"And when you were young he aided and protected you with all his bravery when you were growing up, no doubt?"
Geronde, reflected Angie, was a hopeless romantic, in spite of her steel-strong, unsparing exterior. Angie hoped—she really hoped—that after their marriage Brian would show some signs of understanding what storms of feeling could go on inside a woman with never a sign shown outside. Brian, good man that he was, seemed to see her as he saw the whole world: like himself, simple and straightforward.
"Protected me?" Joan laughed cheerfully. "No, it was I who protected him through all those younger years! I was two years older than he was, bigger and stronger until the change came upon him, and I fought less wildly, more to purpose than he, with the other noble children, when the need arose. But my chances to protect him ended early, with my first marriage."
Angie had been pondering how to ask a delicate question, this mention of a marriage seemed to offer it.
"Speaking of marriages, Lady Joan," she said. "Are we to expect some attention here from the Count of Salisbury?"
It was a sensitive question, since in effect it asked why their guest, a married woman, was running around the countryside, dressed up as a squire and with an unmarried Prince. On the other hand it was a legitimate question, since it also asked if they might expect Salisbury to come down on them with a force of men and arms that could level Malencontri.
"No," answered Joan immediately. "There is a question now in the hands of the Pope of whether my first marriage, to Holland, is a legal one, if so, I am still the wife of Holland rather than Salisbury. Given his Eminence's present disagreement with our King—who would back Salisbury—there is little hope the matter will be settled soon, or I be sent back to my first love, Holland. But in any case, Salisbury thinks of me only when he is home, which is seldom. He will be gone for some time yet."
"Was Sir Holland really your first love?" asked Geronde.
"First wedded love. Indeed, in some honesty I must say he was otherwise also, since our marriage was when I was but twelve. No, but I do love Holland dearly. Oh, not as I love Edward, but dearly, nonetheless. This is best since, being first cousins, Edward and I are too close in degree of relationship for the Church to allow us a marriage."
"I, myself, was left alone to run Malvern Castle and its lands at the age of eleven, and have done so ever since," said Geronde.
"Were you!" said Joan, and the two of them looked at each other for a moment, with sudden mutual respect and something almost like cousinly affection.
"In my case," went on Joan, "I had only a few years of happiness. My marriage to Holland had been perfectly legal—we both spoke the words of the derha de praesente form of the ceremony, you will observe—'I do take you for my husband—or wife—' as opposed to the derha de futuro form—'I will take you for my husband or wife'—at some time in the future—which indeed is merely a betrothal. And of course we had our witnesses, who could help us prove our words."
"But surely the matter was not questioned?" said Geronde.
"No," said Joan. "But Holland is a soldier, and poor. His only hope of wealth lies in capturing in battle someone able to pay a rich ransom—that is what he has tried to do ever since, and it's what might make it possible to approach the Pope—as is necessary in this case, since I am a royal and that is the only way to have declared my first marriage to him the only legal one."
"Is that the way of it, indeed?" said Geronde, deeply impressed.
"It is. An expensive process, producing witnesses, having writs made up, and all the rest of it. But then Holland was only twenty when we were married and, as I say, without such necessary moneys. I was only twelve, as I have said. The King knew nothing of our marriage, but he was in a rage at many wrongs committed here while he had been captive in Ghent. My relatives, knowing nothing of my marriage to Holland—only fearing such a hap—determined that, among other things, I should straightaway marry William Montagu, who afterward became Salisbury. At our marriage he was only his father's, the Count of Salisbury's, son and heir."
Joan paused to drink some watered wine.
"It is a long story and a dry one," she said.
Both Geronde and Angie assured her nothing could be farther from the fact.
"It is clear neither of you have been forced to spend much time at court," Joan said. "Otherwise you would know this history of mine from others. Well, the King is all-powerful, of course—as well as capable of easily flying into a general rage—and I dared say nothing about the marriage to Holland. So it was I was married to Montagu."
"But some day you will be free," said Geronde.
"With a proper decision by the Pope—which can hardly be otherwise than in our favor, provided we can pay our costs for it. The words were said, the witnesses witnessed. But now you understand why I consider myself free enough to accompany Edward."
"You are not easily thwarted," said Geronde.
"I am nothing compared to Edward. You will see!"
Privately, Angie thought that Edward himself might see something in the un-thwartable department when he came up against Jim.
Chapter Eight
Finally, the gathering of women left the Solar and went their different ways in the castle, and Jim was able to get at his own bed.
Theory had been fine, but reality had to win sometimes. Jim had begun his ride back to Malencontri full of plans to be put into action beginning the moment he arrived. Instead, he found himself just able to fall into the big bed in the Solar in time to be dead asleep as his head hit the pillow.
So much for heroic actions in emergencies.
He woke abruptly. Angie was moving quietly about the Solar. As he stared at her with a mind still fogged by sleep, she brought him a cup of just-made tea.
He drank it, careful not to fall back to sleep and spill it, continuing to watch her. Gradually he ascended into full wakefulness.
"You're tired," he said to her.
"A little," she said, making another cup of tea.
"You stayed up all night after the guests were asleep to get things done in the castle."
"There wasn't much choice. Besides, it helped impress the servants, who all had to stay up with me, with how important cleaning and fixing the castle against the plague was. I think I scared them silly—move over."
She had come back with the second cup of tea. When he shifted away from the edge of the bed to give her room, she sat down beside him, took a deep drink from the cup she carried, and let her head fall back against the headboard.
"Anyway," she said, "everything that's got to be done is underway, except for the Nursing Room. What do you think of using the lowest level of the tower rooms?"
"No," he said. "I thought about it, coming home. Ground floor, servants' quarters—knock a hole in the outside wall…" He reeled off the ideas he had matured on horseback.
They argued amicably for a few minutes.
"…Never mind," said Angie. "I'm too tired to think up any more answers, and you're probably right, anyway. What are you going to do about the quarantine for people who come to the castle and want in?"
"I thought we'd set up the big tent—the pavilion—with some kind of small tent or a shack the carpenter could construct, where food and water could be set out for them to pick up. But, just in case, I'm going to throw a ward around the whole castle, too."
He grinned at her, reaching across to put his empty cup down on the end table, but saw that her eyes had closed and the half-empty cup she now held was about to spill.
Gently he rescued it from her lax fingers, put it also on the end table, and rolled quietly off the other side of the bed. She was breathing deeply and did not wake as he undressed her and covered her up. That done, without waking she turned on her left side, sighed once, and went back to her deep breathing. He dressed in the same formal clothes he had worn the day the Bishop arrived, and tiptoed to the door that opened on the hall running around the curve of the tower.
Rather ridiculous, tiptoeing,
he told himself as he shut the door behind him. A cannon—if there had been such things here—going off next to the bed probably would not have wakened her.
"Where's Carolinus?" he asked the man-at-arms on duty outside the door. "He's still here, isn't he?"
"Think so, my lord," the man answered. "But where…" he looked at the servant on duty with him. "But where… ?"
"He's in his room—doing terrible magickal things," said the servant, a skinny recent recruit in her mid-to-late teens and eager to be noticed by Authority, so she would be kept on. "Shall I go fetch him for you, my lord, forgive me suggesting it?"
"The suggestion's perfectly all right," said Jim. "But he's a Mage—much higher in magickal rank than I am. I'll go to him. You can show me which room it is."
"Yes, my lord. Thank you, my lord. This way, my lord."
He followed her down two levels and around the curve of the hall there.
"Well, there you are," said Carolinus, who was doing no terrible magickal things at all, but examining a spider who was holding up a couple of its limbs for inspection. "No, no damage done at all. They'll be perfectly all right in an hour or so—see if they aren't. Jim, I thought you were going to sleep all day."
"No need. I'm fine," said Jim. "I'm glad you're still here even though the Bishop's already gone. Sorry about getting you here like this—I didn't know he'd leave so suddenly. But since you are here, I need your help."
"Who doesn't?" Carolinus glanced back at the spider, which was just disappearing over the edge of the table. "Actually, I stayed because I have something I've been meaning to speak to you about."
"I'm in an awkward position—" Jim began hastily before Carolinus could get off on whatever he was about to launch into.
"I hope not!" said Carolinus. "Just when I've put your name up—as I just said, that's what I've been meaning to tell you," he broke off to cough, "that is to say, I haven't had time to tell you. I've put your name up for graduation to full Magickian, and you're going to be expected—under observation, of course—to do something noteworthy if you expect to be voted into full membership."
Jim had not originally been expecting ever to be voted into full membership in the Collegiate of Magickians. In fact, in his early days here he had wanted nothing better than to have nothing to do with Magick, let alone the Collegiate. It was his view then that he and magick would be best off traveling in different directions.
But that was before his victory over the Dark Powers at the Loathly Tower while wearing a borrowed dragon body had turned out to have a side effect. Which was that he had acquired an active balance in magickal energy with the mysterious Accounting Office, and unless he learned to use that magick—like breaking a horse to wear a saddle and work with a rider—it would use him.
Now, having learned a great deal about the presence of magic in this world which was developing almost—but not quite—along the same historical lines as the Earth on which he and Angie had been born—five hundred years later—his point of view had come full circle to the opposite opinion.
He had come to the decision that not only must he gain acceptance in the Collegiate, he must manage to grow in it to a place where he was finally one of its important voices.
But not yet—above all, not at this particular, critical time.
"Well, I'm not going to worry about that now," he said, deliberately brushing off Carolinus's announcement. "Not with all the other troubles I've got piling up here—and it's the most immediate of these I desperately need to talk to you about. It has to do with the Prince, and it can't wait."
"Young Edward?" said Carolinus, with unusual agreeableness. "Yes, I noticed he was here. Trouble with his father again?"
"Trouble with Cumberland, you mean?" said Jim.
"Hmm, well, yes. I suppose I do."
"Yes. Outside of a few small explosions, I don't think the two of them would ever have fallen out if Cumberland hadn't been deliberately stirring the pot to keep it boiling over all the time. No, it's something else. Now the Prince has got himself mixed up in a sort of harebrained scheme to win himself back into his father's affection while Cumberland's not around. You won't have known, but the King's been moved from his court at the Tower of London, down to a place called Tiverton, to get him away from the plague in London."
"Of course I knew!" said Carolinus. "Give me credit for knowing at least a few thousand more things than you do!"
"The scheme tries to take advantage of that by setting up a situation where the two can get together and find out they still really like each other."
"Nothing wrong about that," said Carolinus. "Giving human nature a chance to work, that's all."
"Theoretically, no. Anyway, that's not what's giving me a problem. Tiverton's only a short day's ride from here. The Prince wants to use Malencontri for secret meetings with a man named Verweather, to talk over things about his plan that he can't talk about in Tiverton itself—and he also wants to come visiting the Fair Maid of Kent, who came here with him. I've got to find a diplomatic way of turning him down. I thought of using the fact I'm bound by some rule or other of the Collegiate that gives me no choice about saying 'no'—and I thought you, knowing the rules better—could suggest something."
Carolinus might be bone, flesh, heart and soul a Magickian, but he was not unworldly where the politics of his day were concerned.
"I see," he said thoughtfully. He eyed Jim.
"You've looked for your answer in the Encyclopedic Necromantic?" he asked.
"To tell you the truth," said Jim, looking the senior Magickian hard in the eyes as he spoke, "I've found the Encyclopedic turned out to be almost completely useless for my purposes. Yes, the directions about the simple spell-forms for beginning apprentices were useful for me at first. But from there on, everything seemed to head off in a different direction from the way I was beginning to use magic."
"But you did get to the Rules and regulations enjoined upon all Members of the Collegiate of Magickians, their apprentices, familiars, and all other dependents for which they are responsible while active in the use of Magick?"
"Well… no," said Jim. The truth was, he had never looked beyond the middle part of that massive tome.
"And here," said Carolinus, "I've just finished putting your name up for a vote on becoming a full Magickian!"
"I thought the rest of the book beyond where I stopped was just more of the same."
"Hah!" said Carolinus. "Well, disabuse yourself of that notion! Cough your copy up—you remember the pattern of coughs to do so, I hope."
Tight-lipped, and without a word, let alone a cough, Jim extended his hand, palm upward, with a minuscule, thick volume, the print of which would require a microscope to read, in the center of it.
"Very pretty!" said Carolinus. "A very pretty little bit of magick to be sure. But I hope you don't think this makes up for your despicable failure to read and memorize the rules and regulations in the first place!"
"I merely wanted to show you how I had developed some things," said Jim, still coldly. "In more than one way, my use of magic has gone beyond most of the sort of stuff in the Necromantic—including some of the advanced forms."
"Every worthwhile Magickian discovers that. Turn to the Rules. Number one hundred and eleven."
Jim opened his mouth again, closed it. Deeds spoke louder than words. In his hand, the tiny volume swelled to the size of a large wedding cake, but with its forty-pound weight no longer bearing down on his palm—instead, it floated in midair, a fraction of an inch above his hand.
It opened itself at its last page, flipped back several more pages, and lay open to be read.
"No member of the Collegiate will at any time also he a member of any other organization, establishment or group, but will at all times remain free in allegiance only to our own world-wide association in which any other member who has violated none of these laws will be regarded, if a man, as a brother, and if a woman, as a sister," he read aloud.
"Well," said Carolin
us, "make your choice—give young Edward the cooperation he asks for or continue being a Magickian. I need hardly add that since your name has been proposed in full assembly, you are already considered to be ruled by the laws written down here. So actually you have no choice but to tell him what he wants is forbidden to you to grant."
A great sense of relief took possession of Jim. If this problem fell so easily, why shouldn't all the others turn out to be so quickly solvable?
But then common sense took over, and he realized turning down the Prince without making an enemy of him was not quite a problem of the size of defending against the plague.
"Thank you, Master and Mage," he said, "for coming to my rescue once more. And thank you for putting me up for full Magickian membership. But can we talk about that later? There's all sorts of things I should be overseeing to protect Malencontri's people against the plague—oh, and it was the plague I think the Bishop particularly wanted to consult with you on. But with him having to go back to Wells—"
"Never mind," said Carolinus, once more in the strangely agreeable tone he had used before. 'There are ways—vulnerable to the sickness myself, you know."
"I hadn't thought! You've got to come stay with us here, once we get set up." Carolinus had always seemed invulnerable to anything, but, Jim remembered now, they had seen him sick and helpless before.
"We'll see," said the Mage.
Jim went in search of the Prince and was told that royal figure was in his room with the Countess, so he headed for the room. As host, theoretically he could walk in anywhere in his own castle. But that was theory—this was practice. He knocked.
As he did so, a line from a poem by Kipling that Angie had quoted to him a long time ago came back to him. "…they sought the king among his girls and risked their lives thereby…" The memory stirred the unease within him at having to break his present news to Edward. But this was a Prince, not an Eastern King, and there was only one "girl" with him. But Angie had said she had liked Joan of Kent, and if that was so, the Countess was likely to be a sensible sort of person.
The Dragon and the Fair M Page 8
