Blue Moon Rising

by Simon R. Green

“Really?” said the King. “You do surprise me. Answer me a question, my noble Landsgrave.”

  “Of course, Sire.”

  “Why are you here?”

  Sir Guillam blinked confusedly, gestured helplessly, and nearly dropped his scroll. “I represent the Silver Barons, Sire, I carry their words to you.”

  “No, Sir Guillam, I meant why did they select you as the new Landsgrave? You don’t appear to have had much experience in this line of work.”

  “Oh, no, Sire. Before my appointment, I was Chancellor of the Exchequer to Baron Ashcroft.”

  The King winced. An accountant, that was all he needed. On the whole, he’d rather have faced another assassin.

  “Pass your list on to my Seneschal, Sir Guillam, he’ll supply you with whatever weapons and provisions we can spare.”

  “There is also the slight matter of eleven troops …” Sir Guillam’s voice trailed away as the Astrologer chuckled darkly. The Landsgrave smiled weakly. “We could compromise and call it seven …”

  “No compromises,” said the King. “And no troops. Do you wish to argue the point?”

  “Oh, no, Sire,” said Sir Guillam hastily. “Not in the least. Not at all. Absolutely not.”

  He rolled up his scroll, bobbed a quick bow to the King, and then stepped back to hide behind Sir Blays. The King nodded politely to the third Landsgrave, and Sir Blays bowed formally in return. Control and discipline showed in his slow, deliberate movements, and his voice was calm and even as he glared coldly at the Astrologer.

  “Your powers have increased since I was last here, sir Astrologer, but don’t think to intimidate me. I don’t frighten that easily. I am Sir Blays of Oakeshoff demesne. I speak for Gold.”

  The King inclined his head slightly. “You are welcome in my Court, Sir Blays. Do you also demand troops from me?”

  “I carry my master’s words,” said Sir Blays carefully. “We must have more troops if we are to stand against the dark. Our borders have fallen to the long night, and already demons swarm across the land like so many rabid wolves. We can’t hold out much longer, even the stone and timber of our keeps are no defence against the darkness when it falls. You know my words are true, Sire.”

  “Aye,” said the King tiredly, “I know. But my answer must remain the same, Sir Blays. I have no more men to send you.”

  “I will carry your answer to my master,” said the Landsgrave slowly, “but I tell you now—he won’t accept it.”

  “He’ll accept it,” said the Astrologer calmly. “He has no choice.”

  “There’s always a choice,” said Sir Blays. His quiet words seemed to ring ominously on the silence, and for a long moment nobody said anything.

  “Very well,” said the King finally. “You came to this Court to petition my help, noble Landsgraves, and whilst it is not in my power to grant you what your masters desire, I can perhaps offer them a message of hope and comfort. Even as we speak my Champion and my younger son, Prince Rupert, are on their way to summon the High Warlock, that he may return to the Forest Land and set his sorceries against the darkness.”

  “You’d bring him back?” asked Sir Blays softly. “After what he did?”

  “It’s necessary,” said the Astrologer.

  “Desperate situations call for desperate remedies,” said the King. “I have therefore decided also to reopen the Old Armoury, and draw the Curtana from its scabbard.”

  For a long moment everyone just stared at him, frozen in shock as though carved from marble, and then the Court erupted into bedlam. At once everyone was shouting and cursing, fighting desperately to be heard over the deafening clamour. Those courtiers nearest the throne surged forward angrily, and had to be driven back at swordpoint by the men-at-arms. And still the uproar mounted, merging into a solid wave of sound that echoed and re-echoed from the high-timbered ceiling.

  Julia stared in bewilderment at the heaving, frightened mass that had once been a Court. Shock and outrage were stamped on every face, underpinned here and there by naked fear. She turned to Harald, who seemed almost as confused as she was.

  “Harald, what the hell’s going on?” The din was such that she had practically to bellow in his ear to be understood, and even then he just shook his head curtly. She searched his face for an answer, but as the first shock passed his features quickly became an impassive mask. Only the whitening knuckles on his dagger hilt betrayed the depth of his feelings.

  “Enough!” thundered the Astrologer, and fire roared up around him, smoking thickly on the stuffy air as the flames sought in vain to consume him. His night-dark cloak belled out like spreading wings, and an awful knowledge seemed to stir within his icy, impenetrable eyes. Silence fell across the Court, broken only by the crackling of the dancing flames surrounding the Astrologer. He glanced round the quiescent Court, and smiled grimly. The leaping flames flickered and went out, and once again Thomas Grey seemed nothing more than a lean old man dressed in black.

  “Thank you, sir Astrologer,” said King John evenly. “Now listen well, my noble Lords and Ladies; I will not tolerate these disturbances in my Court. Any more such outbursts, and my Headsman will earn his pay. I will have order in this Court! Is that clear?”

  One by one the courtiers knelt and bowed their heads to their King, and then the men-at-arms, and even the Astrologer himself, until in all the Court only two men remained standing: the Landsgraves of Silver and Gold. Sir Guillam trembled when King John’s gaze fell upon him, but although he couldn’t meet the King’s eyes, he wouldn’t kneel. King John knew better than to try and stare down Sir Blays; they’d known each other too many years.

  The King leaned back in his throne and studied the two men thoughtfully. There was a time Sir Blays would have taken his own life to prove his loyalty to the Forest Land, or cut down any man who questioned it. Set against his past fealty, his refusal to bow was practically a declaration of war. The King turned his attention to Sir Guillam, and frowned. Scared half out of his wits, and still the man defied him. Why? King John closed his eyes, and sighed tiredly. He knew why. Frightened as he was, Sir Guillam was far more frightened of the Curtana.

  I have to do this, King John thought stubbornly. It’s necessary.

  He opened his eyes and stared out cynically over the sea of bowed heads before him. The sight did not impress him in the least: they bowed because they were afraid of the Astrologer’s magic, not because they were loyal. The King smiled grimly. If he couldn’t have loyalty, he’d settle for fear. He had a war to wage, and with the darkness pressing closer all the time he could no longer afford to be choosy over which weapons he used.

  “Rise,” he growled finally, and the Court scrambled to its feet amid a rustle of silks and the clatter of chain-mail. A rebellious murmur started among a few of the courtiers, only to die quickly away when the King frowned. He smiled sourly, and then turned to glare at Sir Blays, who stared calmly back.

  “So, noble Landsgrave, you object to my drawing the Curtana.”

  “The Sword of Compulsion has been forbidden to your majesty’s line for over four centuries,” said Sir Blays coldly.

  “The situation has changed since then,” said the King reasonably. “The darkness must be stopped, and since we can’t hope to do it by force of arms …”

  “The Curtana is forbidden!” said Sir Blays stubbornly. “A King rules by the consent of his people, not because he has a magic sword that compels their obedience. We’ve already seen how your Astrologer uses such power. For all his faults, Sir Bedivere was a warrior; he fought and bled for you in a dozen campaigns. And your pet sorcerer treated him like a rabid dog! Do you think the Barons will stand idly by while you employ such power?”

  “When the King wields Curtana, the Barons will do as they’re told,” said the Astrologer silkily, and for a long time nobody said anything.

  “Your majesty!” said a deep, resonant voice from among the courtiers, and the King groaned silently.

  “Yes, Lord Darius!”

  “
With your permission, Sire, I think I may have a compromise that will satisfy both you and the noble Landsgraves.”

  “Very well, Lord Darius, approach the throne. But if this compromise is anything like your last brilliant idea, you’d be much better off staying where you are.”

  The Minister for War chuckled appreciatively as he made his way forward, his plump figure moving with surprising grace as he threaded his way through the wary courtiers. He stopped before the throne, took up a position carefully midway between the Landsgraves and the King, and bowed to them both. King John frowned impatiently.

  “Well, Lord Darius?”

  “It seems to me, your majesty, that Sir Blays and Sir Guillam are mainly concerned about how the Curtana is to be used. If you could perhaps explain a little of your strategy …”

  “A King doesn’t have to explain anything,” said the Astrologer. “A loyal subject obeys without question.”

  “Of course, of course,” said Lord Darius quickly. “I merely seek to clarify matters, nothing more.”

  “It’s a reasonable request,” said the King mildly. “And if it will help to set Sir Blays’s mind at rest …” He glanced at the Landsgrave, who nodded stiffly. “Very well. As Sir Blays has already pointed out, the nature of the Curtana is to compel obedience. I propose to turn this power on the demons, and force them to return to the darkness from which they came. It’s a simple enough solution to the problem.”

  “Almost elegant in its simplicity,” smiled Lord Darius. “Would you not agree, Sir Blays?”

  “It might work,” said Sir Blays grudgingly, “if the Curtana can affect non-human minds. Far as I know, no one’s ever tried that before. But even if it does work, what happens to the sword after the demons have been routed?”

  “Afterwards, it will be returned to the Armoury,” said the King. “And there it may stay till the end of time, as far as I am concerned.”

  “Indeed, indeed,” said Lord Darius, smiling and bobbing his head and clasping his podgy hands across his vast stomach. “I fear, however, that the noble Landsgraves will require more concrete evidence of your majesty’s intentions.”

  “You dare?” roared the Astrologer, stepping forward.

  Lord Darius paled, but stood his ground. “Your majesty …”

  “Let him speak,” said the King, and the Astrologer resumed his position beside the throne.

  Lord Darius bowed gratefully. “When all is said and done, your majesty, a sword is just a sword. Since you agree it should never be used again, might I suggest that once the demon threat has been disposed of, the Curtana should be publicly melted down and destroyed, once and for all?”

  The King frowned thoughtfully. “My instinct is to say no. The sword has been in our family for generations, and might be needed in the future … but I see your point. The Curtana is too dangerous a weapon to be trusted with anyone. Would such an answer satisfy the Barons, Sir Blays?”

  “It might,” said Sir Blays carefully, “but I speak only for Gold.”

  King John smiled coldly. “Where Gold leads, Silver and Copper follow. Isn’t that right, Sir Guillam?”

  The Silver Landsgrave bobbed his head nervously. “I’m sure my masters will find it an excellent scheme, Sire.”

  “Then I’ll consider it,” said King John. “You’ll have my answer before you leave tomorrow.”

  Sir Blays nodded, his face carefully impassive. “Thank you, Sire. Our business now being at an end, with your permission Sir Guillam and I will withdraw to our chambers. It’s been a long day.”

  “That it has,” said the King. “Very well, my noble Landsgraves. You are dismissed.”

  Sir Guillam and Sir Blays bowed to the throne, turned, and left the Court. The courtiers watched them go, and muttered quietly to each other.

  “Be silent,” said the Astrologer, and they were.

  “Before I dismiss this Court for the day,” said King John, “I have a pleasant duty to perform. Princess Julia …”

  “Ah, you’ve remembered me at last,” sniffed Julia. “I was beginning to think I was invisible.”

  “Julia, my dear, you are never far from my thoughts,” said the King earnestly. “Harald, I trust you’ve been keeping the Princess entertained?”

  “Oh sure,” said Harald. “She’s getting quite good at tick-tack-toe. A little more practice, and she’ll be able to beat me without cheating.”

  Julia stabbed at his foot with her dagger, and grinned as he moved it quickly out of range.

  “If you’ve quite finished,” said the King, “I have an announcement to make.”

  “Then get on with it,” said Julia.

  The King sighed quietly to himself, and then stared out over the Court. “My Lords and Ladies, I announce this day the betrothal of my eldest son Prince Harald to the Princess Julia of Hillsdown. I wish them every happiness and all good luck.”

  “He’s going to need it,” muttered a voice at the back.

  Julia was on her feet in a second. “I’m not marrying Harald!”

  “Yes you are,” said the King. “I’ve just announced it.”

  “Then you can damn well unannounce it!”

  “Princess Julia,” said the King, entirely unperturbed, “you can marry him willingly or unwillingly, but whatever you say and whatever you do, your marriage will take place four weeks from today. Harald is a fine young man and a credit to his line. I’m sure that under his tutelage and discipline, you will become a credit to him and to this Court.”

  “I’ll kill myself first!”

  “No you won’t,” said the Astrologer. “You’re not the type.”

  Julia glared angrily about her, and then turned her back on them all as she found herself blinking away angry tears. “We’ll see,” she muttered shakily. “We’ll see about this …”

  King John ignored her, and looked out over his Court. “My Lords and Ladies, I thank you for your kind attention. Court is now dismissed.”

  The courtiers bowed and curtsied to the throne, and then riled out slowly through the double doors, unusually quiet and subdued. At a nod from the King, the guards and men-at-arms followed them out.

  Julia moved away from the throne, and then looked up to find Harald standing before her. She couldn’t seem to work up the energy to hit him.

  “What do you want?” she asked tiredly.

  “Julia …” Harald hesitated. “Do you really love Rupert?”

  Julia shook her head slowly. “I don’t know. Perhaps. Why?”

  Harald shrugged. “I don’t know. Look, Julia, this marriage is going ahead whether we want it or not. I don’t expect you to love me, girl, but am I really such a bad match? I’m not an ogre, you know. Well, not all the time, anyway.” He waited to see if she’d smile even a little, but she didn’t. Harald sighed, and shook his head. “One way or another, Julia, you will be my wife. Get used to the idea. I’ll talk with you again, later.”

  Julia watched him leave the Court. Her head spun with plans to escape from the Castle, but once outside the walls, there was nowhere to go. By all accounts the Forest Land was overrun with demons. If the dragon had been strong enough to go with her … but he wasn’t. His wounds still hurt him, and he slept most of the time. Julia swore quietly to herself, but she knew she couldn’t just go off and abandon him. Or Rupert, for that matter. Julia scowled. It was all Rupert’s fault anyway. If he hadn’t brought her back to this Castle and then abandoned her, to go haring off to be a hero again, and get himself killed …

  Julia squeezed her eyes shut, and dug her nails into the palms of her hands. She wouldn’t cry in front of the King, she wouldn’t …After a while, she opened her dry eyes and stared unseeingly at the empty Court.

  Wherever you are, Rupert, be safe. And get back here, fast.

  King John watched the Princess leave, secretly admiring her calm and poise. He waited until the double doors had closed behind her, and then slumped exhausted in his throne.

  “That has to be one of the longest sessio
ns we’ve ever had,” said the Astrologer, lowering himself carefully on to the top step of the dais.

  “Right,” said the King wearily. “I swear this damn throne gets more uncomfortable every day.”

  “At least you get to sit down,” said the Astrologer wryly. “I’ve been on my feet for the past ten hours. My back’s killing me.”

  The King chuckled sympathetically. “We’re getting too old for this, Thomas.”

  “Speak for yourself,” said the Astrologer, and the King laughed.

  They sat for a while in friendly silence, watching shadows gather in the silent Court. Light spilled through the gorgeous stained-glass windows, and dust motes swirled lazily in the golden haze. The King tugged thoughtfully at his shaggy grey beard, and glanced at the Astrologer.

  “Nice act you put on for the Landsgraves, Thomas.”

  “Thank you, John. I thought it went rather well.”

  “Did you have to make Bedivere crawl like that?”

  Thomas Grey frowned. “Come on, John, the man’s a killer. The Barons knew that when they sent him. He would have killed you.”

  “I know,” said the King shortly. “But no man should have to crawl as he did. It made me feel … dirty.”

  “Look,” John, we spent most of last night working on this. The only way to keep the Barons in line is to make them more frightened of us than they are of the dark. Now how am I supposed to scare them if I don’t use my powers? It’s not as if I hurt the man, John, I just forced him to do what he should have done anyway.”

  “And the lightning bolt?”

  “Mostly illusion. There was enough power there to knock him cold, but that’s all.”

  “You’re missing the point, Thomas. The whole reason for drawing the Curtana was to prove to the Barons and the Court that we’re not helpless against the dark, that we do have more powerful weapons we can use against the demons. After what you did to Sir Bedivere, no one’s going to give a damn about the demons. They’ll be too busy worrying about whether the sword’s going to be used on them.”

  “Damn,” said Grey. “I’m sorry, John, I didn’t think …”