The Stone Golem

by Mary Gentle

  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!’

  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?’

  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 them.

  ‘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 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, Rekhmi
re’ 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. 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 look 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.’

  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!’

  The argument went on for an hour at the least, becoming increasingly mathematical. Rekhmire’ joined in, not disputing Honorius’s tactical assessments, but digging deeply into the same question–which my father declined to answer: How many of your men do you need to stay safe from danger on the roads?

  I stopped speaking and let them go at it, treasuring an idea that came into my mind.

  When both fell breathlessly silent, I spoke again.

  ‘The answer to “How many men?” is “All of them”,’ I said. ‘It has to be. I’ll tell you why. Father, your concern is that when Videric’s spies see you and your men leave, they’ll kill me—’

  ‘No, you can’t come with me!’ Honorius interrupted. ‘I’ve seen the sewing-work on your belly: there’s no way you’re riding a horse or being strapped into a litter–or puking your guts up by sea! I know how long it takes men to recover from battlefield wounds; you’re still weeks from ready, no matter what the Turk said—’

  ‘Yes, but I don’t think anyone else knows that.’ I walked across the room and rested my hands on his shoulders, standing behind his chair. ‘Go with all your men, banners flying. Ensign Saverico is about my height and build, although he’s fair-haired. Put him in my green travelling cloak and a skirt. Any spies will report to Videric that I’ve left Venice.’

  ‘A battle double.’ Honorius glanced up, the dawning of amusement in his gaze. ‘Well thought of! But not good enough. Am I supposed to leave my son-daughter and Onorata to that whoreson Federico, or any other ruffian who can make his way to Venice?’

  ‘You’ll lose your estates!’

  He looked away from me. ‘My reputation–which you and the Egyptian both seem to think I have–should mean I have no difficulty in earning more money, and buying more land. If it’s not in Taraco…then it’s elsewhere.’

  ‘You are the worst liar!’

  Honorius grinned, and reached for the seal on a wine bottle.

  ‘Honorius–Father—’

  It was my first experience of a long and pointless argument as a free individual rather than as a slave.

  It was no less aggravating, and I seemed equally powerless. True, no man threatened to whip me when I threw a shoe at Honorius’s head. But that was solely because it made him laugh, and then wipe at his eyes as if he were deeply moved.

  ‘Stupid soldier!’ I snarled.

  He crossed the room and put his arms about my shoulders. As ever, he seemed to have no hesitation in touching me. He wept a little.

  ‘Must have been hanging out with too many damned English mercenaries,’ he muttered, wiping his face. ‘All the English are far too emotional, always have been!’

  I stated it as plainly as I could. ‘If you have to fight to be paid again, you might be killed. I don’t w
ant that.’

  ‘I am going nowhere until you’re safe!’ He scowled at me. ‘And–what is safe? If you and the child could travel, I wouldn’t take you with me. You and Videric in the same kingdom? There’d be men waiting at every corner to cut your throat!’

  ‘Then I’ll stay in Venice!’

  ‘That’s no better!’

  The tense silence snapped, broken by a diplomatic cough from Rekhmire’.

  ‘There’s Alexandria,’ I said, and translated for Honorius: ‘Constantinople.’

  ‘“Constantinople.” ’ Rekhmire’ wrinkled his upper lip at the Frankish name for his city. ‘I had wondered, if I can find Herr Mainz, or if the Pharaoh-Queen sends a new ambassador for Venice, whether I could wait a month or so until the weather is clearer, and then take a ship down through the Aegean to Alexandria. But, such a long voyage…’

  Honorius scowled. ‘Onorata is still very small. Travel might kill her.’

  ‘Alexandria is far enough from Taraco that Ilario should be out of Videric’s reach. And Ilario will have friends and protection there.’ Rekhmire’ had his chin on his hand, where he sat at the large table; his gaze only glanced across me.

  ‘I won’t risk such a young child,’ Honorius grumbled.

  He looked over at me, but I paid no attention. Fear turned my bowels hot and cold while he spoke to me, and I realised in a flash why.

  If, in guilty waking moments, in the early hours of the morning, I held the unvoiced thought that it would be better, kinder, if the sickly child didn’t survive–or better if the responsibility weren’t left to someone as completely unfitted for it as I–the thought of someone else taking her made the bottom of my stomach drop away with fear.

  All the time it was me, alone, there was no concern if I fell into debt and was sold back into slavery. I’ve lived as a slave before; I can do it again.

  But slaves have no say in whether their babies are taken from them. Their children are sold on, and they never see them again.

  ‘You’re not rich enough to buy all three of us,’ I whispered to Rekhmire’, trying for humour and not achieving it.