by Tim Stretton
She snatched her cloak and swept from the room.
‘I am glad that Lady Isola has formed such a rapid assessment of your merits, Beauceron.’
You gain nothing by antagonizing me. I have shown you great favour since my return. To date I see no sign of it being reciprocated. Have you attempted to arrange an audience for me with the King?’
‘Frankly? Since your project is an impractical fanfaronade, I saw no point in wasting my time or His Puissance’s.’
Beauceron gave a measured nod. ‘In that case you will have no objection to returning the items of plate I gave you, or indeed reimbursing me the 8,000 florins agent’s fee I have forgone. A man with your reputation for probity would not wish to have it bruited about, however unfairly, that he took gifts for services he had no intention of performing.’
Davanzato looked at Beauceron with cold eyes. ‘You are over-hasty. His Puissance will be consulting me on his diary after supper tonight. We may yet be able to arrange an audience.’
Beauceron rose and bowed. ‘I will wait to hear from you,’ he said as he left the room.
3
Beauceron took a wherry to the Armamentary, sandwiched between the dockyard and Fanrolio’s private palace, Hiverno. He presented himself at the gate. ‘Where will I find General Virnesto?’
The guard consulted his schedule. ‘The General is next door at the docks reviewing a new pinetto.’
‘Thank you. I will find him there.’
He stepped next door into the dockyard, immediately to find Virnesto in conversation with a shipwright who was explaining the merits of his new craft, which bobbed on the blue-black sea. A cruel wind dragged their cloaks almost to the horizontal.
‘She is fast, seaworthy. She will run with the wind faster than a cog and can even outrun a galley.’
‘Hmph,’ said Virnesto. ‘And in a calm? If I had a fleet of these off Garganet and the wind died? Their galleys would cut us to pieces in an hour. If you cannot deliver me a ship which can outrun a galley in a calm – presumably with oars – then do not waste my time. Your pinetto is as much use as a gelded bull: it’s too light to fight and too heavy to row. Bring me a new design within the month.’
Beauceron grinned. ‘Still trying to beat the Garganet navy?’
Virnesto turned and ran a hand through his hair. ‘Beauceron! I thought you might be resting today.’
‘I am too hardy to be worried by a nick.’
‘You should be more careful,’ said Virnesto. ‘Sooner or later you will get yourself killed.’
Beauceron shrugged. ‘We all have our foibles. I yearn to take Croad; you have not given up your dream of trouncing the Garganet navy.’
‘The circumstances are not similar,’ said Virnesto, leading Beauceron out to the sea wall at the front of the dockyard. The lagoon stretched away before them, grey and pettish. ‘I have no lust for war – at least, not your sort. A spot of raiding in the summer; well, why not? But a deliberate, purposeful assault on a fortified city that we do not want and could not hold? I cannot understand your enthusiasm.’
‘Maybe you are getting old, Virnesto.’
‘Or maybe just wiser. I remember you arriving in Mettingloom. You were a hothead then, and you remain one to this day,’ said Virnesto with an easy smile.
‘I know how to hold a grudge. It is one of the marks of true nobility.’
Virnesto’s mouth twitched. ‘If that is so, you will be King of all Mondia one day.’
‘For now, I have a difficulty.’
‘The situation cannot be unusual for you. Last night you escaped a pointless death by a whisker, and you have those two Emmenrule ladies baying for your blood.’
‘My concern is much simpler: Davanzato.’
‘Ah.’
Beauceron leaned on the sea wall and looked southwest. At the limit of his vision he could see the Ferrant Mountains: on the far side of the range lay Emmen.
‘I have – of course – bribed Davanzato liberally. The fact remains that he lacks enthusiasm for the venture. He will neither raise the matter with Fanrolio nor allow me to.’
‘There is no profit for him in a war. Trade with Mettingloom would decline, to his detriment, since he skims a percentage from the Pellagiers’ revenues. Not, I think, that Fanrolio would support your scheme in any event.’
‘I cannot understand,’ said Beauceron as the wavelets lapped against the dock wall, ‘why there is so much resistance to the idea. When I was a child in the Emmenrule, all folk talked of was the terror of raiders from the North. Now I am one of them, and the raiders are too timid to leave their fires and dimonettoes.’
Virnesto reached into the pocket of his cloak and pulled out a handful of sour-nuts mixed with dried redders. He offered some to Beauceron and said: ‘It is not that simple now, and it was not then. Fanrolio is the Winter King, and the winter is not the campaigning season. When did a Winter King last launch an invasion? The Snow King’s job is to look to the defences, to build and to plan.’
Beauceron ate the last of the nuts and brushed the dust from his hands. ‘I can take it that you will not advocate the plan to Fanrolio?’
Virnesto opened his hands wide. ‘I never said that I would, and nor did I take a bribe to do so. I see no benefit to Mettingloom in your programme, regardless of the advantages to yourself. If you wish to convert Davanzato to your cause, you must appeal either to his self-interest or his fears – preferably both.’
With that he turned on his heel and walked off towards his barracks. Beauceron was left looking out over the sea towards the enemy over the horizon.
4
In Mettingloom, the days turned into weeks and the weeks into months. Winter held the city in its grip; the aquavias froze over and the wherries were put away. Beauceron was no closer to an audience with Fanrolio, and now he was no longer paying his men, he knew they would be sinking into dissipation. Once the time came to assault Croad they would have become indolent and slack.
Beauceron presented himself at the suite on the upper storey of Hiverno, where Isola maintained her small household.
‘I am not sure if her ladyship is at home to visitors,’ said the maid, Dortensia. ‘Under-Chamberlain Davanzato has already gone away disappointed.’
‘I am not Under-Chamberlain Davanzato,’ said Beauceron with a grimace. ‘I should hate that confusion to occur.’
Dortensia went away and returned after a lengthy pause. ‘Her ladyship will see you,’ she said with a curious expression that seemed to mingle disdain and anticipation.
He walked through the double doors into the small but expensively furnished salon. ‘My lady! How do I find you today?’
Isola turned away from the window where she had been looking out over the frozen lagoon. Her eyes were reddened and moist.
‘You are the man I hate most in the world,’ she hissed. ‘You have ruined me.’
‘Isola, we have discussed before how you only hurt yourself by repining.’
‘I will be in Mettingloom for ever,’ she said softly. ‘I will never see the sun again.’
‘You exaggerate, my lady. The sunshine may be rare in winter, but it is all the more precious when it breaks through.’
Since she seemed disinclined to offer him a drink, he helped himself from the flagon of langensnap, pouring one for Isola as he did so. ‘Your sufferings will soon be over,’ he said.
She reached into her breast and drew out a letter, torn and ragged from handling.
‘This is from Davanzato. My father will not pay my ransom.’
Beauceron glanced at the crabbed hand on the page. ‘It is a negotiating ploy,’ he said.
‘No,’ she said, dabbing at her nose with a kerchief. ‘He says that since he has paid my dowry, and I was kidnapped within the county of Croad, I am Oricien’s responsibility, and he is responsible for my ransom.’
‘The position is extreme, although it may be defensible. I am not an expert on betrothal law.’
‘Davanzato then asked Or
icien to pay. Since he had not received the dowry, he refused, saying that my father must pay both ransom and dowry.’
‘The positions are not compatible,’ said Beauceron as he sipped his langensnap. ‘No doubt the court at Emmen would rule one way or the other, although the case would be time-consuming. You must be patient.’
Isola flung her glass into the fire. ‘Do you not understand? Neither of them wants me! My father, and the man I was going to marry, and they are fighting to be rid of me. And you are the one who took my dowry!’
Beauceron jabbed at the fire with a poker, as much to keep it out of Isola’s hands as for any other reason. ‘I needed the money. I did not imagine that you would not command a ransom. I sympathize with your plight.’
Isola stepped over to him and looked into his eyes. ‘You did not realize what would happen to me. I know you meant me no harm; you protected me and kept your men from violating me. You are not a bad man – can you not restore my dowry? Oricien would then pay my ransom.’
Beauceron broke her gaze. ‘That is not possible. You imagine an intimacy between us which does not and has never existed. You owe me no particular thanks for any forbearance. While I may enjoy your company, my use for you has always been commercial. Your dowry allows me many possibilities.’
Isola slapped half-heartedly at him; Beauceron took both her wrists in one hand.
‘Possibilities!’ she spat. ‘You mean your precious invasion of Croad. Have you no eyes? Davanzato will never permit it. A child could see as much.’
Beauceron poured another glass of langensnap for her and led her to sit on the couch. ‘Drink that.’
He sat on a chair out of her immediate reach.
She drained the glass in a single motion. ‘Did you hear me? Davanzato will never let you take an army to Croad.’
‘Davanzato is not the King.’
‘He might as well be. It seems the Chamberlain will never recover, so he controls access to Fanrolio. You would do better in persuading Tardolio.’
‘The option is not practical. And although it comes from your mouth I hear Davanzato’s voice.’
‘Pah! I hate Davanzato as much as I hate you. He has used me throughout while pretending to be a concerned friend. And he will not drop one florin of the commission he is owed. He will learn that fifteen per cent of nothing is nothing.’
‘No doubt that does not increase his regard for me.’
‘I do not care what he thinks of you. Ideally you would both kill each other.’
Beauceron crossed his legs. ‘I did not come here to give you advice, and I have nothing to gain from doing so. Nonetheless: it is important to make a distinction between the past and the future. In the past, I kidnapped you and took your dowry. At the time you were understandably vexed with me. Understand that hating me cannot help you. I am no longer able to harm you; I may even be able to help you, in a limited sense, although clearly that help cannot be financial. Forget the past, calculate where your advantage lies for the future, and act on that basis.’
Isola began to laugh, gently at first and then with increasing abandon. Soon she was howling with laughter and tears.
‘My counsel was not intended to be humorous.’
‘They say you are the least forgiving man alive, that you are gnawed with hatred of Croad, that the lord of the city gelded you, that every normal feeling and principle has been perverted and subverted to your lust for revenge.’
Beauceron rubbed his cheek. ‘I do not recognize the portrait. I most certainly have not been gelded. “Revenge” is an emotive term. I nurture a resentment proportional to a long-ago event, and would gladly see those who injured me suffer just penalty.’
‘How, then, do you differ from me in hating those who have taken my life?’
‘My programme is rational and constructive. Every day I take steps to bring it about. In so doing I give myself useful occupation. Were I of religious bent I would argue that I advance along the Way of Harmony. Your own bitterness, if I may say so, has become directed inwards rather than put to constructive use. You are unlikely to benefit from such an approach.’
Isola rose from her seat. ‘Your arrogance is breathtaking! You allow yourself to nurture grudges in the name of “Harmony” while I am told to see sense and accustom myself to my daily humiliation of owing my bread to Davanzato. I should even look upon you in a friendly light! Be assured that I do not. Kindly leave immediately.’
Beauceron bowed. ‘As you wish, my lady.’
As he turned and left the room, Isola was already filling her glass with another measure of langensnap.
5
On leaving Isola, Beauceron resolved to pay a call on Cosetta. She had taken an apartment overlooking the Grand Aquavia in the Metropolia, a respectable address.
When he arrived at the apartment, Cosetta was fastening herself into a dress in preparation for a ball that evening. It sagged loose at the front and Beauceron made an effort to look elsewhere.
‘I am honoured to see you, Beauceron,’ she said, ‘although, as you see, time presses. Please, help yourself to refreshments if you choose.’
Beauceron sat and looked around the apartment. It was spacious and airy, the couches and tables tricked out with fashionable gildings.
‘I have just come from the Lady Isola,’ he said. ‘She has received some bad news about her ransom.’
‘I have not seen her for several days,’ said Cosetta. ‘I have had many affairs to occupy me. I take it that Sprang is declining to pay.’
‘Not just Sprang – Oricien also. They are arguing over whose responsibility she is.’
Cosetta pursed her lips. ‘Better that she should learn Oricien’s character before she marries him. A man who is parsimonious in such circumstances is unlikely to prove an open-handed husband.’
‘She does not take quite that view. And Oricien is not so much parsimonious as proud. He worries that Sprang is trying to play him for a fool. I do not know which of them has the right of it.’
‘That is scarcely the point,’ said Cosetta.
‘Isola said much the same.’
Cosetta gave a half-smile which could have meant anything. ‘Here, can you tie my dress at the back? It is so difficult without a maid.’
Beauceron stepped across and tied the red fabric to cover her exposed back. Her skin had the limpid purity of the mountain source of the Emmen. It would be stimulating to see more of it. He returned to his seat, and Cosetta sat and faced him.
‘I am surprised that you have not been more in Isola’s company,’ he said. ‘Indeed I am surprised that you no longer share an apartment.’
Cosetta shrugged. ‘Neither of us was drawing comfort from the other. Isola was always expecting her ransom to arrive; I merely hoped for mine, and resolved to make plans in case it did not. In this I was wise, for my father’s refusal arrived yesterday.’
‘Cosetta! I am sorry.’
Cosetta’s eyes flashed for a moment. ‘“Sorry”? Is that polite sympathy, or do you regret kidnapping me and setting a price on my head? The two are very different.’
Beauceron gave a rueful grin. ‘I find it unproductive to regret past actions, since they cannot be undone. There are no meaningful amends I can make, so you will have to accept my remark as expressing formal, if sincere, sympathy.’
Cosetta laughed. ‘You are wonderfully free of hypocrisy, Beauceron. You kidnapped me for gain and you hold to your purpose with firmness and vigour. But you never pretend otherwise. Davanzato oozed sympathy and consideration when he received the letter. “If there was anything I could do for your suffering” . . . Does he think I am a child, not to realize that he is profiting from the situation?’
‘You should be careful, Cosetta. Davanzato is a dangerous man. He has the ear of the King, and he is ruthless when crossed.’
Cosetta shrugged. ‘He is more interested in Isola. The commission on my ransom is only 1,500 florins, and he has never expected to gain it in any event. Isola is worth rather more to
him. That is another reason why I left the apartment.’
‘Do not make an enemy of him.’
‘He knows better than to trifle with me. How do you think these apartments are paid for?’
‘I have wondered ever since I have known of them,’ said Beauceron.
‘Prince Brissio maintains them. Do you remember the night we danced? Brissio was most jealous. After the duel he escorted me back to my apartment in Hiverno. I owe you some gratitude for piquing his attention in that way.’
‘You and Prince Brissio are—’
‘No indeed!’ laughed Cosetta. ‘A man of that stamp does not prize favours once they are yielded to him. I keep him in a frenzy of anticipation. He does not realize it, but he enjoys the situation more than if he possessed me every night. Clod that he is, he has some imagination, even if of a base sort.’
Beauceron looked sideways at her. ‘Again I must warn you to be careful.’
Cosetta laughed again. ‘You may speak with authority of the treacherous currents of Fanrolio’s court, but where dealing with a man like Brissio is concerned I have nothing to learn from you. Indeed, perhaps I should ask him to hire me a maid . . .’
You are dealing with circumstances differently from Lady Isola.’
‘Isola is always expecting to go home tomorrow, so she never plans for events here. I hope we are both redeemed soon but I should hate to rely on the prospect.’
Beauceron paused a moment. ‘I wonder how much influence Brissio has with his father.’
Cosetta smiled. ‘Do not even consider what you are implying. First, I have no reason to help you; second, I do not wish to become embroiled in making Brissio a rival to Davanzato; and third, if Brissio had the influence you suggest, he would use it to thwart rather than help you.’
‘He has confided as much to you?’
‘We have other things to discuss than our sentiments towards you, Beauceron. Nonetheless, he is envious of your accomplishments, both on the battlefields and as a duellist. He suspects that I entertain a partiality for you – as if such a thing could be countenanced in the circumstances – and this does not prompt warm feelings in his breast either.’
