The Warlock in Spite of Himself

Brom leaped to the tabletop, thundering, "What means this unseemly intrusion, Rod Gallowglass? Get thee hence, till the Queen shall summon thee!"

"I would prefer not to come before her Majesty in chain—" his words cold and clipped. "And I will not allow that a nobleman of the highest rank be clapped in a common, noisome dungeon with rats and thieves."

" Thou wilt not allow!" Catharine gasped, outraged; and, "Who art thou to allow or not allow?" roared Brom. "Thou hast not even gentle blood!"

"Then I must think that blood is opposed to action," Rod snapped.

He flung the table out of his way and advanced on the Queen. "I had thought you noble." The word was a sneer. "But now I see that you will turn against your very family, even to one near as nigh you as a father! Certes, if you would fight any of your nobles, you must needs fight a kinsman; but your very uncleT^Fie, woman! Were he the foulest murderer, you had ought to receive him with courtesy and the honor due his station. Your finest chamber you should appoint his cell; 'tis but your duty to blood!"

He backed her up against the fireplace, glowering deep into her eyes. "Nay, were he but a murderer, no doubt you would receive him with all honor! But no, he has committed the heinous crime of objecting to your high-handed, arbitrary laws, and the further calumny of maintaining his honor against your calculated insults. He will insist on being accorded the respect due a man during the reign of a vindictive, childish, churlish chit of a girl who hath the title of a Queen but none of the graces, and for this he must needs be damned!"

"Fie, sirrah," she quavered, waxen pale, "that you would speak so to a lady!"

"Lady!" he snorted.

"A lady born!" It was a forlorn, desperate cry. "Will you, too, desert me? Will you speak with the tongue of Clovis?"

"I may speak like a peasant, but you act like one! And now I see why all desert you; for you would whip to scorn Loguire, who alone of all your lords is loyal!"

"Loyal!" she gasped. "He, who leads the rebels?"

" Anselm Loguire leads the rebels! For keeping faith with you, the old Duke is now deposed in favor of his son!"

He smiled bitterly as the horror and guilt dawned in her, then turned his back upon her and stepped away, giving her time to realize the breadth of her betrayal. He heard a long-drawn, shuddering breath behind him; Brom rushed past him to aid his Queen. He heard a chair creak as Brom made her sit.

Looking up, he saw the Lord Mayor staring past him wide-eyed. Rod cleared his throat; the burgher's eyes shifted to him. Rod jerked his head toward the door. The Mayor glanced back at the Queen, hesitating. Rod toyed with the hilt of his dagger. The Mayor saw, blanched, and fled.

Rod turned back to the stricken girl.

Brom, at her elbow, threw Rod a glance of withering hatred and growled, "Ha' done! Have you not cut deep enough?"

"Not yet." Rod's lips thinned. He stepped up to the Queen again, his voice cold. "This good nobleman, the Duke Loguire, your own uncle, out of love for you stood against the whole of your nobility, even his own son !" His voice crackled. Her eyes jerked up to him, filling with dread. "And it is your doing, by your high-handed lawmaking and utter lack of diplomacy, that Anselm turned against his father. He had two sons, and you have robbed him of both!"

She shook her head, faster and faster, lips shaping silent denials.

"Yet still he is loyal!" Rod murmured. "Still he is loyal, though they would have slain him for it—and damn near did!"

She stared in horror.

Rod tapped his shoulder. "This took the dagger that would have pierced his heart. And even at that, 'twas only by a miracle, and the help of one of the witches whom you scarce acknowledge, that I managed to bring him out alive!"

Brom's head snapped up, searching Rod's face for something. Rod frowned, and went on.

"But bring him out I did, at peril of my life, and brought him safely back. And what do I find? He is to be held a prisoner! And not even as befits a royal prisoner! No, not to be treated with due courtesy and deference, but as a common cutpurse, in a lightless, damp, dank dungeon!"

He paused for effect, rather proud of the Tast bit of alliteration.

But he had overdone it a bit; she rallied. Her chin came up, and she sniffled back some tears. "Before my laws, sirrah, all are equal!"

"Yes," Rod agreed, "but that should mean you treat a peasant like a lord, not that you treat a lord like a peasant!"

He leaned over her, his face an inch from hers. "Tell me, Queen: why is it that Catharine must treat all with contempt?"

It was a lie; she didn't treat all with contempt, just the noblemen; but anguish and sudden self-doubt showed in her eyes.

Still she tilted her chin a fraction of an inch higher, and declaimed, "I am the Queen, and all must bow to my power!"

"Oh, they bow, they bow! Until you slap them in the face; then they slap back!"

He turned away, glowering at the hearth. "And I can't say I blame them, when you deprive them of liberty."

Catharine stared. "Liberty? What talk is this, sirrah? I seek to give the serfs greater liberty!"

"Aye, so you seek." Rod smiled sourly. "But how do you go about giving it? You gather all ever more tightly unto you. You deprive them today, that you may give them more later!"

He slammed his fist onto the arm of her chair. "But later will never come, don't you see that? There is too much ill in the land, there will always be another evil to fight, and the Queen's word must be law unquestioned to command the army against the evil."

He drew his hand back slowly, eyes burning. "And so it will never come, the day that you set them free; in your land, none will have liberty, save the Queen."

He locked his hands behind his back and paced the room. "There is only just so much of it to go around, you know—this liberty. If one man is to have more, another must needs have less; for if one is to command, another must obey."

He held his hand before her, slowly tightening it into a fist. "So little by little, you steal it away, till your slightest whim is obeyed. You will have complete freedom, to do whatever you wish, but you alone will be free. There will be none of this liberty left over for your people. All, all, will be gathered unto Catharine."

His hand loosened and clasped her throat lightly. She stared and swallowed, pressing against the back of the chair.

"But a man cannot live without at least a little liberty," he said softly. "They must have it, or die." His hand tightened slowly. "They will rise up against you, made one by their common enemy—you. And then will squeeze their liberties out of you again, slowly, slowly."

Catharine tore at his hand, fighting for breath. Brom leaped to free her, But Rod loosed her first.

"They will hang you from your castle gates," he murmured, "and the nobles will rule in your stead; your work will all be undone. And of this you may be certain, for thus was it ever with tyrants."

Her head jerked up, hurt deep in her eyes. She gasped for breath to speak, shaking her head in ever harder denial.

"No, not I," she finally rasped. "Not that, no! Never a tyrant!"

"Always a tyrant," Rod corrected gently, "from your birth. Always a tyrant to those about you, though you never knew it till now."

He turned away, hands locked behind his back. "But now you know, and know also that you have none to blame but yourself for rebellion. You pushed them and pushed them, harder and harder, your nobles— for the good of your people, you said."

He looked back over his shoulder. "But was it not also to see which among them would dare say you nay? To see which among them were men?"

Contempt curdled her face. "Men!" The word was obscenity. "There are no men in Gramarye any more, only boys, content to be a woman's playpretties!"