by Patty Jansen
Johanna did not dare look at the men to her left.
Chapter 2
* * *
AS SOON AS the eastern traders were gone from the room, several of the powerful men in the King’s Council raised their voices.
“That was a rash and irresponsible decision. You cannot know what hidden motives they have for coming here,” Johan Delacoeur said. His face went red, as it usually did when he was agitated. “A lot of people will be very angry.”
“Those people can have their say,” Johanna said. “I will listen to their arguments. I have not given him my word, only that I’m interested.”
“With all due respect, Your Majesty, is that decision up to you alone? I don’t think so.” When Johan said all due respect he usually meant no respect at all.
“According to our agreement, only the king can make that decision without support from the council,” another noble said.
There was some murmuring of agreement at this. Apparently a young woman who was not from a noble family was such a threat to them that they needed an entire council to keep an eye on her.
Johanna found it hard to meet Father’s eyes. He and Master Deim were in the minority. They didn’t think that she was incapable of making decisions, but the council had been one of the conditions under which the noble families had accepted the “Idiot King” on the throne.
It was a fragile agreement for a fragile position. They couldn’t afford arguments.
“I cannot see why we can’t rebuild our own ocean trade,” a man said.
“We don’t need foreigners to run business for us!” another shouted.
Another man said, “I agree. These foreigners and their gold are likely to take our best workers away from us.”
“Then pay them more!” Master Deim said.
“Gentlemen!” Johanna’s voice cut through their arguments. “Like it or not, we face the reality that, underneath our veneer of sophistication, Saardam is struggling to overcome the effects of the past. The invasion and occupation by Alexandre have sucked the city dry. We have no food until harvest, and not enough people are left on the farms who know how to work the fields.”
“We can buy food,” Johan Delacoeur said.
“Yes, but many of the poor will not be able to afford it.” Not to mention that the coffers were empty.
He snorted. “They can survive off bread and water. Entire armies do it. For surprisingly long periods of time, too.”
Master Deim spoke up. “The poor are those who provide the workers to rebuild the city, as well as the quay workers, the ones who unload and load our ships. Prosperity of the land is not measured in the wealth of the rich, but in how many of the poor can afford to feed their families. Because if they can, they’re happy. They won’t steal, they won’t join rebellions. Give a poor man a job and pay him, and he will happily work for you.”
“That’s just what these eastern buggers are trying to do, isn’t it?” That was the noble Thomas Kloostermans. “Get a foothold in the city and spread their foppish ways and foul religions. I mean—which man lets his wife wear trousers, for the sake of the holy god.”
“Not many of you are old enough to remember the last time that happened,” said Patricius Faber, a man easily the oldest of the council. “When preachers of this ludicrous church came into the city and subverted our merchants and workers with notions that they are somehow equal to nobles. The next thing, the king himself was taken with this rubbish, having had his senses clouded through the loss of his daughter. And no one stopped him, and we were all saying ‘I told you so.’ Twenty-five years on, our women are going to this church and are begging us to come. This church has corrupted the core of our civilisation. That’s what will happen when you let foreigners in. First they give our workers jobs, then they buy things from our merchants, and then they attempt to corrupt us by appealing to the weak minds of our women.”
Johanna was very much tempted to say, “Well, maybe then you should do something that those people will find worth supporting instead,” but she had no energy for an argument.
Johanna shifted in her seat. She needed to get up and out of this room, because the corset made her uncomfortable. It pushed her stomach down so that her front was flat. But that expanding waist had to go somewhere. It was all squished up inside. She had to take shallow breaths because there was nowhere for her lungs to expand.
If she got up, the men would see that the dress sat wrong and that the bottom of the bodice wasn’t done up at all. But, by the Triune, she was feeling unwell all of a sudden.
“If you’re asking me, Your Majesty, the man’s gold is bewitched,” Shepherd Victor was yelling over the other voices.
A couple of the men protested.
“Look at how it makes you fight like little children. He showed you the gold and now you’re all fighting over it. This man is a magician. He is using magic to befuddle our minds and cloud our senses. It was evident from the way you all looked at him. Especially Your Majesty was affected by his foul tricks of magic.”
Johanna bit her lip. Arguing with him achieved nothing except cement the opinions of these men against her. Women shouldn’t be leading countries. If she’d still been alive, Celine would have had to rule under a King’s Council, too.
“I’m sorry, but I don’t think it’s in our interest that the church keep insisting on banning magic,” Master Deim said. “We need magic in Saardam, even if only because everyone else uses it. It would be stupid not to teach any magic and not to attract people who know magic. When you keep banning magic, the people with magic will leave, and next time a magician like Alexandre comes, we’ll be defenceless.”
That was already happening. Loesie had left town two months ago. She’d said she needed to look after her grandmother’s farm, but surely the increasing hostility towards magic had something to do with it.
The shepherd spread his hands. “It’s not up to me to decide what is allowed or not. The Book of Verses says that magic is the work of the Lord of Fire and we should not get involved with it. It says in the Book of Truths: ‘The man who attains his wealth through any other than the work of his hands shall be punished.’ ”
“That’s not about magic. That’s about stealing.”
“Stealing and magic and other devious methods. It’s all the same. Money makes good men forget their morals.”
Johan Delacoeur snorted, “How easily did the church accept the king’s money when he was offering?”
“The church never accepted coin,” Shepherd Victor said.
“Small detail. They accepted the gifts that the king bought with money. That’s the same in my language.”
“The Triune teaches us to refuse the money that is given in return for favours and accept the gift given from the goodwill from a person’s heart.”
Master Deim said, “Oh, stop that nonsense argument. When you’re poor and someone wants to give you something, you don’t care if it’s coin or goods or why it’s given. It doesn’t matter. The man pays for a service or he pays because he expects a favour.”
And then other men from the King’s Council joined in, debating whether accepting goods could still be considered bribery and whether the trader’s generous offer of gold for the use of an office could be considered a bribe.
Some said it was and some said that if you held people to that standard, none of the powerful men passed muster, and then someone else said that maybe they needed different people in power. Within moments, they were all shouting at each other.
Johanna sat back in the chair. She really had to get out of here soon.
“Gentlemen.” Johanna raised her voice. By the Triune, her head was swimming.
They fell quiet, glaring at each other.
“Bickering achieves nothing. I have no doubt all of you are well aware of the position of the city and the royal coffers. There is no money. Our citizens need money. The trader’s money would solve many of our problems.”
“It is tainted money!” the Shepherd Victo
r called out. “Tainted by magic. Bewitched. Designed to twist our minds.”
“Rubbish!” Johan Delacoeur shouted back. “It’s money. Gold coins. What’s the magic in that?”
“Everything can have magic. Water, air, fire, wood, metals . . .”
“Gentlemen!” More forceful now. She rose.
“Tell me that metals can’t have magic and I’ll be quiet,” the shepherd said, looking directly at Johanna. “Since Your Majesty seems to know all about magic.” The expression on his face disturbed her. It was almost a madman’s.
She would have said something, but her vision went blurry. She sat back hard on the chair, almost missing the seat.
Someone far off said, “Your Majesty?”
Johanna lifted her head, looking at Master Deim. His face was swimming in and out of focus.
“Are you all right? Do you need to lie down?”
Father was rushing towards her, too.
“I’m fine,” Johanna said, but her heart was thudding. “Just a bit tired. It’s very hot in this room.”
“Let me take you to your private quarters.” Master Deim offered his arm.
Johanna took it and he pulled her up. Her knees felt like they’d give out on her any moment.
“Are you all right?” His voice sounded concerned.
“Yes, I was just . . . it’s too hot in this dress. We will continue with our normal meetings tomorrow,” she continued to the assembled members of the King’s Council, trying to school a business-like tone in her voice. To the mayor, she said, “See to it that the eastern trader gets shown possible accommodation for his business premises. I want to make sure that he doesn’t go elsewhere while we decide.”
Joris Decamp bowed. “I will, Your Majesty.”
She let herself be guided to the hallway on Master Deim’s arm. Father followed them. No one said anything until they were almost at the king’s private quarters.
Then Master Deim said, “It’s come to my attention that you don’t appear to be as astute as you usually are. I’ve watched you today, and you’re distracted, irritable and you keep touching your stomach. Is there something you’re not telling us?”
His grey eyes were penetrating. There was no hiding it any longer. “Yes, I’m with child.”
“My goodness. We must take steps to secure the kingdom.”
“I’ve already done that.” Father had insisted that she sign the scary documents about what should happen in case of her death in childbed.
“You must see a nurse regularly.”
“I’m seeing Helena.”
“Helena. You mean the southern whore?” He gave her a horrified look.
“She can’t see customers anymore, with her face disfigured through the fire. I trust her. She has a lot of experience with women’s matters.”
“I bet she does.” He didn’t sound entirely convinced. “When can we expect a little prince or princess?”
“Helena says in late summer.”
“That’s not very far away.” He ran a disturbed glance over her tightly-laced bodice that hid the increasingly obvious signs of her condition. “You should be resting.”
“There is no time for resting.”
She didn’t want to rest, because her thoughts would drive her crazy if all she could do was sit and do embroidery and worry about what she would do if it was all too obvious that Roald was not the father of this child.
Because he was not, she grew ever more certain of that. Back in Burovia, in the farmhouse that belonged to the Guentherite Brotherhood, Kylian had bewitched and poisoned her and had in one act done what Roald had been unable to do in many.
Sometimes when she lay in bed, she could feel the child’s magic flow through her lower body.
They entered the king’s private sitting room, which faced the garden. Sunlight flowed in through the windows. There were a couple of books on the couch, but Roald was nowhere to be seen. He was probably in the garden catching frogs or drawing butterflies.
Johanna took the books off the couch and sat down. Father sat next to her.
“I hope you know what you’re doing by suggesting that Li Han will have his office,” Master Deim said.
“I don’t, but I am familiar with the alternative because we’ve just lived through it. I figure that the eastern traders couldn’t be any worse than Alexandre. For one, they’re interested in money, not occupying us.”
He nodded, but didn’t look convinced. “I’m more worried about what the Baron will do when the eastern traders and their ship settle here.”
“That’s why I need to talk to you about an idea I have,” Johanna said.
The men both looked at her.
Johanna began, “We have no money, but we have something everyone wants: our seaport.”
“Yeah, well, that’s what all this is about,” Master Deim muttered.
“And the iron ships. If Li Han stays, we have those, too.”
Master Deim nodded. “And the iron ships.”
Johanna continued. “We can defend Saardam, but however successful we may be at protecting ourselves, Saardam will always remain a place that countries and royal families will fight over. Those who control the port decide who comes in and what they sell. At certain times, countries or families will get upset over this and they will send men like Alexandre.”
Father raised an eyebrow as if curious where this was going.
“There are a great number people who want control over Saardam. They fight over magic or no magic, over this or that church, over ideals and beliefs and royal families. But at the end of the day, they would probably settle in favour of having a good relationship with those in control of the port. They will choose cooperation over a war. I’m also guessing that they will not wilfully harm—like set fire to—assets that are partially owned by their country.”
Father gave her a sharp look. He seemed definitely both puzzled and intrigued now.
“I’m proposing that we form a cooperation of all those who have an interest in our port. I’m proposing that we send an official letter to all lands that have interest in Saardam. Places like Burovia, Gelre, Estland, all the areas along the rivers that are accessible through Saardam. Some will be friendly to us, some won’t. We will tell them all the same thing: with their help, we will rebuild the harbour and provide services to transport goods inland and we’ll have facilities where their traders can sell their goods so that their countries can prosper as well as ours.”
“Yes, but we always had something like that. . . .” Father frowned.
“Then we tell them the next bit: Saardam has been destroyed and we need investment. We create investment allotments that they can buy, at a certain value each. In return for their money we give them favours, or if they can’t use those favours because they never visit the city, we pay a return on their investment. We make up contracts for different levels of investment.”
Father lifted his hand to his chin as he always did when he needed to think about something.
Master Deim said, “That’s an interesting idea, but what does this have to do with the eastern trader?”
“Li Han? It’s easy: he will be one of the biggest investors. He wants an office, so we give him an abandoned warehouse and he pays to fix it up. We get his business, and keep an eye on his iron ships. And because we don’t want to be seen favouring just him, we offer the same service to others.”
“I don’t know that it will work,” Father said.
“Trying to keep out certain groups of people certainly won’t work,” Johanna said. “The people who get banished, disowned or mistreated will band together and they will attack us when we seem weak, because they don’t like Roald on the throne, or they don’t like the church, or some other reason. That’s what happened with Alexandre. King Leo and Baron Uti have an unlimited number of cousins they can send. All of them probably have magic. They’re watching and waiting, making up the next excuse to invade us. Whether it’s Li Han or the church or some other reason, it doesn’t m
atter.”
“Well . . .” Father said.
“I think it’s a very good idea,” Master Deim said. “The question is: will the stubborn King’s Council allow you to carry it out? You need their support, unless Roald can make a convincing case for his support of the plan.”
Johanna let her shoulders sag. The latter was never going to happen, and making the King’s Council support her was an impossible task.
“I have to try.” There was no alternative except continued wars and murder, including that of Roald, herself and her child.
Chapter 3
* * *
WHEN FATHER and Master Deim were gone, Johanna asked the maid to tell Nellie to see her in the dressing room.
Johanna went down the corridor to that room. The damage from fires and subsequent flooding was extensive and had left marks almost everywhere: wallpaper was peeling, floor tiles had come up, dark stains marked the walls and all of the king’s beautiful furniture had been stolen, leaving her and Roald with old things from the attic that were often also water-damaged.
There was no money to buy new furniture and no money to fix the damage. Most of the groundsmen were working for the palace in exchange for a roof over their heads and food in their bellies, but they received no pay.
The dressing room held only a row of wardrobes in which Johanna had collected all the clothes that she had salvaged from her own house and Queen Cygna’s bedroom. Compared to Queen Cygna’s dressing room, it was a very poorly appointed affair. Queen Cygna would have had at least a mirror, a dressing table with matching chair and a variety of items like clothes racks that seemed a luxury until you didn’t have them, because you couldn’t possibly leave a precious dress on the floor.
As it was, the room didn’t even contain a small table for the tea and cakes that the maid had brought. The tray stood on the floor.
Nellie came in very soon after Johanna.
“You called for me?”
“Please let me out of this dress, Nellie.”
