Andre Norton - The Duke's Ballad

Franzo was approving. “Such a man would likely be suitable. The clan would agree if I spoke for him.” He looked at them. “What of your kin and the city?”

Hadrann answered that. “My father agrees. I spoke to him about it. Aisling and Keelan’s grandfather approves, and he is kin to Geavon. I think right now the city would accept any ruler who had your siege lifted and food and firewood distributed.”

A slow wicked smile spread over Franzo’s face. “Then that is how it shall be.” He pointed a finger at Aisling. “You and your brother shall leave quietly for Trevalyn keep. While you are gone I’ll arrange for trader caravans to be waiting. You shall persuade Jarn into this and return with him and all the pomp you can summon. I shall formally lift the siege and accept him as the new duke of Kars. When he gives the order to bury the duke, with city-wide feasting and wine, food and drink will supplied from the ducal storehouses.”

By now all three of those he faced were nodding. They could see what would happen. Keelan grinned. “By the time the people wake up to the fact that Kirion and Shastro are dead and they have a new ruler, they also will have had time to think. They will have no siege; goods and traders will be back. The country and Kars will have peace, and if Jarn announces some reform at that time too, no one will complain.”

Aisling had been remembering some of the events of the siege. “What about duke’s justice. A lot of people died in all this.”

Franzo sighed, his face sobering. “I know. War is not a toy for dukes who wish to play at soldiers, but if you punish all who committed crimes, then what of those who acted so their families did not starve? What of those whose acts were self-defense. From what Hadrann tells me many witnesses may well be dead. It’s to my mind that Jarn should declare amnesty where the truth cannot be clearly ascertained.”

He looked at them ruefully. “And you convince Jam it’s his work. Sorting out all the cries for justice will settle him in fast, and it will accustom the people to his rule. Hadrann, you’d better forge another letter from Shastro to his captain of the guards. Say that Shas-tro and Kirion are working a great sorcery against the besiegers. It may take a number of days and they cannot be disturbed. You’ve been delegated to make the decisions until then.”

His gaze fell again on the bodies. “And something will have to be done about those too.”

“I’ll see to it before Keelan and I leave. I can spell them with a holding that will last some days. The bodies won’t change.” Aisling’s voice was quiet.

“Good. Then I’d better gather my men and rejoin the army before some fool out there decides Hadrann played me false and panics.”

He tramped out, his men forming up to follow him as he left the palace. Once he was gone, Aisling had the bodies of Shastro and Kirion carried up to the highest room in Kirion’s tower. They were placed on the four-poster there, covered decently, and the curtains pulled about them. Then she laid a preservation spell over the bed and its occupants that would hold about a week; she had that much power and knowledge. After that they might have to chose another method.

The forged papers had convinced Shastro’s guard captain. Hadrann was busy keeping the city under some sort of calm, not an easy task with most of the population desperate. Aisling and her brother chose to ride to Trevalyn keep; it was a swifter easier method of travel. With them went their three guards. They had no idea of what was happening, but they trusted their employers.

The trip was exhausting. Aisling pushed her mount, using her gift to keep herself warm, balancing that with the need not to draw too deeply on what she had left, but she kept up. They dared not waste time on this. As she rode she mourned the man Shastro could have been. If only Kirion had not murdered Paran and Sharna, she was sure that with them at his side, he’d have been a different man, even a good duke. She remembered a night just before the siege when they had danced. They’d hunted earlier, now she teased him as they swung through the figures of an old country circle dance.

“Ah, sire. You trip this as well as any farmer.”

His return smile had been oddly wistful. “I sometimes wonder if I would not have made a good farmer. I like beasts. They never play you false as men do. They love or hate openly.”

“Ah, but a farmer weds. He works all day and has a wife and children. How would that have pleased you, my Lord Duke?”

“Very well, perhaps.” His eyes darkened in remembrance. “Once I would not have minded being wed. I thought of children too. I would have liked that, with her.” He visibly wrenched his mind from that thought. “And you, my dear Murna, will you wed and have a husband, children?”

“If my uncle finds me a man I deem acceptable.”

“Ah ha. Choosy are we?”

“Indeed, my Lord Duke. Better no marriage than an unhappy one. I will always have a place with my uncle, and I have a tiny income of my own. That shall content me if no good man comes courting.”

Shastro opened his mouth. She saw the thought in his face and hastily distracted him. Yet the shadow of memory was still on Shas-tro’s face. Would he have made a good husband with the cousin he had loved? She thought he might have, with his love and his friend to temper him. The minstrel had begun to sing.

Shastro snarled into the sudden hush. “Another song, minstrel. That one I like not to hear.”

The minstrel bowed and hastily plucked the strings again. This time the song was approved. He sang at length of Sirion, duke of Kars when the incomers first settled. Apparently the man had all the virtues and then some. Shastro settled back in his seat with a cynical grin as the song wound on. He leaned over to Aisling to speak quietly.

“I doubt the man was any better than Pagar, but distance in time aids forgetting. In the end it doesn’t take much before the people remember only that Sirion pleased them.”

“That’s true, sire.”

Shastro sighed softly. “I wonder what they’ll sing of me when I’m dead. Will I be a hero too?”

“I think it likely, sire. All dukes tend to be heroes once they’re gone.”

Shastro chuckled. “True, although Pagar wasn’t. But then, I’ve not lost near as many as he did. Maybe I’ll get a better song.”

They turned to laughing over court gossip. As they rode now, Aisling remembered that night. It had been so innocent at the time, but in its way foreshadowing what was to come. She wondered, had they been right? Would Kars remember Shastro kindly now he was gone?

Back in the city Hadrann was hiding the death of the two men who’d ruled Kars, each in their own way. If the secret were discovered the people would riot, the guards rebel, and anarchy would descend on Kars. Hadrann had seen to it that small amounts of fuel and food were distributed from Shastro’s storehouses without fuss.

It kept the people quiet for a while longer. The guards had been ordered out to patrol more often in greater strength. They had extra rations added to compensate, so they grumbled but obeyed. In the hills five riders hammered on a keep gate and were admitted. Keelan and Aisling, shedding snow from their cloaks, refused more than a mug of hot trennen and urgently demanded the keep lord.

Once closeted with Jam neither minced words. He listened. It took most of two days, but he was Geavon’s kin, born and bred to serve his land, and once he’d heard everything, he understood the necessity.

“Jannor, my heir, is wed. He has a little daughter already, and his wife bears again. If I am assassinated as duke, then Trevalyn is not rulerless. I will come.”