by Mary Gentle
here before I sequester your estates and put your family under
attainder”—’
Rekhmire’ snickered, caught Honorius’s glare, and glossed it: ‘You see
why I employed Ilario as a scribe.’
‘No.’ Honorius kept a perfectly straight face for a moment. He
smirked as he took the page back from me and passed it over to the
Egyptian. ‘I grant you the accuracy of reading between the lines.’
‘This isn’t like the last one?’ I speculated. ‘Not a dozen copies sent out
to ambassadors or bankers, so that one would get to you sooner or later?
This came direct to Venezia?’
Rekhmire’ did not even look up to see Honorius’s confirming nod.
‘It would appear that King Rodrigo knows where the Captain-General
is . . . There are other channels by which information could pass, but I
will point out that Aldra Federico – and Ramiro Carrasco, when he was
15
at large – are both positioned to have told your King this. Or rather
Videric, whom we may assume would tell King Rodrigo.’
Honorius muttered, ‘ Court politics! ’ in tones of deepest disgust I got up. It eased me to pace the room, despite the pull on my pink and
healing stitches.
‘This makes twice King Rodrigo’s ordered you home.’ I paused,
bending down to touch the fluff on Onorata’s head. ‘And as we said in
Rome, it’s understandable. You retire, rich. You head home for Taraco.
No man sees you. The first thing you do is leave again for Carthage—’
‘That was to visit you!’ Honorius looked mulish.
‘I know that! You know that! The King doesn’t know that!’
Onorata began grizzling.
Rekhmire’ leaned his crutch against the hearth-surround, and lifted
Onorata out of her cot into his lap. His arm supported her head with a
professional care. I did not know whether to feel pleasure or jealousy that
she subsided at once into whining mutters.
Voice soft and even, Rekhmire’ said, ‘Ilario’s correct. King Rodrigo
doesn’t know. He has a foreign general come home – foreign, because twenty-five years in Navarra and Castile means no man knows you. You
have the reputation of “the Lion of Castile”—’
The Egyptian pressed on when Honorius would have interrupted:
‘—Whatever you think of your reputation, you have it. You return to
Taraconensis, you ask your King for nothing, and you go to Carthage.
Exactly when, as far as he’s concerned, Carthage has just robbed him of
his First Minister!’
My father spluttered.
I took the opportunity to speak. ‘Either Federico will have written, or
Videric will have told King Rodrigo himself, that you’re my father.’
And if that interview took place between Videric and Rodrigo
Sanguerra, I would like to have witnessed it. Between Videric’s
embarrassment at being cuckolded, and Rodrigo’s ferocious temper at
not having been told all this before, I thought I would have found it very
satisfying.
Rekhmire’ handed Onorata up to me and reclaimed his own drinking
bowl. ‘Which, of course, makes Videric all the more dangerous now.
Viler things have been done out of fear than ever stemmed from anger or
revenge.’
Honorius sprang to his feet, his fingers white against the green glaze of
his wine bowl. ‘I can’t believe my supposed King thinks me disloyal!’
Watching Honorius’s stiff back as he stalked over to the window, I
doubted he would conceive of anyone believing him that.
I rocked Onorata gently in my arms. ‘You didn’t return from Rome at
his request.’
‘I—’ Honorius spun on his boot-heel, pointing at Rekhmire’. ‘Your
messengers caught me up!’
16
The Egyptian nodded. ‘Which is why I thought hard before I wrote. I
knew it might look bad.’
Honorius set his jaw. ‘I can sort this out ten minutes after I set foot in
Taraco harbour – which I will, once I have assurances of my son-
daughter’s and grand-daughter’s safety!’
Onorata stretched up her hand and prodded at my chin, although the
contact may have been accidental. Judging by the slant of the light, she
would be hungry soon.
‘If I were Aldra Videric,’ I said absently, playing catch-finger with the
baby, ‘I’d be telling Rodrigo Sanguerra that you came back from Castile
with the express intent of talking his place as First Minister. I’d tell the King you’re in alliance with Carthage. That when Taraconensis gets
legions sent in to keep the kingdom safe from crusading Franks, the
military governor they put in place of the King will be Aldra Captain-
General Honorius.’
Honorius stared at me. Rekhmire’ too, I noted.
‘Rodrigo will be thinking that you planned to work with Carthage, to use me to get rid of Videric.’ I shook my head. ‘What? I was at court! I
learned how all this works so that I could stay out of it!’
‘Goddamn!’ Honorius muttered in one of the northern Frankish
dialects. ‘Bloody goddamn . . . I swear you’re right. Since the King
doesn’t merely threaten his anger—’
‘What else?’ Rekhmire’ leaned forward on his stool, wincing at some
pain in his knee-joint. ‘There’s more?’
‘Oh, there’s more . . . ’ Honorius’s lean body straightened, his hand
closing around the remaining pages. Tendons and cartilege pulled taut
under his skin; altered all the planes of light and shadow that made up his
face.
‘King Rodrigo Sanguerra is generously pleased to write me a warning.’
Honorius’s voice rasped. ‘You may read it here, on this second page. He
writes to tell me he’s taken certain precautions for the safety of my new
estates. In my absence.’
Honorius’s forefinger tapped a tattoo on the paper.
‘He’s sent his royal troops in, to protect my lands against bandits – and
against land-hungry nobles, who might jump in while I’m away. It seems
that four hundred gentlemen and squires in the King’s service are
billeted on my land, in my castle – for which my estate naturally has to
pay bed and board.’
His hand closed up, paper crumpling into a tight ball.
‘Four hundred royal men-at-arms eating their bellies full at my
expense! And I get this favour because I’m so loyal to the Crown! Rodrigo
Sanguerra’s doing me this favour because “is unwise to leave land
unprotected in these uncertain times” . . . ’
Rekhmire’ had the look he wore during mathematical calculation. ‘Will
your estates support that many men? How many of your own are there?’
17
Honorius rubbed his brow hard. ‘Thirty, thirty-five knights, and their
lances? Say six or eight men to a lance . . . Three hundred-odd came
home from Castile with me to settle down; act as my stewards, overseers,
and the like. Marry local girls. I left most there when I came to Rome.
Now – they won’t dare disobey the King’s orders. And they can’t fight
off four hundred men without a bloodbath on both sides.’
He stared, for a long silent moment; the flames of the fire were within
his view but I doubted he saw the
m.
‘And, no.’ Honorius looked up at Rekhmire’ as if he had only just
remembered what he had been asked. ‘My lands can’t support four
hundred extra men! They’ll eat their way through the storerooms and the
granaries, their horses will empty my stables, my stewards will run the
coffers dry attempting to fulfil this responsibility . . . I left no man with the authority to go into debt on my behalf, but I won’t be surprised to get
back and find they’ve gone to the Etruscans or the Jews.’
He dropped the ball of paper to the floor and ground it under the heel
of his boot.
‘If Rodrigo’s men-at-arms are anything like mine, they’ll be living off
the land inside a couple of months! That means the noblemen whose
lands border mine won’t be friends or allies of mine. Not if their fodder
and crops are being raided.’
He glanced at me, with a sour smile containing admiration.
‘King Rodrigo notes that, if I were disloyal, he wouldn’t gift me this
“small contingent” to protect my estates against insurrection from
outside. And revolt from inside. Which means that if any of my lads protest, they’ll find themselves accused of being rebels exploiting my
absence! And meanwhile the King can go on draining away my resources
and making enemies of my neighbours . . . Until I go back to Taraco.’
One of his hands made a fist: I noted how it thickened the tendons in
his wrist.
‘What I resent is that publicly Rodrigo will be seen to be doing
something intelligent! In effect, he levies a fine on me that I can’t refuse
to pay. He’s not having to support those troops himself, all the while this
goes on. And no supporter of mine, if I have any, can point to the King
being unfair, because he’s protecting me!’
I echoed Honorius, quietly for the child in my arms. ‘Goddamn!’
Rekhmire’ replaced his wine bowl on the chess table. ‘I begin to see
why it’s not merely Aldra Videric who’s kept Taraconensis free and
peaceful, this past generation and more! In every other man’s eyes, King
Rodrigo is doing something legal, something moral, to aid you. And
meanwhile—’
The Alexandrine lifted one hand and mimicked a twisting motion.
Honorius laughed harshly. ‘Meanwhile the bloody screws tighten, until
my thumbs begin to bleed!’
My father threw himself down on the wooden settle, stretching out
18
one long leg, and watching as I replaced Onorata in her cot. I hoped her
doze would last.
‘Ilario.’ Honorius spoke quietly. ‘There’s no need for you to be
concerned over this. I didn’t come home from Castile poor. It’ll take a
year or two longer to get the estates in order, that’s all. A good harvest next year or the year after and we’re set.’
I rubbed my back as I straightened up. ‘I can see why you never went
in for politics. You’re a really bad liar.’
Rekhmire’ spluttered.
Honorius, with an unwillingly pleased look, said, ‘I can deceive and
feint on the field of battle. But you’re right: I can’t tell lies worth a damn.
I see I should tell you the truth in future, you’ll find it more reassuring.’
‘I suppose that’s one word for it . . . ’
Honorius added, ‘I’m not leaving Venice.’
He barely sounded stubborn about it. Twenty or thirty years of taking
and giving orders – especially the giving – and even his common
pronouncements tend to sound like statements of irrefutable fact. As for
anything he thinks he’s made his mind up over . . .
‘You are leaving!’
It didn’t sound at all impressive in my emphatic tenor. Perhaps
because of the alto squeak that crept in, despite my efforts. I glared at the
grey-haired soldier.
Not looking up from the page he studied, Rekhmire’ observed, ‘Going
to Taraco might, now, be very advantageous – I know what I would do
if I were in Rodrigo Sanguerra’s situation. I would offer the post of First
Minister to Honorius.’
‘ What! ’ I turned to face him rapidly enough that I had to bend over,
hands pressing against my stitches through my petticoats. I breathed
hard. ‘You think the King should give Honorius Videric’s job?’
Honorius exploded into a chuckle and glanced between us, as if we
were there for his entertainment.
The Egyptian ticked off points on his fingers. ‘It would provide
stability for Taraconensis. They would have a First Minister again, and it
would be a war hero – twenty-five years of service in the Crusades. King
Rodrigo is seen to have a powerful man at his side. And it to some degree
fixes Honorius under Taraco’s standard – how can Captain-General
Licinus Honorius sneak off to Carthage and claim to want to be the
“strong governor” Taraconensis needs, if he’s already King Rodrigo’s
first adviser?’
Honorius slapped his leg in evident delight.
I snorted. That caught my stitches, too. ‘You’re forgetting one thing.
Videric wouldn’t let him do it! ’
‘Possibly. But even Aldra Videric must now be conjecturing that the
King gains no current advantage from listening to him.’ Rekhmire’ shot
me a sharp gaze. ‘I grant you the risk of your father returning to Taraco.
19
But consider this. Master Honorius was twenty-five years in Castile and
Leon.’
Honorius gave me a small, silent shrug.
‘And?’ I was as bewildered.
‘I had some communication with scroll-collectors in Burgos and
Salamanca and Avila, before winter set in.’ Rekhmire’’s rounded
features smoothed into a shrewd expression. ‘They confirmed what I
recall of Castile and Leon – a snake-pit of political alliances and
betrayals. All of which, Ilario, your father has steadfastly ignored.’
If Honorius spoke, it would be to snap, Of course! I quickly gestured for Rekhmire’ to continue.
‘King Juan the Second of Castile has one infallibly loyal man,’ the
Egyptian said. ‘Called Alvaro, Count di Luna. Who, because of that
position as the King’s favourite, is the most powerful single individual in
northern Iberia. In more than two decades, Master Honorius never
joined any conspiracy against King Juan’s favourite. More: he never tried
to strike up a partnership with Alvaro di Luna.’
‘You think Rodrigo Sanguerra will draw conclusions from that?’
Rekhmire’ handed the page of King Rodrigo’s letter back towards my
father. ‘How many Caesars began as successful generals? A man with an
army supporting him has always been dangerous. If the soldiers of a
kingdom follow one man, tradition and law all make way for him. As far
as I can discover, and as far as King Rodrigo Sanguerra’s spies in Leon
and Castile should be telling him, the mercenary commander Licinus
Honorius has never given any of his kings one sleepless night.’
Honorius looked plainly embarrassed.
A low hungry whine came from Onorata’s cot; Honorius quickly rose
and scooped her up, letting her suck on his forefinger, and went over to
the door to call for milk.
Rekhmire’ directed a loo
k at me that said I have given him somewhat to think on.
‘He shouldn’t go to Taraco!’ I attempted to shove hands into
breeches-pockets, which in petticoats and a Frankish over-robe is bound
to be unsuccessful. ‘Not with Videric as his enemy. And you shouldn’t
be encouraging him!’
‘Ilario—’
I rode over Rekhmire’’s protest. ‘This letter may just be something to
get him on the road home! Suppose that’s all it is? Suppose it doesn’t
matter about Taraco, because he’s not intended to reach home – Videric
will have paid banditi, masnadiere, pirates, any kind of thugs!’
‘It’s possible . . . but Master Honorius is a soldier.’ Rekhmire’ came to
stand at my shoulder, watching my father give orders to one of Neferet’s
women. ‘Have you thought? If King Rodrigo takes his lands, and forbids
him to cross the borders of Taraconensis – your father loses everything
it’s taken him twenty-five years to earn by battle.’
20
4
I found it impossible to persuade Honorius to leave Venice.
Appealing to emotion, to logic; simply shouting as loudly as I could
without breaking my scar open – nothing convinced him.
He sat in silence while I coaxed Onorata to feed. The room’s tenseness
made her cry and throw her arms about, spattering milk. Eventually I
laid her across my lap, to ease her of belly-cramps as the midwife had
suggested, but it was an hour or more before she ceased to cry, and fell
asleep.
That had proved enough to make Rekhmire’ descend the stairs, no
matter how awkward he found it, and Honorius joined him. I left Neferet
watching over Onorata – since her appetite for the bawling, squalling thing seemed inexhaustible – and took refuge in a chalk profile of
Rekhmire’, while Honorius shuffled through his small company’s
accounts.
‘I won’t leave you unprotected,’ he remarked, finally. ‘I’ve three lances
here. Even if I split them with you, that only leaves each of us
inadequately defended.’
‘ I don’t need protection!’ The proportions of Rekhmire’’s eye and
nose in no way matched each other. I threw down the slate in disgust.
‘You’d be the one going into danger!’
