Heir Apparent

by Vivian Vande Velde

  How many more times could I afford to be wrong?

  "Kenric," I called as the royals dispersed. "May Counselor Rawdon and I walk with you?"

  At which point Rawdon said, "You know what would be nice? Why don't the two of you have a cozy little chat—"

  "No, no." I linked arms with both him and Kenric. "Let's all three of us walk together and get to know one another. Tell me, each of you, your impressions of King Cynric."

  They both looked startled and maybe a bit worried at that thought.

  I said, "Rawdon, you first."

  "Oh," Rawdon blustered. "Well. Ah. What do you mean?"

  "I haven't had a chance to know my father. It's very difficult to grow up without a father, you know. So many things make no sense if you don't have your dad—those mushy Father's Day cards every June, Father Christmas, 'Our Father who art in heaven...'"

  They were looking at me as though my brain were dribbling out of my nose.

  "Not that I'm bitter or anything. Was he a good man? Fair? Did he have any faults, like, was he overly trusting, perhaps?"

  By then we were out in the courtyard. There was the supply wagon, though no barbarians were lurking behind it for the moment. And there were Captain Penrod and the other guard, yet again dragging the poacher boy between them.

  "Oh, look," I said. "I wonder if this is something we need to make a decision about. Hello, Captain. I'm Princess Janine. What's happened here?"

  Penrod said, "We caught this boy poaching. He killed a deer. The usual punishment?"

  Before Kenric could ask me what I thought, I turned to Rawdon and asked, "What do you advise, Counselor? Are you an advocate of strict interpretation of severe laws to deter crime?"

  I saw Rawdon gulp. His voice faint and maybe wobbling just the slightest bit, he said, "The law is the law."

  The boy sniveled, "No. I didn't do nothing. I found 'im dead already. I was dressing 'im down so's the meat wouldn't go to waste, but I didn't kill 'im."

  I pressed Rawdon. "So there's no room for compassion for one who has foolishly done wrong, then come to sincerely regret his crime?"

  "I wouldn't say that," Rawdon whispered.

  No, I wouldn't think you would.

  I saw that Kenric was watching Rawdon appraisingly, no doubt wondering what had rattled him. I said, "Of course, in this case, we don't even know for sure that the accused is guilty. Or do we?" I turned to Penrod. "Did any witness actually see him kill the deer?"

  "No witnesses," Penrod admitted. "But look at his hands."

  I said, "Good point. But then, he admitted he was dressing down the deer once it was already dead. This is a difficult decision without witnesses. Do we know for a feet how the deer died, and how long it had been dead?"

  "There was an arrow in its gut," Penrod said. "And the body was still warm."

  "You're very good at details," I told him. His manner was friendlier, too, once I didn't simply dismiss him and declare him wrong and the boy free. "Was the boy carrying a bow?"

  "Yes," Penrod said.

  The boy hastily said, "I found it. It was just layin' there, like, on the ground, at the edge of the clearing. And I, uh, picked it up before I started in on the deer. Which was dead already. Killed by someone else. Who probably heard me comin', and thought it was you, and fled before I got there. Before you got there, too."

  "That's not a very likely story," I told him. "But on the other hand, I don't see any way to disprove it." I looked at the men around me, none of whom was saying anything. I said, "I'm inclined to say that—since we can't avow that this boy is the culprit—it is better to err on the side of compassion."

  Penrod looked about to object, so I added, "But neither can we be seen to let people flaunt the law. Still, killing the boy serves no purpose. The deer is already dead, whether by his doing or another's—and his death will not bring the deer back. Cutting the boy's hand off will only make him unlikely to find gainful employment, and he'll become a drain on society. If we jail him, we have to feed him and take guards off their regular duty in order to watch him. I think the best solution is to put him to work—for a period of ... a month?" I looked at Rawdon. "What do you think?"

  "That sounds fair to me," Rawdon said weakly.

  "Interesting," Kenric said, whether at my line of reasoning or at Rawdon's response.

  "Captain, you decide what chores you think would be best to set for this boy. Keep in mind his age and his strength, but assign him whatever duties you see fit."

  Penrod nodded. He ordered the other guard, "Bring him to the crew that's fixing the smithy roof."

  "Meanwhile," I said to Penrod as the second guard led the boy away, "I want you to come to me if there are any problems you or the other guards have with the way anything is done here."

  "Yes, Princess," Penrod said.

  "Anything," I repeated. "You and your men are the backbone of this castle. The work you do is invaluable, and I see that you run things smoothly, efficiently, and fairly, and I want you to know how much I appreciate that."

  "Thank you, Princess," Penrod said.

  "You know what?" I turned to Rawdon. "Here we are starting a new kingship, with a new way of interpreting the laws, and I think something else we need to do is give a better salary to our hardworking guards. What do you think?"

  "Well," Rawdon huffed, but that was all he could get out.

  I smiled at Penrod. "How much and how often do you get paid?"

  "Actually," he said, "there seems to have been a problem with that lately. We've been shorted several times the last months, and we haven't yet been paid for the past fortnight."

  "Really?" I said. Kenric was already looking at Rawdon, so I turned to him, too. "Who's in charge of the men's pay?" I demanded.

  "You see," Rawdon told me, "as the king was getting weaker these past weeks, I began to worry that someone might take advantage of the situation, and once the king named you his heir, I thought, Well, but the king's wife and her sons might refuse to acknowledge the king's wishes, and I thought, If they have access to the king's treasury, there's no telling—"

  Kenric took hold of Rawdon by the scruff of his neck. "Have you done something with the treasury?"

  "No," Rawdon said. "That is, I just moved it—for safekeeping."

  "Where?" Kenric demanded.

  "I didn't mean that I mistrusted you," Rawdon assured Kenric. "Of course, I knew you wouldn't try to make off with the money, but sometimes your brothers—"

  Kenric gave him a shake.

  "Fairfield," Rawdon admitted.

  Kenric shook him even harder.

  "How much did you steal?" I asked, because in this lifetime there was no way for me to know. "All of it?"

  "No," he said as though that thought was ridiculous. "Just some. Just a little."

  "Uh-huh," I said. "You've seen my mercy with the boy accused of poaching. I will spare your life, too, if you show us where you've hidden the treasury. You will be dismissed as counselor and instead will be put in charge of..." What was something bad, but not so horrible he'd rebel? I thought of our neighbors in St. Jehan and finished, "...in charge of raising the pigs."

  Rawdon dropped to his knees, kissed my hand, and said, "Thank you, Your Gracious Highness."

  "Good job, Princess," Captain Penrod said to me.

  "Yes," Kenric acknowledged. Was he actually looking at me with respect? Yes, I was pretty sure he was. Surprised respect, but still...

  I said, "Penrod, you take Rawdon and keep him under guard, while Kenric and I determine how much of the treasury is gone."

  Penrod saluted, while Kenric held his hand out for Rawdon's keys.

  I said, "And, Penrod, the queen mentioned the possibility of barbarian unrest. My instincts tell me this is a very serious danger. Double the guards around the castle wall, and make sure everyone is alert."

  "Yes, Princess."

  As Kenric and I turned back to the castle, I just barely caught a glimpse of Sister Mary Ursula as she reentered ahead of us
. Apparently, if I didn't simply let the poacher go, she didn't approach me. Either that, or the fact that I was with Kenric kept her away.

  "Who was that?" I asked since, in this lifetime, I hadn't met her.

  "That is the singular Sister Mary Ursula," Kenric told me.

  I let it go at that.

  Naturally, when we got to the treasury room, there was quite a bit more than "some" of it missing. All that was left was what he would have made off with this day. "The first thing I think we should do is put Sir Deming in charge of counting out exactly how much is left," I said. Obnoxious irritant that he was, I had no reason to doubt his honesty; and Sister Mary Ursula had made clear her distrust of and disliking for gold. For all I knew, she might toss what was left into the lake to make the gold One with the water. "Then I want the guards paid, and I want them to get a bonus for their salaries being late, because the last thing we need is to lose credibility with them. Then we'll need to get wagons and guards to travel to Fairfield to retrieve the money."

  "How many?" Kenric asked.

  "I'll leave that up to you," I said, to make him feel I valued his opinion. If he suggested something significantly different from what Penrod had in the previous game, I could always overrule him.

  "And will you go to Fairfield yourself," Kenric asked, "or will you send a representative?"

  "What do you suggest?" I asked.

  "I don't care."

  OK. "Well, then," I told him, "probably I'll go." I didn't think anything was scheduled to happen at the castle in the afternoon that I would miss. All I'd done the previous time was get cleaned up and fitted with that awful red dress. Then I'd lost a lot of time searching in the catacombs, running back and forth to the castle....

  Oh, yeah, the catacombs. I suddenly remembered the ghosts. If I didn't go, the ghosts wouldn't be able to follow me—surely a good thing. But I worried that, without me, the game would arrange for something to happen so that whomever I sent wouldn't be able to find the money.

  We went back down to the courtyard to assure Penrod there was enough left in the treasury to pay the back salaries. Though I could see the extra guards posted, I remained alert for barbarians, glancing back and forth and over my shoulder—for I was fairly certain Rasmussem would have them get in even if I ordered all the guards out.

  Kenric finally asked, "Is something wrong? You seem to be doing an awful lot of twitching."

  I couldn't admit what I knew, so I said, "Fleas."

  "Charming." Kenric sighed.

  Sure enough, when we got to the wagon, I saw a shadow that shouldn't be there. I shoved Kenric out of the way, hit the ground rolling, and yelled, "Attack! We're under attack!"

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  Fast Forward

  An arrow whizzed through the air where a moment earlier Kenric and I had been standing.

  "Attempt to take prisoners!" I shouted. I kept rolling, reversing direction, this way and that, trying to make myself an unlikely target for the barbarian archers.

  Our guards manning the walls fired a flurry of arrows into the area behind the wagon. They were also firing over the wall—which must have meant that the rest of the raiding party had come out of hiding when they realized their compatriots in the castle compound were in trouble.

  I stopped rolling, figuring that the three barbarians who were behind the wagon had enough other worries that they were unlikely to be concentrating on me. Besides, if nobody was shooting at me, I must look incredibly silly rolling all over the courtyard.

  Some of the guards went behind the wagon, and they dragged out two bodies and led out a prisoner. For the moment, I was too dizzy to focus on his face.

  Kenric helped me to my feet and held on to me as I staggered toward the wagon. The survivor was King Grimbold. I sighed heavily, and Kenric tightened his grip, no doubt convinced I was about to feint. Penrod was on my other side, though I'd been unaware when he'd joined us. One of the guards on the wall yelled down, "Captain, about a half-dozen barbarians took off into the woods."

  "Should we pursue them?" Penrod asked me.

  "No," I said. "We'll question this man first." I gave my most regal look down my nose—though I was no competition for Queen Andreanna and her what-is-that-bad-smell? glare—and I demanded, "Who are you? And why did you sneak over our walls and attempt to do harm to me and my men?"

  Grimbold spat—big surprise—and announced, "I am being Grimbold, King of the North, and I have corned here to claim that which is being mine that has been stoled."

  I gave just the hint of a bow of my head—only enough to acknowledge his status as a king. "King Grimbold, I am Princess Janine de St. Jehan, due to be crowned as the new Shelban king in two days' time. I wish that we could have met under better circumstances. Surely this"—I waved my hand in the direction of his two dead compatriots and all my guards with bows still trained on him—"this is not the way for neighbors to meet."

  The feet that I was speaking calmly, without threats, had a positive effect on the captive king.

  "My peoples," he explained, "have never been having good luck speaking to your peoples."

  "I am sorry to hear that," I assured him. I gestured for our guards to put their weapons away. There was little Grimbold could do to harm me unless he made a suicidal leap forward to throttle me, and my show of good faith could only make him obligated to me. "What is this item of yours that you believe we have?"

  "The crown of our firstest chieftain, Brecc the Slayer, made for him by the wizard Xenos."

  "Do we have such a thing?" I asked those around me.

  "Yes," Kenric admitted.

  "We stole it?" I tried to sound as appalled, as though I were only hearing it for the first time.

  "Not exactly."

  "I think," I said in my best Solomon voice, "we need to settle this immediately. King Grimbold, I regret the death of your companions. I wish that you had known me well enough to have felt you could approach openly."

  He inclined his head, which I very much hoped meant he was taking responsibility for the death of his own men.

  "Meanwhile," I said, "let us discuss this matter indoors. Shouldn't it be almost time to eat?"

  There were lots of enthusiastic nods from my men.

  "Then let us go in."

  Neither those guards who were scheduled to eat at that time nor Grimbold waited to be invited twice, leaving me alone with Captain Penrod and Kenric.

  Penrod dropped to his knees and offered me his sword. "Obviously, I didn't post enough guards, Princess Janine. You could have been killed, and it would have been my fault."

  "No." I shook my head for emphasis and refused to take the sword. "They were determined and would have gotten in no matter what. I have the utmost trust in you."

  He bowed, with a murmured, "I am indebted to you."

  Kenric said, "As am 1.1 owe my life to your vigilance."

  "To my fleas," I corrected, "that made me restless."

  Kenric smiled. "Nevertheless..." he said, and took my arm again—this time not to steady me, but to escort me into the Great Hall.

  When I entered the room on Kenric's arm, Queen Andreanna wore an expression as though she'd just put a pickled eyeball into her mouth. Kenric ignored his mother's scowl and smacked Abas on the arm, indicating for him to move in closer to Wulfgar, so that I could sit at the high table with them.

  "We need room for King Grimbold, too," I said.

  Abas had already gotten as close to Wulfgar as comfort would allow, but neither Wulfgar nor Andreanna budged.

  "That is being all right," Grimbold announced. "I will be seating myself here, next to this handsome woman." And with that he plunked himself down on the edge of the bench beyond Andreanna, which—under normal circumstances—would have accommodated only the tiniest of persons. Grimbold wasn't tiny.

  Andreanna scooted closer to Wulfgar faster than I'd ever seen her move.

  "Hello, there, my lovely," Grimbold said to the queen. "I be guessing you still being fit enoug
h to be breeding children."

  "I beg your pardon!" Andreanna was practically on Wulfgar's lap, trying to gain more distance from Grimbold.

  Grimbold, who hadn't spoken quietly before, now shouted, "I said, 'I be guessing you still being fit enough to be breeding children!'"

  "King Grimbold," I said by way of introduction, "this is Queen Andreanna, the widow of King Cynric. Queen Andreanna, this is King Grimbold, whom I have invited to dine with us while we discuss matters of state."

  "Ah!" Grimbold shouted the length of the table down to me. "The queen, is she? Probably one of them delicate sorts—is that what you be telling me?"

  I nodded.

  He turned his attention back to Andreanna. "All right, then," he assured her, "I be acting refined around you." He nudged her in the ribs with his elbow and winked. "I don't be believing in making my women skittish."

  For just this once, things only got better.

  Grimbold explained that King Cynric had taken the crown that rightfully belonged to him and his people.

  Abas explained that his father had won it in a tournament.

  Grimbold and Abas debated the finer points of tournament rules till the rest of us were just about facedown asleep in our bowls of leek soup before Abas conceded that perhaps his father had been a bit overly lenient in his interpretation of what was and was not allowed.

  Queen Andreanna protested, "He won it fairly!"

  Grimbold said, "I be liking a woman what defends her man."

  Next I asked where the crown was likely to be—of course, nobody knew—and we invited Sir Deming and Sister Mary Ursula to join us. Grimbold moved in even closer to Andreanna and said to Sister Mary Ursula, "Come over here and sit next to me, you sweet young thing," though she had to be thirty years older than he was.

  Sister Mary Ursula giggled like a sixth grader.

  Once again Deming remembered that King Cynric had given the crown to the dragon, and once again he speculated that one of the magic-users might know how to find the dragon.

  I gave orders for the magic-users to be sent for, despite Sister Mary Ursula's warning that magic was nasty.

  Grimbold assured her that he would protect her from any of magic's nastiness.