by Greg Keyes
“Well, Cousin,” she said. “Here I am, just as you wished.”
“I am pleased,” he said. “We need our empress here, Anne.”
“I’m here,” she replied. “When the others arrive, we’ll discuss those matters you deem most urgent.”
“Who else is coming?”
“John will be back. I’m making him gardoald.”
“That’s not a bad choice,” Artwair said. “You’ll have to title him.”
“I know. Can you think of a good one?”
Artwair frowned. “Haul Atref, I should think. One of Robert’s puppets slaughtered the former Lord Haul and all his kin. The castle is garrisoned but masterless.”
“Then I shall create him Lord Haul,” Anne said.
“Well, here’s my grandniece, back from her adventures,” a lowtimbred voice said.
“Grannuncle Fail,” Anne said, allowing him to gather her in a hug. “I trust all went well at Copenwis.”
“As well as it could. I still don’t like it, but I imagine they’re in Hansa by now.”
“Mother will be fine,” Anne said. She heard more footsteps and saw that the others had arrived.
“My lords,” she said. “Let’s begin, shall we? Tell me what I need to know. Duke of Haundwarpen, you first.”
Artwair drew himself up and clasped his wooden hand with his living one. “Hansa continues to occupy Copenwis, and they are massing ships there and in Saltmark. My guess is that they will disembark ground forces for a march on Eslen and send their navy against Liery. There are also reports of an army gathering at Schildu, on the Dew River. Their intention there is probably to cut off our river trade, then use the river to move down into Newland.”
“A familiar strategy,” Anne said. “That’s like what we did.”
“Precisely, Majesty.”
“Do they have the men to come at us from all of these directions and deal with the Lierish fleet as well?”
Sir Fail cleared his throat. “If I may?”
“Spell on,” she said.
“They haven’t the ships to take Liery, not alone. But there is rumor that a fleet is assembling at z’Espino. Moreover, it is nearly certain that Rakh Fadh is allied with Hansa, although there’s no way of knowing how many ships they have or will send.”
“What about our allies? Or do we have any?”
“Riders tell us that an embassy from Virgenya will arrive soon, probably sometime tomorrow.”
“An embassy? I’m their empress. I don’t want an embassy; I want the ships and troops we asked for three months ago.”
“You may take that up with the Virgenyans,” Artwair said. “Of all of the parts of the empire, they are the most independent, and they like to make a show of it.”
“There will be a show,” Anne muttered more or less under her breath. Then she turned to the other two men.
“Lord Bishop, Marhgreft Sighbrand, I trust you are well.”
“Very well, Your Highness,” Bishop replied.
“Lord Bishop, we made you master of the treasury, did we not?”
“You did, Majesty.”
“What is the state of it?”
Lord Bishop’s lips tightened. “Robert did a bit of looting before he fled the city, it seems.”
“Can we pay and supply our troops?”
“For the time being. But if we have another levy—even a modest one—it will make our belts very tight.”
“Even with the confiscated Church properties?”
“Even with that, yes,” he replied.
“I see. Well, we need to find some more silver, don’t we?”
“Yes, Majesty.”
She turned to Sighbrand. “Marhgreft?”
“Majesty.”
“The duke tells us that troops are gathering at Schildu. That is very near your greffy of Dhaerath, isn’t it?”
“It is. Very near.”
“I called you here to ask you to be my prime minister. I’ve been advised you would make a good one.”
Sighbrand’s lips twitched. “I’m honored, Majesty.”
“Yet I wonder if your heart would really be in the job when your lands are in danger, so I will give you a choice instead. You may serve here as my adviser and defender of the keep, or you can take command of the armies of the east and defend us from there.”
The old warrior’s eyes brightened a bit. “I am a man more suited to action, Your Majesty, than arranging court appearances and the like.”
“So I thought. Very well. You will answer to Artwair, who is supreme general of my forces, and you will answer to me. Beyond that, you have leave to organize the armies of the east as you see fit to guard our borders. I will have your title and powers drafted before this afternoon.”
“Thank you, Majesty. I will not fail you.”
“I don’t expect you to,” she replied. “I don’t expect any of you to.” She settled her hands on the tops of her thighs.
“Now,” she said. “All of you. Can this war be stopped?”
“You did appoint an embassy,” Artwair pointed out.
“Yes, based on the recommendation of the Comven and on an idea of my own. But you are not the Comven; you are men I respect. I’m not a general. I don’t know much about war. So tell me what to think.”
“There will be war,” Artwair said. “They have come too far to turn back, and Marcomir is old. He has the backing of the Church. This is his chance, and he knows it.”
“The rest of you agree?”
The others nodded their heads yes.
“Very well, then. It seems foolish to give them any more time to make things as they want them. We will take the war to them, gentlemen. Where shall we begin?”
Artwair frowned. “You mean now? But Your Majesty—”
“I won’t wait until we’re completely hemmed in,” Anne said. “You say there are ships at Copenwis? Copenwis is our city, our port. Let those ships become ours or burn.”
“Now, that’s her de Liery blood talking,” Duke Fail said. “I’ve been saying that for months.”
“I’m settled on it,” Anne said. “Make preparations. I would like to march within the nineday.”
“Surely you aren’t planning to go,” Artwair said. “You promised you were done with adventures.”
“This isn’t an adventure. This is the war you’ve been asking me to fight. And Copenwis isn’t so very far from Eslen. I can return at will.”
Artwair looked unconvinced.
“You need me, Duke. I promise you. You need my gifts.”
He bowed stiffly. “As you say, Majesty.”
She rose. “Tomorrow, gentlemen.”
Then she did go back to her rooms.
Just as she expected, Austra was there to fling herself into her arms and kiss her cheeks.
Austra was a year younger than Anne, a pretty young woman with hair the color of sun on grain. She had forgotten how good, how natural it felt to be with her; she felt her intentions falter a bit.
“It’s been so strange here without you,” Austra said. “In our old rooms, all alone.”
“How is your leg?”
“Mended, almost. And things went well at the monastery?”
“Well enough,” Anne replied.
“And is everyone, ah, well?”
“Cazio is fine,” Anne replied. “You’ll see him soon, although not as soon as you wish, I’m sure.”
“What do you mean?”
“He didn’t come back with me. I sent him to Dunmrogh.”
Austra face seemed to sag. “What?” she said faintly. “Dunmrogh?”
“I still don’t fully trust the heirs to that place. They might yet give the Church the dark fane there, and I can’t risk that. I need someone I can rely upon watching the place.”
“But he’s your bodyguard.”
“I have other bodyguards now, Austra. And you cannot tell me you wouldn’t be happier with Cazio safer.”
“Happier, yes, but in Dunmrogh? For how long?”
“He doesn’t know it yet, but I’m giving him Dunmrogh. I’m making him greft there and sending him the men he might need to hold that title should what remains of Roderick’s family object.”
“He won’t be back, then?”
Anne took Austra’s hand. “Don’t worry,” she said. “You’re going there, too. You have my blessing to marry if you wish.”
“What?” Austra’s eyes were like plates, and her throat was working oddly.
“You once told me that although I felt we were like sisters, we never would be, not really, because you’re a servant and I’m—well, now I’m queen, aren’t I? And if something were to happen to me, what would become of you? As a girl I always assumed you would be fine, but I know better than that now. Well, under the law, there’s no way for me to give a woman a title. But I can give Cazio one, and he can make you an honest woman, and your children will be nobles of Crotheny.”
“But that means you’re sending me away. I won’t be your maid anymore.”
“That’s true,” Anne said.
“I don’t want that,” Austra said. “I mean, it would be wonderful to marry and be a greffess and that sort of thing, but you can’t send me away!”
“You’ll thank me one day,” Anne said.
“Give Cazio a castle in Newland or make him ward of some part of the city. Then we can all stay together!”
“Now you’re wanting the dress and the cloth it was made from,” Anne said. “No. You will go to Dunmrogh. I’ve said it.”
Austra’s eyes were full of tears. “What have I done? Why would you do this? Anne, we’ve always been together.”
“As children. We aren’t children anymore. Austra, this is for the best. You’ll see. Be ready to leave by tomorrow.”
She left Austra crying, went into her chamber, and shut the door.
The next morning she took her breakfast in the solar, accompanied by her new ladies-in-waiting. She’d put Austra on the road that morning, with Sir Walis of Pale and fifty men-at-arms. She hadn’t gone down to see her off, fearing her resolve would weaken, and she reckoned they were a league away by now.
She noticed that all the girls were looking at her and none were eating. “Ah,” she said. She picked up a piece of bread and spread some butter and marmalade on it. “There. The queen is eating.”
Lize de Neivless, one of the few Anne knew by name, giggled. A Lierish girl of fifteen, she had dark, curly hair and a stubby little nose.
“Thank you, Majesty. I was so hungry.”
“In future,” Anne said, “don’t wait for me to start. I won’t have you beheaded, I promise. Not for that, at least.”
That drew a few more giggles.
Lize tucked into the rolls and cheese, and so did the others.
“Your Majesty,” began a slender young woman with wheat-colored hair and oddly dark eyes, “I wonder if you could tell us about Vitellio. Was it wonderful and strange? Are all the men as handsome as Sir Cazio?”
“Well, not all of them,” Anne said. “Miss…?”
“Cotsmur, Majesty. Audry Cotsmur.”
“Well, Miss Costmur, there is no lack of comely fellows there. As to the rest, yes, I suppose I thought it was strange and exotic at first.”
“And is it true you worked as a scrub maid?” another asked.
“Hush, Agnes,” Lize hissed, clapping her hand over the mouth of a girl who looked about thirteen. “That’s not to be brought up; you know that.” She looked at Anne. “I’m so sorry, Majesty. Miss Ellis often talks without thinking.”
“Miss de Neivless, it’s no matter,” Anne said. “Miss Ellis is quite right. When I was hiding in z’Espino, I did scrub pots and pans and floors. I did what needed to be done to return here.”
“It must have been awful,” Cotsmur said.
Anne thought back. “It was,” she said. “And I was a pretty terrible maid, at least at first.”
But part of her suddenly longed for those days in z’Espino. She knew that was absurd. She had been in fear of her life, working like a dog at menial tasks, often missing meals. But still, compared to the times that came later, compared to now, those days seemed simple. And she had had her friends, and they had been working together to survive, which had rewards she’d never imagined while growing up in privilege. She would almost want to have those days back.
But it didn’t matter what she wanted, did it?
The girls began chattering among themselves, silly prattle about who was handsome and who was sneaking off to see whom. It made her sad, not least because she had been sillier than most of them not so very long ago.
It was a relief when John came to tell her that the Virgenyan delegation had arrived. Taking Lize and Audry with her, she went to change her dress and receive them.
She chose a black and gold Safnite gown, a light breastplate, and greaves. She had Lize trim her hair back up to her ears and chose a simple circlet for her crown. Then she went to the Red Hall.
As far as Anne knew, the Red Hall never had been used to receive ambassadors. Her father hadn’t used it for anything; it was in the oldest part of the castle and not very large. The king had preferred the more imposing chambers to overawe those who came before him.
But that lack of use had made it the perfect place for children to play. Her sister Fastia had held pretend-court there, throwing lavish banquets of cakes and wine or whatever they could pilfer or beg from the kitchens. In those days, more often than not, Anne had pretended to be a knight, since being a princess was—well, what she was. Austra had been her man-at-arms, and they had defended their queen from countless invasions and depredations.
Anne felt comfortable there. It also suited the image of the warrior-queen she had adopted to meet in less formal places, more face to face.
Today the hall seemed a bit large, however, because the number in the Virgenyan delegation was exactly three. The leader she recognized as a frequent visitor to her father’s court, the baron of Ifwitch, Ambrose Hynde. The black hair she remembered was grayer now, and his squarish face more lined. She reckoned he was about fifty. He had a vaguely apologetic look in his eyes that worried her. Behind him stood two other men. One was her cousin Edward Dare, the prince of Tremor, a man of some sixty years. His silver hair had been cropped till he was nearly bald, and he had a severe, hawklike look about his face.
The third man, by contrast, was unknown to her and younger, probably no more than thirty. She noticed his eyes first, because something seemed odd about them. After a moment she understood that it was that one was green and the other brown. His face was friendly and intelligent, boyish, really. He had auburn hair and a small mustache and goatee that were redder.
He smiled, and she realized her gaze must have lingered on him while she sorted out his eyes. She frowned and looked away. They were announced by her herald, each in turn kissing her outstretched hand. The phay-eyed man turned out to be the Thames Dorrel, the earl of Cape Chavel.
“Such a large delegation,” she said when the immediate formalities were done. “It’s good to know our cousin Charles takes our troubles seriously.”
“She goes right for it, doesn’t she?” Cape Chavel said.
“I haven’t spoken to you,” Anne snapped. “I’m speaking to the baron.”
“Majesty,” the baron said, “I understand how this looks, but it wasn’t meant as an insult.”
“Well, I can’t imagine what an intended insult must be like, then. But that’s not really the point, Baron. The point is that Virgenya and her monarch are subject to the will of their empress. I requested knights and men in arms, not a delegation, and so I can only imagine you’ve been sent to tell me that Virgenya is in open revolution.”
“That we are not, Majesty,” the baron replied.
“Then you’ve brought the men with you?”
“They will come, madame,” he said.
“I rather need them now, not after the ravens are picking our bones.”
“It is a long march fro
m Virgenya,” Baron Ifwitch said. “And there was difficulty in the levy. Monsters have been swarming out of the Mountains of the Hare, terrorizing the countryside. And since your actions against the Church—”
“What of the Church’s actions toward me? Or the good people of Virgenya?”
“Loyalty to z’Irbina has lately become a fashion in Virgenya, Majesty, especially among the nobility. No one actually refused to send men, but they have found ways to…delay.”
“You’re saying that the trouble isn’t that my dear cousin is insubordinate but that he cannot command his own nobles?”
“There is some truth in that, yes.”
“I see.”
“I’m not sure you do, Majesty. The political situation in Virgenya is very complicated at the moment.”
“Too complicated for me to sort out, you mean?”
“Nothing of the kind, Majesty. I will be happy to explain it to you.”
Anne sat back in her chair. “You will, but not now. Do you have any other bad news for me?”
“No, madame.”
“Very well. Have a rest. I would be pleased if you would meet me at my table tonight.”
“We would be honored, Majesty.”
“Good.”
The two older men turned to go, but the younger stood his ground.
“What?” she asked.
“Is that leave to speak, Majesty?”
Despite herself, she smiled a bit. “I suppose it is. Go ahead.”
“You asked if we had more bad news. I do not. But I hope you will think I have brought a little good news.”
“Delightful if true,” Anne said. “Please say on.”
Ifwitch took a step toward the earl. “Tam, you shouldn’t—”
“Really, Ifwitch, I would like to hear this rumored good news.”
He bowed and didn’t say anything else.
“It’s true, some nobles don’t know where their duties lie. I am not one of them. Majesty, I’ve brought my bodyguard with me, five hundred and fifty of the best horsemen you will ever see. They—and I—are yours.”
“King Charles has released you to me?” She asked.
None of them spoke, although Ifwitch reddened.
“I see,” she replied. “He hasn’t.”
“Charles needs the nobles he trusts in Virgenya,” the earl said. “It’s really that simple. He knows I would never ride against him. But as I am loyal to him, so I am to the empress he serves, so I have come directly to petition you.”
