She was rewarded by a quick head-shake from the Princess herself as Lowren’s jaw dropped in spite of much training over the years and he wondered just what in the hell these terribly headstrong women were planning.
For surely they were up to something, even as the mental picture of a laughing Eleanora hovered front and center in the chaotic midst of his busy little mind.
***
“Oh, blast and damnation.” He kept it under his breath.
And again, the cups were filled and yet another toast was raised. Generally, Lowren preferred quiet drinking although he rarely did it alone. But the place was a madhouse tonight. By his personal reckoning they had already eaten at least three times. Lowren had never been interested in hospitality, per se. It was a necessary evil, and he could enjoy it from time to time as one might. Sylphie was in charge of protocol insofar as it went around here, making people comfortable and all of that.
Hopefully she knew what she was doing in this particular instance.
Just when he’d been looking forward to an early night.
***
There were times when Lowren could cheerfully admit that he and his people were barbarians in fact as well as name. There were other times when he would have bristled with indignation and put his hand on his hilt. He would have demanded a retraction instantly, on pain of death, of any man who dared put forth such an assertion.
People were grabbing at him from behind.
He was beginning to wonder if he had maybe had one ale too many, and he almost scowled and said something. It was his mother and Theodelinda, taking an arm each and trying to convince him to get up.
“Oh. Sorry. Are we going somewhere?”
“Come, Lowren. We must talk to Theodelinda, or she will begin to feel unappreciated.”
“Oh. Well, we wouldn’t want that, would we?” Lowren became aware that he was rather loose in the legs and slurring his words. “Oops. Sorry. Theo. Delinda.”
That didn’t sound very good. He made some movements as if to free himself.
They let go, and he pushed himself up.
This wouldn’t do. Although the little voice in his head was unwelcome at times, there were times when you just had to listen.
Air, that’s what he needed.
Thank you, father. For all that kingly advice over the years.
It was good advice and there were times when you should take it—your own advice, that is.
“Sorry, Theodelinda. I hope you are enjoying the festivities.” His head swam a bit and the air was much warmer and a lot smokier only a couple feet above where he had been sitting.
He stood there as Sylphie took charge of their guest. Lowren, feeling a bit foolish, followed along. Going by noise alone, no one would miss them.
They weren’t holding much back, were they?
At first he sort of wondered where, but his mother had thought of everything and it appeared that a small room near the front of the hall had been cleared. Spare chairs, empty barrels, a few weapons and shields, or something was kept in there as he recalled, stuff the moths wouldn’t hurt but the rain and dampness would.
There was a pretty good rug on the floor, and the place had been neatly swept out. There were several of Sylphie’s precious oil lamps burning in the corners on small stone tables.
There were a half a dozen of their better chairs in a semi-circle, a table sagging under the weight of flowers in water, and the usual crystalline service set on a silver tray. He spared a brief thought for Theodelinda’s traveling party—there was no way she would have ever ridden alone. Quite a number must have been involved in the deception. They had to be around there somewhere.
They would be in the village, he reckoned, except for one or two of her most trusted maidens.
They paused just inside the room as Sylphie spoke to a servant and a couple of his men who just happened to be stationed outside the door.
“Again, Theodelinda. I really am sorry.” He’d had a long day, and it was hard work sometimes. “I really wasn’t expecting such, ah—such illustrious company.”
She nodded judiciously at the choice of words. A minute or two of fresher air would no doubt help. It had become quite a fugue in the great room, with at least a hundred guests, possibly a few more than that, and of course they had all of the fires and braziers going at this time of the year.
A person was sort of cooked on one side and frozen on the other, and this only a few feet away from the fire. The smaller room was almost cozy, with all the lamps going and the embroidered hangings blocking out the damp wooden walls.
Lowren held her chair, and then his mother’s as she proudly eyed Theodelinda. Lowren at one time might have had two minds about his mother sitting in. Quite frankly, this time around he was going to need her help.
Theodelinda was no rival king, strong of arm, feeble of mind and long on ambition. This was no dispute about a boundary, a perennial spring, a pasture somewhere, nor was it about a slain kinsmen, nor two, nor a blood-feud, with relatives on both sides of the dispute.
Anything could be solved with a little thought. It was what he had always believed.
“Well.” Thankfully he had put Theo in the middle, a bit hard on her if she turned to look at Sylphie, but it was better than him doing it all the time. Sylphie was not going to be ignored.
Lowren sat on the left side, and he put his hands together and went through a little knuckle-cracking routine. It was an unconscious habit going back many years, to when he was just finding his strength.
It wasn’t that long ago, either—when mere strength and agility was enough to get what you wanted.
“So. My Queen, that is to say my cousin Eleanora, would like you to know that she is favorably disposed to further discussions with you and your people, your Majesty, Lowren of Lemnia.”
She grinned at Sylphie, looking proud and a little scared by these words. Sylphie knew a pivotal moment when she saw one. Other tribes would come in with them now. As Lowren described it, Windermere Castle was an important element in the overall strategy—which was bloody stalemate at best. Their ships and grain were essential to his plan.
This was what had always impressed Sylphie about her son. He didn’t promise victory, only survival for most of the people, and only in the long run, and only if they all stood together at times of crisis. He didn’t talk in terms of punishing the enemy, or conquering foreign lands. He didn’t drag up old claims and grudges, being content with what he had. He was not bent on revenge for past injuries. The Windermere treaty would be a cornerstone of this policy, rather enlightened even for this day and age.
Sylphie thought it was just this sort of honest assessment, plus his very presence, which had been enough to convince Eleanora.
“Discussions?” Lowren was a little disappointed, although he tried not to show it.
“She feels we can work things out, and come to some sort of mutually-agreeable arrangement.”
“Oh, incidentally, Lowren.” Sylphie patted his left forearm. “She really did bring a barrel of gold, just a little earnest money. We can pay the troops, pay the smiths and armorers, the ship-builders...anything we need.”
Lowren nodded thoughtfully, alcohol fumes rapidly evaporating now. A barrel of gold could simply be a brush-off, a salve to their consciences rather than a serious attempt to bind their fortunes in war. He had a fleet of forty or in a pinch, fifty long ships. He had a half-dozen more building. Those were at an early stage, with barely the keel laid and some of their planks cut.
They had enough seasoned logs picked out for the masts.
The gold would be very welcome indeed. Winter was six or seven months long, and the shipwrights, fitters and carpenters of all types, could probably use the work.
“Very well.” His head was clearing rapidly. “Ah...so what’s the catch.”
His mother gave him a sharp look but this was his kingdom now and she didn’t know everything.
He ignored his mother for the moment, searching Theode
linda’s eyes very carefully.
It was like both of them knew what he was thinking. It was like they were going to let him have a bit of his manly dignity back...
A wry grin went over Theodelinda’s face before she tore herself away, and she gave Sylphie another quick glance before her face became serious.
“Well, Lowren. You might not get everything you want. But, you will get much of what you need. Some, but not all of what you require must needs be paid for. Some of it will be our own little contribution. As for some of our friends, our allies and trading partners, it is our impression that the great majority of them will be cautiously pleased.”
It had been a few weeks. They’d certainly had time to consult with at least some of their friends.
He grinned right back.
“Then I too, am cautiously pleased.”
“There’s just one more thing, Lowren.” Syphie was sticking her oar in—and clearly favoring Theodelinda and pushing her own point of view in some way.
He looked at his mother.
“Oh, oh. Yes. There’s plenty more—all of which can be worked out in fine detail. And we must not lose any time—” Something about the look on Sylphie’s face stopped Lowren dead in his tracks.
“No, this is a more personal matter.”
“Oh, really?” His mind was fully alert now.
There it was again, the image of Eleanora, laughing and holding his hand and looking like nothing he had ever quite seen before. Perhaps that might even happen, he thought in a strangely bitter mental aside.
“What do you mean, personal?”
“It’s a bit awkward, acting on my own accord in this matter, and as an ambassador on official business from Windermere at one and the same time. But we’re interested in a match, a suitable husband for one of the Queen’s ladies.”
Lowren sat up. It was just the thing to cement a union or alliance between the two states. Gold, a marriage of state, and at least some kind of a semi-official visit from Windermere. It might be just enough to tip the balance in one or two other rather delicate negotiations. He had good relationships with the Carducci for example, and yet they were distinctly skittish in the talks he’d held so far with them. They were a lot closer to the Khan’s territory, a factor that probably carried more weight than the sword of Lowren and a few thousand riders who may or may not be there when needed.
“Of course. I’m sure that would be wonderful, ah. Who exactly needs the husband, and what sort of a man was she looking for?”
His mother stifled an ominous-sounding giggle.
His mind became a bit rattled—the thought of one of Eleanora’s fine young maidens with one of his farmers, one of his troopers, marrying one of them, was a bit far-fetched on second examination. Not that some of them didn’t have extensive holdings in land and horses and such. It was a question of expectations of the one side and a distinct lack of social sophistication on the other.
On the other hand, a fine lady had been the making of a good man on more than one occasion.
“Well—”
He waited.
“Well...”
He grinned a wry grin.
He stared into those guilty eyes.
This was getting interesting.
“Well, who then?”
She looked at Sylphie.
Sylphie shrugged. Sooner or later, it must come out.
“Well, I sort of liked that Kann character. You know—the serjeant, the one that was with you in Ellie’s apartments.”
He stared and stared, mouth open, and then it was time to shut it.
He sank backwards in his chair.
His hands slowly came up to his face.
Now it was his turn to say, ‘well.’
“Well.” He took a deep breath.
He began again.
“Well. I cannot order him to marry—but, ah...if he is, ah, amenable, well then...”
The look on Theodelinda’s face convinced him that all of this was useless for some unknown reason. His mother’s face was red with repressed mirth.
A question hit him right out of nowhere.
“So, uh. How did you get in here? I mean here, sort of. When did you arrive?”
“She’s been here for a few days, dear. They arrived while you were out on your hunt.”
“Ah...right.”
He clamped his mouth shut and then decided. He gave a quick little sigh. He sat up, hands on the arms of his chair. But this was negotiating, and not just a quick little present and please-leave-us-alone, which he had run into once or twice before.
He had many questions, none of which he cared to ask right then.
“If that’s what you, ah, both want, then so be it.”
There wasn’t much more to be said, was there? And if so, then let them say it.
He was getting a bit tired of making a fool of himself all the time.
Chapter Thirteen
It was just one more in a series of conferences at senior level.
The Khan himself presided. They were deep in the bowels of his sprawling complex of palaces, pavilions, porticoes, and audience halls, which covered thousands of acres along the northern part of the Bay of Artesphihan.
“When the enemy begins moving their ships and their men around, then it means war.” Jumalak turned away from the thirty-cubit map table and found himself a chair on the elevated platform behind him. “But this—this wedding-match between the Royal House of Windermere and—and—this Lowren, or his vassal Kann rather. He must be an interesting fellow, and yet we know virtually nothing about him. Quite frankly, I don’t know what to make of it.”
Verescens, the most senior of his generals, and the best planner of campaigns Jumalak had ever seen, cleared his throat deferentially. While the Great Khan took his soldiers and his officers, his talent where he found it and had a score of races represented in this room, Verescens was unusual in that he was a barbarian, and had come to him illiterate and untutored in the military arts.
It was the sheer physical endurance of the fellow that had first attracted the notice of his officers, and once given military command, a body of light horse at first, Verescens had quickly proven his worth.
And he had learned much over the intervening thirty years.
Verescens was tactful and reserved where others were ingratiating, fawning and drooling over the Great One like fools. It was bad enough when they wanted something but absolutely intolerable when making something as simple as a report.
It was said he had taught himself to read, and then set himself the task of reading every treatise on the art of war ever written. Slowly but surely he had risen to the top of his profession.
There was more than one reason Jumalak didn’t just tolerate Verescens, he valued him and even thought of him as a friend. Jumalak had taken a hand in his career at an early stage, and provided dowries for his daughters. He’d found places for his sons in the army, navy, any service they wanted. The oldest son governed a small but turbulent province for Jumalak, in the mountains to the south and east of his more agriculturally productive provinces. There were some small mines producing gold and silver and the son administered the area about as well as anyone might expect. Any small indiscretions could be ignored or covered up, a small price to pay for the loyalty of one such as Verescens. The territory was unsettled at best, and the boy ruled the natives with a strong hand.
“It means something, oh, Great One. Alliances are forming up. Yet we know war is inevitable, and some of them possibly don’t. They cannot really be sure, can they? And so their efforts will be half-hearted. We shall let them fool themselves as long as possible. Queen Eleanora gains a few thousand auxiliary troops, but assuming that is her only reason may be inaccurate. She now has a buffer state on her northern flank, but that is not a big change. The Lemni were already there. Yet, according to all sources, she does not plan offensive warfare, claiming strict neutrality as she does. This implies in the most manifest way, that she would not—or at least one w
ould hope she would not—send troops, arms or ships, or any other form of assistance, to enemy combatants...” In a sense, he was talking for the sake of hearing himself talk, thought Verescens.
They always said that, of course. It so very often failed to happen, as neutral states would still try to maintain their commerce in the face of war. Not to take sides was contrary to human nature.
There were many different forms of aid.
“Or us.” This was no trivial matter, for if peaceful trade with Windermere was both lucrative and desirable in terms of the raw economics of the state he was building, in war secure supplies of grain, meat and other products were vital.
“Or us, oh, Great One.”
He not only had to feed the troops, but the populace of a great city, many of them in fact.
Simply to deny those resources to the enemy was a consideration as well. The Great Khan was prepared to expend considerable resources in order to do just that.
“So. They are arming and combining against us, then.” With their friendly relations with the Empire of the South, and their relative geographical nearness to it, this was a reasonable conclusion.
The period of great expansion of the Empire had virtually ceased over a century ago. Since then they had lost one or two small vassal states, with only half-hearted efforts made to recover them. Those efforts had failed at great cost in men and money by all reports, in no small part due to military incompetence and official corruption.
The Khan believed such corruption stemmed from the top and worked its way down. Otherwise it would hardly be tolerated—not in any honest and frugal, proper and honorable sort of bureaucracy. It had to be winked at by the more powerful members or it would never get off the ground.
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