The Idiot King

by Patty Jansen

  Johanna said, holding her back straight, “I think the time that we rely on others to do things for us has passed. Baron Uti may mean well, but his concern is his own land. We will make our own investigations. We will write back to this Alexandre.” Her eyes met those of the secretary. “We will let him know that his occupation of Saardam displeases us greatly and we will return to resume our rightful position. We will use stronger words that still carry your approval.”

  She met hard stares around the table. “Or does anyone here actually like that a foreigner sits in our palace?”

  “Of course not,” Fleuris LaFontaine scoffed, but he sounded less than genuine.

  “Then I will see to it that it is done.” She rose. She would have the letter delivered by two volunteers who would go to Saardam and report on the situation there. Men from the camp, not the Baron’s men.

  Roald was staring at the boat shed’s dark ceiling and appeared to have been counting ceiling beams, probably to stop himself sliding into a screaming fit. “Come.” Johanna pulled him up gently by his arm. Then she looked at the ceiling again. The undersides of the ceiling beams were exposed. If the singing in her blood was anything to go by, they were made of willow wood. She had an idea.

  “Her Majesty the Queen declares the meeting finished,” Ignatius Hemeldinck said, his voice sarcastic.

  “I’m glad that someone here recognises my status,” she said, equally sarcastic. She strode past him out of the shed.

  ‎

  Chapter 2

  * * *

  “MY CHILD, you’re playing with fire,” Master Deim said when the meeting had finished. They were slowly walking back from the boathouse along the riverbank.

  A bit further along the curve of the Rede River, the Lady Sara and the Prosperity lay moored at the jetty that would normally be used by the river ships that came to pick up milk. The cows normally grazed in the paddock that had now become a jumble of mismatched tents. It was almost midday and trails of smoke rose from cooking fires between those tents.

  The path along the riverbank was quite narrow, so Master Deim walked first, turning around when he spoke. Johanna had hooked her arm through Roald’s. He was distracted by some animal in the reeds and she held him so that he didn’t trip. His tenseness had abated a bit and he no longer shook or swayed.

  “Would you have let them talk over your head as if you didn’t exist?” Johanna asked Master Deim. “I don’t know what’s going on, but those men have done nothing for us. The people are getting unhappy. They want to know when we’re going back, or, if we’re not, what the reason is, but we’ve heard nothing and they’re doing nothing. Why do they think that the Baron can sort it all out for us? Do they know something we don’t?”

  “Yes, they probably do. There are many gentlemen’s agreements between noble families. They’re not going to divulge those agreements to others, not even to their peers.” Master Deim shook his head. “They have only barely allowed you to be present. Do you really think it’s a good idea to turn them against you already?”

  “They were never going to be helpful.”

  Roald said, “I heard them talking. They were laughing about me. They called me The Idiot King.”

  “They did indeed. It’s disgraceful.”

  “I’m not an idiot.” He pronounced the word idiot slowly as if allowing it extra time to sink in.

  Johanna shook her head. Whatever you wanted to call Roald, an idiot he was not. With his simple way of looking at relationships, he often understood matters well enough, even if he was clumsy at voicing those thoughts. “Those men are insufferably rude. They’re far too used to getting their way. If they were merchants, they would have not a customer left.”

  “But they are not merchants. They are dangerous men from the most connected, most experienced noble families.”

  “And that’s the reason I have to be grateful to them that they let me come to a meeting where we should have been invited in the first place? I have to be grateful for every word they say? They’ve always been against us. They have no respect, not for their wives, their fellows or their king. I don’t think they ever did.” She suspected they had played games with King Nicholaos, and the king, stricken by grief over the death of his daughter, had not seen it.

  This was what Father had been talking about when she was with him in the coach underway to the ball. This was why the King’s envoy had asked Father, and not the nobles, for a loan.

  Master Deim said, “Yes, they were probably happy with Nicholaos as figurehead king, as long as he didn’t get into their way. They were born into power. They like their power and will do whatever they can to hold onto as much of it as they can.”

  “But then why haven’t they done anything about the occupation? Why do they just accept whatever scraps the Baron throws them?”

  He spread his hands. “There are many possible reasons. Because they are comfortable doing what they’re doing? Because they don’t like to risk themselves and their wealth in fighting conflicts they’re not sure they can win. Because they hope to be given a position at the Baron’s court? Some of them are distantly related to the Baron and other nobles in Florisheim.”

  “I don’t think I’ll ever understand that world.” She had been exposed to it a little bit through her mother, a minor royal of the Aroden court. When Mother was still alive, Countess Josafina, Mother’s great-aunt, would sometimes visit her house. Johanna would have to dress up and sit on the stiff couch in the formal sitting room, while the Countess gossiped about who said what and who was marrying whom, while Mother looked on and occasionally smiled at Johanna or brushed her hair to the side or reminded her to sit still.

  “They expect patronage. If you look after your peers, they will look after you.”

  Of course she knew about patronage, of the arts, usually. The Burovian king had been a patron of Rinius for most of his life. But the habit of noble families to send their unruly and entitled sons to other noble families in order to get them straightened out was not one she understood.

  Master Deim added, “Also, child, don’t forget that most of them are afraid of magic. This Alexandre appears to have rather a lot of it, and is not afraid to unleash its full force onto the common people. Saardam has always been so poor in magic that most people would never have seen a fire demon, let alone had any idea how to defeat it.”

  Johanna spread her hands. “Then we hire magicians. Every ruler does it. I don’t understand the problem. Anything has got to be better than sitting in this field. They act like they’ve got their feet stuck in tar. It’s impossible to get them to do anything.”

  “They’re not in a hurry to make decisions. They’re comfortable—”

  “They may be comfortable. They’ve got the best tents. They got first choice of the items the Baron lets us use. Many people aren’t so lucky. Winter is coming.” It had rained a lot recently, and the lower part of the field had become very muddy.

  “I know, I know, child. You don’t have to explain it to me.”

  Then why did he keep making excuses for these men?

  Captain Arense and Joris DeCamp had come up behind them.

  “I enjoyed that,” the captain said, smiling at Johanna. He was a jovial fellow, with a huge beard, the typical ship’s captain.

  Joris chuckled. “Yeah, I don’t think I’ve ever seen Ignatius Hemeldinck so restrained and angry at the same time. He’s a piece of work, that one.”

  “Do not speak ill of other people,” Shepherd Carolus said, coming up behind the Major and the Captain. “You never know when you need their help.”

  “Have a blessed day, Shepherd,” Captain Arense said and gave an exaggerated bow.

  “You jest, my friend.”

  Captain Arense clapped him on the shoulder. “Dirk, you are allowed to loosen up sometimes.”

  “I take my vocation seriously. Men who do not believe will watch like a cat and pounce when the opportunity arises. I’m the mouse. I try to stay out of their way. But like the
mouse, I can go places where the cat can’t come.”

  They all laughed.

  Captain Arense said, “You, Dirk, look about as unlike a mouse as any person has ever looked.”

  “It is the metaphor that counts.” He smiled and bowed. “But you have to excuse me, Your Majesty. I am expected to teach some children.”

  He continued along the riverbank and into the camp. Like a mouse. What a strange statement. She knew the nobles didn’t particularly like the church, but was he suggesting there had been hostilities? She guessed that shouldn’t surprise her, although making threats to a priest seemed tasteless to her, even a priest who was as apt to defend himself as the Shepherd Carolus.

  Captain Arense said to Johanna, “We completely agree with you, by the way. We should make preparations to leave this field. I don’t understand what is holding back the nobles, either. Maybe we’ll find out, maybe we won’t. I think you’d get quite a lot of support in the camp. Most people are sick of waiting for news that doesn’t come. I’m rather sick of it myself. I’d rather be on the water. You should talk to my mistress about the use of the Prosperity for that reason.”

  That mistress was Julianna Nieland, Johanna’s old rival, but the bite seemed to have gone off that rivalry, which had mostly concerned clothing and other trivial things. Like Johanna, Julianna had left her entire family behind in Saardam and hadn’t heard a word from them since.

  “I’ll think about it,” she said, still looking at Master Deim. His face didn’t give away what he thought of such a plan. “Would you know some adventurous young men who would like to go downriver to deliver a letter and check out what’s going on in Saardam? We’ll find a boat for them, and they can use two of our sea cows to come back upriver.”

  The animals in question grazed, as usual, in the shallows near the riverbank, where occasional bubbles rose to the surface. Sea cows seemed to like work.

  “I think you’d find plenty of young men who would do that. Most youngsters are sick of being idle in this camp.”

  “Find names and recommend two to me.”

  The captain bowed. “It will be a pleasure, Your Majesty.”

  The men continued into the camp and Johanna walked with Roald and Master Deim up the gangplank of the Lady Sara. Two men stood on either side and they greeted the group with polite nods. They were supposedly royal guards, right now lacking a uniform. Johan Delacoeur had instated them Because the royal family always has guards, he’d said, and that was true, but suddenly Johanna wondered about these men and their motives.

  They were ex-soldiers who Johan Delacoeur trusted and had served under him. But what if Johan Delacoeur’s motives for posting the guards were not entirely honest? They might be employed to spy on the king as much as to protect him.

  She hadn’t thought to question it until now. Roald was the king and kings had guards, simple as that. Most of the men in the camp had little to do anyway, so guarding the king seemed a good thing to do. But Johan Delacoeur wasn’t a friend, really, and he and his cronies had not been strong supporters of the royal family for quite a while.

  Johanna, Roald and Master Deim stopped walking on the deck.

  The day was brooding, and fat thunderclouds already gathered on the horizon. Pearls of sweat beaded on Master Deim’s upper lip and forehead.

  “It’s very hot,” he said, wiping his forehead. “There’s a thunderstorm coming.”

  They watched the darkening sky in silence for a while. Even the birds seemed to be affected by the oppressing weather. One came strutting along the riverbank with its beak open.

  “Look, a heron,” Roald said. “You know they catch fish and frogs by spearing them with their beaks? The heron is from the sea-bird family, but do you know how far away from the sea we are? Isn’t that strange?”

  “Yes, very strange,” Johanna said. They’d even seen seagulls the other day.

  He went on to talk about other birds he saw. Larks, fluttering high in the sky, a pair of coots on the water, swallows skimming the surface so closely that occasionally their wings brushed the water, swifts in the sky, flying so high that you could hear their screeches only when you were very quiet.

  Wouldn’t it be amazing to be so lost in knowledge of birds and nature that you didn’t see the terrible things that happened in life? Johanna met Master Deim’s eyes.

  “I’m so glad that you are here,” she said. “You’re a voice of reason, someone I know I can trust.”

  He sighed. “Not a word from your father or anyone else. I’m beginning to doubt the veracity of the claims in that letter. If the citizens of Saardam were well, certainly someone would have sent a letter, or someone else would have made the same journey up the river as we have, even if only to look for us.”

  Johanna had wondered the same thing. “Maybe they didn’t come up the river far enough.” Or maybe they, having seen the destruction of Aroden, had concluded that the whole world was dead. “The letter didn’t actually say in so many words that the people were safe. It just said most of the citizens ‘have been spared,’ but it didn’t say anything about their condition.”

  “It didn’t. It’s also strange how it mentioned business interests but not people. As if there was some sort of pre-arranged deal between Alexandre and the Baron about the spoils.”

  Johanna laughed in a hollow way. “And then he found that the King’s coffers were empty, having spent all his money on the church.”

  “A nasty surprise, I’m sure. I wonder how much the Baron endorses this ‘friend’ Alexandre.”

  “I think Alexandre only calls the Baron a friend because he wants to be the Baron’s friend. It seems to me that if he were really the Baron’s friend, the Baron would have thrown the letter into the fire, and not given it to us even months after it was sent.”

  “True.” Master Deim gave her a thoughtful look.

  Something he hadn’t considered, perhaps? “I’d really like to know what’s going on in Saardam. I’m going to write that letter. I want to have it ready when Captain Arense finds some boys to go to Saardam.”

  He nodded and they stared over the churning water for a while.

  Roald announced that he saw some ducks. He walked back down the gangplank past the impassive guards and kneeled, peering into the reeds. A young boy came to him, and Roald pointed. The boy kicked off his shoes and went into the water.

  “The kids like him a lot,” Master Deim said.

  “Yes. They’re not full of judgement, like adults.” And Roald seemed to have remained stuck in that phase where boys find information interesting and want to learn about the world.

  “True.”

  “Are you going to be at next week’s meeting? I want to find volunteers to travel down the river to report on what’s happening in Saardam.”

  “Just be careful. Don’t anger the nobles. I haven’t heard them say so, but they might well be disappointed that you survived. If that is so, I dare say they will try to get rid of you as soon as they can.”

  “They can’t. I’m legally married to Roald.”

  “Yes, child, but I doubt they recognise the validity of the marriage. They may be patient for now, but that might change if you don’t produce an heir soon.”

  ‎

  Chapter 3

  * * *

  THAT DISTURBED Johanna more than anything, and as she watched Master Deim walk down the gangplank and wave to the guards with his usual jovial manner, a chill came over her. Because every night except those where she bled, she had slept with Roald and she had noticed no changes in her body. Her last bleeding was three weeks ago and it had disappointed her.

  How long did it normally take for a woman to become with child?

  She thought she had heard rumours that it had happened to some girls after being with a man just once.

  Maybe she and Roald were doing something wrong.

  A couple of young children were running between the tents, to a mother who had called them for the midday meal. All those people obviously kne
w how to do it right.

  Was there anyone she could ask?

  In Saardam, young women would ask Helena about being with men, about what to do the first time, about their husband’s expectations, about how to tell when you were with child before you started swelling. But Helena, of course, had not been considered worthy to be taken on Captain Arense’s ship.

  That thought brought a pang of pain.

  What would have become of Helena? Did sailors still come to Saardam and did they still have the money to pay to spend the night with her? Did young women still come to her with questions?

  Johanna looked over the camp. The Captain was a supporter of the royal family and friendly to her, but he had taken far more men than women. The women who had made it onto the ships were mostly nobles. Johanna certainly wasn’t going to ask them for advice—they’d be horrified to be asked about these things.

  Roald’s interest in books had provided him with access to the fabled library of the monastery of the Jeromist Order in town. Men with a love of books often formed bonds. He had a penchant for books of human anatomy, and in one of those she had spotted a drawing of a couple engaging in the reproductive act. The woman lay on her back and the man on top. That was how Roald had wanted it originally, but she found it uncomfortable. Maybe it was wrong for her to sit on top of him, because the seed came out as soon as she got up.

  Maybe next time when she came to the library she should find some books on what she was doing wrong, or about magic or herb lore that she could use.

  The stems threshed in the reeds and a boy yelled, “I got it! I got it!”

  Two people waded through the reed bed back to the riverbank. First the boy, jumping up and down. Then Roald, carrying something in cupped hands. He climbed up the bank and walked past the guard up the gangplank. The man broke his normally impassive expression to frown at the thing in Roald’s hands with a good-heavens-what-now look.