The Dog of the North

by Tim Stretton

  ‘Special information?’

  ‘Do not fence with me, Beauceron. You grew up in Croad. Indeed, I think you grew up in the lord’s household.’

  ‘You veer into the realm of speculation,’ said Beauceron with a tight expression.

  ‘I am a student of history,’ she said. ‘I spend much time in my father’s excellent library. It occurred to me to wonder what could cause a man to hate the ruling family of Croad with such a passion. It would have to be a matter of great moment. Lord Thaume did more than whip your kitten; he took something from you which haunts you to this day.’

  Beauceron stared back at her wordlessly.

  ‘Perhaps he took the future you imagined for yourself. Or perhaps he took your birthright, and gave it to his son. Am I right, my lord?’

  Beauceron rose from his seat, his mouth a thin line. ‘I am Beauceron: who I was before I came here is of no consequence. If your father wishes to destroy Oricien, and take Croad, all he needs to know is that Beauceron understands that passion.’

  ‘Sit down,’ said Agalina softly. ‘I did not mean to pry. I have great admiration for what you have achieved; and any man who comes to Mettingloom has the right to be judged on his deeds. Be assured I will never speak of the question again, if it displeases you.’

  Beauceron set his jaw. ‘Tell your father to call on me when he needs me,’ he said. ‘I will be there.’

  8

  A week later Beauceron presented himself at the Occonero. ‘I am here to see Davanzato,’ he said with a calm assurance to the guard, who was a stone heavier and three inches taller than him.

  ‘The Under-Chamberlain does not see anyone without an appointment.’

  ‘Then make me one. Perhaps you would like to make us tisane as well.’

  The guard stepped closer to Beauceron. ‘Already I dislike you. I am a good judge of Davanzato’s perceptions. I don’t think he will like you either.’

  Beauceron permitted himself a smile. ‘When you are discharged from this post, a calling as a clown awaits you. Davanzato fabricated evidence to have me tried for treason; does that not already suggest dislike?’

  The man drew back. ‘You are Beauceron?’

  ‘And you are?’

  ‘Ferliccio. Davanzato said if you had the audacity to present yourself I was to whip the hide from your arse.’

  Beauceron sized Ferliccio up. He was a big man, well-muscled, but he did not look quick. ‘I bear you no ill-will,’ he said. ‘I will not suggest we put the matter to the test. Let us treat Davanzato’s remark as a jocularity. You may allow me admittance.’

  Ferliccio nodded to his colleague on the other side of the corridor; both he and Ferliccio drew their swords.

  ‘Go now,’ said Ferliccio. ‘We will pretend you have never been here.’

  Beauceron shrugged and turned away. With a rapid motion he turned back and smashed his elbow into the second man’s nose. Ferliccio moved towards Beauceron with his sword but it was too late: Beauceron’s rapier had skewered his wrist to the heavy wooden table. He uttered a low-voiced curse.

  ‘I do not know,’ said Beauceron, ‘why Davanzato does not pay the rate necessary to secure competent guards. One would think he had learned by now.’

  He pulled Ferliccio’s sword from his nerveless fingers and tossed it over the balcony to the marble floor below, where it rang with a discordant clamour. He flicked his rapier out of Ferliccio’s wrist and stepped into Davanzato’s doorway. ‘You are a fool. Do you think I became Dog of the North through insipidity? Threaten me again and you die.’

  Ferliccio did not meet his gaze.

  ‘Davanzato,’ called Beauceron as he stepped through the doorway. ‘Your new guards are inept.’

  Davanzato looked up from his desk, where he had been poring over a ledger. He half rose, reached for a rapier lying at his side.

  Beauceron grinned. ‘Carry on. If you wish to fence, let us proceed at once. I have long imagined the outcome of such an encounter.’

  Davanzato returned to his seat, a pallor discernible through his olive skin. ‘What do you intend? I warn you, I am not friendless.’

  ‘I intend no impudence; although naturally my feelings towards you are not cordial. You cannot find that surprising.’

  ‘You are a brash, coarse man, to threaten the King’s Under-Chamberlain thus in his own office.’

  Beauceron sheathed his rapier and sat down. ‘You mistake me. I have threatened nothing.’

  ‘You have arrived, uninvited, in my office, with your blade drawn. Is that not a threat?’

  Beauceron leaned forward. ‘You should see me when I truly mean to intimidate. I needed my rapier only to discountenance your guards.’

  Davanzato had recovered something of his composure. ‘What, then, do you want?’

  ‘Nothing could be simpler: my audience with the King.’

  Davanzato gave an incredulous smile. ‘The King you purposed treason against?’

  You may recall that I was acquitted.’

  ‘Only through the agency of a quibbling legulier.’

  ‘We both know that the evidence was fabricated.’

  ‘Equally we both know that you were guilty. Will you take a drink? Langensnap, perhaps?’

  ‘I think not.’

  Davanzato gave a negligent gesture. ‘You still expect an audience with Fanrolio?’

  ‘Of course. My plans remain unchanged: to lead the Winter Armies against Croad. The extent of your duplicity surprised me, but I cannot afford either scruples or squeamishness. I am even prepared to overlook your offences against me if you deliver what I require.’

  ‘You are in no position to do anything else.’

  ‘You have misread the situation, Davanzato. I offered you significant bribes to arrange an audience. For your own reasons you chose to oppose me instead. Now you are out of pocket and the King’s favour. Your prosecution made the Winter Court a laughing stock.’

  ‘My only concern throughout was His Puissance’s welfare. I believe your obsession can only end in disaster for Mettingloom. I acted honourably in obstructing it.’

  ‘And in taking my gratuities while you did so?’

  ‘Your “gratuity” included Lady Isola’s ransom agency. A more expensive present I have never received.’

  ‘You have your grievances; I have mine. All can be laid to rest if you provide my audience with Fanrolio.’

  ‘Why should I, given my opposition to your schemes?’

  Beauceron stood and walked towards the door. ‘Because I will kill you if you do not. I am beyond – well beyond – the point of rational calculation. You have two days to arrange the audience. Without it you will end the week with a still heart.’

  He walked out of the room without a backward glance. He no longer cared if Davanzato carried out his commission, or which King approved his scheme. But if Davanzato was worried about his own safety, he would have that much less time to plot against Beauceron. If the audience came to pass, that could be turned to advantage; if not, Agalina’s offer remained in force. When dealing with men as slippery as kings, it was always as well to retain several options.

  9

  Beauceron returned home to find a visitor in his parlour calmly drinking tisane: Lady Cosetta, whom he had not seen for some while.

  ‘My lady, you are most welcome, and looking lovelier than ever.’

  Cosetta was arrayed in a gown of the richest red silk, but set against her complexion it shrank away to insignificance, merely a foil to display her animate perfection. Her blue eyes sparkled with unquenchable vigour, her cheeks suffused with her ruddy health and youth. Her blonde hair, drawn back from her face and pinned up, set off her cheekbones to their best advantage. Beauceron thought back to the frightened spiritless girl cowering under an oilskin who had first seen Mettingloom. The transformation was barely to be understood without thaumaturgy.

  Cosetta seemed to divine something of his thought. ‘I have been here only four months,’ she said. ‘Already it is hard to
remember anything else.’

  ‘The time has been eventful – and not just for you.’

  ‘I was glad,’ she said, ‘to see you elude death as you did. You are a rogue, but Davanzato is far worse. I would have hated to see his plot succeed.’

  ‘Lady Isola no longer believes I will live to be hanged in Croad,’ he said, ‘or so I surmise, given her testimony against me.’

  Cosetta shook her head sadly. ‘You must not think ill of her. She is friendless, and desperate. She was an easy victim for a man like Davanzato. But I forget your vengeful disposition. You will wreak a horrid retribution upon her.’

  Beauceron bit back a smile. ‘I do not take vengeance on ladies.’

  Cosetta pursed her lips. ‘Your dismay on finding we were not Lady Siedra when you kidnapped us suggests otherwise. Do not tell me you planned a surprise ball for her.’

  ‘Lady Siedra is a special case,’ said Beauceron. ‘I admit to bearing her a particular animosity. I am conscious that I have wronged Isola more than she ever hurt me.’

  Cosetta looked into his face. ‘Is that remorse? I never thought to hear it from the Dog of the North.’

  ‘Do not mistake me, Cosetta. I can accept that I have maltreated her; that does not mean I regret it. Regrets are for those who can no longer take action. I look only forward.’

  Cosetta appeared to be suppressing a laugh. ‘The words “forward” and “Croad” would appear to be all but interchangeable in your vocabulary.’

  ‘My plans are no secret.’

  Cosetta gave him a searching look. ‘They should be; that is your difficulty. I know about the conversation you had with Agalina.’

  ‘What conversation?’

  ‘Beauceron, do not play me for a fool. I have connections at the Summer Court. There is little I do not know.’

  ‘I understood Laertio had been banished to Far Niente.’

  ‘So he has; but Tardolio is too late. What man will slight Laertio’s friend, when he knows Laertio will be King?’

  ‘Friend?’

  ‘I use the term in its broadest sense. The Prince would be most displeased were anyone to offer me discourtesy. The result is that I retain all the influence I had when Laertio was here; and he will be back soon enough.’

  ‘Laertio and Agalina take different views of the King’s attitude to the invasion. They cannot both be correct.’

  ‘No, they cannot.’ Her blue eyes fixed Beauceron’s gaze.

  ‘And?’

  ‘The situation is simple. Tardolio’s defeat at Jehan’s Steppe was so crushing that he will never take the field against Croad again. He knows that Oricien, backed by Tre-varre’s troops, would destroy him.’

  ‘In that he is wrong,’ said Beauceron harshly. ‘Oricien has never been put to the test. I know how to take Croad; I need only the chance.’

  Cosetta shook her head. ‘You will not get it; not from Tardolio, at least.’

  ‘I do not believe you. If you know of my conversation with Agalina, you will know her opinion of Tardolio’s intent.’

  She said nothing for a moment. ‘Sometimes you are not as clever as you think,’ she said. ‘Agalina’s only interest was in assessing the scope of your obsession. You are a dangerous and influential man, and the Summer Court hoped you could be persuaded that your cause was hopeless. Your conversation with Agalina convinced them that such persuasion would be futile. I could have told them as much, had anyone asked.’

  ‘I do not understand.’

  ‘No. Tardolio is desperate to avoid the assault on Croad; the only possible outcome, whether you fail or not, is an army of Emmen coming north, perhaps led by Enguerran himself. You can be sure it would not campaign in winter. Tardolio would be forced to defend a siege of Mettingloom while he sits the throne. He would take any steps to avoid it. His best hope was to persuade you of the futility of your scheme. Now that has failed, he has only one recourse.’

  Beauceron looked steadily into her face. ‘Assassination.’

  She nodded.

  ‘Why are you telling me? And why should I believe you?’

  ‘Believe or not, I have done my duty. I feel a curious gratitude to you, which is why I am warning you. My life in Mettingloom is good; I hope it will improve yet further. You brought me here, even if not for my benefit. Add that I like and admire you. I cannot force you to believe me; but if you do not, and neglect your safety, you will be killed. What harm can a little vigilance do?’

  Beauceron sat in thought. ‘I am grateful,’ he said, ‘but I am much vexed to find the Summer Court closed to me. I should have listened to your paramour.’

  ‘I do not want to know what Laertio said to you. He has not told me, and I have not tried to learn. I know that he respects you, and hopes to make you an ally in future: I suspect your plans may have gone further.’

  ‘I will not convey information you do not wish to hear.’

  She leaned forward. ‘You have two choices, Beauceron. Give up your scheme; or persuade Fanrolio.’

  ‘The first option is naturally impossible; the second was always my preferred strategy.’

  ‘You will need to overmaster Davanzato.’

  ‘I am aware of that.’

  ‘Your man Mongrissore is delving deep to learn more of Davanzato.’

  ‘He is a determined man.’

  ‘Undoubtedly; but he is looking in the wrong place.’

  Beauceron gave her a quizzical stare. ‘You speak with great certainty.’

  ‘I know much that I never wished to know. May I send a man to Mongrissore?’

  Beauceron weighed her up for a second. He had no real reason to trust her; her beauty made her veracity if anything less plausible. She could have no real reason to help him, unless it was that she hated Davanzato more.

  ‘How much of my conversation with Agalina were you privy to? I will not embarrass you by asking how you came by your information.’

  Cosetta gave an airy wave. ‘Oh, Laertio has excellent sources. I know the whole of the conversation.’

  ‘Including her speculation as to my original identity?’

  ‘“Speculation”? Her hypothesis seemed to me highly plausible.’

  Beauceron pursed his lips. ‘The subject is displeasing to me. I would not have it the tittle-tattle of Mettingloom.’

  ‘Gossip is not amenable to control. It works its way through the cracks like water. No one will hear your secret from me.’

  ‘If you know as much as you say, you will be aware that I did not confirm Agalina’s guess – and it was no more than a guess.’

  ‘It is of no consequence. Now, may I send my man to Mongrissore? I think he has information about Davanzato he may find interesting.’

  Beauceron narrowed his eyes. ‘Very well.’

  Cosetta rose. ‘Excellent. Now, if you will excuse me, I am required once again at court. Do not trouble to call Kainera; I am adept at finding my own way out.’

  12

  Croad

  1

  Arren slipped out from the hall and went to find Eilla. She was alone in the servantry, polishing the silver plate: that evening there was to be a banquet in Lord High Viator Raugier’s honour.

  ‘Arren,’ she said softly, ‘you should not be here.’

  ‘Come outside,’ said Arren. ‘I need to speak to you.’

  ‘Mistress Eulalia will be vexed if she finds me gone.’

  ‘Tell her to speak to Seigneur Arren if she has complaints.’

  She followed Arren out into the Pleasaunce. A breeze ruffled the branches on the overhanging trees.

  ‘I have been with Thaume and the Lord High Viator. You know why he is here?’

  Eilla looked away. ‘They say he has come to stamp out heresy.’

  ‘He is a cruel and dangerous man. This morning he threatened to depose Lord Thaume for allowing the Wheel to flourish.’

  A flash of concern ran across Eilla’s eyes. ‘He cannot do that.’

  ‘He says he can, and has a writ to prove it. Tha
ume and Guiles seemed to believe him. He rebuked Thaume for having Viator Dince whipped.’

  Eilla sat down on a bench under the shade of a dappling tree with a controlled dignity which wrenched Arren’s heart. ‘What will it mean for the Gollains?’ she asked.

  ‘I do not know,’ said Arren. ‘It must depend on how Thaume reacts. He may close the Temple, as Raugier wants, but I think he will resist. That will call Raugier’s bluff.’

  ‘I was sent over to The Patient Suitor when he was staying there. I would not like to play bluff with him.’

  ‘What can he do? I cannot see how he can depose Thaume in practice, whatever his writ says.’

  ‘He can come back with an army. The viators’ faction is dominant at court in Emmen, they say. King Arren is in no state to stop him, and Prince Jehan is by all accounts a pious man, willing to follow the Consorts.’

  ‘I do not think it will come to that,’ said Arren. ‘But you must be careful. That is why I came to see you. I am sure he will want to make an example of somebody. Your father must stay away, and you must be invisible.’

  A smile briefly animated her face. ‘I am wearing the servants’ livery,’ she said. ‘There is no better cloak of invisibility.’

  Arren took her hand. ‘I am sorry it has come to this. Things were so simple when we were children.’

  ‘I do not object to complexity,’ she said with a sharp smile. ‘I object to being a servant.’

  ‘You could be a farmer’s wife,’ said Arren.

  She kicked him. ‘Do not mention that lummox Chandry. My choices are not immediately promising.’

  ‘My mother always thought we would marry,’ said Arren with a sideways glance. ‘She predicted it from the cradle.’

  ‘So did mine,’ she laughed.

  Arren frowned. ‘The contingency is remote, but surely not inherently ludicrous.’

  ‘You don’t understand, do you? You are Seigneur Arren, a favourite of Lord Thaume and an intimate of Lord Oricien. I am peasant girl Eilla, maid.’

  ‘I am no more Seigneur Arren than I am King Arren,’ he said. ‘My status is both illusory and irrelevant—’