Clan and Crown

PART FIVE
Principalities and Powers
22

Escorted by eight Royal Guardsmen on each side, the roasted stag marched up the aisle between the banqueting tables. Halfway to the high table, it stopped and bowed to Wanax Ganton. The two men under the draperies hanging from the platter were excellent puppeteers; the stag seemed alive, although, much to his host's surprise, Ganton had personally speared it in yesterday's hunt.

Lord Ajacias beamed when Ganton acknowledged the stag's obeisance. His daughter Lady Cara also saw that Ganton approved, and giggled. "Is that not marvelous, Majesty? Hakour our chef has been a good and faithful servant for many years, but he has never given us such a meal as this."

For the tenth time, Ganton wished that the Lady Cara seated beside him was instead the Lady Octavia Caesar. Octavia did not try to gain his favor. She did not always agree with him. Quite the contrary. She also did not giggle. And though her ankles were not so slim as the Lady Cara's, Caesar's granddaughter had far the best clothing on Tran, and wore her gowns and robes with a grace and dignity that suited- His thoughts were shattered by the metallic click of a star weapon made ready to fire. "HALT! WHO IS THERE?" the Lord Mason thundered in a voice like Yatar passing judgment. He came forward from his place at the end of the table, his rifle leveled at the stag, the small knife-bayonet, that was the word- pointed at the animal's throat.

"The stag!" The response was given by Hanzar, Guards Officer of the Day. The other Guards, splendid in their new clothing-uniforms, Lord Rick called them-presented their weapons.

"What stag?" Mason demanded.

"Wanax Ganton's stag!"

"Then pass, friend!" Mason acknowledged. "Make way for Wanax Ganton's stag!"

Then from within the stag a loud voice shouted "Long live Wanax Ganton!" Lord Rick himself leaped from his place to repeat the cry, and all the banqueters, two hundred and more, stood and joined the cheering.

Ganton threw back his head to laugh with the others, but inwardly he could hear Lucius speaking in his ancient dry voice. "And in the midst of the triumph, at the time of a conqueror's greatest glory, there rides in his chariot the lowest-born slave of the Empire, who never ceases to say, 'Remember Caesar, thou art but a mortal man.' The cheers of a throng are easily gained. Honor is more elusive." He could hear the old man, and see Octavia nodding agreement- and also hear the Lady Cara giggle.

The stag was brought forward to the salutes of the starmen and the Guards. Their-uniforms-green shirts and trousers, green jackets, black boots and black belts with sheathed daggers, silver badges on their black berets, made them look remarkably like starmen in the dim light. Lord Ajacias had done his best with candles and torches, but a hall large enough for two hundred was far too large to be lighted properly.

Now the Guards, the starmen, and picked men from Lord Rick's Mounted Archers and Hussars all came forward, presented their weapons, and crashed them against the floor while the stag and its table passed between their lines on its way to the sand pit between the banqueting tables. The men who'd animated the stag came out from beneath the draperies, and they were also in the uniform of Royal Guards. All presented their weapons, then saluted in the star-man's manner. "Permission to withdraw?" Hanzar shouted.

There was a long pause. Ganton realized that Lord Rick was staring at him. "Permission granted!" Ganton called, and guards and starmen and Tamaerthans all retired in a complex drill, halting in pairs and clashing weapons as others passed between them, twirling weapons as they knelt on one knee, then rising with more flourishes. They left the hall to the thunder of applause.

Morrone appeared from somewhere. He held a knife as long as an archer's sword. As King's Companion, it was his duty to carve and taste the first portion of all meat brought to the high table. Ganton had always thought his friend graceful, but now he looked just a bit awkward and unrehearsed after the performance of those soldiers.

But first Yanulf. The Archpriest rose from his place opposite Ganton, and spread his arms wide. "Yatar, Great Skyfather, we thy servants give thee praise and thanks..

"Majesty?"

His host was trying to get his attention. Ganton acknowledged him with a nod.

"Majesty, the weapon carried by the starman who challenged the stag-was this the same weapon they showed this afternoon?" He shuddered. "Is it safe that such weapons be brought into my hall?"

"Star weapons are safe while starmen are loyal," Ganton said.

"And are they loyal, Majesty?"

"You saw," Ganton said.

"Aye, Majesty. I saw disciplined men perform well what they have learned."

"And-"

"I say no more-"

"I command you, speak what you think."

"I saw them loyal to the starman," Ajacias said. "I saw them cheer my Wanax. But I have not seen them obey the anointed of Yatar."

"…and we thank Thee for the abundant rains of spring and the mildness of the winter," Yanulf was saying. "And we beg Thy aid, that Thou might intercede with Hestia and all Thy great family, that our seed might not rot in the ground, but flourish and multiply, and our harvest be great that we may offer great sacrifice to Thee. And as The Time approaches, incline the hearts of our lawful rulers to know and do Thy will…"

"You demand a demonstration?" Ganton asked. "They have come with me-"

"Majesty, I demand nothing!" Ajacias protested. "I spoke only when commanded! Forgive me!"

"There is nothing to forgive-"

"…and let it be Thy will to aid us. Arise, lord, hasten to aid us, for our need is great…"

"— and perhaps you have been of more service than you know," Ganton said.

One good thing about Yanulf. Lady Cara was silenced. She wouldn't giggle while the Primate of Drantos invoked the blessings of Yatar. Indeed, she stared as if hypnotized-and yet she probably wouldn't be able to remember a word that Yanulf had said. While Octavia would have been eager to talk, to discuss Yanulf's sermon and compare Yatar to the Roman Jehovah and his son Jesus Christ, to ponder the vision of Bishop Polycarp that the Christ was in fact the Son of Yatar, that Yatar and Jehovah were One "-the Time of Testing cometh upon us. Woe to that man who fails to prepare. Woe to him, great lord or villein, who has not done the will of Yatar and laid by goods for The Time…"

"I am told that smiths to the south have learned to make star weapons of their own."

Ganton pretended not to have heard. Ajacias would learn of the new weapons in due season. For now there was not enough firepowder in the realm to stoke all the guns for more than a few blasts. There was a shortage of ingredients, especially saltpeter. Ganton had learned how to make firepowder, but not-how to extract saltpeter from dungheaps. He wondered if he should not have paid more attention to that day's lecture. But a Wanax was no mechanic!

"And so we invoke Thy aid." Yanulf's prayer ended. Morrone attacked the stag as if it were his blood foe, then tasted the slice he carved and pronounced it good. And now, finally, the cooks' apprentices could come out and carve the beast and all could get down to the serious business of eating.

But Ganton couldn't forget the idea he'd had while Ajacias was questioning him. There was one way to show all that the starmen were loyal to the Crown. If only Lord Rick would agree! But for now, there was dinner, and the giggles of Lady Cara…

The Royal Guardsmen began a sword dance, complex beyond belief, with elements of Tamaerthan dancing mixed with something very like a polka. Their razor-sharp sabers flashed in the candlelight, earning the king's applause.

Rick Galloway watched with approval as young Ganton refused another cup of wine and asked for water instead. The king's request probably shocked the steward, but it meant Ganton would have a clear head. He was going to need it to fend off Ajacias's questions.

"Boy's learnin' the king business," Art Mason said as he took his place beside Rick. "And damn good thing you made 'em put these tables up."

They were seated behind and to the left of the high table, in a place near an entrance. Rick had insisted that every entrance to the hall be blocked by a table with mercs and Royal Guardsmen, and to hell with protocol. "Yeah?" Rick prompted.

"You been listenin' to that Ajacias?" Mason asked. "Every question, everything he says, he tries to stir up trouble. That business about making star weapons to use with fireseed, he's really trying to talk the kid into something. And when he's not stirring up trouble or fishing for classified information, he tells how it's time to make peace with the Five Kingdoms."

"You think he's a traitor?"

"Hell, Cap'n, you thought so or we wouldn't be here." Mason grinned. "I thought you was nuts, wanting to honor a guy that might be plotting against us, but I see it makes sense." He pointed to the candles at every pillar. "Candles and new livery for the servants. Just those must have cost him a fortune."

Rick returned the grin and poured wine. "We needed to come north anyway," Rick said. "We had to stay somewhere. Why not with Ajacias? Anyway, it seemed like a good idea at the time." A good idea, but not mine, he thought. But nobody on Tran is going to know that. Except maybe Gwen. Who else ever read about Queen Elizabeth I, and her answer to plots?

Silly plots, like Babington's, she could leave to Walsingham and his secret police, who needed a spectacular success every now and then. More serious situations, involving persons of wealth and stature and importance, she took care of herself: her method was to visit them. As Parkinson, Rick's favorite historian, had put it, they could hardly plot while she was there, and they were financially ruined by the time she left. Her visit to Euston Hall in 1578 rendered the Rockwoods harmless for at least a decade…

And Lord Ajacias, a bheroman in the vital Sutmarg region bordering the Five Kingdoms, was far too important to accuse without evidence-or to be allowed to get away with treason.

"Anyway, we got him on trading with the enemy," Mason said.

Rick nodded. Mason's patrols had intercepted a pack train of hides and fine wine just as it reached the border. Not only did the hides have Ajacias's brand, but the idiot had written a letter to the Wanax of Tameltemos inquiring about the last shipment and detailing what special payments were wanted. "Hang onto the smugglers," Rick said. "We might not want to accuse Ajacias. Not just yet, anyway-"

"Right." Mason waved expansively. "He's sure not going to hire many troopers this year. Not after two weeks of this."

"Yeah, but you know, he doesn't seem to mind. Really acts like he's being honored to have the Wanax here."

"Well, sure, he'd like his daughter to be Wannaxae."

"Fat chance," Rick said. "What else did your patrols turn up?"

"Confirmation," Mason said. "Just like you thought, they're raising armies in the Five Kingdoms. Just how big and what for I can't tell. Too many cavalry screens. But they're mobilizing. Funny thing, not so much cavalry as stores. Like they're expecting a siege."

Rick shrugged. "The Time-"

"Sure, but they're increasing the garrisons, too," Mason said. "Least I think so, but it's hard to find out anything for certain."

"One more problem," Rick said. He turned as his orderly came up behind him. "Yes, Jamiy?"

"A message, Lord. From the Lady Tylara."

"Ah. Give it to me. Wait, I'll move away from the table. Impolite to read while the Wanax is eating his dinner. Mason, if you don't mind I'd rather you stayed here to watch out for the Wanax." Rick got up from the hard bench with relief. The Guards started a new dance as Rick retreated to the corridor behind the banqueting hail.

He broke the wax seals and unfolded the letter, noting that it was paper, not parchment. Fairly good quality paper, too; the University's mills had got the knack of it now, so there were few ink runs mixed with her painstakingly written words. As he held the parchment close to the beeswax candles, he wondered how far the University's research into illuminating gas had gone.

To the Lord Rick, Eqeta of Chelm, War Lord of Tamaerthon, Captain General of the Hosts of Drantos, Beloved of Yatar, from Lady Tylara, Eqetassa of Cheim and Justiciar of Drantos, Greetings!

My beloved, your children and heirs are safe and well, and I trust this finds you the same. I am also well, though I miss you greatly and wish only for our reunion.

Rick nodded and smiled to himself. Leave it to Tylara to put things in that order. Titles. Health of the children. And only then the really important news, that she was all right.

The feud with the Mac Naile has proven more troublesome than I like. It is well that I have come, for this may yet become a challenge to Mac Clallan Muir. Aye, and there is worse, for there is murmur among the lesser clans that much booty may be found at your University. Thus must I strengthen its defenses, yet do so from afar so that it will not seem that Mac Clallan Muir holds sway in this place which you insist must remain above all clans and crowns.

And you're doing the right thing even though you don't agree with me about the University, Rick thought. Thank God I met you, Tylara. I'd better come up there now. It makes sense, it's not just that I want to see you, my love My father sends his greetings, and his thanks that you have sent Makail his first grandson to visit him. Though he has not said so, you may be certain that he is even more grateful for my escort.

Eight mercs, Caradoc with two hundred mounted archers, and a hundred lances of Chelm chivalry. Tylara had been sure they would be more than enough to persuade the recalcitrant Mac Naile.

And though that dispute is I think soon ended, there are rumors of others, and it seemed to me that there must be a source to this strife. Thus I spoke with Corgarff, reminding him of your generosity in sparing his life, and of the loyalty of his sons, and of the devotion his new chief holds to you. In this way I persuaded him to tell what he knows of the Dughuilas affair. What he told me has earned him a visit by the headsman Oh, Lord! Rick thought. What — but mindful of your wishes, I have given him a second pardon, which will assuredly be his last.

As you suspected, there was indeed a plot, with Dughuilas, and a highly placed henchman to Mac Clallan Muir, to the end that only the high-born would command, and all your work would be undone. Corgarff will not name my father's traitor henchman, but says again and again that he knows not the name, only that he was assured that none of the conspirators bore ill will toward my father or myself, nor indeed toward you, but only toward the changes you make. As you are fond of saying, you may believe as much of that as you will; for my part I do believe it, or rather that Corgarff believes it.

And there was yet one more conspirator, one that Corgarff actually met, but the man was hooded and the light dim, so that Corgarff would not know him, aye though he met him again. From his speech he seemed not of the Drantos nobles, yet certainly he was not of Tamaerthon, yet indeed he was a man of parts and gentle speech and ways. When I put it to Corgarff that the man was likely a priest, Corgarff seemed surprised, then agreed it was possible. You must speak with Yanuif and ask him to see to the loyalty of his archpriests, for there may be one who bears us ill will. The danger is small, now that his instruments are taken, but treason must never be allowed to pass unpunished.

If there be time I will enclose more, telling you of my love, and of our children, for Lady Isobel ceases not to ask for her father, and is quite put out that you do not place her in her bed each night as was your custom. And I would have you do the same with me, each night aye and each day as well.

"My lord," Jamiy said. "If you have a moment."

"Eh?" Rick looked up from Tylara's letter. He'd been staring at it for a long time. His eyes felt the strain from the dim light, and he blinked several times. "What is it?"

"Carlga the smith and Fnor the master miller would speak with you."

"How much did they bribe you?"

"A silver each, lord."

"Ah." Quite a tidy sum. "Their business must be important. Bring them."

Jamiy grinned and pocketed the money. Sometimes Lord Rick demanded a share of the bribes paid to get his attention.

The miller and smith were in their finest clothing, with leather purses and jeweled peace-bonded daggers hanging from their belts. Men of substance, Rick thought.

They stammered a bit, but their manners were good, and they were obviously accustomed to speaking to the nobility. Rick learned that the smith employed five journeymen and a dozen apprentices, while the miller was a town Councillor. Even so, they had difficulty coming to the point.

"And the demonstration with the stag was indeed marvelous," Fnor was saying. "The Royal Guardsmen in particular. Is there aught they cannot do?"

"We have sons," Carlga said. "The miller and I both. They would gladly serve in the Guard."

"And our hearts would be gladdened to see them so honored," Fnor added.

Aha. The point at last. Rick said nothing, and the silence dragged on. Can't ask them direct what bribe they're offering, Rick thought. How long do I have to wait?

"Indeed, my heart would be so gladdened," Fnor said at last, "that I would build a new mill beside my present mill, for there is ample water, more than ample now with the greater rains. I would build a wheel of the sort that your clerks describe, of the kind that the Romans have. Carlga will bring his forge to that mill, so that the wheel might drive his bellows and work trip hammers in the new manner. All this at our expense, and a year's products of the mill and forge to the Guards."

Generous offer indeed, Rick thought. But year's products be damned, what's needed is a real hammer mill here where transportation's hard to come by. There's coal, and iron ore, and this is a damned good place for a foundry. Long way from any likely targets, too. Not likely to be bombed out.

"Your forge is fired with wood?" Rick asked.

"Aye, lord. I have heard of using blackrock, but I have never seen a forge like that. We tried once, but without success."

"There will not be many years before burning wood to make metal and glass will be forbidden," Rick said. "As wood grows more scarce, you must learn to use blackrock."

"Where may we learn?" Carlga asked.

"The travelling clerks will know, but there is a better way. Have you a son to follow in your trade? Excellent. Send him a year to the University near Tar-Kartos in Tamaerthon. There he will learn to use the blackrock, and much else."

"We would also learn the arts of making the-guns-which use firepowder," Fnor added. "Master smith Carlga makes strong iron."

"Not all strong iron is strong enough," Rick said. "The art of making guns is not so easily acquired." Especially not here in a border county ruled by a possible traitor. "Nor can I promise your sons, nor any man, a place in the Guards,

"Yet you need not look so downcast," Rick continued. "The guards are sworn as brothers, and will accept among them none who have not earned their place, and who will not take the same oath to Vothan."

The men looked sobered at the mention of Vothan. Like his Earth counterpart, Old One-eye was more feared than loved. "But I can promise this," Rick added quickly. "Let them present themselves to Lord Mason before the Wanax departs, and if they please him, we will take them with us; and if they-work hard-" Dammit, what I want to say is apply themselves, but that sounds stupid in the local language-"if they will work and give their attention to the task before them, I doubt not they can earn a place in the Guards." And take the first step toward ennobling their families…

"So. Since I cannot grant what you asked, I cannot accept what you offer. Yet I wish the mill and forge to be built, and to that end I will loan half the cost from the Captain-General's purse. You will repay the debt in iron, and the first fruits of the forge belong to the crown."

"Generous, lord," Fnor said. "You deserve your reputation. And we will send our sons to the Lord Mason in the morning. Thank you, lord."

Ganton sat cross-legged on the great bed, cradling a cup of wine in his lap and looking around the comfortable tapestry-hung room. It was, of course, Lord Ajacias's bedchamber. Idly Ganton wondered where Ajacias was sleeping, and who he had displaced, and who that one had caused to move.

Morrone was hovering at the foot of the bed, casting an occasional glance at the door. "Oh, go to whatever girl you've asked," Ganton said irritably. "I can undress myself."

Morrone grinned. "Thank you, sire. But it would be best if I did my duty first."

"Then do it. Lord Rick received a message tonight. They brought it during dinner, and he went out to read it. My guess is that it came from the Lady Tylara, else why would they not wait until morning, or at least until dinner was finished?"

"Yes, sire?"

"If from Tylara, then it may have come from the University," Ganton said. "I would know if it did."

"Aha. Majesty, had there been letters for you, they would have been brought by now."

"Perhaps."

"Surely."

"Then Octavia has chosen not to write to me."

"You cannot be certain. Indeed, you do not know the message was from Lady Tylara, and certainly you do not know that it was sent from the University. Can you doubt that the Lady Octavia would take any opportunity to write to you? I cannot."

"Ah. You believe then that she does not dislike me?"

Morrone shrugged. "What matter her likes and dislikes? I believe that she is intelligent. As to you- you brood too much. I am certain that my lady of the evening has a friend-"

"But are you certain your lady mother did not play the Eqeta false with a panderer from the stews of Rustengo?"

Morrone laughed again. As indeed, Ganton thought, he must, for if there were any hint that I was serious-I should watch my tongue, even alone with my only friend.

Then Morrone's laugh died, and his voice became very serious. "Are you certain that you are not getting yourself into more of a coil about the Lady Octavia than she deserves?"

"And why do you reckon her desserts?" There was a hint of danger in Ganton's voice.

"Majesty, it is my duty to advise you."

Yes. It is, Ganton thought. And indeed, you were one of the few who supported me when I thought to bring the Lady Octavia north on this tour. But I did not, through the advice of the Lord and Lady of Cheim, and Chancellor Yanuif, and Camithon- "Advice! I hear nothing but advice, from my first visit to the jakes in the morning until you blow out the last candle at night! Only Yatar could listen to so much advice!"

"Yatar does not need advice," Morrone reminded him. "You do. Or you have said you do. You are of age now, and the time has passed when I could speak to you as once I did, but I will, once more. Ganton, my friend, if ever you wish my silence, you have only to say so, and I will remain your friend yet."

"Ach, not you also!" Ganton shouted. "They all say that! All, all, they threaten to withdraw their counsel, and though they do not always say so, it is in their minds, that my father lost his throne through failure to listen to his advisors. And yes, yes, that is true enough, but much of what I hear is senseless! Yet must I listen, and smile, lest someone with more power than wits be mortally offended! Surely there is more to being Wanax than this?"

Morrone made a wry face. "I offered one of the rewards of majesty, and you made free to insult my mother for reply." He grinned to show he wasn't offended. "And there is little chance that Lady Octavia would ever know, though why you remain so tender for the feelings of Lord Rick's hostage to the Roman alliance I will never know."

"Is she no more than that?"

"How can she be else?"

"If Lord Rick and Chancellor Yanulf think of nothing but hostages, why have they not gathered in the children of Publius' dead sister?"

Morrone shrugged again. "The discussion grows serious. Will you have more wine?"

"Yes."

Morrone poured and brought the goblets to the bed. "Caesar's other grandchildren are not important because they cannot be offered in marriage. Not when the eldest is five. While the Lady Octavia is ripe enough. Majesty, think you that I oppose your suit?"

"Of course not." Morrone had more than once been messenger when the University authorities tried to keep Ganton and Octavia apart.

"For indeed, were she queen, the way might lie open to more than ever we dream," Morrone said. "Rome itself." He stepped back and raised his hand in the Roman manner, and there was no mockery in his voice at all as he said, "Hail, Caesar."

"Only if-only if Lord Rick permits it," Ganton said.

Morrone nodded. "Aye, for the moment the star-men hold power over us. But they will not forever mock the anointed of Yatar!"

That phrase, and the way Morrone said it, reminded Ganton of something, someone else who'd said that in just that way, but the wine and the venison and the lateness of the hour overcame him before he could remember who it had been.