Palace Intrigue

by Lina J. Potter

  The peasants had seen Lily build them a new church, and they had helped with the salt pits and the salting of fish. They had watched her Virmans hand the slave traders their asses. It was a good year. None of their women had been raped, none of their daughters had been stolen, and none of the men had been killed. Even theft had become a rare occurrence. The peasants were overjoyed.

  Two of the villages had lost their elders, to be sure, but the peasants suspected that Grismo and Darcey deserved their fates. Emma did her best to encourage this line of thinking by gossiping with the seamstresses, who took tales back to the villages on their visits home. Soon, even the deafest old man knew that Erk had been cooperating with the slave traders and that Fred had tried to poison the poor, dear countess (who had never done anything but good for her people).

  Because they were so pleased with Lily, they decided to come to her for justice. They might not have dared, except that this particular case was complicated: the victim and the accused were from different villages. Art (who had instigated the trip to the castle) suspected that the countess would judge fairly, more or less, and that she would be utterly merciless if she discovered the peasants pursuing lynch law on their own. Heads would roll, and he feared that his own would be the first to go because of his position as elder.

  As soon as Lily went out into the courtyard, the peasants swarmed toward her and fell at her feet. She had no choice; she would have to judge their case for them.

  ***

  The hearing took twenty minutes and was held in the small dining room, which had been rearranged to suit its new purpose. Lily had the servants move the chairs and set up a special place for her to preside. That done, the servants lit the candles, draped her chair in an expensive length of silk (it was pink since that was all they had) and opened the door to admit the parties to the case.

  The peasants hung back timidly, so Art stepped forward to explain the matter:

  Appleton and Riverton were three hours apart by horseback. If that seemed like enough of a distance to discourage intercourse between the two villages, it was not (at least for one man who had a horse). In Appleton, Art’s village, there was a good-looking young widow with three children and a good farm. Several men had their eyes on her, but she took up with a man from Riverton, who rode over every other evening and spent the night. It didn’t take long for the widow’s neighbors to catch on. They didn’t think it was right, and they wanted to make their point by breaking all the bones in the man’s body. At this point, the widow had jumped into the discussion and threatened to report her neighbors to the countess if they touched her lover. The crowd cooled off when they heard that. To make things even more interesting, another young woman from Appleton—this one unmarried and living at home—stepped forward and declared she was pregnant by the eager horseback rider. The widow jumped on her and would have ripped her face off, but the girl’s parents stepped in and pulled the widow off.

  It was a simple question: which woman had a better claim on the man?

  The man swore up and down that he had never visited the second girl or participated in any activities that might have gotten her pregnant. Her parents were outraged. The widow was furious at the thought that she might have been sharing her lover the whole time. Passions were boiling over, and the two villages were ready to declare war. Just in time, Art suggested asking the countess to judge the who, where, what and how of the matter.

  Lily shook her head. Then she questioned each participant in turn. The widow, named Marianne, was a strong woman who looked to be about thirty-five (which, in that world, meant she was probably ten years younger). She swore on all that was holy that her lover had only visited her, but under questioning admitted that she hadn’t followed him everywhere he went. He might have been true to her, or he might not.

  The man, a fellow named Tom, was handsome enough for his forty years (or thirty years, since to Lily’s eye, the peasants all looked much older than they were). He admitted that he liked Marianne and had been sleeping with her. He swore he would marry her the first chance he got. When asked about the unmarried girl, he declared that he’d never touched, kissed or done anything else to her. She was a skinny fool, and he had no use for her.

  Lily sighed and turned to the girl, who was clearly afraid and yet sure of her rights. Tom was the father. It couldn’t be anyone else.

  The countess sighed again. Someone was lying, but she couldn’t see her way to the truth yet. They couldn’t just wait for the child to be born and do a DNA test. She needed to come up with an answer here and now. Otherwise, there would be violence, and that was something she would not allow.

  How am I supposed to figure this out? I can’t ask the Virmans to torture innocent people. If only I had some truth serum, but I don’t. Wait a minute!

  “Chevalier Avels?”

  “Yes, My Lady?”

  Lons, who stood at his usual place behind Lilian’s shoulder, leaned forward. She whispered something in his ear. He listened, nodded, and gestured for Tom to follow him. Tom looked at the countess. She nodded in encouragement, and he followed Lons out of the room.

  Lily turned to the two women. “You go stand in that corner,” she pointed at Marianne. “And you,” she pointed at the girl, whose name was Iria, “go stand in the other corner. Each of you, in turn, will tell me if your lover has any scars or birthmarks. Tell me quietly, so that the other cannot hear. Then I will inform Chevalier Avels of what you have said, and he will verify your words. If either of you tells a lie, you will only have yourself to blame.”

  The peasants glanced at each other. It had never occurred to them to decide the question that way. Lily was not surprised. She had noticed that they were very good at certain things and very bad at others. It made sense. Lily would rather not try to milk a cow, and the peasants didn’t know how to run an investigation.

  The Virmans stood the two women in opposite corners of the room, and Lily, after thinking for a moment, went to the widow first. “Marianne, tell me about Tom’s body. Does he have any scars?”

  Marianne nodded. “There is one. When he was little, he squatted down outside to do his business, and a snake bit him from behind. His father cut out the poison with a knife. You can still see the scar on the left side of his…well, below his waist.”

  “Is that all?”

  The widow thought briefly and nodded. She told the countess the man had other small scars, but nothing unlike what the rest of them bore.

  Lily turned and went to Iria, who confidently stated that Tom had a single scar on his shoulder. This information was given to Lons Avels, who confirmed that the man had a scar on his backside and none on his shoulder.

  The countess frowned. She turned back to the younger girl and offered to let the Virmans work her over (the Virmans in the room grimaced at this), followed by a whipping at the stables and a one-way trip to Altver where she could earn her keep using the only skills she appeared to possess. That was enough of a threat. Through tears, the girl admitted that she had gotten pregnant by one of Erk Grismo’s sons. When he was arrested along with his father, she got scared and started looking for someone else to be the child’s father.

  Lily cursed silently. Then she grinned; she had found a way out. She returned to her ceremonial seat and nodded to Lons.

  “Her Ladyship has reached a decision!” he announced.

  She looked around the room. “Tom and Marianne, do you want to get married?”

  The man and woman glanced at each other. Tom’s eyes asked “Will you?” and Marianne’s eyes replied affirmatively. Lily saw and understood.

  “Pastor Vopler will join you in marriage so you will no longer be fornicating. You can decide where you want to live.”

  “In my home,” Tom spoke up, “in Riverton.”

  Lily nodded. “Next. Iria is pregnant by a man who committed a crime against myself and against the house of Earton.” The grim-looking man standing next to Iria cuffed her upside the head. “But I do not wish to see anyone else
die, so here is what I have decided. Marianne, when you go to live in Riverton, what will happen to your house?”

  “It will be empty, I suppose, My Lady.”

  “Then I will buy it from you for a fair price. That will be your dowry.” A wide smile appeared on Marianne’s face. “And I will give the house to Iria to live in. If she finds someone who wants to marry her, the house will be her dowry. Otherwise, she will live in it on her own. And the village can decide what punishment she deserves for lying about such a serious matter.”

  Lily had no pity for Iria. As she watched the peasants file out of the small dining room, she felt something like pride—. My land, my people.

  Mirrie, who stood next to Lily’s chair during the entire proceeding, looked up at her stepmother with an expression Lily had never seen before. “Will I have to do that when I grow up?”

  “If you don’t have a reliable husband, then yes. Watch and learn while I am with you.”

  Mirrie nodded. She wasn’t afraid to learn, and she wanted to be ready for anything.

  My…daughter?

  ***

  The Earl of Earton, ran his eyes over the letter from home and cursed quietly. It was not good news, not good at all.

  “What happened?” Richard asked from his bed. He was still weak, but the fever was gone, and the healers were already talking in confident tones about his recovery.

  “I already told you that my cow lost the baby, didn’t I? My man in town confirmed it. He says that Miranda reached Earton. I suppose that’s good news. But I’ll have to go down there by next fall.”

  “Sorry to hear that.”

  Jess made a face. “A lot of good your pity does me. I’ll have to sleep with her again!” He grimaced, remembering his wife. “Disgusting creature!”

  “Just grit your teeth and do your duty,” Richard snorted. “It’s not like you have to stick it in a hot oven.”

  Jess stared at his friend wide-eyed and went back to the letter. “Miranda is alive and well, thank goodness. My agent in the capital sent money for the estate.”

  “I don’t understand. Why?” Richard asked. He raised himself up on one elbow. “Doesn’t your manager collect the taxes for you?”

  Jess waved a hand. “The place is a hole, and the taxes don’t amount to anything. I always have to send money. Etor collects it in Altver from an agent I use there. Then he buys what he needs and takes it back to Earton.”

  “Why haven’t you ever tried to clean up Earton?” Richard asked. The two friends had never talked about Jess’ estate before, and it had never occurred to the prince to ask.

  “What for?” Jess shrugged.

  “It’s your family’s estate, isn’t it?”

  “More like a boil on Maldonaya’s ass,” Jess shot back rudely. He took a deep breath and continued more calmly. “Look, I have a house in the capital, a small estate right outside town, my shipbuilding business to handle, and my regiment. What the hell do I need with a castle in the woods where my evil grandmother used to live?”

  “What about your grandmother?”

  “The old bitch couldn’t stand my father or me or Amalia. He took us down there one time to see her, but she yelled at him so loud that the gates almost came off their hinges. I still remember his face. He slammed the door, and we got back in the carriage and left.”

  “Did you ever ask him what it was about?”

  Jess gestured impatiently. “All women are fools. Maldonaya would break a leg trying to walk around in a woman’s mind.”

  Richard looked at him thoughtfully. “You shouldn’t talk like that,” he said softly.

  “I’m sure there are exceptions, but I haven’t met one yet.”

  “What about Adele?” Richard smiled.

  Jess snorted. “I said all women.”

  Richard shook his head. He very much wanted to tell his cousin that he was the fool. He had let himself be spoiled by women. He was handsome, young, rich, and connected to the royal house, making him irresistible to a certain sort of woman. But sooner or later, Jess would meet a woman who was a worthy enemy. Richard hoped he would be there when it happened.

  ***

  Edward looked down at the letter on his desk. He tried hard to see beyond the simple words to the person that had written it. In one place, she had pressed too hard with the pen, almost tearing the parchment. Was she nervous? In another, she had obviously picked up too much ink with her pen, and the whole line came out darker. He saw a place where her pen had scratched the parchment. Was she angry? Was she tired of writing? Hans had told him that it took the countess an entire day and then some to write his letter. She had thought about it, choosing the right words, even asking Hans for advice.

  Your Majesty,

  Allow me to set forth for you the condition of the estate at Earton. I know that Leir Tremain will present his report to you so I will not waste your valuable time. Instead, I will tell you only what it is vital for you to know.

  My memories of the time before I lost my child are in a fog. Once I was well and got out of bed, I stopped thinking about my suffering and turned to the business at hand. I saw that the estate manager was a thief. Leir Tremain can show you proof of his guilt. I also saw that Medicus Craybey had almost killed me, whether out of ignorance or on purpose, I know not. He drained much blood from me, even after I suffered a miscarriage.

  I learned from my people that pirates and slave traders felt free to visit the estate. Leir Tremain brings some of these men with him. His advice and assistance in this matter were of the greatest importance to me.

  I also wish you to know that a deposit of amber was discovered on the estate. It is impossible to continue digging over the winter, but I hasten to promise that as soon as spring comes, we will renew that work. I have sent the royal portion of what we already recovered with Leir Tremain.

  Likewise, I am sending you some small gifts as a sign of my gratitude for your support. I will await your further instructions.

  I remain your devoted servant,

  Countess Lilian Elizabeth Mariella Earton

  It was a simple letter; short and impersonal. All the details had come from Hans, who told the king about life in Earton, about the countess, and even how to wear the lace collar and cuffs properly, and how to wash, dry and starch them so they would retain their shape.

  Edward ran a hand absently over one of his lace cuffs. He found that he enjoyed wearing them. The princesses were absolutely delighted to be envied by all the ladies at court. Several dressmakers in the capital had tried to imitate Lily’s work but had given up; it was too difficult.

  Who are you, Lilian Earton? No hysterical fool could have written a letter like that.

  Edward thought back to his son’s wedding. He had not seen the bride prior to that day, and she made a less than stellar impression standing at the altar like a haystack. He remembered her: a large girl dressed in white and pink, with long, golden braids hanging down the back of her dress and a round, red face. Why was she red? Was she embarrassed? Was her dress uncomfortable? Was she just hot? He decided it could have been anything. At the time, Edward had simply noted that she was not to his taste. She wore too much gold and…well, there was too much of her. She had mumbled something in response to his polite wishes of happiness in marriage.

  Edward did not believe that he understood women well, and he would have laughed at any man who claimed to have such knowledge. However, the king knew one thing well: a woman tends to behave strangely on her wedding day. He could clearly remember his own wedding day when he went to see Jessamine and found her fully dressed, from hair to shoes, and sobbing her eyes out. Why? Because she had never expected to be so happy.

  He wondered if his son could have mistaken shyness for stupidity. That was Jess. Women had always fallen on their backs for Jess without any effort on his part. He was used to being worshiped. He was young, handsome, rich and powerful. Edward remembered himself at the age of twenty, and he was ashamed.

  If he could do it a
ll over again, he would build a different relationship with Imogene…and with Edmund. The pain of losing Edmund was always with him. What did I do wrong with my son? Why did I find in him an enemy instead of a loving child? How much do we lose because we are young and stupid? Edward knew he could never have turned away from Jessie, but he could have tried harder to be careful with Imogene’s feelings. He could have kept his son closer.

  I might never have lost him or my best friend, Jyce. Time doesn’t really heal all wounds. It just creates a layer of years over something that still pulses and bleeds. When someone cuts a piece out of your heart, it never heals.

  Edward wanted to talk to his son in person, but that was not possible. He would write him a very serious letter and speak to him upon his return. Children should not repeat their parents’ mistakes, especially if their parents are around to warn them.

  The king looked back at the letter on his desk. He could sense a steel will behind the decisive, right-slanting letters. If it weren’t for the signature at the bottom, he would think the letter had been written by a man. There was no sentiment of any kind, just business. Lilian Earton was nothing like Imogene. She would not sit in a corner and cry.

  But what would she do?

  Edward suddenly realized with a shock that he was afraid for his son. He picked up his pen and began to write.

  ***

  A different letter suffered a much different fate. It was balled up in a fit of fatherly rage. Then it was smoothed out and read several more times. August had never been a patient man, and it was hard for him to read about his only daughter’s life being in danger.

  My daughter! My little buttercup!

  The letter was the first to suffer. Then his desk was overturned in a spasm of rage. Once he calmed down, he started to work on a plan.