by Dave Duncan
At the end he asked, “How old are you?”
“Twenty, Lord King.”
“Old to be merely an adept.”
I explained again, as briefly as I could, but I felt bound to mention that it was my skill with horses that had made me indispensable to Sage Rolf ’s travel plans. That, and not my philosophical skills, had finally freed me from servitude in the stable and promoted me to adept.
“What do you plan to do next?” the king demanded.
“I hope to continue my studies at Helmdon, Lord King, although—”
“And become a sage?” The king did not smile, but the sense of menace faded slightly. “Let us hear what sort of advice you will give, Sage-to-be. Count Richard petitioned for leave to repair his stockade, which was in danger of collapsing, and which permission we granted. But he has gone beyond that, replacing the entrance with a stone barbican, and starting to replace the stockade with an ashlar curtain wall. Now he wants to crenellate and greatly extend the keep. How would you counsel us to answer his plea?”
I ought to have fainted dead away on the spot, but didn’t. Obviously the king was not asking me for military advice, for I knew nothing of warfare. Nor could I imagine how a knack for enchantment could be relevant. What then?
“Sire, I knew Count Richard’s brother for six years. I have known the count himself for only four days, admittedly at a time of great stress for him, when men tend to reveal their inner selves. Even knowing that he originally fought for your uncle against your royal mother, and later switched sides, I can say only that I have not seen or heard any reason to believe that he is not totally loyal to Your Grace. If a secure castle here would be of advantage to Your Grace, then I believe the de Mandeville family could be trusted with it.”
My answer won a twinkle in the royal eye, for what I had diplomatically said was that I would be very surprised if His Grace wanted a privately owned fortress so close to his own great castle at Northampton. I admit that I knew how in the ten years of his reign, he had ordered over two thousand such strongholds razed to the ground. I have given kings unwelcome advice several times in my life since then, but even that first day, I knew better than to do so on my first audience.
“Clearly put. Whose man are you, Durwin?”
“Um . . .” In theory every man owed allegiance to someone. Even King Henry must do homage to King Louis for his lands in France. “Sire, I am not sure. I suppose my stepfather’s, although I have never met him. My father apprenticed me as servitor to Sage Guy Delany of Helmdon, but my father has since died, my mother is ailing, and I am the eldest. I need at least two more years at the academy to become a qualified sage. When I was certified as an adept this week, Guy told me I could not continue to work as a stable hand, so that relationship has ended.” I was yet a few months short of my majority, but to mention that again would complicate matters even further.
The king’s nod acknowledged a tactfully worded plea. “So you need a patron to complete your studies?” Sir Stephen would have told him this.
“Aye, Lord King.”
“Were I to engage your services, Adept Durwin, would you always speak the truth to me as you know it?”
“Sire, I swear I would.”
“So be it, then.”
“I can imagine no greater honor than to serve Your Grace.”
“Effective enchantment is almost as rare as honesty. In combination they are almost unprecedented. Sir Walter!”
One of the watching courtiers hurried over to attend the king. He was a ponderous man who carried a weight of years and had a worried, unhealthy look to him.
“This is Adept Durwin of . . .”
“Helmdon.”
“Helmdon. Swear him in as . . . as a familiaris.”
“Kneel, Adept,” Sir Walter intoned. I knelt and laid down my cane so I could place my hands between the king’s. Then I repeat-after-me’d the oath of allegiance and arose as a king’s man. Missing my quarterstaff ’s support, I swayed, and it was the king who caught my elbow to steady me. A collective murmur of surprise sighed through the hall like wind in a forest.
“We grant him a pension of forty shillings for each of the next two years. In return, he is to complete his studies and then present himself to us, wherever we may be, no later than the Feast of Stephen two years from now. He can pay his own transportation.”
“Your Grace is most generous!” I said, bowing. Familiaris can mean anything from slave to servant to friend. It undoubtedly had some specific meaning here, but I had no idea which. Forty shillings was a fair income for a priest or a senior clerk; I had found a sponsor beyond my brightest hopes.
“But we may call on you sooner if we find urgent need of your great skill.”
I bowed again while assuring my king that I was always at his service. By the time I straightened up, he had left me and was returning to the group on the dais. Stephen caught my eye and grinned. It would do his own standing no harm to have sponsored such an appointment.
Court philosopher elect? I lurched down off the dais, half expecting to float. Two years of study uninterrupted by horses and wood chopping? It was beyond dreams. But then I did come down with a crash, figuratively, when I saw that I was being beckoned by a man wearing the green cape of a sage.
He was short and portly with a grizzled beard and mistrustful, heavy-lidded eyes. He stood within a group of other men, all of whom were narrowly watching me approach. Two of them wore green capes, and a younger pair in the background sported the white capes of adepts.
I bowed. “Adept Durwin of Helmdon.”
The little man’s smile was the most sinister I had seen in years. “Aubrey de Fours, enchanter general. We hear that you have been working miracles here at Barton, Adept.”
He did not introduce his companions, some of whom were so grandly garbed that they could not possibly be his subordinates.
In my experience, you never get silver linings without clouds. Even then I knew enough of the world to understand that inner circles are always heavily fortified against newcomers, and royal favor always arouses jealousy. Here was an enemy—perhaps not the only one, but likely the most dangerous. When I went to court as a sage, I would be put under this man’s orders.
“Then the stories you heard have been exaggerated, Your Wisdom. Ask the king. I told him the truth.”
“It is unwise to do otherwise. We are told that you prevailed upon a bishop’s ordained nephew to confess to three murders. You don’t see that as a miracle?”
The onlookers—while always keeping a wary eye on the king—were enjoying the encounter. I, flush with triumph, was not inclined to toady to anyone. My future reputation, whatever it might be, must begin here.
“But you do, Your Wisdom? Which is the miracle—that he committed these crimes or that he admitted them?”
Grins widened in surprise and amusement: first point to the Saxon kid. De Fours was an expert and did not flinch.
“Oh, the latter, definitely. You could hardly have found a faster way to His Grace’s heart just now than by exposing gross depravity among the clergy. What incantations did you apply?”
“My knowledge of herb lore told me the potions the killer used,” I said, and a hint of a sneer told me that Enchanter General Aubrey put very little stock in herb lore. “Then I applied the Ubi malum, which located the child’s body. That was the third murder discovered, but it predated the others by a week or so. Then the Morðor wile ut provided some very enlightening testimony.” I couldn’t be sure about de Fours, but most of the onlookers clearly did not know enough of the old tongue to translate that title. “And lastly, the Malefice venite.”
“Impressive,” the sage murmured. “How long have you been an adept?”
“Four days, sir.”
Now the spectators were openly grinning at this battle of wits.
De Fours’s eyelids drooped even lower. “Then you were excessively foolhardy! You ventured such incantations without supervision?”
“My only
help was my squire. Fortunately he is a great tribute to Helmdon—fluent in Latin and scribing a very fair hand. He also sings well and enjoys all-in fisticuffs against men twice his size.”
Now the sage sneered, detecting ridicule. “But you needed a third voice for the Malefice venite.”
“I prefer the two-voice version. It’s shorter and simpler.”
“No one in two hundred years has managed to make that one work!”
I feigned surprise. I had no intention of revealing my secret editing. “It worked for me. I know of other texts corrupted by scriveners’ errors. If you don’t believe me, pray ask Sir Stephen de Mandeville. When the murderer obeyed our summons and came to confess, Sir Stephen was there as a witness.”
And he had presented me to the king. Another hit for the Saxon.
“I should like to borrow your grimoire to see it, Adept.”
“I can’t lend you the book itself, Enchanter, for it belongs to Count Richard. At least I suppose it does, because it was the late Sage Archibald’s. But I shall be happy to give you my copy of the text.”
“Including a few scriveners’ errors, no doubt,” said one of the watchers, and they all laughed except the two in green capes.
Sage de Fours did not, and his eyes had narrowed to slits. “So to what office did His Grace swear you—adept general?”
That provoked some sniggers.
“Familiaris, Your Wisdom.”
No one said a word, and I saw no change in Aubrey’s expression, but out of the corner of my eye I noticed heads turning as looks were exchanged. Apparently my rank was to be somewhat higher than water bearer to the royal flowerpots.
At that moment our cordon of witnesses parted to admit a handsome, finely dressed page of around thirteen or so. It was to me that he bowed.
“Adept, Her Grace will receive you now.”
chapter 32
i well remember the shiver of alarm I felt at that summons— the back of my neck prickled. I spun around and scanned the far end of the hall. It was not large, as I said earlier, but in my ordeal of meeting the king, I had completely overlooked the cluster of women at the far end. The queen? Ignorant as I was of etiquette, protocol, and politics, I knew enough history to know that there were always factions in courts, as dangerous as whirlpools. Heirs, queens, and royal mistresses could all have their own parties. I knew that Prince Henry was still a child, and Queen Eleanor was reputed to be both clever and beautiful, but that was the limit of my information.
I said something, and lurched off after the boy. I don’t remember bowing to take my leave of the enchanter general as I certainly should have done. If I didn’t, my apparent rudeness would not have warmed his feelings for me. Our rivalry would endure.
The count’s chair still sat empty on the dais, but now I saw the countess’s ahead of me, occupied by a lady. Six or eight women were gathered around her, some seated, some standing.
“By what name should I present you, Adept?”
“D-D-Durwin of Helmdon. How should I address Her Grace?”
The page glanced at me in surprise, and slowed his pace.
“‘Lady Queen,’ mostly. Sometimes ‘Your Grace’ or just ‘my lady.’”
“Thank you.”
“The prince just as ‘my lord’ or ‘sir.’”
I looked again and this time noticed a boy standing beside the queen. The countess was seated at her other side. Everyone there was watching my approach. The page increased his pace again.
I repeated, “Thank you.”
Then we arrived.
The page said, “Adept Durwin of Helmdon, Your Grace.”
I knelt, hoping that the tremor in the hand holding my cane was not too obvious. I had expected to be summoned to the king, or at least had hoped for an audience, and so I had had time to think over what might be involved, but I had no idea what the queen could want with me. Since the countess was with her, she must know why the king had summoned me, and might even guess why he had accepted me into his service.
Aliénore d’Aquitaine had been renowned as the richest and most beautiful woman in Europe. After inheriting both the Dukedom of Aquitaine and County of Poitou in her own right, she had certainly been wealthier than most crowned monarchs. At fifteen she had married King Louis of France, and had later accompanied him to the Holy Land on crusade. She had borne him two daughters, but he had arranged for their marriage to be annulled in the hope that a second wife would give him sons.
Eleanor, aged thirty, had promptly married Henry, then count of Anjou, eleven years her junior. Henry had gone on to conquer Normandy and inherit England. That day, meeting her for the first time, I judged her to be in her mid-thirties. In fact she was forty-two and had already given Henry four sons—the first of whom had died in infancy—and two daughters.
Queens, of course, are well preserved and well dressed. I had never seen such a wonder as her scarlet gown, for it was of silk, embroidered with gold thread and pearls. A pearl-spangled French hood covered her hair and a wimple concealed her neck. Compared to such regal glory, the countess beside her looked like a rustic frump. Even Baroness Matilda, who was standing at the back of the group, was outshone by a woman twice her age, although clothing and ornamentation had something to do with that.
Eleanor must have seen my reaction, but she smiled graciously. “I am told that you used your magic powers to summon the triple-murderer and compel him to confess.”
“My helper and I did summon him with an ancient chant, Lady Queen. I doubt very much that he would have confessed had Sir Stephen not been present.”
“Modesty? You are refreshing, Adept. And you obviously impressed my husband. What office did he bestow on you?”
“Familiaris, my lady.”
Enchanter General Aubrey de Fours had kept a straight face on hearing that news, but the queen raised her finely shaped eyebrows. “Did he, now? You are indeed special. You will be taking up attendance at court, then?”
“Not yet, my lady. His Grace is graciously sponsoring me to complete my studies.” I wasn’t going to show my ignorance by asking what a familiaris actually did.
She laughed. “He would have done better hiring you to teach that fraud, de Fours. He couldn’t summon a sausage hawker at a joust.”
“Can you prophesy, like Merlin?”
The question came from the prince. No one else would have dared to interrupt Queen Eleanor. She did not reprimand him, so I turned my attention to him.
“Anyone can prophesy, my lord.” I was learning court equivocation already. “Would you like to hear a prophecy right now?”
Of course, he said, “Yes!”
I knew that Prince Henry, the king’s heir and eldest surviving son, had been born a few months after his father’s accession, so he must be nine years old. He was tall for his age, with red hair and the same piercing blue eyes as his father.
I raised a finger to Heaven and dramatically proclaimed, “It will rain!” Then I held my breath. If this nine-year-old thought I was mocking him, I would have made a lifelong enemy.
But his mother laughed, and he grinned.
“Only God knows what will really happen in this world, my lord,” I said. “Human prophecies must be considered very carefully. Since I did not say when rain would fall or where, my prophecy is undoubtedly true.”
“What of Merlin’s prophecies, though?” The boy was stubborn.
Here I knew I must be more cautious. There were dozens of Merlin prophecies floating around England, and a prince could easily have found one or more that he would like to think applied to him.
“Sir, if the prophecy names names or gives a date for what is foretold, then I will believe that Merlin himself made the prophecy, and I will believe it.”
The blue eyes glinted angrily. “What about horoscopes, then? Why does one horoscope say one thing and another say another? Are the stars telling lies?”
Oh, so that was it, and he had trapped me nicely. “No, the stars do not lie, my lord, but the
men who interpret them can make mistakes, just as hunting dogs can follow the wrong scent, or hawks strike the wrong bird.”
“Or leave out the bad bits?”
I conceded with a nod. “And even add in a few good bits. Not everyone is honest.”
“Can you make horoscopes?”
Trapped, hung, gutted, and skinned.
“Not here, sir. Back in the academy at Helmdon we have the charts and records required, and people more learned than I.”
“I want you to cast mine!” Stubborn, stubborn, stubborn.
Before I could speak, the queen said, “A good horoscope is usually written in Latin. Is that not true, Adept Durwin?”
I thought I was saved. “The best ones certainly are, Your Grace.”
“Learned, complicated Latin?”
“Precise, technical Latin, drawing subtle conclusions from obscure facts.”
“You see, Richard?” she said. “If I ask Adept Durwin to draw up your horoscope, it will be a dangerous document to show to just anyone. Your enemies might get hold of it and use it against you. And you couldn’t read it.”
He saw the hook in the worm at once, and glared angrily at her. Then he nodded. “I will study harder, so I can read it for myself, as long as Durwin draws it.”
Queen Eleanor, as she had shown many times already and was to demonstrate frequently in the future, was a fiendishly clever and dangerous woman. “Is that not fair, Adept? You, and my son means just you personally, will draw up Richard’s horoscope for him, being completely honest, adding nothing and leaving out nothing. He is to study his Latin until he can read it. We shall of course reward your labors handsomely.” She had just inspired her son to study harder and entangled me in her coils.
“I am honored beyond words, Lady Queen.” Heaven was pouring blessings on me: familiaris to the king and astrologer to the queen? “And the date, time, and place of—” I suddenly realized that she had not been calling her son by the name I had assumed was his.
“Richard was born just after matins on the eighth of September in the year of our Lord, 1157, at Beaumont Palace, near Oxford.”
So this was the second surviving son, just seven years old, but already his mother’s favorite. His height had misled me. He grew up to be a giant, of course, eight or nine inches taller than me, and a mighty warrior, known as Lionheart.