The Idiot King

by Patty Jansen

  The merchant’s eyes widened when he saw Johanna.

  “Look at you. What brings you here in weather like this?”

  He rose and took Johanna’s hands in his. His skin felt like it was on fire. She hadn’t realised up until now just how cold she was.

  “Child, you look like you’ve seen a ghost. What’s wrong?”

  “Master Deim, please, I need to talk to you.” And she had seen a ghost.

  On the wall above the fireplace hung a large painting of the harbour of Saardam. Johanna recognised the work of the artist Claudius Verbeeck, whose commissioned works graced the walls of the town hall in Saardam.

  His portraits of important Saarlander men were stiff and their likeness dubious at best, but his landscapes were beautiful, done in tiny little brush strokes and displayed so much detail that she could see Father’s office. Was one of the ships in the harbour the Lady Sara or Lady Davida?

  Then a disturbing thought: how many of these old buildings had survived the fire? The palace loomed over the houses. That was definitely destroyed. Probably a lot of the very old houses, too.

  The middle-aged woman saw Johanna looking at it. “We will rebuild it,” she said in slightly stiff but perfect Saarlander dialect.

  Johanna turned to her. “You’re from Saardam?”

  As Johanna met the woman’s eyes, the woman dropped to her knees. “My name is Hilda. I came from Saardam when I was young and beautiful. My family is at your service, Your Majesty.”

  It was the first time that someone addressed her like this and it took Johanna by surprise. She wanted to tell the woman to get up and stop being silly, but knew it was absolutely the right thing for her to do. Roald needed support as a king, and that meant people should treat him as a king. She said, “Thank you. I will do what I can, too, but it may take a while so you may have to be patient.”

  “We can be very patient. Whatever it is we can do, let us know. I will send my sons to fight, if they’re old enough.”

  The young boys looked up from their game, clearly well-versed in the language.

  “Thank you.”

  It was a strange and emotional moment to have someone promising her the life of her sons. The idea of going back to Saardam to free the city with an army abhorred her, but it might be what needed to be done. Although how an army could defeat strong magic wasn’t clear to her.

  “Actually, you can do something for me right now. I need to visit a woman who is well-versed in herb lore.”

  “You must go and visit Magda. She is simply the best.”

  Master Deim said something to her in the local language, and she replied in a somewhat annoyed tone.

  Master Deim snorted.

  “My brother-in-law says that Magda is an old witch.”

  “I can tell her that myself, and she is an old witch. Hilda, I know you don’t have a shred of magic in you, but that woman is not half as harmless as she looks.”

  “She is the best. If you need her, you will find her house on the other side of the markets. It’s a grey house, a bit dirty-looking, and there are strange things on the windowsills, but don’t let that, or the sight of her face, frighten you.”

  Master Deim still didn’t look happy about it.

  “But will she understand me?” Johanna asked. She wondered what could be wrong with Magda’s face.

  “She will, even though she will grump about it, and pretty much everything else, too. Always making out that whatever you’ve asked is a big deal. She’s not an inviting person, but just ignore the complaining. She’d be complaining a lot more if no one came. She’ll know who you are, too, but she’ll be rude about it—”

  Master Deim said, “Hilda . . .”

  She glanced at him. “What? I’m just warning the queen.”

  “Thank you,” Johanna said.

  “It is a pleasure.” The woman curtsied and that was even more embarrassing than being called Your Majesty.

  Master Deim snorted and led Johanna into the corridor, where it was very dark and cold.

  The floor was covered in worn tiles that seemed to have been untouched for the last hundred years.

  “This is a very old house,” he said. “This part of Florisheim goes back all the way to the time of the Belaman invasion. Florisheim stood strong against their armies.”

  The Belaman religion had been much more successful.

  Master Deim led her to the end of the corridor, up a narrow staircase and through a small doorway. It came out into a large room with windows along the far side that looked out over the slate roofs of the town and, beyond that, the river. Drops of water ran over the outside of the glass panes. All the roofs were dark and glistening with rain. The river had broken its banks in the low-lying areas on the opposite side, which was in Burovia.

  “Look at all that water,” Johanna said.

  “It rained a lot in the foothills yesterday. There will be more to come. Those Burovian farmers should get their animals to higher ground.”

  A couple of cows stood on a patch that had become an island. They all faced the same way, with their backsides into the wind.

  “Isn’t that the religious order’s land?”

  “Not that,” he said. “They own everything you can see to the north of here, but not further upstream.”

  “Who lives there?”

  “No one. It’s wild land and forest as far as the eye can see.”

  Johanna stood so close to the window that her breath fogged on the glass.

  Forest with magical creatures, good and bad. She had only seen small parts of the forest, even when riding through with the bandits; there were always lone farmhouses and tiny villages along the way. Forest as far as the eye can see was not something she could comprehend. She didn’t like forests. After her trek to Duke Lothar’s castle and his explanation about magic lines, she liked it even less.

  Master Deim said, “There are mountains to the south of the forest and other strange lands on the other side of those mountains.”

  “Father often told me about the strange lands and people there.” He had not travelled there himself, but those people travelled up the rivers to Lurezia and he did business with them there.

  “Have a seat.”

  Johanna sat on one of the cloth-covered chairs. Along the walls stood many wooden shelves filled with books, big leather-bound volumes and cheaper board-covered texts.

  “I didn’t know you had this many books.”

  “Many of them came from my brother’s collection. This is his house.”

  “I thought the man in the living room was your cousin. I didn’t know you had a brother.”

  “He is my cousin. I had a brother. He used to run half of our business, but he went to a trip down south and never returned.”

  “What happened?”

  “No one knows. We never heard from him again. For this trip, he had chosen not to travel on one of the company ships, because he intended to travel south of the rapids. He was not alone, but rode with our company accountant. Neither of them were ever seen again.”

  “That must be a terrible thing to have happen.”

  He nodded. “Hilda is devastated. I’m helping her out with the boys. I’ll probably end up marrying her.” Master Deim’s wife, she remembered now, had died a few years ago from wasting sickness. He told her that she’d already been thin when they married. Not even the best medics had been able to stop it. They never had children.

  That thought made Johanna shiver. Some women just never had children. Maybe there was something wrong with her.

  There was a knock on the door and the maid came in with a tray with tea. Johanna and Master Deim were silent while she set out the cups and plates. Master Deim only spoke when the maid left.

  “So what happened this morning that has you so out of sorts?” he asked while sitting down.

  “It’s a bit of a story. I went to the library to get new books for Roald to read.”

  “It’s an odd time to go to the library.”

/>   “I know, but he ran out of books, and it’s raining so he’s driving me crazy doing nothing and fidgeting. Brother Reginald took me up to the library room. He was called away and while I was waiting for him to come back, and leafing through the books that he was going to give me, a ghost came up the stairs.”

  “Oh, that’s Liesel. Everyone knows her.”

  “It was not Liesel. It was Celine.”

  He frowned at her. “Are you sure of that?”

  “I know what Celine’s face looks like. It was Celine. She was wearing that pale yellow dress with the tiny buttons that she wears in the painting of her that hangs in the church.” She had to check herself. By all accounts, the Church of the Triune in Saardam had burnt to the ground. “Celine went up into another tower room that was also full of old books. She spoke to me. Her voice was like rasping millstones, not human at all. She said that I was a usurper and that only she could be queen.”

  His frown deepened. “Ghosts don’t normally speak.”

  “No, they don’t. They don’t look solid either.”

  “Are you sure it was a ghost?”

  “No, but it was some sort of magical apparition. After she’d made her threats to me, I ran down the stairs and fell. Then Brother Reginald came back up from talking to his customer. I told him what I’d seen and he said there was no library room up there. I went back upstairs again and it was just an attic with lots of dust and spider webs. The ghost or apparition created an illusion around itself that was strong enough for me not to notice that it wasn’t real.”

  He shook his head, the expression on his face worried. “I have never heard of anything like that.”

  “No, I haven’t either. That’s why I need to see a magician. Do you know that there are rumours that there is a necromancer in town?”

  For a moment, an uneasy expression hovered in his eyes. He didn’t deny the question. He didn’t confirm it either.

  “Hmm.” He rubbed his chin and then repeated, “Hmm. Let me make some inquiries for you. But please don’t go and see that woman Magda. She’s harmless to people like my sister-in-law who just come to buy herbs, but her knowledge goes much deeper than that. She’s rumoured to have been an accomplice for Duke Lothar’s attempted poisoning of his half-brother. I presume you know about that.”

  She nodded. “Roald knows all these things. He’s like a walking compendium of royalty.”

  Master Deim raised his eyebrows. “Is he, now?”

  “Like you told me to do with Magda, you shouldn’t underestimate him. He sits and reads all day, and he remembers all of it. He’s just really awkward with people. He doesn’t like meetings and doesn’t like to be in the spotlight.”

  “Hmm.” He let a small silence lapse. “All right, I guess I shall keep that in mind then. But I repeat: don’t see Magda. She is not just a herb woman.”

  “What if the reason I wanted to see her is just for herbs?”

  He seemed taken aback by that statement. “Oh. Sorry. Just for herbs, then, but I would prefer if you bought them from any other herb seller at the markets, if you can.”

  “I will try.” But Johanna was curious about this Magda now. If she was a friend of Duke Lothar’s then she might have useful information. No matter what people said about the duke, he was the only one to have given her serious information about magic and the only one to have helped her with the matter. She didn’t want to take sides between the Duke and his half-brother Baron Uti, but the Duke at least had taken her seriously, even if she was only a woman, while the Baron had so far done his best to ignore her.

  Master Deim repeated his promise that he would talk to someone about the apparition of Celine, and repeated his warning against Magda a third time.

  Then she asked him the question that she had never dared ask when they both still lived in Saardam. “Do you have some magic?”

  He hesitated only a moment. “I do. I have very limited water magic. The water in the tea tells me that the young maid who opened the door for you has been kissing the neighbour’s coachman in our kitchen again. I’ll have to talk to her about that. He’s from a family that’s no good, and if she keeps going like this, she’ll end up in trouble and then she’ll have to marry him.”

  Johanna wondered why so many young women got in trouble while she could not end up in trouble no matter how often she and Roald shared the bed.

  “The water in the river tells me how much it has rained upstream.”

  “Do raindrops tell you what it’s like to fly?”

  He frowned at her like he’d never considered that angle. “I guess they could. How did you come up with that thought?”

  “Roald. He says a bird could fly to the Moon by crossing the air.”

  “He’s been reading Rinius.” It was not a question.

  “Yes. He’s fascinated by all those things.”

  “You are aware that most churches consider Rinius heresy? The Church of the Triune is one of those churches. Your father often lamented that you went to it.”

  “There are more reasons than one to attend a church. I liked how the church teaches that people are equal regardless of their wealth. I like how they help poor and unfortunate people. I don’t like their position on magic. I’d like Saardam to be a place of free thought and inquisitive minds.”

  The more she thought about it, the more convinced she became of this. The crime was not that Rinius had some strange ideas. It was that he had been hanged for voicing them.

  ‎

  Chapter 8

  * * *

  BY THE TIME Johanna left Master Deim’s house, the rain had intensified and didn’t look like letting up any time soon. The sky was leaden grey and wind lashed at trees.

  She ran through the narrow streets, empty except for puddles, through the gate, where the bored sentry still sat being miserable in his little hut, and along the by now very muddy path to the camp. The books made her basket heavy. The wind kept pulling at the leather covering. She must have eaten something bad because her stomach cramped.

  At the camp, some people were still attempting to cook dinner, but even the wood that had been stored under shelter was wet, and most refugees hid inside their tents.

  The gangplank of the Lady Sara had become even steeper and slipperier than when she left.

  When she opened the hold cover that provided access to the stairs, a good amount of rain came in. They should get someone to make a cover for this entrance.

  A couple of people were talking in the hold. It was too dark to see who they were, but one of the voices was Nellie’s. “No, you can’t see him.” She sounded distressed. “My mistress has told me that no one can talk to him unless she is there—oh! Mistress Johanna, there you are.”

  The people who were with Nellie at the bottom of the stairs looked up and by the grey light from the rainy day, Johanna recognised their faces: Johan Delacoeur and Fleuris LaFontaine. What were they doing here?

  “Good morning, gentlemen,” she said, while climbing down. She made sure that her annoyance came through in her tone, which wasn’t hard when she was wet and cold and desperate to get changed into dry clothes.

  Since when did citizens encroach on the King’s freedom? She had told Nellie that she wanted no visitors here, which was Roald’s domain, where he was safe from prying eyes. The guards would know that, too. They should have stopped the men.

  Roald sat at his desk, studiously ignoring the nobles, but the way in which he jiggled his leg showed that he was already pretty distressed, even though outsiders wouldn’t pick up on it.

  Johanna had arrived at the bottom of the stairs and now faced the men, both of whom were much taller than her. “Do you have a pressing reason to bother the king in his private quarters?”

  “The matter is quite urgent.” Johan Delacoeur’s manner was so distant that he didn’t even look into her eyes.

  “Ah, I see. You have come here to discuss the details of the coronation ceremony that we must hold soon.”

  “Um . . .”
They clearly had not.

  “Well, come down, and we’ll discuss it.”

  “Miss Brouwer,” began Fleuris LaFontaine, and that was not a good beginning at all.

  “Why the ‘Miss’? Am I not your queen?”

  “That’s what we’re here to talk about.”

  “I don’t understand.” Her heart thudded in her chest. Why discuss this now? They’d had two months to question her status. What had changed?

  “None of us witnessed the ceremony that you say took place on the deck of this ship near the ruins of Aroden castle. The only witness appears to be the maid who performed the ceremony and a demon-possessed witch. We cannot verify the young maid’s claim that she is authorised to conduct such a ceremony—”

  “Well then, it’s easy, we must hold the wedding ceremony again. As long as it’s organised quickly, because it would look improper if I attended it looking like I swallowed a water bag.”

  It was all bluff, but Fleuris gave her an uncertain look. “But certainly it’s a bit early to . . . Are you certain? We cannot hold the ceremony then, in your condition . . .”

  “It’s early days yet. We have time. But if you would like to see an official ceremony, then we must hold one.” A chill came over her. Would they really cast out a woman who carried the king’s first-born? Would they cast out any woman in that condition, knowing that she would have nowhere else to go?

  Johan Delacoeur was looking at her with an I-don’t-believe-this expression on his face. “I would like to see a ruling from a physic before we make any rash decisions.”

  “I have been with Roald since we fled Saardam. I saved him. I helped him all that time.” I dressed him, I fed him. “There is nothing ‘rash’ about this decision.”

  “Yes, but I think it would be more appropriate for the new king to be wed to a girl from a good family.”