Lord Davorin! I'm sure 'e'll tell us what's up soon enough, an' we're best t' keep our noses out an' believe whatever he tells us, whether we really do believe it or no. He ain't above hangin' a man outta sheer meanness. The Hort that was, he didn't hold wi' that, a man had t' earn his execution wi' him, but now 'at Lord Davorin's in charge, who knows what 'e'll do?"

"He ain't, though, is 'e?" asked another man. "If th' Hort's dead, that means Prince Létald's th' new Hort, an' Comte Réhon-Rogan is Regent now, ain't he? He'll get this mess sorted once he gets here."

"Ain't you th' innocent?" one of the other men replied. "You really think Davorin's gonna just hand everything over to the Comte, just like that? We're in for an interestin' ride, boys! Imagine a jinrikisha gettin' loose and rolling straight off Zöldhegy, tha's what we're in for! I ain't stickin' 'round f'r it. I'm f'r home tonight as soon as I get my pay."

#

June 17, 1465
Horthánthy
The Royal Nursery
Late morning

The late night followed by the anxieties of listening to the mercenary corps attempt to break through the barricade, followed by their subsequent entry, had all taken its toll on the adults charged with caring for the Royal children and their young companions. Feeling that at least they had the security of the wards around them to keep them safe, if only for the moment, they had succumbed to sleep at last, their worries about how long they could stay sheltered beneath the protective dome postponed for at least a few hours. Lady Genevieve had placed a sleep spell on all the children, in part so none of them would be frightened, but also because she hoped in doing so, she could delay them growing hungry or having any other feelings of discomfort, knowing that once they ran out of supplies to care for the children, surrender would become a necessity at that point, unless they were all meant to starve to death and die in their own waste. Their best chance of avoiding capture was to try to hold out for as long as they could, in hopes that whatever aid the Queen sent their way would reach them before their precious supplies ran out.

Sensing that his fatigue-banishing spell was wearing off and that he would soon be falling into a deep, unbreakable slumber for the next several hours, Father Emrys said a brief prayer before giving his wife and the three nursemaids an encouraging smile and then, curling himself protectively around the infant Prince Létald and his own son Brendan, he allowed himself to drift off to sleep. Lady Genevieve similarly sheltered Princess Rezza and little Ciardha, Ailis's son, in her arms as she closed her eyes and likewise fell asleep, and one of the three Tralian nursemaids curled up with little Silvé. Another nursemaid busied herself for the next few minutes taking careful stock of the precious few supplies they had managed to bag up and bring with them, sorting the assortment of nursery items into neat piles so they could fit more readily into only one bag, reserving the other for holding the inevitable dirty breechclouts they would soon need to deal with. That task completed, she too fell asleep.

The third nursemaid was also exhausted by the night's events, but she had one more task left to do. Quickly, before anyone else might happen to wake and stop her, she dispersed the Wards Major and collected the ward cubes, handing them over to Lord Davorin, who watched the whole process with sleepy amusement.  "Well done," he whispered, untying a pouch of coins from his belt that he had promised her earlier. Beckoning to his men, he said "Bind the rest, aside from the children. Convey the Royal Children and this nursemaid to my apartment for now until I can come up with more suitable accommodations for them."

"What of the other two infants, Lord Davorin?" asked one of the men.

The Lord Chief Chamberlain shrugged. "I have no use for them." He glanced at the nursemaid. "What are your thoughts?"

"I'd rather not see them die, my lord!" she stammered.

"Then you needn't watch, my dear," he reassured her.


Next chapter: https://rhemuthcastle.com/index.php/topic,3487.0.html

[JudithR]

Thank you Evie.  I have a rope and crampons, I don't think my finger nails are sufficient.

[Evie]

Thank you Evie.  I have a rope and crampons, I don't think my finger nails are sufficient.

Just hang in there! 

[revanne]

Thank you Evie.  I have a rope and crampons, I don't think my finger nails are sufficient.

I think you will find that both gin and single malt whisky are needed too.

[JudithR]

Thank you Evie.  I have a rope and crampons, I don't think my finger nails are sufficient.

I think you will find that both gin and single malt whisky are needed too.

As long as it's Isle of Jura - family favourite.

[tmcd]

I think it's past time for a Hort to install a railway up that big hill. https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Reisszug dates to 1460. A funicular railway would be higher volume and less effort to haul, but it wasn't invented until the 1820s.

[Evie]

I think it's past time for a Hort to install a railway up that big hill. https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Reisszug dates to 1460. A funicular railway would be higher volume and less effort to haul, but it wasn't invented until the 1820s.

OK, now that is pretty cool! I had no idea that anything even remotely resembling a railway dated that far back!

I think we might require a necromancer's services if we're to expect the Hort to install one, though! Or do you mean the new Hort, who is only 13 months old at the moment? Maybe that can go on his future to-do list once he's done teething on his crib rails. 

[JudithR]

I think it's past time for a Hort to install a railway up that big hill. https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Reisszug dates to 1460. A funicular railway would be higher volume and less effort to haul, but it wasn't invented until the 1820s.

OK, now that is pretty cool! I had no idea that anything even remotely resembling a railway dated that far back!

I think we might require a necromancer's services if we're to expect the Hort to install one, though! Or do you mean the new Hort, who is only 13 months old at the moment? Maybe that can go on his future to-do list once he's done teething on his crib rails. 

Is this a hint of the final outcome or are you getting our hopes up?

[Evie]

I think it's past time for a Hort to install a railway up that big hill. https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Reisszug dates to 1460. A funicular railway would be higher volume and less effort to haul, but it wasn't invented until the 1820s.

OK, now that is pretty cool! I had no idea that anything even remotely resembling a railway dated that far back!

I think we might require a necromancer's services if we're to expect the Hort to install one, though! Or do you mean the new Hort, who is only 13 months old at the moment? Maybe that can go on his future to-do list once he's done teething on his crib rails. 

Is this a hint of the final outcome or are you getting our hopes up?

Oh, I hint at nothing except for the fact that at this moment in time, neither Hort is exactly capable of making technological history at present. 

[tmcd]

That's why I wrote "a Hort". Horts come and go, and eventually one might like to play with trains, even though it will be human-drawn or horse-drawn.

Railways go back a long, long way, if grooves count for rails. As in circa 600 BCE, ancient Greece about 300 years before Alexander the Great. It was for hauling ships across the Isthmus of Corinth.

(Nero tried to have a canal dug, but after he died and work stopped, nobody tried again until 1881-93. There was another trackway in ancient Egypt, to haul ships between the Nile and the Red Sea, an easier Suez Canal).

[DerynifanK]

I can't think of any punishment equal to Davirin's intent to murder 5 babies. Hoping Joss can somehow rescue them

[Evie]

I can't think of any punishment equal to Davirin's intent to murder 5 babies. Hoping Joss can somehow rescue them

No worries, he doesn't plan to murder five babies. He absolutely needs the Royal Children alive, especially the little Hort, but even the Princesses will be valuable someday as potential marriage alliance bargaining chips.

[Demercia]

It's your very careful wording that worries me. 

[Evie]

It's your very careful wording that worries me. 

*casually sips tea as I queue up my next four chapters and watch the speculation mount*

[revanne]

(Nero tried to have a canal dug, but after he died and work stopped, nobody tried again until 1881-93. There was another trackway in ancient Egypt, to haul ships between the Nile and the Red Sea, an easier Suez Canal).

Unless you are specifically referring to the canal Nero started, canal building was at its heyday in the UK from 1750 until the coming of the railways in the 1830s.