Greg Keyes - The Born Queen

Aradal scratched his ear. “It’s rather more complicated than that, don’t you think?”

The queen drew back a bit. “I don’t see how. Take your fleet and your men and go home, Aradal.” “Well, they aren’t my men or my fleet, are they, Majesty? They belong to His Majesty Marcomir III, and he recognizes Robert as king and emperor of Crotheny.”

“If you’ve given shelter to that hell-hearted bastard—” Fail began, but Muriele silenced him with a frown before turning back to the archgreft.

“If Robert has taken refuge with your liege, that is another matter,” she said, her voice sounding a bit strained. “But for now, I think bringing our countries back from the brink of war should do.”

Aradal lowered his voice. “Majesty, you assume that war is to be prevented. I rather think it will happen.”

“Marcomir’s avarice has been known for a long time,” Muriele said, “but—”

Aradal shook his head. “No, there is more to it than that, Majesty. Your daughter has murdered churchmen, Muriele. William defied the Church, but Anne has denied and attacked it. Our people are devout, and the signs are all around us. There are those who say that it is not enough to conquer Crotheny; they say it must be cleansed.” His voice lowered further. “Majesty, I have tried to tell you before, I am friendly to you. Take your daughter and those you care for and go to Virgenya or someplace even farther. I…” He broke off. “I have said too much.”

“You will do nothing?”

“I can do nothing.”

Muriele shrugged. “Very well. Then I must speak with Marcomir.”

Aradal’s brows raised. “Lady…”

“By the most ancient law of nations, by the covenant the free peoples created when the Skasloi were destroyed, you must provide me safe passage to the court of your king, and you must conduct me safely out of it. Even the Church itself cannot subvert that most basic law.”

Aradal’s cheek twitched.

“Can you do that? Can you uphold the ancient covenant?”

“I can give you my word,” he finally said. “But my word does not travel very far from me these days.” The queen’s eyes widened. “You cannot be implying that Marcomir would kill me or take me prisoner.” “I am saying, lady, that the world has gone mad, and I can promise nothing. My liege is a man of law, I assure you, and I would stake my life that he would not treat you ill.”

“But?”

“But I can promise nothing.”

Muriele took a deep breath and let it out. Then she straightened and spoke in her most courtly tones. “Will you arrange for my party to travel to the court under flag of truce so that I can press the case for peace before His Majesty? Will you do that, Archgreft?”

Aradal tried to meet her gaze and failed, but then something strengthened in him, and he lifted his head. “I will,” he replied.

“I will return in the morning with my chosen companions,” she said.

“No more than fifteen,” he said.

“That will be sufficient,” Muriele assured him.

On another day the Maog Voast plain might have seemed pretty, Neil reflected. Four months had passed since his wounding in the battle for the waerd. It was the fifteenth of Ponthmen, and summer was just coming into its own. The fields were glorious with the white spires of lady’s traces, yellow oxeyes, purple thrift, and a rainbow’s hoard of flowers he didn’t recognize. They mingled their sweet scents with that of wild rosemary, bee fennel, and something that reminded him of apple, although there were no trees in sight on the flat landscape. Still, the riding of a league was a long time for Neil to have the army of Hansa at his back, and he glanced behind often despite the lack of cover for an ambush. But that lack of cover went two ways, and Neil felt rather as a mouse might, wondering if a hawk was about to come out of the sun.

Muriele noticed.

“I don’t think they’ll attack us, Sir Neil,” she said.

“No,” Fail snapped. “Why should they when you’ll deliver yourself to them tomorrow?”

“The old law—”

“Even Aradal won’t vouch for its keeping,” the duke pointed out.

“Niece, you’ve just escaped one prison. Why must you hurry back into another? They’ll hold you hostage to better bargain with Anne. Lady Berrye, reason with her.”

Alis shrugged. “I serve at the pleasure of Queen Muriele,” she said. “I find her reasonable enough.” “And don’t forget, we have hostages of our own,” Muriele added.

“Schalksweih?” Fail muttered. “How could I forget? It was I took him captive and his ship a prize. But against you…”

“He’s a favorite of Marcomir’s,” she said. “They have sued for his release.”

Fail looked heavenward, shaking his head.

“Why are you really doing this, dove?”

“What else should I do? Knit stockings while my daughter rides into battle? Arrange flowers as army after army arrays against us?”

“Why not, Majesty?” Neil interjected.

“Excuse me, Sir Neil?”

“Why not?” he repeated “The fleet of Hansa is inside our borders, and their land army is on the march. What can you say that will deter them? Sir Fail is right: You’ve suffered enough, milady.”

“How much I’ve suffered is not at issue,” Muriele countered. “And although I’m not flattered by your opinion of my political abilities, I see a chance to stop this war, and I will take it. I’ve discussed this with Anne. She will not yield one grain of our dirt if I am taken hostage.”

“She fought like a demon to retrieve you from Robert,” Fail pointed out. “Things have changed,” Muriele said.

Anne has changed, Neil reflected. Muriele was probably right in that: The empress would not be intimidated even by threats to her own mother.

He wondered where she was now: on the throne or off killing churchmen. The latter had become almost a sport to her.

“Well,” Fail said. “I’ll go.”

“One of our best sea commanders? It’s out of the question. You’re needed here, guarding our waves. Anyway, the strain of keeping your sword sheathed would split the vein on your forehead. You’re not much of a diplomat, Uncle.”

“And you are?”

She shrugged. “I’ve seen it done, and I have the station for it, even though I am a woman.” She paused. “Anne wants me to go, Uncle. One of her visions. She says there’s a chance.”

“Visions,” he snorted.

“She knew you were coming with the fleet,” Neil said. “She knew when. It’s why we knew we had to take down Thornrath so quickly.”

“Aye,” Fail muttered, chewing his lip. “Maybe her visions are true. But your own daughter, sending you to the viper’s den—it’s hard to fathom.”

“Majesty,” Neil said. “I know I’m not much use—”

“Oh, you’re going,” Muriele said. “Why do you think you’re here? If it were my decision, you would still be abed.”

Neil frowned. “You mean to say the empress wants me to go to Hansa?”

“She was quite adamant about it.”

“I see.”

Muriele shifted in her saddle.

“Do you feel slighted, not being in her guard?” she asked.

That took him by surprise. “Milady?”

“Are you disappointed at being returned to my service?” she amplified.

He shook his head. “Majesty, I always considered myself in your service. When I was guarding Anne, I was following your orders. I am your man and do not hope to be anyone else’s.”

He didn’t add that he found Anne more than a little uncanny, and although he knew firsthand that some in the Church had turned to darkness, he was happy not to be directly involved in Anne’s vendetta against z’Irbina.