Reign of the eagle, p.150
Reign of the Eagle, page 150
It was almost the Equinox, too. A holiday ought to be spent in a city if at all possible, not on campaign. Molly was getting heartily sick of living in a tent. It had been romantic and exciting at first, and a way of escaping the more unpleasant ladies at court. But everything had changed at Erstenwell, after Quincy died. None of this was fun anymore. She felt she was owed something now—exactly what, she wasn’t sure. But she deserved some recompense for what she had lost.
During their stay at Keneburg, she had remembered how much she adored a good, roaring fire and a real, indoor privy. Lukas had promised her a return to Severn and her cozy little apartment in his palace. But then there had been this messenger from Leornian, offering to make terms. Molly supposed she could see why that was more important than going back home. But she didn’t see why they couldn’t go all the way to Leornian.
They got to Penric Mills later that afternoon. It was just another little market town—exactly the same as a thousand others in Myrcia. Molly was almost inclined to stay behind in the tent, but then Lukas told her—before she asked—that she didn’t need to come to the surrender if she didn’t want to. So then she made a point of going to be contrary. She put on her best, brightest silk dress, which she immediately had to cover with a fur cloak when a thunderstorm blew in from the north.
In the middle of a frantic downpour, she rode into the town square at Lukas’s left side. Halvor was on his right. All their knights followed behind, and Molly couldn’t help but wonder what Quincy would have thought of this. Would he be happy that they had crushed another one of the king’s enemies, or would he be sad that so many of his comrades had died? Or maybe, like her, he would want to get this over with so he could get out of the rain.
Robert Dryhten, Duke of Leornian, was waiting in the common room of a little inn called The Blue Heron. He stood as they entered, and he bowed to Molly. “I am sorry to make your acquaintance under these circumstances,” he said.
Molly had met him before at a party in Formacaster, though of course he wouldn’t have remembered her. He had been in prison for years after his last rebellion, and had been at court very briefly after being ransomed and released. No doubt he was wondering if he was going back to the dungeon now. Molly felt very sorry for him.
“I honestly didn’t think you were going to give up,” said Lukas.
“I wouldn’t have,” said Duke Robert. “But with Keelweard on your side now and without Flora to guard my flank, I can’t see the point of this anymore.”
“There never was any point to it at all,” said Sir Halvor. “You might want to remember that in the future. If you trust Flora Byrne, you deserve what you get.”
“Now, now, son,” said Lukas cheerfully. “Let’s try to be magnanimous in victory, shall we?” He turned back to Robert. “So have you brought what we discussed?”
The Duke of Leornian waved some of his men forward, and they carried up four large, iron-bound chests. One of the duke’s men unlocked them, revealing gold and silver and jewels. There were Myrcian Sovereigns and Immani aurei and coins Molly had never seen before in any marketplace. There were bracelets and belts heavy with massive gems, and thin gold circlets that looked like something a beautiful young princess would wear.
While the heralds and secretaries set out the pens and seals and wax for the treaty ceremony, Lukas sidled over to Molly. “See anything you like? Go on. It’s all ours, now. Take whatever you want.”
Molly picked up some of the heavier jewelry, and even tried on one of the little crowns. But when she saw how Duke Robert was looking at her, she took it off again. Instead, she settled for a simple little gold bracelet engraved with leaves and set with little turquoise flowers. Pretty, but still something she could wear every day and not feel self-conscious.
A few minutes later, when the herald read out the treaty, Molly noticed that the four chests of gold were referred to as, “an indemnity to the royal treasury.” She wondered how much of that money would ever make its way to Formacaster, though.
Having accomplished his mission, Lukas turned right around after the ceremony and went back west again. They spent the night in a tent, rather than at the inn where the treaty had been signed. Three days later, though, they reached the great abbey of Erstenwell. This was still technically Lukas’s headquarters, and he had almost a thousand men camped in the fields and woods around Basington.
It was the night of the Equinox, and of course that meant there had to be a party. Lukas started the evening by visiting some knights who had been crippled in the battle, but after that, he joined Halvor and all the able-bodied soldiers at the Basington guildhall, where there was a tremendous feast. Lukas had the money to buy all the alcohol in town, and by ten o’clock it looked as if he’d personally consumed a good portion of it. He took Molly upstairs to some guild conference room, where he tried to fuck her on a vast maple desk. He was too drunk, though, and eventually fell asleep on the floor. Molly, who was none too sober, either, couldn’t get him to move, so after a while, she left him there and decided to go back to the abbey by herself.
Near the servants’ door of the guildhall, in a back passageway, she ran into Sir Halvor, who was almost completely naked with a pair of tavern girls. “Care to join us?” he asked. The girls giggled and made a show of batting their eyes at Molly.
“No, thank you,” she answered. She was starting to feel ill. Maybe it was the drink. Maybe it was the heat of the party. Maybe it was knowing that Quincy was lying up the hill under that big slab of stone.
She stepped out into the alley and nearly tripped over a thin young man in extravagant servants’ livery, sitting on the steps. He looked like he had just dozed off, and he sat up with a start as Molly stepped around him.
She knew him—he was Timothy Woolrich, Sir Halvor’s young valet. They had seen each other now and again during the campaign, but she had never spoken more than a few words to him.
“Sorry,” she said. “I very nearly kicked you in the head.”
“It’s my fault,” he said standing and bowing. “I’m sorry I startled you. I’m waiting here for my employer to...er, finish.”
“Yes, well, he looks as if he’s just getting started. Are you here to make sure he gets home safely and doesn’t fall in a well? That happens sometimes when people are very drunk. Happened to a man in my village growing up.”
“Something like that,” said Timothy. “I’m surprised to see you out here. I would have thought you’d be with Duke Lukas.”
“His grace is sleeping off his fortified wine. I wish I were in bed, but it’s such a long walk to the abbey.”
Timothy gave her an odd look. “It’s barely five miles from here.”
“Yes. Like I said, a long walk.” She looked down. “At least in this gown and these shoes.”
“Would you like me to find you a cart and take you back?”
She smiled. “I think that would be marvelous. I’m so tipsy and tired I could sit down here on the steps and sleep until morning.”
“I think I was about to do that when you came out the door. Wait here; I’ll go get a cart.”
He was back in two or three minutes with one of the big army supply carts. It looked exactly like the one she had almost burned up in, but she managed to climb up on the driver’s seat with only a moment’s hesitation and a tiny shudder at the memory.
“How did you come to be working for Sir Halvor?” she asked. Five miles was a long way to sit in silence. They had better have some sort of conversation.
“It’s a long story, but basically I was working as an underbutler at one of Duke Lukas’s estates, and then Halvor asked his father’s chamberlain if there was a boy who might want to move up in the world. And I said ‘yes’ when some other fellows said ‘no.’” Timothy smiled. “So here I am. What about you? How did you....” His voice trailed off as he realized what he was asking, and his cheeks reddened.
Molly took pity on him. “How did I come to be Lukas’s mistress? Well, that’s a long story, too. But basically I was in Severn at the palace, and he happened to see me. Despite what some women at court will tell you, he made the approach, not me.”
“I can believe that. His grace seems like the sort of man who takes whatever he wants. Halvor has that same quality, for better or worse.”
“Family resemblance, no doubt.”
“Exactly.” Timothy frowned thoughtfully. “How well do you know the rest of the family? The duke’s family, I mean.”
“Well, let’s see. His wife hates me, though I suppose that’s no surprise. I don’t know his other sons—the legitimate ones—very well at all. Oh, and his daughter Penny is very nice. I met her at the convent.”
“Right, she got caught in the battle, didn’t she?” Timothy opened his mouth to speak several times, but shut it. Finally, he blurted out, “Listen, maybe this is an odd question, but does Lukas ever talk much about Penny?”
That really was an odd question. “I...I don’t recall him talking about her much at all. Why?”
“Sir Halvor believes there are certain...expectations for the girl. I was wondering what the duke had to say on the matter. I’m sorry, it’s really none of my business, is it?”
“No, not at all. But what expectations do you mean? Is Lukas thinking of marrying her off?”
“Yes. To Pedr Byrne—though you didn’t hear that from me.”
“She’s awfully young,” said Molly quietly.
“Yes, she is. I feel sorry for her, don’t you?”
“I do, in fact.”
Molly wondered if Timothy might perhaps have a little bit of a crush on the lovely young Penny. He certainly wouldn’t have been the first household servant to fall for a daughter of the family he served. But before she could think of a way to frame the question, they arrived at the abbey, and it was time to get ready for bed.
Chapter 49
Lawrence did his best to keep track of the days religiously. The trouble was that there were natural ridges in the wood, and sometimes he might get halfway through the count and ask himself, “was that sixty-three or sixty-four?” And then he’d have to start the count all over again. He knew the Equinox was coming up soon, and then he would have to give Muriel her answer.
He had spent a lot of time thinking about the proposal. On the face of it, a marriage between Elwyn and Broderick the Younger had certain advantages. Like ending the war, for instance. There would be no point in fighting anymore when the Gramiren heir to the throne was married to a Sigor.
There was a serious problem, though—the same problem that had prevented the marriage six years earlier. If Elwyn married young Broderick, then no one would care about the fact that Edwin had a superior claim to the throne. The two royal bloodlines—legitimate and illegitimate—would be reunited, and all the nobles would see Elwyn’s children as the natural successors. Edwin would become superfluous, and superfluous kings didn’t last very long. Muriel and her husband would have every reason to send their assassins to kill the boy. They would see it as merely tidying up a loose end.
Lawrence didn’t want that to happen. Edwin had been through so much now, and he was turning into a fine soldier and a natural leader. In a few short months, he would be 16. Another year or two, and he would be old enough to take charge. He could pick his own advisors and his own council. At that point, there would be no going back. He would be the king in reality, and not just in theory.
On the other hand, wasn’t that the reason why this wedding had to take place now? Edwin was still young enough that if he disappeared into retirement—or simply disappeared—he would be forgotten in a few years. Let him get old enough, let him gather his own followers, not just people who supported his family, and then he would be unstoppable. That had to be why Muriel was so desperate.
The marriage had other advantages, of course. Personal reasons, not political ones. Chief among them was the satisfaction Lawrence felt at the idea of forcing Elwyn to do what she was told for once.
She had ruined everything by refusing to marry Andras in time, and it would serve her right to be forced into this marriage, instead. The thought of Elwyn miserable—fat and frumpy with half a dozen squalling children—made Lawrence almost inexpressibly happy. No one deserved it more than that arrogant bitch. And in truth, it would probably do her good. She had been allowed to do whatever she liked for her entire life, and it had made her the most stubborn, most spoiled woman in all of Myrcia. She needed to be taken down a notch or two, and this wedding would certainly do it.
But of course, there was still the problem of Edwin’s claim to the throne.
Lawrence drifted back to sleep, but he woke when he heard the lock turn and the hinges shriek. Muriel was there again, a black shadow in the lamplight.
“Well, Lawrence, it’s the day after the Equinox. I gave you one day extra. I would like to say that this was a magnanimous gesture on my part, but actually we were so busy with the party yesterday that I completely forgot about you.”
“I hope you’re recovered from your hangover.”
“My head is still a bit sore. Thank you for asking. Now, you must remember the proposal I put to you last time we spoke. What do you say? Will you help me arrange the marriage of Broderick and Elwyn?” She raised an arm, holding out a scroll. “The lord chancellor has prepared a first draft of the betrothal contract. I’d like you to read it.”
She tossed it on the floor and Lawrence was just able to stretch his chains far enough to pick it up. In the dim light from the open cell door, he could barely make out the words, and his eyes were unused to focusing on text, so it took him a long time to read the contract.
It was more or less exactly what he had expected, though in some regards, it was surprisingly generous. The Sigors would have to give up any claim to the throne. Edwin would receive a title—an earldom, most likely—and a large estate. That would be taken from the lands confiscated from the Byrnes, no doubt. The boy would be forbidden from leaving the country or from ever coming to Formacaster unless summoned. And he would need the approval of the king before he could marry. But otherwise he would be allowed to do whatever he liked for the rest of his life. Elwyn would be made a countess in her own right and would receive an estate of her own.
Of course, what was written in the contract and what happened in practice were likely to be quite different. There was no way Edwin would live long enough to enjoy his country retirement, and he certainly wouldn’t be permitted to marry and have children who could inherit the Sigor claim.
“I’m sorry to have put the lord chancellor to so much work for nothing,” said Lawrence. He tossed the contract back at Muriel’s feet. “I can’t accept your proposal. Elwyn isn’t going to marry young Broderick.”
She drummed her fingers against the doorframe. “And why not?”
“You might remember that the last time you tried to arrange a marriage between the two of them, it was a complete disaster. Elwyn doesn’t want him, and I doubt Broderick wants her, either.”
“Not even if it will end the war?”
“No. Not even then. Believe me, no one knows Elwyn’s faults better than I do, but she loves her brother, and she wouldn’t be a party to a contract that robbed him of his birthright.”
Muriel picked up the contract, rolled it up tight, and tapped it against her palm. She seemed to be considering her reply carefully. Lawrence wondered if she was going to have him executed now. That seemed like the most likely outcome. He had refused her demands, and now what reason did she have for keeping him alive?
At last, he couldn’t wait for her to speak any longer. “Are you going to kill me?” he demanded.
“What?” Muriel looked at him as if she had forgotten he was even there. “Ah, your death sentence. Yes, it’s very tempting, but no. You’re not going to die today, Lawrence.”
He felt as if he’d won a very tiny victory. Granted, all he’d really won was the chance to stay in the cell, but at least he would still be alive.
Muriel started to leave, then stopped. “I don’t accept your refusal. I will give you more time to come to your senses.”
“That’s going to take a very long time.”
“I’m sure it will.” She turned to go, then came back. “Oh, there was one other thing I was going to tell you. I’m so sorry to be the bearer of bad news, but your dear mother, the dowager countess, passed into Earstien’s Light last week.”
“My mother?” Lawrence’s face and arms went slack. He slumped against the wall. “My mother is dead? I...I didn’t even know she was sick.”
He hadn’t seen her in years. But when he was at court, they had seen each other nearly every day.
“Yes, the end came quite suddenly, I’m afraid. I would have told you earlier, but there didn’t seem to be much point, since you couldn’t have gone to see her anyway. You know, I was thinking that if you agreed to sign this contract, I might permit you to attend the—”
“Get out!” He flung straw at her—it was all he had. He wished it was rocks or knives. “Get out of here and go fuck yourself.”
Muriel laughed. “Yes, I imagine that hurts a great deal, doesn’t it? I remember your father. When he died, it must have been a real comfort to him to know his son was a respected advisor to the king, and his daughter was queen. He died knowing his grandson was heir to the throne. Now, your mother, on the other hand....”
“Go away,” Lawrence said. He put his head in his hands so Muriel couldn’t see him break down.
“Your mother died knowing her son was in a dungeon and her daughter was little better than a captive. She died knowing that her grandson’s claim to the throne had been utterly destroyed on the field of battle, and she died knowing that it was all your fault. She died knowing what a worthless heap of dung you really are.” She laughed again. “I’ll leave you to your thoughts now.”
The door slammed shut, and Lawrence wished she had decided to kill him.
