The Mystic Marriage

by Jones, Heather Rose

  Margerit wished she could invite Antuniet into their circle but suspicion cast a shadow over everything. Better to keep the matter close for now.

  By the sixth day they had begun building the parts together again. Brandel had contributed his mite, though the chronicles he had tracked down only confirmed that once, years ago, someone had built a veriloquium whose judgment was visible to all.

  When she had real hope of success, though not finished in the details, Margerit brought her report to the palace.

  Annek listened closely and cast a quick eye over the outlines of the ceremony. “And this…this lux veritatis will work as you say?” she asked. “The answering judgment will be apparent to all present?”

  “It should be,” Margerit said. “Baroness Saveze could see it plainly in the changes to the quality of the light and she has no special sensitivity at all. I thought it best to use the flame as a signal, as it fits best with the language of scripture. The only concern is with how the saints interpret the question of truth.”

  “Quid est veritas? What is truth? Isn’t that what Pilate asked Our Lord? Even the saints have been known to bend the truth in service to greater truth. But I think if the need comes, we can set questions that can be answered clearly.”

  “Will we need it at all?” Margerit ventured to ask. “I’ve heard that Aukustin is nearly recovered.”

  Annek’s lips thinned as if she would not answer. But then she said, “I don’t know. My cousin seems unlikely to let this pass. Eventually Efriturik will need to return to Rotenek. Then we shall see.”

  Has he been kept away deliberately? Margerit wondered. But that might make sense. If Elisebet planned to make an accusation, she would need to wait for his return to lay the charge officially. Would she dare? Even as she asked herself the question, Margerit knew the answer. Elisebet had been slipping further from sense where Aukustin was concerned. If she truly believed that Efriturik had meant to harm the boy, she would have no qualms about accusing him, even though it tore the land apart.

  Barbara, she knew, would have her own news to take to the palace. In moments between their study sessions, she’d been busy about the town with her own sources of information: the boy’s tutor, Jeanne’s friends among Elisebet’s ladies. But none had been forthcoming with more than expressions of vague concern. The dowager princess’s household had closed ranks waiting for her to act.

  “There’s little I can do on that question,” Barbara told her in a private moment, “unless I know the nature of the amulets. And the date when Aukustin’s malady first started. Now there’s a problem! How do I tease out the real illness from Elisebet’s fancies? I can’t go to Elisebet herself unless the matter becomes public. I’ve been half expecting her to send for me as she has in the past.”

  As Margerit worked to put the final touches on the veriloquium, Barbara cast her net wider. “I’m not saying I’ve written Kreiser out of the question entirely,” she said. “But Elisebet has been right in one thing: there have been some very strange accidents around Aukustin for more than a year. Every time—the true accidents, not the ones Elisebet imagined—he should have been safe among friends and members of the court. At least one of the hands behind this is someone close.” She was pacing back and forth as she spoke. “That’s why Kreiser doesn’t fit this time. The first incident I know was at that hunt a year ago at Feniz. Kreiser would have been newly arrived then. No time to get a man in place within Elisebet’s household.”

  “Unless there was one already,” Margerit suggested. “Would the ambassador have planted men within the court?”

  Barbara paused to consider the question. “Undoubtedly. I can’t rule that out. But I don’t think—” She hesitated. “I don’t think Kreiser works so closely with him. The ambassador has been in Rotenek for ten years. Kreiser has the feel of a new man, a hungry man. He came here on Antuniet’s track for a specific purpose, though he seems to have stayed on other orders. He’s looking to make his mark in some way. But the one he wants to impress is the Emperor Franz, not some minor diplomat in Alpennia. And he—” Barbara frowned in concentration. “I can’t explain. That last time we met him at the New Year’s court, it was like crossing blades at the fencing salle. You learn things about a man that way—things he doesn’t mean to tell you. This doesn’t feel like his work.”

  Barbara’s eyes went far away in thought once more. But if those thoughts produced any concrete plan, she was not yet ready to share it.

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Jeanne

  Jeanne hesitated in front of Tio’s door before raising her hand to the knocker. If it were only that Tio had grown stiff and silent in public, the tension in Princess Elisebet’s household would be explanation enough. That, too, could explain Tio’s absence from their usual haunts. But it had become clear the night before at Maisetra Pertrez’s affair that Tio was very specifically not speaking to her. What other explanation could there possibly be for Tio’s sudden interest in Chara’s new carriage when she approached? Everyone was all secrets and silences these days but from her it was too much to leave unanswered. If they were no longer to be friends, Tio would need to say so in her presence. Jeanne rapped sharply upon the door.

  “Is Mesnera Perzin at home?” she asked. It was a bit early for proper visiting. She had chosen the time deliberately to have a chance at finding her alone. The footman who answered gave her entrance with no comment, so he’d had no specific instructions to refuse her. Not chancing that it had been an oversight, she presumed further on familiarity and said, “No need to trouble yourself announcing me. I know where she’ll be this time of day.”

  Sure enough, Tio was in her dressing room, contemplating a choice of shawls. But when she turned in startlement her face suffused with guilt, not pleasure.

  “Oh! Jeanne! I hadn’t expected you.”

  “And when have we ever cared about that?” Jeanne said, giving her a quick peck on the cheek and settling onto the velvet chaise. That would make her more difficult to dislodge. “Now tell me all the news. It’s been ages since we had time to chat.”

  Tio twisted the delicate cashmere in her hands until Jeanne was surprised it didn’t rip asunder. “I wish I could. Jeanne, I…” Jeanne waited, refusing to smooth the path. Abruptly, Tio exclaimed, “I think I hear the baby crying.”

  “Don’t be silly,” Jeanne said. “You hear no such thing and if you did, the nurse would be far more use than you would. Let’s not mince words; we’ve known each other too long and too well for that. I won’t ask anything about the goings-on at the palace, if that’s your concern, but talk to me about something. Whatever you please. What have I done to offend you?”

  Tio looked ready to cry and finally sat on the edge of the chaise next to her. “It’s not…It’s not you. You know I trust you. But I don’t know…I can’t…She’s always there beside you. And everyone’s been whispering about you. Oh Jeanne, I don’t know what I can say. I don’t know what to do.”

  She, Jeanne thought. “This is about Antuniet?” The question came out more stiffly than she had intended. Tio had been jealous for the last year but this came from more than jealousy.

  Tio shook her head but not, it seemed, in denial. “I can’t talk about it. Sain-Mazzi would kill me.” She sounded genuinely afraid. “She doesn’t trust anyone; she spies on us all. She’ll know you’ve been here. Jeanne, please, just leave me alone. Everyone will know soon enough.” She looked toward the window, as if expecting someone to appear momentarily. “Then it will all be over.”

  Over. What would be over? And what did it have to do with Antuniet? But Tio refused to say more and it seemed cruel to add to her distress. Jeanne gave her a brief hug and stood. “You needn’t think you’ve driven me away entirely. I wish you would trust me.”

  Tio’s cryptic fears infected her. What could Antuniet possibly have to do with the currents running through Elisebet’s household? No one was telling the half of what they knew or even what they guessed. There was no use to ask Ba
rbara anything; she’d tried already to no avail. And her other sources of gossip cut too broadly across palace allegiances for the topic to be safe, for what everyone did know was that it concerned rivalry between Atilliets. Toneke had fixed herself to Annek’s star to be sure, but so had many with ambitions in Rotenek. That alone shouldn’t draw her into the affair.

  Impulsively she rapped on the roof of the fiacre to signal the driver to stop. “I’ve changed my mind,” she told him. “Take me around to the north side of the palace, the gate by the gardens.” Antuniet wasn’t expecting her but there were no firings planned these days, no work that couldn’t be disturbed.

  The most convenient route to the new workshop went nowhere near the main gates off the Plaiz. So only the unsettled mood of the day presaged the uproar drifting out from the palace proper. It came first in the form of footsteps, just a few, more rushed and more frequent than would be typical on that part of the grounds. Then two of the palace guards crossed past the windows that gave out toward the garden, heading on a path that led to the gate. Even Antuniet found that unusual enough to comment.

  “Was there something happening when you came in?” she asked.

  Worry pooled in the pit of Jeanne’s stomach. “I don’t know. Everyone’s on edge today for no good reason. I went to see Tio this morning and she—” A heavy tread stopped in the corridor outside the door. “Let me,” she said when Antuniet would have gone to open it. Why this dread?

  More guards. The one standing in the doorway bowed politely to acknowledge her and asked, “Is Maisetra Chazillen within?”

  “Yes,” Antuniet said, coming up behind her. “What’s wrong?”

  “Her Grace has suggested that it might be better for you to return home, if that’s convenient. I’ve come to see you to the gates.”

  “It’s not convenient,” Antuniet said sharply. “And if I’m to be interrupted in the middle of my work, I’d prefer to know why.”

  Whatever it is, Jeanne thought. This is what Tio meant. That we’d know soon enough. “Give us a moment to set things in order,” she asked the man. “And perhaps you could send someone to arrange for a carriage? We hadn’t expected to be leaving so soon.”

  He signaled to a second man still waiting in the hallway. Unlike everyone else in the city, he seemed willing to answer questions. “It’s nothing to do with you, Maisetra,” he said to Antuniet. “I’m surprised you haven’t heard already. The Dowager Princess Elisebet has accused Baron Razik of using sorcery to attack her son. She arranged to lay the charge when he rode through the palace gates at noon. We’ve been asked to keep the grounds clear. In case of trouble between the two sides.”

  “Sorcery?” Antuniet said in amazement. “But that’s absurd. Baron Razik hasn’t the slightest interest in—”

  Jeanne thought the realization must have struck them both at the same time. Sorcery covered a great many charges when stretched: any dabbling in matters outside the purely physical, save those that fell under the church. Sorcery was rarely invoked unless there were harm done. Yet there was one such field in which Efriturik had been thoroughly involved: alchemy. And if that were what lay beneath…

  Jeanne caught Antuniet’s eye and tried to give a warning. “Yes, of course, we understand,” she said to the guard. “Anna, have you finished there? Get your things and we’ll be on our way.”

  They took the long way home, looping down south of the river to deliver Anna home. The carriage ride was silent until they were alone again. “What can it mean?” Antuniet asked. “Has Elisebet entirely lost her senses?”

  “Not entirely,” Jeanne said slowly. “Something has been wrong with Chustin. Oh, I doubt Efriturik had any more to do with it this time than any other. But Elisebet has been determined to make bad blood between them. And Toneke, we must be careful.” She told her of the visit to Tio and the warning. “I don’t know what that means. Whether Tio was afraid that I’d let things slip to you and through you to him, or whether it’s been whispered that you might be accused as well. That’s why I came to see you, not even knowing what I should worry about.”

  She saw the old haunted look cast a veil over Antuniet’s eyes and reached out to clutch her hand tightly. “Don’t be afraid. You’ve done nothing wrong.”

  “When has that saved me before?” she said grimly. “And we have done wrong—what they would count as wrong.” Antuniet stared out the carriage window. “We should have been more careful. We’ve set ourselves outside the walls and now the wolves have come. What if I’m to be sacrificed for Efriturik’s sake?”

  “There’s no reason even to think that,” Jeanne said. “It’s not you that Elisebet hates.”

  But that night Toneke woke screaming again as she hadn’t for months, and Jeanne could do nothing but hold her.

  * * *

  The accusation might not have broken the peace except that it came in the week of Carnival. Even so, there were fewer than a dozen open quarrels in the streets, and only two of those settled honor with the point of swords. Like all sensible people, Jeanne kept close to home despite the holiday.

  Then, with the somber arrival of Lent, it seemed that all was still again. The law would take its measures in due time. Elisebet might lay a charge in anger, but the arguments would take longer to build. After two days of quiet, Antuniet ventured to return to her work and Jeanne finally found the uncertainty unbearable. Surely Barbara’s tongue would be looser now.

  She took the brief trip to Tiporsel and asked if Baroness Saveze were at home. Maisetra Pertinek met her with a cheerful countenance that left Jeanne wondering whether her quest had been in vain. Had Barbara’s household been left entirely untouched by the unrest in the city?

  “They’re none of them here at the moment, Vicomtesse,” the woman said. “But I expect them soon. They’ve all gone off to the cathedral for experiments. Would you like to take a cup of tea while you wait?”

  Jeanne nodded absently, then smiled to make the acceptance more gracious. “Yes, if it’s no trouble.”

  “Oh, not at all. I’m at home this morning,” she said, “and only waiting to see if anyone calls. I’m afraid I’m entertaining in the breakfast parlor at the moment. Margerit has taken over the other for her project and there’s papers everywhere.” She shrugged, though her voice held pride, not impatience.

  They made idle conversation; it was a skill like any other, to prattle on when one would prefer to scream. Jeanne was torn between wishing that another visitor would arrive to distract them and recalling that most of Maisetra Pertinek’s intimates bored her to tears. But at last, with a noise of chatter out in the entryway, the scholars returned. Jeanne made her excuses and went to meet them.

  Margerit’s greeting was not guilty, perhaps, but sheepish. “I was wondering when we might see you. Let’s go into the parlor. We can be more private there.”

  Jeanne looked around at the clutter of books and papers as they entered. This could only have to do with palace matters. She should have guessed from Bertrut’s hint but the woman’s unconcern had been misleading. Even before the door could be closed behind them, she demanded, “How long have you known? Why didn’t you warn me?”

  The dark Italian woman—what was her name? Talarico. She asked softly, “Should I leave?”

  Barbara shook her head. “You might as well hear the whole story too. After the accusation came out, I’m sure you’ve guessed.” She gestured to the maid who waited out in the hallway. “Lutild, could you bring us some tea and cakes? And then see that we aren’t disturbed.”

  Jeanne waited impatiently, her mind racing over the possibilities. What had they been working on? And how did it relate to Elisebet’s accusation? Margerit laid out the matter in a few quick sentences, concluding, “So we have the mystery ready and have only to wait until the specifics of the trial are set.”

  The details of the veriloquium had faded in importance to the other topic. “Stones? Amulets?” Jeanne repeated. This was worse than she’d feared. “But if they make that
accusation against Efriturik, how is it that Antuniet’s name hasn’t been mentioned yet?”

  Margerit said, “Annek thinks she may be drawn in, but—”

  “It hardly matters,” Barbara cut in. “Any plot they devise to trap Efriturik will touch her as well. But once he’s cleared, what need would they have to pursue it?”

  “And all this?” Jeanne gestured to the diagrams and notes.

  It was Maisetra Talarico who provided the answer, having followed the story closely. “Your princess cannot be seen to show favor. But neither can she risk having her heir dragged through a public trial.” No one bothered to correct her on the subtleties of Alpennian succession. “There must be a public vindication. One that cannot be questioned, but just as much one where the outcome is certain.”

  “And one that doesn’t depend only on the proof of her own thaumaturgist,” Margerit added. “Elisebet would never accept the proof of the veridicum mystery if it came by my word alone.”

  “And best,” Barbara added, “to be able to demonstrate the true villain at the same time.”

  “But who?” Jeanne asked in bewilderment.

  “That I have yet to determine,” Barbara said.

  Jeanne realized in relief that no one there had the slightest suspicion that Antuniet might indeed be guilty.

  Barbara continued, “When last I tried, no one in Elisebet’s household would speak to me. But that was before the charge was laid. I’ll try again. Chautovil is a possibility. I’ve had good relations with him. Whoever placed the amulets must have access to Aukustin’s chambers.”

  “But that could be most of the servants,” Jeanne said. “No one would question them.”

  “Any, but not likely more than one. A plot such as this couldn’t be kept secret with more. And not over the time it’s been in process.” Barbara recounted the whole series of accidents. “Always the goal has been to lay the blame, if not on Efriturik, at least in his vicinity. A servant, yes, but also someone else outside who pulls the strings. Someone who wants to harm both sons of Atilliet.”