The Marus Manuscripts

by Paul McCusker

  “Why shouldn’t I be, Reginald?” Lord Hector responded. “Things are looking up.”

  “Are you talking about the purge or the king’s golf score?”

  “I’m talking about being invited to the queen’s chambers for lunch tomorrow. What do you make of it?”

  Reginald shrugged. “I’m not sure I make anything of it.”

  “But why invite me when she could have the king all to herself?”

  “A very good question. I suppose you think you have an answer?”

  “I do. I believe it’s a gesture on her part to win my friendship. I think she’s a very shrewd woman, and she knows where the real power in this kingdom rests. With me. She also knows that now is a very good time to win my favor.”

  “You read a lot into a simple invitation.”

  “In the business of politics, one has to. Nothing is as it seems. No one is kind unless they will gain from it. No one is nasty unless there’s an advantage. That’s how the game is played.”

  “But she’s only the queen,” Reginald said. “She has no real power.”

  “It’s true,” Lord Hector conceded. “But she’s a beautiful woman. And I believe she has the king’s heart.” Hector sat up, abruptly changing the subject. “Tell me how Simet is holding up. Has he given you any worthwhile information? It would be gratifying to me if he would blab the names of all the other leaders of the Old Faith.”

  “No, sir. He defies us at every turn. He has surprising stamina for an old man.”

  “You won’t kill him.”

  “Of course not. I leave that pleasure to you on Saturday.”

  Hector chuckled low and wickedly. “He will be the first to die on my new gallows.” Hector then stood up, his tone turning light. “I wonder what I should wear to the queen’s chambers tomorrow?”

  “Your black coat, I assume.”

  “Yes,” Hector said thoughtfully. “It’s my favorite.”

  Maddy finally went back to Annison’s chambers. Annison was in the midst of finalizing the menu for the next day’s lunch with the king. Tabby took copious notes, offering suggestions on one or two items, and then hustled off to inform the royal chef.

  “What did you learn?” Annison asked Maddy once they were alone.

  “Lord Hector thinks you’ve invited him to lunch because you want to be his friend,” Maddy replied. “And they’re trying to get Simet to give them the names of the leaders of the Old Faith.”

  “They’re torturing him,” said Annison softly.

  Maddy nodded somberly. “But he hasn’t told them anything.”

  “And he won’t. He’ll die first.”

  “They won’t let him die,” Maddy said. “Lord Hector wants Simet to be the first one hung on the gallows this Saturday.”

  Annison clutched her hands to her breast. “If the Unseen One would permit it, I would poison that evil man’s food tomorrow. But that’s not His way. It’s not what I believe I should do.”

  “What are you going to do?” Maddy asked. “Inviting them to lunch . . . the book you gave to the king . . . I don’t understand what you’re up to.”

  “I told you I’m going to appeal to the king in Lord Hector’s way. If it works, I may beat him at his own game. If it doesn’t, I may be the second person hung on the gallows this Saturday.”

  That evening, Tabby, breathless and red-faced, ran into Annison’s chambers just as the clock struck eight. “A servant has just come from the king!” she exclaimed.

  Annison, who was trying to decide what to wear for the next day’s lunch, looked up anxiously. “A servant from the king?” she asked.

  “He wants you to come to his Reception Hall immediately. He wants an audience with you.”

  Annison swallowed hard. “What on earth could he want with me now?”

  “The servant didn’t say. But you must hurry.”

  Annison raced to a standing mirror to be sure her dress and hair looked all right. “Do I look presentable?” she asked anxiously.

  “There’s no time!” Tabby cried impatiently.

  “May I come with you?” Maddy asked.

  “The king wants her alone,” Tabby emphasized.

  Annison leaned to Maddy’s ear. “Watch from the passageway,” she whispered.

  Annison and Tabby hurried out. Maddy waited for a minute and then, when she was sure it was clear, went to the hidden door in the bedroom, lit the torch, and rushed down the passageway to the peephole.

  Maddy got to the peephole before Annison reached the Reception Hall. The king was seated on his throne, flipping through the small red-velvet book Annison had given him earlier. His expression was one of deep concentration. He looked puzzled and worried, an unusual combination for him. Then a servant entered and announced that Queen Annison had arrived. The king stood up, tucked the book in his belt, and said, “Please send her in.”

  Queen Annison entered, and, glancing quickly in the direction of the peephole, she bowed. The king went to her and took both her hands in his. “Thank you for coming on such short notice,” he greeted.

  “The pleasure is mine, sire,” she replied.

  He kissed her hands and then led her to two of the chairs at the base of the podium on which the throne sat. She sat down in one, and he sat in the other.

  “How may I serve Your Majesty?” she asked.

  “I want to talk to you about this story you’ve written.” He pulled the book from his belt and held it up.

  “What of it, sire?”

  “I found it both moving and frustrating at the same time.”

  “I’m glad my writing could touch your emotions.”

  “You knew very well that it would. I may not be a particularly brilliant man, but I’m not a fool. You wrote this story for a purpose.”

  “What purpose might that be, sire?”

  “Don’t be coy, Annison. I had hoped that you respected me more than that.”

  “I’m sorry if I sound coy.”

  “Let’s talk about this story.” The king fiddled with the pages of the book as he spoke. “You tell about a man who works in a palace and has raised an orphan girl like his own daughter. He works hard and serves his king well, but his greatest reward is to see his foster daughter rise to great heights of power and popularity. But this man never reveals that he’s the girl’s foster father and carries on in his meager duties. Then one day he learns of a plot to kill the king. He secretly informs the queen, who then tells the king, who then thwarts the plot. But because the king didn’t know of this man’s loyalty, he believes the slander of those in his court who falsely accuse the man for their own gain—they themselves were in on the plot to kill the king but cleverly disguised the fact. The king has the man locked up, tortured, and then, finally, hung on the gallows.”

  “That is the story I told, yes.”

  “The ending leaves me furious, my queen. My sense of injustice at this man’s fate makes my blood boil.”

  “As you are a just king, I thought it might.”

  “Confound it, Annison, is this story true? Am I the king?”

  “Please, Your Majesty,” Annison said carefully. “May we continue to speak of the story as only a story, to see what we may learn from it?”

  The king snorted unhappily. “You Marutians love your stories, don’t you? It’s as if you don’t know how to speak directly.”

  “I don’t wish to offend you.”

  “No, no,” he said. “We’ll do it your way. Let us speak of this man hypothetically.”

  “Since the story outraged you with its injustice, do you think, then, that the king should free the man?”

  “Of course he should.” The king suddenly stood up and paced, his hands clasped behind his back. Maddy wondered if it was a habit picked up from Lord Hector by the king or the other way around. “More than freeing him, the king should honor the man! No generosity should be withheld.”

  Annison breathed a sigh of relief. “I am happy to hear you say so, my lord.”

 
“Now tell me, Annison. Is this story of yours true or not?”

  “It is true, Your Majesty.”

  The king groaned. “And who is the man?”

  “His name is Simet. He’s the one who told me of the plot to poison you, which he’d heard from a reliable source.”

  “I think I know him. He’s one of the palace guards.”

  “He was, Your Majesty. But even now he is in the dungeons, being tortured.”

  “I will soon remedy that. And his foster daughter? Have I met her as well?”

  Annison opened her mouth to answer, but at that moment a knock came at the door.

  “What is it?” the king bellowed.

  Lord Hector entered, clutching a handful of papers. “Your Majesty, I have these papers for you to—” He stopped when he saw the queen sitting with the king. “I’m so sorry, sire. I didn’t realize you were busy.”

  He bowed as if to retreat, but the king called him forward. “You are just the man I want to see,” the king declared.

  “Sire?”

  “Yes,” the king replied. “There’s a grave injustice I want to correct. Will you help me?”

  “With pleasure, sire.”

  Annison suddenly interrupted. “Perhaps Your Majesty should speak hypothetically to Lord Hector, to gain his wisdom on the subject,” she suggested.

  “An excellent idea, my queen,” he said, boylike, as if he were about to play a game of charades. “Lord Hector, what would you think if I said there was a man who saved a king’s life but was not properly rewarded for it?”

  Lord Hector looked from the king to the queen and back again before responding, “Then I would assume Your Majesty would want to reward him in some way.”

  “With great honors, yes?”

  “If Your Majesty pleases.” Lord Hector’s face lit up, and then he asked, “Do I know this man?”

  “I’ll say only that he has served me with great diligence in the past month, and I’m afraid I haven’t given him his due.”

  “In the past month?” Lord Hector suddenly blushed.

  “Yes,” the king went on. “Now, I wonder what you would do to honor such a man.”

  “Well . . .” Lord Hector began, again blushing, “I would suggest a banquet, inviting all of his family and friends and the notables of the city, and then I would present him with a medal or medallion of some sort, proclaiming his value to Your Majesty. And”—he paused to clear his throat—“if you felt that this particular servant was worthy, you might give him a house and lands in the countryside. But that is for Your Majesty to decide.”

  Something about Lord Hector’s expression and the way he spoke gave Maddy the impression that he thought he himself was the man about whom the king was talking.

  “I’m so glad to hear you say it!” the king exclaimed. “We will do all that for the man—and more.”

  Lord Hector smiled. “Your Majesty is too kind.”

  The king frowned. “If I were kind, this man would not be in the dungeon in the first place.”

  Lord Hector looked puzzled. “In the dungeon?”

  “Yes. And it’s my intention to find out who put him there in such an unjust manner.”

  “It . . .” Lord Hector suddenly seemed to have trouble speaking. His mouth moved, but the words were slow to come. “It goes without saying. But, sire, who is the man?”

  “His name is Simet.”

  Lord Hector’s face contorted as the blood rushed from his face. His expression went from shock to confusion to fear. “Simet?”

  “Yes. I assume you know him.”

  “I do, Your Majesty.” Lord Hector struggled to maintain his composure. Maddy was sure his mind was working quickly to turn this to his advantage somehow. “But—oh, dear—this is most awkward.”

  “Why?”

  “You authorized his arrest.”

  Clever man, Maddy thought. He has turned the tables on the king.

  “Did I?” the king asked, unsure.

  “Earlier today. He’s the palace guard of whom I told you. He refused to sign the oath of allegiance.”

  The king looked thoughtful. “Odd, then, that a man who refused to sign your oath is also a man who may have saved my life.”

  “True, Your Majesty. If he did as you said,” Hector offered.

  “You have your sources of information about this man, and so do I,” the king retorted. “For the time being, I will believe my sources.”

  “As you wish, sire. But there’s more to it than that. I have reason to believe he’s a fanatic of the Old Faith.”

  “Yes, so you said earlier today.”

  “Which is one more reason he was put in the dungeon, as you authorized.”

  The king pondered this statement for a moment. “So I authorized his arrest based on your claims against him?”

  “Yes, sire.”

  The king looked down at the red-velvet book thoughtfully, then gazed at the queen with a knowing expression. She simply returned his gaze with a look of expectation.

  “I think I understand now.”

  Lord Hector seemed sure he had won his case. “So to release him from the dungeon might be folly on your part—”

  “Folly?” the king bellowed, suddenly turning on Hector. “You speak to your king of his folly?”

  “No, Your Majesty. Of course not,” Lord Hector said evasively. “I didn’t mean your folly. I meant—”

  “I know what you meant,” the king growled. “Regardless, you will release the man. And not only will you release him, but I also want you to begin preparations for the honors you mentioned.”

  “The honors?” Lord Hector gulped loudly.

  “I want him to have a banquet and a medal and a house and lands.”

  Hector closed his eyes as if enduring great pain. “If you insist, Your Majesty.”

  “I insist. We will discuss the matter further tomorrow.”

  “Perhaps we could discuss it at our luncheon together?” Annison suggested.

  “That would be perfect,” the king agreed. “A woman’s touch for such an occasion would be welcome. You are dismissed, Lord Hector.”

  “Yes, yes,” Hector stammered, still dumbfounded by this turn of events. “Thank you, sire.”

  When Lord Hector reached the door, the king suddenly called out, “Hector, have you been interrogating Simet in your usual fashion?”

  “I haven’t as yet. But he has been asked a question or two, I’m sure.”

  “Then you had better make sure the palace doctor attends to him. I want him in perfect condition for his banquet.”

  “Yes, sire.” Lord Hector bowed and backed out of the hall.

  Once the door was closed, the king turned to Annison again. “Satisfied?” he asked.

  “Thank you, sire.”

  “Well, I’m not,” he stated. “You haven’t told me everything. I believe there’s more to this story than you’ve said. And I am now suspicious of its outcome.”

  “There is more,” Annison replied. “But it can wait until our luncheon tomorrow.”

  “Perhaps I won’t wait. I have my own ways of finding things out.”

  Annison smiled at him noncommittally.

  The king looked at her warily. “Why do I have the feeling you’re toying with me?”

  Annison looked offended at the idea. “Your Majesty is far too astute to be toyed with.”

  “Nonsense! People have been toying with me my entire life. From the nursery to the grave, a king is but a toy to be tossed to and fro between his lords and ministers.”

  “But by his wife?” Annison asked.

  “I hope,” he said earnestly, “that my wife does not.”

  He kissed her hands again, and Annison left. Then, alone, he returned to his throne and sat down wearily. His fingers lightly brushed the velvet on Annison’s book. He held it to his chest for a moment. Maddy suddenly realized that the king was truly in love with his queen.

  He abruptly stood up and went to the door. A servant appeared i
n the doorway. The king whispered something Maddy couldn’t hear. The servant nodded and rushed off, and the king returned to his throne with a wan smile on his face.

  Simet was taken to a wing of the palace Maddy had never seen before. The royal doctor kept an infirmary there, made up of small rooms with comfortable beds. Simet lay in his bed, his face puffed and bruised, but he didn’t look as bad as Maddy had feared.

  “What has happened?” Simet asked, his voice weak. “Why was I released?”

  “Annison spoke to the king,” she answered.

  His eyes grew wide. “She spoke to him? About what? What did she tell him? Is she in danger?”

  “No,” Maddy assured him. “She is well, and you are free.”

  “But what about Lord Hector? His purge is coming in only a few days.”

  “Annison is doing the best she can to stop it.”

  “But how?”

  “By the inspiration of the Unseen One,” Maddy replied, repeating what Annison had told her to say.

  “I don’t understand,” Simet said, sweat forming on his brow. “You have to tell me everything.”

  “She’ll tell you nothing more,” a voice said from behind Maddy. It was the doctor. He stood looking like an unmade bed, his white hair sticking out in all directions. Had he been roused from bed to attend Simet? Probably. “This girl is going to leave you now so you can rest. I also want to tend to the results of your interrogation.” He said the word disdainfully, as if he’d seen too many of the victims of Lord Hector’s torturers.

  “No, wait,” Simet requested.

  The doctor intervened and forced Maddy out. She waved quickly from the door and said comfortingly, “Don’t worry.”

  But Maddy herself was still worried. It was one thing to tell a clever story and get Simet released from the dungeon, but it was another to save hundreds if not thousands of believers from Hector’s purge. Maddy didn’t fully understand Annison’s thinking or how she still hoped to influence the king, but she hoped and prayed that Annison would succeed somehow.

  As Maddy rounded the corner to the hall leading back to Annison’s chambers, Lord Hector stepped forward.