Chapter Fifteen: No Returning
"I hope," I snapped, "that this time you are leading me to somewhere other than abject humiliation." My hopes and dreams having foundered upon the twin rocks on my uncle and that despicable Elf lord, I was in no mood to suffer again.
Nâmalzôr looked sympathetic. "I hope so too, my lord. But please follow me."
I sighed and decided to acquiesce to his request. The day could not get any worse. My fists still instinctively clenched, I strode down the corridor after him. It soon became apparent that the walk was to be a lengthy one, as we descended many flights of stairs. Soon we were well under ground level, and after a while, the way became disconcertingly unfamiliar. It had been a century or more since I had first visited the Palace, but I found myself vainly trying to recall the last time I had been in this part of it. I wondered if Zimraphel and Inziladûn ever visited these underground places, or whether they were in truth the dust-filled relics of another age, forgotten by all save the Palace guardsmen. For his part, Nâmalzôr seemed in little doubt where we were headed. Eventually, the Captain came to a small side-door.
"In here, my Lord."
I frowned at Nâmalzôr. The man was trustworthy enough, yes, but that is what puzzled me. The man had survived the reigns of my grandfather and uncle by keeping his head down and following orders. If they were conflicting or insane orders, no man in the Empire was better equipped to carry them out. Nâmalzôr never bit back, never schemed, never plotted. Yet here he was, trying to have a conspiratorial meeting with me deep under the Palace. It made no sense.
The Captain seemed to appreciate my misgivings. He smiled wanly. "Please, my lord," he said. "You will soon understand."
The room was small and sparse; it contained merely a table and several chairs. There were no windows, of course; torches lined the walls. One of Nâmalzôr's fellow guards was sitting at the table; on seeing me, he stood to attention.
"Greetings, my lord," he said. The guard was thin, wiry, and red-haired. I had never met him before, I knew that well enough. Red hair is very distinctive in Númenor.
"So tell me," I said, irritably, "why have you dragged me down here?"
Nâmalzôr shut the door behind him. "My Lord, the King now thinks that Princess Míriel played a part in the death of the Queen."
I raised my eyebrows. Things had become interesting. "Impossible," I said, for form's sake. "The Queen died in childbirth, was well-loved, and was Zimraphel's own mother." Yet my cousin had never cried at the Queen's death. Now that I thought about it, there was still strange about the death of Inziladûn's wife. Yes, something that seemed not quite right…
"Whether it is true or not is not important," said the red-haired guard, abrasively. I noticed that he was no longer addressing me as 'my lord'. A common little upstart with pretensions then. "What matters is that the King is about to start another purge, starting with the Princess."
"Lord Pharazôn," said Nâmalzôr, "the Empire cannot stand another terror. During the last one, when I nailed up those parchments of death, I remember seeing the fear in people's faces as they read the names. I cannot do it again. I will not do it again."
They were right, of course. Inziladûn would not stop with Zimraphel. Indeed, a new purge would be far more terrifying than the last: if the King's Heir fell, no-one would be safe. That included me.
"The King has to die," said the red-haired guard. "You must be our new King. Yes, Ar-Pharazôn shall lead us into a new golden age."
Killing Inziladûn would be a pleasure. It would be the vengeance I had longed dreamt of. But the throne … It is a difficult thing being just out of the line of immediate succession. So near, yet so far: it drove my father mad. Yet there was something else here. My heart sank. "You forget the Princess," I said, knowing full well what was implied.
"Míriel must die too," said the redhead, obviously less squeamish than his Captain. "She would thank us for the throne, then have us all executed in vengeance for her father. We would never be safe if we let the Princess live."
Nâmalzôr was sweating in the torchlight. "Makadam is right, my lord. Believe me, I have thought about this long and hard. There is no other way. The King must die to save the realm, and the Princess must die in order to save us."
"Suppose I married her instead?"
Nâmalzôr looked shocked. "But that would be against the laws of Númenor!" he said. I almost laughed. The dear fellow, having decided on regicide, could not bring himself to countenance first cousins marrying. Only in Númenor…
Makadam shook his head. "It still would not work," he said. "If you married her, she would use her father's death to blackmail you every day of your life. She would soon have you crawling on all-fours like a beast."
The red-headed guard's sudden interest in my future reign was most gratifying, and unlikely, I knew, to have any altruistic motivations. Well, let him think that he was using me, I decided. No man used Pharazôn. In the meantime, I would have to watch this one: he had ambition.
"Very well," I said, still feeling somewhat disappointed that the throne had come at the price of Zimraphel's life. I would never get to enjoy her warm flesh beneath me ever again. On the other hand, I thought, there were other women, and as Zimraphel herself had once said to me, sensitivity is a dangerous thing.
Makadam smiled. Nâmalzôr didn't.
"The assassination will take place tonight," said the Captain sourly, "while the King is sleeping. The guards on duty are supportive of us." I noticed he did not say 'loyal to us'. Conceptions of loyalty were clearly playing on Nâmalzôr's conscience.
"And those that aren't," said Makadam, less conscience-stricken, "have been dealt with."
I wondered how long this little conspiracy had been building. Looking at Makadam, it was not hard to imagine him as a cynical opportunist, who had been waiting for something like this to arise for some time.
"Suppose," I said, "that the King is not sleeping? My uncle is a paranoid man who believes that schemers are out there trying to kill him. Do you not think he will be ready for schemers who are, in fact, out to kill him?"
"The King is an elderly cripple," said Makadam. "He will have no guards to protect him. Surely, Lord Pharazôn, you are capable of overpowering and killing Ar-Inziladûn? Your martial prowess is, after all, a by-word throughout Armenelos."
"So you want me to do the actual killing?" I said.
"Why," said Makadam, "it is only fair. You want vengeance for your father, after all. Who better to strike the avenging blow than Gimilkhâd's own son?"
The little weasel wanted to paint me as the ringleader, with all the risks that entailed. There was a catch here. I wanted to kill Inziladûn, certainly, but I had sufficient political nous to know that waving one's own bloodied blade over a dead King was not the way to cover one's tracks. Still, I could not deny that the whole thing would be enormously satisfying. My mother would certainly approve.
"I will not kill the Princess though," I said.
"Rest assured, we will take care of Míriel."
After that, it was only planning the details. Nâmalzôr would let me into the Palace a couple of hours after midnight. Loyal guardsmen would be in place at every step, and would deal with Zimraphel and any Palace functionaries who could potentially stand in our way. I would then slip into the King's chambers and send his vile soul howling down to whatever eternal torment awaited. A swift ceremony would confirm me as King, and finally, the next morning, the dawn of a new era for Númenor would be announced to the people of Armenelos. It all sounded so very simple.
"So we are all agreed then," said Makadam at last. He looked very smug.
"Yes," I said. Nâmalzôr nodded forlornly.
Afterwards, as Nâmalzôr led me back up the stairs, I asked him what had ever possessed him to let a snake like Makadam into service. It was not as if Inziladûn was foisting some lembas-eater on him.
"Yes, Makadam is unpleasant, isn't he?" agreed Nâmalzôr, looking over his shoulder. "But he has proven very good at his job. My conscience and I have just had to live with him."
"Very good at his job, is he?" I scoffed. "So I take it that he is very good at standing around looking menacing, and opening doors for dignitaries?"
"The life of a Palace guardsman is rather more complex than that, my lord," said Nâmalzôr, affronted. "The man may be utterly amoral, but he is a superb administrator. Makadam has freed me from the endless tedium of paperwork."
"Whatever you think is best, Captain." Poor gullible Nâmalzôr. I had thought him savvier.
"I am thinking of retiring though, once all this is over. I am getting old, and my grandchildren in Andustar never see me. Besides, Lord Pharazôn, and I mean this as no offence, there is only so much of the royal family one can take."
"No offence taken, Captain." It did not need to be said who was likely to replace a retiring Nâmalzôr. I resolved that, once I was safely ensconced upon the throne, Makadam would get what he deserved.
Later, walking back to my townhouse beneath the early afternoon sun, it occurred to me that by this time tomorrow, I would be either a King or a corpse. As indeed would Inziladûn, except in reverse, while poor Zimraphel was doomed whoever won. The prospect of my cousin's imminent death still made me profoundly uncomfortable, however. It was this, far more than any qualms about regicide, that was giving me butterflies in my stomach.
Amandil has often said that I am motivated by only three things in life, namely wine, women, and glory. Which was true enough, but underneath my legendary arrogance, I do believe I have a conscience, and at that moment, my conscience was plaguing me almost as badly as Nâmalzôr. I understood the guards' arguments well enough: Zimraphel's goodwill could not be relied upon. But, all things considered, it did seem unfair on her, especially as the plot was motivated to prevent Inziladûn from killing his daughter in the first place. It was an issue that still needed much thought. I wondered if I would get any sleep that evening. I doubted it.