The Bastard King (11 page)

The arch-hallow nodded. "I will make the necessary arrangements, then." He would have made the same arrangements even if Lanius had said he didn't want to meet Dagipert's son. Lanius was sure of that. And Bucco might as well have admitted as much, saying, "We are hardly in a position to refuse."

"I suppose not," Lanius said. "Which son of Dagipert's is coming here? Is it Berto, his heir, or is it one of his younger sons?"

"It's Prince Berto." Bucco gave Lanius a thoughtful look. "You do soak up all sorts of things, don't you, Your Majesty?"

"Of course. The more I know, the better off I am." Lanius spoke as though that were an article of faith. So he'd taken it, from his earliest days.
But now I know lots of strange things, and I'm still not very well off,
he thought.
Would I be worse off still if I knew less?
Could
I be worse off?

He sighed.
I probably could.
Being a king, even a king who was a powerless boy, wasn't so bad.
I could be a starving peasant who was also a powerless boy. Or, if I hadn't figured out what to do about Duke Regulus, I could have ended up in the Maze
-
or dead.

Prince Berto came to the royal palace the next afternoon, after worshiping at Olor's cathedral. That touch made Arch-Hallow Bucco happy. So did the news Berto brought. Presenting the prince to King Lanius, Bucco said, "I am invited to the Thervings' encampment tomorrow, to talk with King Dagipert face-to-face. Prince Berto has given me his father's safe-conduct."

"Good." Lanius hoped Dagipert would ignore it, as he'd ignored so many agreements. He spoke to Berto with the formality that had been drilled into him. "I am pleased to meet you, Your Highness."

"And I am pleased to meet you, Your Majesty." Berto spoke good Avornan, with only a slight guttural Therving accent. Like most of his countrymen, he was big and fair. He wore his hair long. That, with his wolfskin jacket and cowhide boots with the hair out, made him seem extraordinarily shaggy to Lanius. But his smooth-chinned face was open and friendly as he went on, "When I come here, I feel... closer to the gods than I do in Thervingia."

"But Thervingia is full of mountains," Lanius said. "You're closer to the heavens there, closer to the gods."
Closer to all of them but the Banished One, anyhow,
he thought uneasily.

Berto shook his head. "When I walked into the cathedral, I didn't know if I was still on earth or up in the heavens myself. You're so lucky, Your Majesty, to be able to worship there whenever you please."

Lanius shot Arch-Hallow Bucco a hooded look. One of his earliest memories was of Bucco turning his mother and father and him away from the cathedral. Did Bucco remember? Did Bucco know Lanius remembered? Lanius made himself hide his thoughts - one more thing he'd learned. He said, "As long as there is peace between Thervingia and Avornis, Your Highness, you are welcome to come here and worship at the cathedral whenever you like."

Prince Berto bowed very low. "This is a great boon you have given me, Your Majesty. I had heard you were wise beyond your years. Now I see with my own eyes it is true."

"Do people talk about me in Thervingia, then?" Lanius asked. He might almost have said,
Do people talk about me on the dark side of the moon?
He'd read of many distant lands. For all his reading, though, the only place he really knew was the city of Avornis, and especially the royal palace.

But fierce King Dagipert's son nodded. "Oh, yes," he said, his eyes wide. "People talk about the King of Avornis everywhere. How could it be otherwise? Whoever rules Avornis is the great shield against the Banished One. That makes him very important, all by himself."

"Prince Berto is a pious and wise young mail," Arch-Hallow Bucco said in his own most holy tones.

Lanius had no idea how wise Berto was. But the Therving prince did strike him as pious. And what did King Dagipert think of that? Dagipert said he worshiped Olor, but the only things he really loved were himself and power.
He
wanted to be the one who ruled Avornis, the one people talked about. So Lanius' tutor said, at any rate. Lanius knew Arch-Hallow Bucco had a different opinion of the King of Thervingia. From what Lanius had seen, his tutor seemed more likely to be right.

"We all fear the Banished One, and slay his spies whenever they reveal themselves," Berto said.

"As all good men should do," Bucco said.

Did King Dagipert really do that? Or did he bargain with them and try to get the most for himself, as he did with Avornis? Some said one thing, some another. Lanius wanted to ask Berto. If anyone would know, Dagipert's heir would. But the question might not be what people called "polite." Lanius' tutor went on and on about politeness. Even Lanius himself could see the point of not offending King Dagipert when he stood with an army under the walls of the city of Avornis.

Besides, if Dagipert really did treat with the Banished One, he might want to lie about it afterward. He might lie even to his own son. If his own son was truly pious, like Berto, he might have special reason to lie.

After a while, Berto said, "Again, Your Majesty, it is a pleasure to meet you." He bowed to Lanius. "Now I am bidden by my father to bring Arch-Hallow Bucco back to his tent so they can speak of peace."

"I hope they find it, Your Highness," Lanius said.

"I hope so, too." Berto sounded as though he meant it.

Off Bucco went, riding on a white mule alongside Berto's horse and those of the prince's Therving bodyguards. The arch-hallow's crimson robe made a bright spot of color that let Lanius see him for a long way. Lanius even thought he spied Bucco outside the walls as the arch-hallow went off to confer with Dagipert.

Maybe he won't come back,
Lanius thought.
Maybe Dagipert does love the Banished One, and will do something dreadful to Bucco.
At first, that brought Lanius a small stab of fear. But then he thought,
If Dagipert hurts Bucco, my mother will come back to the palace.
After that, he stopped worrying about what the king of the Thervings might do to the arch-hallow.

Night had fallen before Bucco returned. When he did, he was grinning from ear to ear. By then, Lanius was getting sleepy and cross. But he did want to hear what the arch-hallow had to say. "I have pledged presents to the king of the Thervings," Bucco told him. "Men are taking them from the treasury even now, and he will withdraw his army back into his own country."

"All right. We don't seem able to fight him right now, so all right," Lanius said. "How long did he promise to keep his soldiers in Thervingia and out of Avornis?"

Some of Bucco's grin slipped. "Ah ... he did not name any set period of time, Your Majesty."

"That's not so good," Lanius said. "Now he can invade again whenever he pleases, and we can't even say he's breaking a treaty."

"True. Or it would be true." Bucco patted Lanius on the shoulder. Lanius glanced down at his own hand, to make sure the arch-hallow hadn't stolen it. Bucco went on, "It would be true, but I gave him excellent good reason to stay his bloody hand and remain at peace with us."

"What sort of reason?" Lanius asked, as he was plainly meant to do.

"Why, the best sort, Your Majesty." Bucco's smile got broad again. "The Therving has a daughter of not far from your years. Her name is Romilda. When the two of you come of age, a union between the royal house of Avornis and that of Thervingia will make the two kingdoms one and ensure eternal peace between them."

"But I don't want to marry any little Therving princess!" Lanius exclaimed in horror. He had no more use for girls than any other boy his age, and if the girl in question was a Therving princess...

Arch-Hallow Bucco's smile became indulgent. "By the time you marry, you will be a young man, and Princess Romilda will be a young woman. You'll feel differently about such things then, I promise you."

"No, I won't," Lanius said. He believed Bucco no more than any boy his age would have. "I'll hate her. And I hate you for making the bargain with the Therving. Get out!"

"Really, Your Majesty! I was simply - "

Lanius wouldn't let him finish. "Get out!" he shouted, and then, "Guards! Guards! The arch-hallow is bothering me!"

Bucco left before the bodyguards could come. He might command the army as a whole, but the royal bodyguard was loyal to the person of the king. Still grumbling, Lanius went to bed. After what seemed a very long time, he went to sleep.

"Here we are on horses again," Nicator said. "By the gods, I wish we'd get back on a ship."

"Oh, we will," Grus said. "We'll go on patrol against the Thervings - now that the Thervings have gone back to Thervingia. Isn't it grand?"

"It would've been even grander if we were patrolling against'em before they invaded," Nicator said.

"You expect the arch-hallow to think of something like that? Perish the thought," Grus said. "Regulus might have - if he had any brains, and if he hadn't been angling for the throne. And once he fell, nobody paid any attention to the Thervings."

"Why are people such idiots?" Nicator asked.

"Good question," Grus told him. "Awfully good question. You'd be better off asking somebody like Turnix, though, or else a priest. I haven't got any answers for you."

"I wouldn't ask a priest," Nicator said scornfully. "Why should a priest know anything about why people are idiots? It's the arch-hallow who got us into this mess in the first place. Far as I can see, that makes him the biggest idiot of all. He's just lucky Dagipert didn't pull the walls of the capital down around his ears. Then we wouldn't have anyplace to come back to, and wouldn't that be a fine kettle of trout?"

"Trout," Grus echoed. He opened and closed his mouth several times, suggesting a fish out of water. Nicator laughed. So did Grus, though he didn't think it was really funny. He doubted Nicator did, either.

He and the veteran captain rode round a bend in the road, then they had to rein in. Several peasant families clogged the dirt track. A couple of the men pushed handcarts in front of them; the others had great packs strapped to their backs, as though they were beasts of burden. Some women wore packs; some carried bundles in their arms; some carried babies, instead. All the children bore burdens that fit their size, down to those just past being toddlers.

Slowly, awkwardly, wearily, the peasants made way for the men on horseback. "Where are you bound?" Grus asked them.

"City of Avornis," answered one of the men hauling a handcart.

Crex, Grus' father, had come off a farm and headed for the capital. He'd managed to land a place in the royal guards, and had done well enough for himself. But most peasants weren't so lucky. Grus said, "Why don't you stay on your own plots of land?"

A few minutes before, Nicator had called Arch-Hallow Bucco the biggest idiot in the world. Now all the peasants - men, women, and children - looked at Grus as though the title belonged to him. "Haven't got'em anymore," said the fellow with the handcart.

"Why not?" Grus asked. They all looked tired, but otherwise hale enough. "You don't seem too lazy to keep them up."

That got him more than he'd bargained for. All the peasants shouted indignantly. The man who seemed more willing to talk than the others said, "Count Corvus pitched us off our land so he can raise cows and sheep on it. And what can we do about that? Not a gods-cursed thing, that's what we can do."

"Oh." Grus kicked his horse up into a trot. However little he liked the motion, he wanted to get away from those irate peasants. Nicator stuck by his side like a burr. At last, Grus said, "How are we going to stay strong if we throw all the peasants off the land? Where will we get our soldiers?"

"Beats me," Nicator answered. "How can anybody keep nobles from grabbing up land? That's half of what being a nobleman's all about." He sighed wistfully. "I always thought it sounded pretty good - buying land out to the horizon, I mean."

"It may be good if you're doing the grabbing." Grus jerked a thumb back toward the dispossessed peasants. "What about them? They're Avornans, too."

"If I'm a noble, I just give'em the back of my hand," Nicator said. Grus laughed again, though that wasn't so funny, either.

Before he got to the royal capital, Grus heard a rumor so strange, he refused to believe it. But when he repeated it after coming into the city of Avornis, his wife only nodded. "Yes, that's true," Estrilda said.

"They've betrothed King Lanius to a Therving princess?" Grus said.

Estrilda nodded again. "That's right."

"But that's madness," Grus said. "Once they're wed, who's the real power in Avornis? Dagipert of Thervingia, that's who."

"That's right." This time, his father spoke before his wife could. Crex sounded revoltingly cheerful about it, too.

"Who arranged it? Arch-Hallow Bucco?" Grus asked. Estrilda and Crex both nodded. After a moment, so did Grus. "Yes, in a way it must make sense for him," he said. "It keeps the Thervings quiet for the time being, and I don't think Bucco sees or cares about anything past that."

"Stupid bastard doesn't need to," Crex said. "Stupid bastard isn't king. He just gets to play at the job till he's buggered it up for everybody else." A long string of such cracks might have been what helped him get called Crex the Unbearable.

Before Grus could answer, a dog yelped in pain in the next room. A moment later, so did a boy. "Ortalis!" Grus called. His son came in, an apprehensive look on his face. He was holding one hand in the other. "Let me see," Grus said. His son plainly didn't want to, but had no choice. Grus nodded to himself, then asked, "Why did Rusty bite you?"

"I don't know," Ortalis mumbled, looking down at the floor. "Because he's mean."

"Because you hurt him?" Grus suggested. Ortalis didn't say anything. Grus pointed to the doorway. "Go to your room. No supper for you tonight."

"You ought to give him a good walloping," Crex said as Ortalis suddenly departed. "I gave you a good walloping whenever I thought you needed it, and you didn't turn out too bad."

Grus didn't argue with his father. What point? But he didn't agree, either. The way he remembered it, Crex had walloped him whether he needed it or not. Before his beard began to grow, he'd promised himself he wouldn't treat his own son the same way if he ever had one. He wondered whether it would have made any difference if he had decided to whack Ortalis at the first sign of misbehavior. He doubted it. Nothing except help from the gods could have turned Ortalis into a good-natured boy.