The Sword of the Lady c-3 Page 5

  The thick-bodied man looked at the wineglass in his hand and said grudgingly:?Uneven. The older nobles are being effusively loyal-and will stay that way as long as we keep the enemy outside our boundaries. If they get inside and it looks profitable to start cutting deals…?

  He shrugged, and Tiphaine mentally followed suit. Norman Arminger had built a feudal kingdom, albeit a strong one; his personal obsession had been the eleventh-century Norman duchy and its offshoots. Homegrown varieties of neo-feudalism without the PPA?s elaborate organization and terminology…

  Or our spiffy boots and radical-cool costumes, she thought.

  … were certainly common in other areas of the continent, and evidently overseas as well. But.

  But while loyalty is the great feudal virtue, unfortunately treachery is the corresponding vice, Tiphaine thought; history had been a compulsory subject in Sandra?s Household. And the older generation had to learn about loyalty, while treachery was something they already knew very, very well indeed. All those gangers…

  Sandra had never pretended to be any sort of soldier, and generally didn?t try to joggle her subordinate?s elbows-unlike her husband?s practice. At politics, however… ?I?ve looked over the list of tenants-in-chief you want to summon to the muster,? the Lady Regent went on.?It?s approved, with the following modifications.?

  She reached into an attache case on the ground beside her and slid the typewritten schedules to them. Tiphaine took hers and her eyebrows went up. Tenants-in-chief held their land directly from the Throne on payment of mesne tithes-a share of their income-and service of knights, men-at-arms and foot soldiers of set number and equipment on demand. Part of the Grand Constable?s job was to see the troops were ready and call them up at need. The total numbers here were the same as her recommendations for the opening stages of the campaigning season, but some of those summoned were awkwardly placed.

  Then she smiled thinly as the reasoning sprang out at her. The initial levies of House Stavarov, the Counts of Chehalis up near Puget Sound, were summoned for the war in the east and the rally point at Walla Walla-the Counts themselves, their menie of household knights and paid men-at-arms, spearmen and crossbowmen, their castle garrisons, their subinfeudiated vassals and their menies. The third string, the peasant militia and town levies, were detached for service under the Warden of the Coast March against the nuisance-verging-on-threat of Haida raiders. Which meant…

  Conrad spoke first.?Ah… Uriah the Hittite, my lady??

  If there?s anyone who would change sides when a Cutter army arrived in front of his castle gates, it?s Count Piotr Alexevitch Stavarov. ?I?ve nearly killed Piotr at least three times,? Tiphaine said meditatively.?Isn?t there a saying that it?s the things you didn?t do that you regret at the end of your life??

  And Conrad?s not looking too upset. He had that run-in with Piotr during the Protector?s War, when the idiot got half his command killed trying to rush a bunch of Mackenzies head-on. There?s still bad blood there. ?No, no,? Sandra said.?I?m not telling you to get them killed. We need every man, from what you and Lady d?Ath say. But if men must die, why not men from the menie of County Chehalis? They do their duty, and the Stavarovs are weakened.?

  She held two small, beautifully manicured hands out palm up and mimicked a balance, raising first one and then the other. The Grand Constable nodded. ?I can make the adjustments easily enough, my lady,? she said. ?The logistics are a little more difficult, but not enough to matter.? ?The younger nobles are eager for a fight,? Conrad went on, and Tiphaine nodded silent agreement. ?Ordinary people are… frightened, my lady Regent,? Delia said, a frown on her oval face as she joined the conversation.

  She?d been a miller?s daughter here in Montinore village before she met Tiphaine. When it came to how the commons thought, she had a better instinctive grasp than any of them, despite all the Regent?s spies. Sandra and Conrad Renfrew had been founders of the Association, of course, and Tiphaine had been raised as an Associate. Delia went on: ?They?re nearly as frightened of having the Throne weakened and the nobles unrestrained if we lose as they are of Boise and the CUT. What?s helping a lot is the stories and songs about Princess Mathilda and Rudi and the rest, particularly with the younger people.?

  She was near-as-no-matter a Changeling, too, which helped. Tiphaine had noticed that the older generation tended to miss things, and she did too, albeit less often. ?Ah, yes,? Sandra murmured, with a secret smile.?How helpful of dear Juniper to compose and spread them. Between her and the Church preaching a holy war, we?re well covered on the propaganda front.?

  I?ve never seen you so openly furious as you were when you found out Mathilda had scooted off east with Rudi, Tiphaine thought. I actually had to talk you out of sending the army haring off eastward to drag her back. But trust the Spider of the Silver Tower to adjust and see the advantages! ?My lady, I think you?re underestimating the impact of these… songs… that are going the rounds,? Tiphaine warned.?As Delia said, the same technique is more effective nowadays, since so manymore are Changelings. Yes, it?s convenient right now-but it will have political consequences after the war too, provided we win, that is. Ignoring Mackenzie propaganda hurt us badly in the Protector?s War.?

  Sandra frowned; she?d known her husband?s weaknesses, but But then she actually loved him, Tiphaine thought; she?d hated Norman Arminger herself, and feared him as she feared few men. Loved him despite his screwing everything that moved and shaking what didn?t, and his general skankiness. Leaving aside the mass murder and so forth; that was just business, though he enjoyed it. ?The latest… this vision of the Virgin telling Father Ignatius to look after Mathilda…? Sandra said.?I like that one very much indeed. It makes anyone who challenges her rights a blasphemer. And the cream of the jest is that Ignatius probably believes it himself-everyone knows the Order of the Shield of St. Benedict is outside our influence. Mt. Angel is cool to the Protectorate at best. They fought us in the war, after all.? ?The Princess was already popular,? Delia said.?Everyone who met her liked her. The commons love her. They… ah…? ?Look forward to her rule.? Sandra nodded, with a wry twist to her mouth.

  Tiphaine could read her thought: And they?ll never love me.

  Respect and fear, yes; the smarter ones realized how she held the barons in check; but love, no. Too many memories of the early days remained raw, among the ordinary people. And for different reasons, among the Associates as well. Norman Arminger had taken Machiavelli?s dictum that it was better for a ruler to be feared than loved rather literally. ?This… this quest thing… it?s made her more like an icon,? Delia continued. She hesitated again.?Rudi too. The Sword of the Lady… it?s not just the people who follow the Old Religion. The rest think of the Virgin, you see? And Ignatius? vision added to that. They think Rudi is the hero who returns, the one who comes back to save his people when the evil day arrives and things look their worst.?

  Sandra chuckled, a gurgling sound that made her cool brown eyes warm for a moment. ?Certainly dear Rudi has all the qualifications for a legendary hero. He?s very young, and he?s very handsome, and he?s very strong , and he?s very brave, and he?s very… not stupid.?

  For some reason Conrad thought that was funny too, though she couldn?t see why: it was all true. He sobered quickly, though. ?It?s good that the stories are perking the ordinary people up,? he said.?Even with our allies, we can?t win this war just with the nobility and their retainers; it?s going to be too big for the Associates to handle. But what happens… well, my lady, what happens if Rudi and Mathilda don?t show up??

  Sandra was very quiet for a moment.?If Mathilda is killed? Then it?s all rather moot.? Softly:?What have I worked for, if not for her??

  TheSwordoftheLady

  CHAPTER THREE

  DES MOINES CAPITAL, PROVISIONAL REPUBLIC OF IOWA BOSSMAN?S HOUSE

  AUGUST 20, CHANGE YEAR 24/2022 AD

  ?So, you?re really a princess?? Kate Heasleroad said, her pink young face wide-eyed and guileless.?I mean, they call you that?? ?Yes, I?m entitled Princess and styled Your Highness
at home; my mother?s the Lady Regent,? Mathilda Arminger explained to the Bossman?s consort.

  She must be at least twenty, she thought. And I?m only two years older, but it feels like more. I think she led a sheltered life. Until recently, at least.

  Aloud:?But I inherit through my father, Lord Norman Arminger, whose only child I am. He was our first sovereign lord; Lord Protector of the Portland Protective Association. He was a knight before the Change, of course, in the Society, as well as a great scholar of the old ways at the university.?

  The other woman made a fascinated sound and inclined her head towards a painfully young man in a military uniform that involved a good deal of braid and a gold lanyard. ?Something for me and the Princess, please, Lieutenant.? ?At once, Mrs. Heasleroad!?

  The aide sprang away towards the buffet and the bar.

  It?s all just homelike enough to make me homesick but not enough to comfort, Mathilda thought, as she schooled her face to friendly interest. Not that it?s hard to be friendly. It?s brief acquaintance, but I find I do like Kate.

  A burbling surf of conversation rose to the carved plaster of the ceiling two stories above; more guests leaned on the balustrade that ringed the reception room. Heels clicked on the marble tiles and on the curving staircase that linked the levels. The Bossman?s household troops-they called them the State Police-stood at attention along the walls amid framed pictures and half-columns, their burnished mail-shirts and helms glittering in the brilliance of the incandescent mantles of the gaslights, along with the crowd?s crystal and gold and diamonds, fine cloth and polished leather. Open French doors brought an occasional waft of cooler air from the gardens, and the scents of roses and cut grass, along with the odd suicide-bent moth. ?So everyone says your Highness?? Kate said, returning to the subject that fascinated her. ?Yes,? Mathilda Arminger said, with a practiced smile; there were people at home obsessed with protocol too.

  Quite a few of them, in fact.

  The aide came back and she took a plate of what her mother called faculty fodder for some obscure pre-Change reason; little pieces of toast with shaved ham and pungent cheese, or bits of pickled fish, or tiny sausages and capers and pate or peppers and sweet corn. A glass of some fizzy drink called sarsaparilla came with it. ?I?m not Princess Regnant or Lady Protector yet, of course, not until I?m twenty-six. Then I?ll be styled Your Majesty.?

  Kate laughed.?And everyone will have to go down on their knees?? ?Only one, until then. And only at ceremonies, of course-receiving homage, bestowing fiefs, that sort of thing. We?re less formal most of the time.? ?Is there a book of rules or something?? ?Well, the College of Heralds have their lists… but really, if you grow up around it… it?s all sort of natural.? ?It sounds like fun, really. Like a costume party!?

  Not if it?s your life, Mathilda thought. Mother complains about it sometimes. Of course, for her before the Change it was a game. Sometimes I think it still is and she can?t help it. People that old. .. it?s as if they were always watching themselves live their lives instead of just living them and being themselves. Weird.

  An inspiration came to her:?You?re a princess too, my dear Kate.?

  At the other woman?s laugh she went on:?No, truly. You?re the lawful consort of a ruling prince, after all… unless it would be more accurate to call him a King? In which case you?d be Queen, of course, and your children would be Princes and Princesses.? ?There?s only little Tommie so far,? Kate said. For a moment her face was soft with love, and went from strikingly pretty to beautiful. ?And he?s my Prince!? ?Then you?re definitely a Princess, at the very least.?

  She made a dismissive gesture, but Mathilda could see the corners of her mouth turn up in pleasure; she could also see half a dozen others in the big room noting the exchange as they milled around. The biggest knot was around Anthony Heasleroad, of course, the Bossman of Iowa-Governor and President Pro Tem, formally, but that was the word everyone used in ordinary speech. She could just hear him saying: ?… keep the great agricultural industry of Iowa in responsible, experienced hands for the common good of Farmer and Evacuee alike…?

  His voice held the same booming sententiousness most barons at home would use when talking about mesne tithes and heraldry and the idleness of the peasants. Like Mathilda and Rudi he?d been born in the first Change Year, but he looked older to her. Part of that was the fact that he also looked like the statue of an athlete that had been covered in an inch of soft tallow and left in the hot sun until it began to sag a little.

  Though I may be prejudiced, Mathilda thought. And he also looks like a man who trusts nobody, including the men who guard his sleep. They say Mom?s that way but she isn?t: she always said paranoia was as stupid as gullibility, and just as likely to kill you.

  Kate was tall and willowy; her neck and fingers and piled dark hair sparkled with some truly impressive and not too gaudy jewelry, offset by the simply cut but obviously new blue silk of her knee-length dress. That had probably cost more. Jewelry could be salvaged, but silk had to be imported around the world over trade routes just beginning to function again.

  And unlike her demented spouse, she seems amiable enough. Not the brightest candle in the chandelier, but good-hearted. ?Oh, it?s bad enough being married to the Governor, much less being a, um, Queen!? Kate said.?I swear, I didn?t expect everyone to be always asking for things before I married Tony! That was before his father died and he became Bossman, of course.? ?Ah, well, that is a drawback of being close to a sovereign,? Mathilda said.

  She forced herself not to give an incredulous snort; what else would a ruler?s consort or heir await? That was one reason she?d enjoyed her yearly stay with the Mackenzies so much after the Protector?s War-there on the Clan?s land she was just Rudi?s friend Mathilda.

  What did you expect when you married the ruler here, Kate? she thought but did not say. Gossiping with the other goodwives at the village bakery while your husband digs the garden or sits in the tavern with his cronies over a mug of beer?

  Instead she turned to take a real drink off a tray; it was something sweet but potent in a glass like a cone on a stem, with a little cherry on top. For the first time in her life, she understood the temptation that made some people drink to excess. It wasn?t so much a matter of drowning sorrows as of untangling the knot of fear that curdled under her breastbone. Or at least putting a slight glassy layer between her and it.

  There wasn?t anything she could do about the fear-she was here, the guards wouldn?t let her leave, Rudi was in hideous danger across the river among the savages with only Edain at his side, poor Ingolf was in a dungeon, and most of the rest of her friends were hiding God-knew-where in this vast alien city, even dear kindly Father Ignatius was away so that she couldn?t confess or receive the Sacraments…

  But God does know where each is, as He sees every sparrow. Mary pierced with sorrows, watch over the ones I love! And especially Rudi. Everything depends on him. And I miss him so much. ?And sometimes I wish I was back on father?s farm-? Kate went on; she probably felt freer to speak with a stranger than with most of her courtiers.

  Farm… ah, she means a barony, Mathilda translated; they?d kept the old words here, but a tract one family could work with machines before the Change needed scores or hundreds now, with the landholder as lord. A manor, a knight?s-fee, at least. ?-instead of all this. I like a party, but they?re all the same and there are so many of them. And a lot of the people aren?t really here for the fun.? ?I get the same feeling at balls and tournaments,? Mathilda said.

  Sometimes. As Mom says, they?re our working time. If God calls you to a station, you have to do your best, whether it?s peasant or Princess. With princes and nobles, socializing is a big part of the business of ruling. Things that come up formally at councils really get settled first while you?re feasting or hawking or hunting or dancing a pavane. ?This is a fine country,? Kate said softly after a moment.?We Iowans have so much more than anyone else. Our parents were so lucky! Why do people have to quarrel and fight each other for more??

  Mathilda bo
wed her head slightly, honoring the sentiment if not the thought. ?Why indeed?? she said.?But that seems to be the way people are, a lot of them. It?s a ruler?s duty to keep their quarrels from spilling too much blood.?

  And to lead in war so that the realm?s strength is a single blade of power in a skilled hand, she thought unhappily. But in the west, we have no single ruler to fight the Prophet. The Meeting is well enough but it?s a council and never gets anything done quickly. Most of the time it?s much better at stopping things than doing them.

  The thought carked at her. Her own duty…

  But the rest of the Meeting realms will never accept an Arminger. The Protector?s War showed that. They don?t hate and fear me the way they did Father, but they would if they thought I wanted to be overlord. And our nobles wouldn?t accept anyone A thought made her eyes go wide.

  But the Association would accept the man who brought back the Sword of the Lady and led them to victory-it could just as well be the Virgin who?s the Lady as some pagan goddess, after all. Not accept him as Lord Protector in Portland, but as… what did the ancient Gael call it, an Ard Ri, a High King over all the realms. And they most certainly would accept it if by my marrying that man they could have their own Lord Protector?s blood on the throne in another generation. ..

  The thought passed through her mind in an instant, but her blood leapt at an image of Rudi beside her and a cheering host of Associates and Mackenzies, Bearkillers and Corvallans and manymore below crying him hail. Her heart beat even harder at the thought of him leading her to a bride?s bower. How Rudi would love that, and hate the idea of a crown! And how well he?d do at both…