S. Stirling - The Given Sacrifice

Just a wing on that thing in the Venetian style the Renfrews are building in Odell, Rudi thought. Though to be sure, Conrad is a Duke nowadays.

The roofs were bright unfaded red tile and fairly steeply pitched; most Palouse winters had more rain than snow, but you couldn’t count on it. It was newer even than the village, so new that there was still roofer’s scaffolding on the top of the four-story square tower at one corner. When they’d been shown to their quarters-which from the battered gray suit of plate on a stand in one corner he guessed were the Grand Constable’s ordinarily-there was still a faint damp scent of curing pisé de terre and plaster.

“This is lovely,” Mathilda said once their bags had been unpacked and the staff left.

She looked around the bedchamber’s expanse of smooth pale mosaic tile and the French doors opening onto balconies with their decorative wrought-iron balustrades overlooking the fountain, walkways and gardens in the courtyard below. Like many modern manor houses, it made up with interior inner-facing windows and glass doors for the light excluded by solid exterior walls. There was a big fireplace with a carved stone surround of owls and olive wreaths, swept and garnished with dried wildflowers for summer, but discreet bronze grill vents showed a central heating system.

“Handsome work,” Rudi agreed.

“Beautifully proportioned, and I love the coffered cypress-wood ceiling. . I like that arched-passageway Romanesque style too. . though the murals and the tapestries aren’t up yet, of course. It’ll be even prettier than the Montinore manor house back on Barony Ath. Delia has exquisite taste and she got to start from scratch with modern methods here.”

Órlaith came barreling through side by side with Yolande de Stafford, a dark-haired girl of her own age who resembled a younger version of her mother, and her elder sister Heuradys, who had a mop of dark-auburn curls and resembled neither of her parents. Maccon was at her heels skidding on the smooth floors in a rattle of claws and just ahead of the determined-looking Prince John, whose shorter legs were pumping to keep up with the older girls; Órlaith paused to give them both a hug while Yolande and Heuradys bobbed a preoccupied curtsy. Then she dashed on dragging her brother by one hand. Dame Emelina followed a moment later, with a half-apologetic glance, then went in pursuit with the folds of her riding habit swishing.

“If we could bottle that energy and commission the Guild Merchant to sell it, the Crown would have no financial problems at all, at all,” Rudi said.

“Right now I’ll settle for a nice long soak. That sunken tub looks attractive.”

“Not nearly as attractive as you, in it.”

“Why, whatever could you mean, good sir?” she said, batting her eyes and giving him a smoldering smile.

The hall of the manor was a little more finished, when they descended to dinner several hours later in formal garb, an hour before the summer sunset. The building itself was essentially an E-shape; the hall occupied most of the central arm with archways on either side filled with French doors, now open to the cooling evening breeze. Normally the whole household from baron to garden-boys and laundresses would dine in the hall; that was old Association custom, with the ceremonial golden salt cellar marking the transition from the gentry on the dais at the upper table to the commons below. Tonight it was a more intimate affair, since most of the staff and garrison had been given leave to join the celebrations in the village; at the upper table were the nobles, and the gentlefolk among their retainers, and Edain as commander of the High King’s Archers. He kept a pawky eye on the detail standing against the walls.

Delia resolutely steered the conversation away from Tiphaine’s wound, duels or anything connected to them; evidently she was embarrassed at her lapse by the train station. The closest she came to the subject was after the salmon bisque had been replaced by a salad of summer greens and cherry tomatoes garnished with slices of melon wrapped in paper-thin envelopes of cured ham.

“And Heuradys wants to be a knight,” she went on, rolling her eyes.

“I don’t see why she shouldn’t,” Tiphaine observed. “Lioncel and Diomede are both well above average for their ages and they’re going to be very dangerous as adults. And don’t give me that but she’s a girl . I’m a knight. Her Majesty is a knight. Yeah, it’s harder for us, but it can be done. It involves beating the crap out of a lot of assh. . contumacious persons, but that’s a perk, not a drawback.”

“I think Órlaith will be a warrior,” Rudi observed thoughtfully. “She’s got the doggedness, she’s naturally active, she’s worked hard at the basics this last little while as much as we’ve let her, and from her hands and feet she’ll have the heft-she’ll be taller for a woman than I am for a man, or I miss my guess, which means that she’ll have more reach than most men, and as much weight or nearly.”

And to be sure there’s that vision I had at Lost Lake, at the Kingmaking, but let’s not put a chill on the occasion. It bothers me, and others understandably more so.

Aloud he finished: “And her balance and reflexes and situational awareness are excellent for her age. As good as mine were, folk who knew me then say. But if Lady Tiphaine says Heuradys has the potential-”

“She does,” d’Ath said decisively.

“Then there’s no better judge.”

Delia frowned slightly. “Well, Órlaith’s a princess. Crown Princess, at that. And Your Majesties spend a lot of time elsewhere in Montival, outside the Protectorate where customs are, ah, different from those of Associates. It will be. . hard for Heuradys if she takes that road. I mean. . you know.”

Tiphaine grinned sharklike as she broke open a roll and buttered it. “Sweetie, I do know. Abundantly.” To Rudi and the rest: “Heuradys is eight, and it’s obvious she’s going to take after her father-”

She inclined her head to Rigobert.

“-as far as her build goes.”

Delia nodded. “Her coloring’s more like my mother’s.”

“Or my father’s,” Rigobert said. “She has his eyes.”

“I think she’s serious, too, and she’ll have the talent,” Lady Tiphaine went on. “Whether she wants it badly enough to take the crap involved is another question. Time will tell, but I don’t think we should discourage her. Just make it plain how difficult it’s going to be.”

Mathilda frowned. “Well, there’s no actual religious prohibition, I mean, look at me. Or legal ones; there were some women knights even in my father’s time.”

Maugis put in: “Weren’t you knighted by the first Lord Protector, Lady Tiphaine?”

“No, by Sandra; but Norman was right there and he’d have done it if she hadn’t claimed the right as my patron. Just as well; when he gave the colée , Norman always hit hard enough to draw blood.”

“That’s right,” Mathilda said. “I was there, I remember, I think. It’s just custom that knights are largely men.”

“That and it’s hard to combine with small children,” Lady Helissent said.

“Oh, tell me!” Mathilda said, and they all chuckled. “Heuradys is eight. . how’s this, Delia? If she still wants it in two or three years, she can come to the Royal Household as a page. That’ll give her the best possible tutors, she can train with Órlaith, and we can keep an eye on her to make sure there’s no absolutely outrageous bullying. I know what kids can be like at that age.”

“Thanks,” said Tiphaine. “And I can train her until then, and when she’s home after.”