Doctor Who: Royal Blood (Glamour Chronicles, Book 1)

by Una McCormack

  ‘You’re not making it sound an attractive career choice.’

  ‘Then let me put it this way,’ said the Doctor. ‘Do you want to help stop a war?’

  ‘What? Of course!’

  The Doctor turned back to his inspection of the curtains. ‘If what you’ve told me about her is true, so does Guena. Aurelian – well, that’s less clear.’

  Clara frowned. ‘The Duke can’t really want war. He might want the idea of war – but not actual war.’

  ‘I’m not so sure. Some people start worrying about their legend far too early,’ said the Doctor. ‘Worrying about legacy. They want to make sure that they’re remembered – but for the right reasons. Aurelian knows as well as anyone else that he can’t hold Conrad back. Either he can surrender or he can go down in a blaze of glory. And who wants to be remembered for a surrender?’

  Clara shivered, and wrapped the great sleeves of the dress around her. ‘That’s madness.’

  ‘Yes it is,’ said the Doctor. ‘But it’s popular madness. This ambassador, though – if he ever turns up – he might be someone with real power to stop a pointless war happening. And if someone who has connections to people close to the Duke, but no vested interest in the politics of Varuz, passed on a message that Varuz was interested in a peaceful settlement…’ He peered at Clara. ‘I mean you, by the way, is that clear?’

  ‘As crystal,’ said Clara.

  ‘Clara,’ he said, ‘I want to stop this war. The ambassador might be exactly the person we need, and you might be exactly the person to speak to him.’ He waved his hand about. ‘But of course, if you’re suddenly getting scruples about high treason and whatnot…We can’t be seen to get our hands dirty, now, can we?’

  ‘All right, all right, you’ve made your point!’

  ‘A little chat with a visiting dignitary won’t do anyone any harm,’ the Doctor said firmly.

  ‘I hope not,’ said Clara. ‘Those lasers look burny.’

  ‘It’s the right choice.’

  ‘I’m not sure it feels right.’

  ‘Cheer up,’ said the Doctor. ‘It might never happen. We’ve no idea if this ambassador is really coming.’

  He didn’t, that night, and Clara slept well in her deep and comfortable bed, despite the thought of lasers. But the morning brought the sound of silver trumpets, and a messenger to their room came to inform them that the Duke requested the presence of his learned friend the holy man, in an audience with the ambassador from Conrad.

  ‘Come along,’ the Doctor said to Clara. ‘You’re bound to find out something useful.’

  ‘Hmm,’ said Clara.

  ‘Not convinced?’

  ‘I’m not convinced it’ll be the real ambassador this time either,’ Clara replied.

  ‘That would be ridiculous,’ the Doctor said.

  —

  The Doctor and his companion were already with the Duke in his map room when I arrived. Aurelian, I could see, was plainly nervous, pacing around the small space, stopping now and then to examine his maps, as if to remind himself of some minor detail or other. He saw me and smiled, and I nodded and bowed, and took my place in one quiet corner of the room, to remain there until my lord or lady needed me.

  At length, Aurelian ceased his prowling, coming to a halt before the Doctor. ‘Holy man,’ he said, and reached out his hands. ‘I am grateful for your presence here today. Is there any wisdom that you would convey to me?’

  The Doctor hesitated, but, to my amusement, his young friend nudged him forwards with her elbow, and, with ill grace, he took the Duke’s hands and patted them, rather awkwardly. ‘Don’t go looking for war,’ he said. ‘But if you look for peace, you will have the gratitude of all your people. And that, Duke, should be your heart’s desire.’

  Aurelian was soothed by this. He nodded his thanks and released the Doctor’s hands. But his quieter, steadier mood was disturbed by the arrival of Mikhail here in his private chamber. I cannot blame the young lord, but his timing could surely not have been worse.

  ‘My lord Duke,’ he said, bowing as he made his approach. ‘I beg you – no, I must insist – I should be present when the ambassador meets you.’

  Aurelian turned to him, eyes sparking with anger. ‘Insist, do you?’ He looked at me. ‘Do you hear that, Bernhardt? The young lord insists.’

  ‘My lord,’ I said, and stepped forwards. ‘Ask yourself – would it do any harm?’

  ‘Any harm?’ He frowned at me, but we had been friends for many years, and I did not fear his anger on my own account. I was conscious, too, of the Doctor, watching this whole scene unfold, and while I still knew little about him, I did not want to give too much away. ‘Aurelian,’ I said, gently. I hardly ever used his name, so he knew that it was one of those rare occasions when I presumed to call upon our long friendship, and he paid me the courtesy of listening to me. ‘Mikhail would learn a great deal from being present. There is much to be gained and nothing to be lost.’

  Aurelian gave a great sigh, but I could see his anger had passed. ‘Very well. The boy can stay.’ Mikhail was clearly not pleased to be called such a name, but I gestured to him to be quiet, and to accept that he had what he wanted, and he had the good sense to obey.

  Then a messenger came to say that the ambassador was approaching the Hall, and Aurelian prepared himself for the meeting. ‘Holy man,’ he said, appealing to the Doctor, ‘will you give me your blessing?’

  ‘Look for peace, my lord,’ the Doctor urged again.

  ‘I will not surrender,’ said Aurelian.

  The Doctor did not reply, but I could see in his face his thoughts: You might not have a choice. And I had not failed to notice that any blessing that could have been given had been withheld.

  Leaving the antechamber, we entered the hall, where Aurelian took his seat, and we – the Doctor, Mikhail and I – stood on the steps down from him, with myself closest to him, the Doctor beside me, and Mikhail and the Lady Clara on the lowest step. Guena was already there. Heralds announced the arrival of Conrad’s ambassador, and the Doctor leaned over to whisper in my ear. ‘Hope you’ve got the right guy this time. Be embarrassing to get it wrong again.’

  The ambassador was alone, which surprised me, for I had expected at least one servant, if not a whole party, to impress upon us Conrad’s strength, and his ability to send whomever he chose across the mountains into our lands. I wondered, watching this man, whether he was the very best that Conrad could send, for he seemed very nervous. Perhaps the weight of the occasion was heavy upon him. ‘Your thoughts, Doctor?’ I whispered. ‘Is this our man?’

  ‘He certainly looks more the part than I do,’ he replied. ‘Although…’

  I was on the alert at once. ‘Although what?’

  ‘I was expecting more of an entourage.’

  ‘It’s not an easy journey these days,’ I said. ‘Even with Conrad’s aid, our own land can be lawless in places.’

  ‘All the better to bring your guards with you,’ he said.

  We stopped our whispering then, as Aurelian had risen from his chair to give his formal greetings. ‘I am Aurelian,’ he said, ‘Duke of the Most Ancient, Serene, and Noble State of Varuz. My wife, the Duchess Guena. The Lord Bernhardt. My nephew, the Lord Mikhail. And our guest, the holy man, the Doctor, and his companion, the Lady Clara. We welcome you to our most ancient and noble state, and we wait to hear the messages you bring from your master, Conrad.’

  Throughout this speech, the ambassador had been listening politely, but it seemed to me that his attention was not wholly on my lord; indeed, he seemed much distracted by the hall in which we stood, and by his surroundings in general. But when Aurelian had finished, he stepped forwards and gave a pretty speech in turn. ‘My lord Duke,’ he said. ‘The distance between our lands has been too wide in recent years. I hope to get to know your country well. I hope to get to know your city well. And I thank you for your gracious welcome and for the hospitality of your hall. It is,’ he said, looking around again, ‘
a most fine place.’

  The Doctor leaned forwards. ‘You hope to avoid war?’ he said.

  ‘War?’ The man sounded horrified. ‘I most certainly hope so!’

  A few more formalities followed, and then Guena, in her capacity as Duchess and hostess, invited the ambassador to enjoy the hospitality of her home. He looked puzzled at this, and the Doctor interpreted. ‘You’ve had a long journey,’ he said. ‘She wants to know if you’d like to rest before starting on business.’

  ‘Rest? Rest? Er, yes, that would be very nice, thank you.’

  Servants appeared then, and, with courtesy, led the ambassador away. Aurelian withdrew to his map room, but I lingered to speak to the Doctor privately before joining him. ‘Your impressions?’ I asked, quietly.

  He didn’t reply at once. ‘I thought…’ he said. ‘Well, I thought he looked like he was measuring for curtains.’

  ‘I don’t understand.’

  ‘He looked like he was trying to work out where his furniture could go, when he and his boss move in.’ He must have seen me shivering and nodded ahead. ‘Best not say anything to the Duke, eh? Let’s keep our eyes set on terms for a peaceful settlement.’

  I nodded, and went to join my lord.

  —

  There was a feast that evening, to welcome the ambassador, and, while the rations were on the short side, the wine was from old and copious stores, and Clara soon found that she was enjoying herself very much. The Doctor had encouraged her to observe the ambassador, but it was Aurelian that she found herself watching, and admiring. As lord of this hall, and as host to an honoured guest, Aurelian was in his element – convivial, good-tempered, and attentive to his guests. Even Mikhail, sitting a few seats away from his uncle, seemed able to smile when looking at him.

  Clara tried to give some attention to her task, engaging the ambassador in small talk, but he was oblique when she quizzed him about his home, and instead wanted to ask questions about the hall, the lights, the décor, the fashions…Only sensible, Clara supposed. He was here on a mission, and if he hadn’t visited Varuz before, he would naturally want to know more about the place. Still, she rapidly hit the limits of her knowledge. ‘Sorry,’ she said. ‘I’m new here too.’

  Aurelian, however, was more than happy to talk about his ducal possessions, and the ambassador wanted to know about everything. What were the trends in architecture? What were the fashions in clothes? Were precious stones still mined in Varuz, or was what he saw of ancient stock? Did the lights illuminate the whole country? How did the lights work? Did they make new laser-swords? How was this done?

  Suddenly, the Duchess spoke, interrupting her husband as he tried his best to answer all these questions. ‘My lords,’ she said, rising from her chair. The men around the table jumped to their feet; the ambassador slightly behind them, as he realised that to remain sitting would be discourteous. ‘It is time for me to retire,’ Guena said. She nodded at Clara. ‘Will you accompany me?’

  Clara, who, despite the wine, had been paying attention to the way people addressed each other, found an appropriate reply. ‘It would be my honour, my lady.’

  She followed Guena back to the sitting room where they had had their previous conversation. The room was once again snug and comfortable, and at the ring of the bell, a servant brought in the hot drink they had enjoyed before. With the ambassador now here, Clara was entirely ready to engage in more intrigue, but Guena seemed content to keep their conversation to pleasantries, admiring Clara’s dress, or else in providing an interesting if arcane account of the sights one might see in the city, if one had the time. ‘Alas,’ the Duchess said and sighed. ‘Varuz is not what it once was.’

  They sat in silence for a while after this statement, as Clara tried to work out what was going on and whether the Duchess was ever going to open up again, and how she might persuade her to do so. Eventually, she took the straightforward route. ‘Why am I here?’

  ‘Are you not enjoying our conversation?’ said Guena, almost gaily, Clara thought, and with a sly look in her eye. ‘I know I certainly am.’

  But last time, Clara thought, they hadn’t talked about…well, fripperies. Had she imagined the intent of their previous conversation? Had she imagined that the Duchess had wanted her to be a conduit to the ambassador? As the Duchess embarked upon an account of hunting with her father as a child, Clara was starting to feel that way…

  A little door at the far end of the chamber opened, and – quietly, unobtrusively – Lord Bernhardt slipped in.

  ‘Oh,’ said Clara. ‘I see.’

  Guena smiled, and turned to her table where, Clara saw now, a third cup had been brought and set ready. As Bernhardt drew up a chair to join them, Guena poured him a drink, which he accepted gratefully. And now, it seemed, Guena was ready to talk business. ‘The last time we spoke, Clara,’ she said, ‘I asked whether you might help us.’

  ‘ “Us”, is it?’ Clara looked at Bernhardt. ‘You’re in this too?’

  ‘I am the servant of my Duchess,’ Bernhardt said quietly. ‘If that is what you are asking.’

  Clara watched them look at each other. ‘Oh,’ she said. ‘I see. Us.’

  Guena smiled. Bernhardt did not. In fact, he looked troubled. As well he might, thought Clara. She wasn’t sure what Aurelian would think if he discovered his chief confidant in here with his wife, but she doubted he would be pleased.

  ‘I’m going to be frank with you,’ said Clara, ‘because I think if we’re going to trust each other like this we need to be frank. But doesn’t it bother you that you’re betraying the Duke? Betraying your country? I mean, I’m not judging – it’s up to you and everything – but isn’t this a sort of treachery?’

  Bernhardt, she saw, had gone very pale. But Guena was looking at her sharply. ‘I believe I have mentioned that the last duke was my father.’

  Clara considered this significance of this for a moment. ‘Oh, I see,’ she said, as understanding came. ‘Stupid, isn’t it? If they’d put you in charge back then, it would probably have saved a whole lot of trouble, wouldn’t it?’

  Softly, Bernhardt said, ‘We are in complete agreement, Clara.’ He looked at his Duchess with great love and admiration. ‘There is nobody better suited to the rule of his land than my lady. There is nobody who takes the fate of its people more to their heart. I serve the Duke, yes, but my heart is Guena’s, and she is the last hope of Varuz.’

  ‘Wow,’ breathed Clara at this encomium, and at the look that the two were giving each other, of equal parts great love and trust. ‘I hope someone talks like that about me one day. But explain something to me. Mikhail. Why didn’t he become Duke?’

  Guena sighed. ‘He is the son of my younger sister. She, too, is long gone, taken from us much too early, as so many are these days. He was very young when my father died, barely walking. There was a chance of chaos at the death of my father, and this seemed the best arrangement until Mikhail was older.’ She looked troubled. ‘Perhaps on reflection we might have made better choices.’

  ‘Aurelian’s getting a bit above himself, isn’t he?’ said Clara. ‘Inheritance. It’s no way to run a government.’

  Guena looked at her sternly, but Bernhardt, she saw, was amused.

  ‘Will you help us, Clara?’ he said. ‘You are someone who can pass unnoticed – but also you are someone who can speak to the ambassador independently. You have seen the straits we are in. Will you approach him on our behalf?’

  Clara laughed. ‘Approach the representative of a foreign power, who is almost certainly being watched, in order to make overtures of peace that are arguably treasonous? What could possibly go wrong?’

  Bernhardt reached for Guena’s hand. ‘The secrecy is abominable,’ he agreed, seriously. ‘It is corrosive. You have my sympathy.’

  Clara felt ashamed about joking. These two people were living with this situation every day of their lives, and it was no laughing matter. She felt honoured that they were prepared to trust her. ‘I’ll speak to
him,’ she said. ‘Of course I will.’

  They were both palpably relieved. ‘You have our thanks – and, I hope, the thanks of the people of Varuz, if war can be prevented,’ said Guena. She turned to the table beside her and reached for a small box. Opening it, she took out a small pendant – a red jewel in an exquisite golden setting. ‘Here,’ she said and, reaching out, she fastened the pendant around Clara’s neck. ‘A token of our friendship.’

  The light glinted off the facets of the red jewel. ‘It’s beautiful!’

  ‘It was made a long time ago,’ said Guena, ‘by a craftsman whose skills are long lost to us. The ancient powers of the royal and noble house are secrets that are now long gone. I wish I could give you something of my own making. But we only have what they left us.’

  ‘I’ll look after it,’ said Clara. ‘Thank you. And I’ll do all I can. I don’t know what that is – but I’ll do all I can.’

  Guena and Bernhardt smiled at her, and then at each other. And Bernhardt rested his hand upon his lady’s, very lightly, and only for a moment.

  Chapter

  4

  Bernhardt arranged for Clara to have access to the part of the palace where the ambassador had been quartered. ‘I can call the guards away quite easily,’ he said. ‘They will obey me. I will not be able to give you much time without arousing suspicion, however, so slip in, make your case quickly, and leave as soon as you can with whatever answer you get. If the ambassador seems willing to speak, we can arrange another meeting on another day. Speed is essential, and so is secrecy.’

  He was as good as his word. When Clara went down to that wing of palace at the agreed hour, she found the way clear. She hurried down the corridor, and tapped lightly on the ambassador’s door. He took his time answering, and she found her herself drumming her fingers on the wood, whispering, ‘Come on…Come on…’

  At last he opened the door. ‘Lady, um, Clara,’ he said in surprise. He looked past her, over her shoulder. ‘Are you here alone?’