My Sword Weeps
by Agape4Rivendell
Chapter 38: Treachery
The dagger flew past his head and landed
with a
loud thud in his chair's back, only slightly above his left shoulder.
One moment later, before Imrahil even had a chance to react, a loud cry
was heard as Arantar's dirk pierced Lord Dagnir's chest. The other
Council members threw back their chairs and scurried to cling to the
walls in fright. Soldiers quickly drew blades and surrounded their
prince. Imrahil heard Arantar curse himself. 'How could I have missed
the movement? If not for fate, my prince would be dead.' He nodded to
his men, then walked over to the dead lord. Arantar had followed and
kicked the body viciously. Another curse, this time loud enough for
those close to hear, escaped his lips.
"Clear the room. The meeting is adjourned for now," the Swan Knight
said brusquely. Some made as if to protest, but the naked hatred in the
warrior's eyes caused the lords to leave their papers and run into the
hall.
"My Lord," Arantar fell on one knee. "Forgive me. Send me to the
farthest outpost. I have failed you."
Imrahil chuckled. His surprise had lifted as soon as the kick was
placed. "We need to initiate a search of all when we are in Council, I
see. Do you hear them out there?” They both listened for a moment to
the shrill, angry shouts of the lords of the Council as they took
umbrage at their treatment by the prince of Belfalas. They could hear
every word, every invective, every curse.
"They are stupid, pig-headed descendants of wargs!"
"They are not, Arantar. Most are cousins many times removed. The men of
Númenor did not travel far when they settled here from
Westernesse."
"Then they have married daughters of Orcs!"
Once again, Imrahil laughed. "If you are finished?"
"My Lord!"
"Good. This is a stroke of luck for us. When I told the Council of
Ohtar's treachery, I had not thought that Dagnir would be foolish
enough to react with violence. One would think it would have been
better had he thrown the weapon at Ohtar instead. He could say he did
it in a fit of rage over the treason and take suspicion from himself."
Imrahil shook his head. "Obviously, neither of them has the slightest
sense. It is now time to place Ohtar under arrest. Will you see to
that? I will write the order in my study." He began to leave the room,
then turned. "Oh! Would you bring Angbor to me? I would speak with him
before he hears the news by other means."
"Aye, my Lord." The warrior followed his prince to Denethor's
study. 'Odd, I still call it Denethor's study. Hopefully, it will soon
be Faramir's study.' His brow creased as he thought of the little band,
struggling for help somewhere on the plains of the Mark. 'Where are
they? Did Éomund catch up to them? Is this a fool's errand that
Indis
is leading them on?' He sat at the heavy oak desk, his hand absently
stroking it. He stopped. Too many times he had watched Denethor do the
same thing. He remembered how fond Denethor was of this desk, made by
Thengel and he many, many years past. He hitched his breath and looked
up to Arantar.
"As I said in the Council chambers, this is a stroke of luck for us. We
should be able to flush out any who were part of this conspiracy. With
Ohtar in the dungeons, someone, hopefully, will kill him. Keep the
watch small... but keep a hidden guard. If someone does kill him, I
want him followed immediately. Also, watch his food. Who knows how they
will attack him. Besides that, keep an eye on the Great Gate. See who
leaves Minas Tirith in haste. Look for soldiers and nobles. I do not
think the common folk would be anything but pawns for the real
traitors."
"I will, my Lord. I ordered him held as soon as the hall cleared."
"Good. Here is the order. Take a contingent with you. I do not
trust the man. Then put him in the dungeons. If he asks, I will see him
in two days time. Then, bring Angbor to me."
"Aye, my Lord."
The warrior bowed and left. Imrahil stared ahead. Again, his brow
creased. 'I have heard nothing from father in over a month. I must send
a missive to him. Ascertain that all is well in Dol Amroth.' He put a
hand to his forehead and rubbed it. 'I think Arantar is correct. The
men of Gondor have slept with Orcs.'
After only a short time, Arantar stood before him again; the young Swan
Knight, Angbor, stood next to him, face shining with sweat, eyes filled
with unease. Imrahil motioned Arantar to leave them, then motioned for
the lad to sit. The boy looked wildly at Arantar, a silent plea in his
eyes that even Imrahil could read, then stiffened and sat.
“Esquire Angbor,” Imrahil began, hoping to remind the lad that he
was in the service of Belfalas, already a Swan Knight, and in dire need
of all the strength he could muster for what Imrahil would now have to
tell him. He saw the lad stiffen even further, his shoulders thrown
back and his face taut.
“Your father has been arrested as a traitor.” He kept his voice
even, as if he were speaking to the boy of the duty roster for the day.
“He has been taken to the dungeons and will remain there until Steward
Faramir or his Regent, the Lady Indis, decides his fate.”
He cursed silently. ‘This is naught that a lad this age should have to
deal with!’
He stood and walked towards the door. “You may stay here in Minas
Tirith until the decision is made, you may return to your home in
Calembel, or you may return to your duties as a Swan Knight of Dol
Amroth. I will support you in whatever you chose.”
“I would return to my duties, if that suites my lord. I have been
gone too long. You told me, a short time ago, that you have secured my
father’s lands and have an overseer looking after them?”
“I have. A trustworthy man who will return them to you when you
decide you are ready. I offer this service in token of my regard for
you and the regard your captain holds you.”
“Thank you, my Prince.” The boy rose as if to leave, then turned
towards the prince. “May I…” He swallowed hard and Imrahil knew what he
needed.
“You may visit your father before you leave. He is in the dungeons,
Angbor, but he is being treated well. After all, he is a Lord of
Gondor.”
“Thank you.” The boy turned and left.
Arantar entered immediately. “My Prince.” He waited. Imrahil nodded
and he continued. “May I… May I take some time off and… Forgive me.
Never mind. I will be outside if you need me.”
“Arantar? What is it?”
“Nothing, my Prince.” He turned, his hand on the latch.
Imrahil walked forward and put his hand on the warrior’s arm. “What
troubles you? Has word from home come? Your wife, she is with child.
Has she had it?”
“I know not, my Prince. Her mother is with her. She will be fine.”
A smile creased his captain’s face. “I have never been home for the
births of any of my children. This is not unexpected.”
“Then what is it? Do not tell me nothing. We have been together far too
long. You are concerned about something.”
“My Prince. I spoke foolishly. We are in a time of great danger. I
would not leave you unguarded for anything.”
“I have other guards, Arantar. Tell me what you need. If it is within
my power, I will do it for you.”
“I would take two days, my Prince, just two days and ride a little ways
with the esquire, Angbor.”
Imrahil sat, stunned. “Whatever for?”
“He reminds me of my son. He knows his father will be executed. How
could he not? The long road home will be fraught with sorrow. He needs
a friend.”
“You have four days. That should take you well within the borders
of Belfalas. Stay with him. Tell him that it is my wish, if you would.
I have rarely met a boy with such courage. It is right that, in his
greatest need, he has a friend to help him see that.”
Arantar nodded in agreement. “I will return in eight days, my Prince.
And thank you!”
