Wine of the Gods 08: Dark Lady

by Pam Uphoff

  "Humph. Disobeyed orders and damaged yourself. Typical."

  Oh?

  "Well. It is about time you started acting like a real witch. Perhaps this is an opportunity for you to redeem yourself. All past trespasses are forgiven." She sounded like a rather snooty judge. Or a malevolent Mr. Richover.

  "All . . . Oh. Dear. More stuff I've forgotten." She turned her thoughts inward and prodded. No sense of guilt emerged.

  "Forgotten? Hopefully not to be remembered." The old woman frowned. "And we will protect you from anyone who accuses you of being a Black Widow."

  December . . . Rustle's stomach fell. "That's . . . rather horribly self explanatory. I killed my lover?"

  "Rapists. Two of them, and seriously damaged four and the last two fled. The King and Council struck them from the rolls of possible inheritors of their father's land grants. So there is plenty of ill-feeling around, even after seven years." The old woman's eye flicked toward the school building, and away.

  Xen? That careful, intelligent child is the result of rape?

  "The more I look at you, the more I am of the opinion that you may have permanently damaged your magical ability." Her lips thinned. "Not tomorrow. You need to heal a lot more. Come in ten days."

  Rustle glanced at the house.

  "Old Gods! No, not the house. The hotsprings." The old woman huffed, turned and stalked away.

  "Yikes." Rustle's voice sounded a bit small and lost. She straightened her shoulders and looked around. Houses both directions, but they petered out more quickly to the south. Her head was starting to ache; she turned around and headed for the winery. Maybe I ought to have stayed in Jeramtown.

  Chapter Thirty-one

  Sunday, May 3, 3493 AD

  Jeram State, Arrival

  After church, the guards, with Captains Alpha and Stone at their head turned out in their best uniforms to ride out and meet the King.

  They halted for the forward scouts to examine them, which mostly involved grinning with relief when Kurt was recognized. One messenger was sent off quickly, and the rest of them took their time meandering down to where the Army was setting up camp.

  They were escorted immediately into the King's presence. All of the Royal officers were trickling in as their commands caught up to the forward elements. General Omalley was, as nearly always, at the King's side. Kurt recognized several Barons, including the one he most wanted to talk to. His Eminence Isaac Langdon, the Bishop of Arrival State, was in attendance.

  "Kurt, boy . . . " the King winced slightly at the wording. "Glad to see you alive. Franklin, good to see you again. Officers, please sit."

  "So, the Arbolians weren't too determined?" Omalley looked them over, his eyes suddenly narrowing as he spotted the neat repairs to Kurt's jacket. "We got your last message and sent three quarters of the troops back to sit on the Grand Highway and make sure the main force thinks long and hard before starting anything."

  "Tell us what happened here, though." The King leaned on his elbows, all his attention on Kurt. "Why did they retreat?"

  "We managed to hand them enough reverses in three and a half weeks that they decided to pack it in, sire." Kurt stayed formal, in this larger group of people.

  "Any idea what started the ball rolling? Were they after you?"

  "That may have given them their initial excuse, sire, but I'm afraid Baronet Roger Weigh had tired of waiting for his father to die and was receptive when approached by the Arbolians.

  "When, in the course of the quarterly exercises, we accidentally discovered their forward elements, the first thing he did was try to kill me. We captured him and discussed the matter with him."

  He sighed. "Now, sire. I do not wish to strain your credulity, however Jeramtown had a very strange visitor at the time, a very strong magic user, a lady who was able to deflect the magical parts of the Arbolian attack, and aid us in other aspects of, well, siege management. She left three days ago for her home. I mention the lady partly because there are some interesting things she left behind."

  "Sounds like you need to talk to the archbishop." The Bishop frowned.

  "No doubt about it, Your Eminence."

  "In any case, during the three and a half week siege, the Arbolians sent assassins into the town. They killed the baron and took the baronet. He has now left with them. This is going to make for a degree of unpleasantness. Before his death, I spoke with the baron. I informed him that in view of his steadfast loyalty, I would beg Roger's life of you. But that he would not inherit.

  "The Baron said that his sister had married Baron Randal, and that perhaps one of their younger sons could inherit his title and lands. I ask that you keep that in mind, when the question comes up."

  The King nodded. "That might help keep it from turning into a pitfight. Thank you. Pity Roger got away, though. It makes for future complications."

  "I lost six of my original thirty-two men. The town has had a dozen killed. Damage has been light other-wise, and we were able to save most of their stored produce, so they're well set for the Fourth Year."

  The king nodded. "Other than your . . . magical complications and Roger, a successful campaign. Good job, son."

  "Thank you, Father."

  With the confirmation of the end of the emergency, the Army's urgency and direction changed, with scouting units sent to locate and monitor the Arbolian's retreat and dissuade them from any thoughts they might have about a change of target. The Vistan's had been shadowing the Arbolian's retreat. Their ranking officer here ordered his scouts back out to guide the Army scouts through unfamiliar territory. Kurt grinned, and sent Franklin off with the scouts "to show them the short cuts."

  The king conferred with his captains about forces to leave in Jeram. The remainder would return to Arrival quickly.

  Kurt hesitated then asked Baron Paul for a private audience. The Bishop asked to speak privately to Kurt. "Of course, your Grace, my business with Baron Paul will take only a moment."

  "And if it includes the Holy man, it won't happen." The baron tossed his head in a familiar gesture. He was known for his rare church attendance, generally state occasions, or the wedding of his peers.

  "Paul, there is no need for this antipathy toward the Church . . ."

  "Bishop," Kurt interrupted. "He dislikes the Church because of an early incident with a bribable Churchman. Correct me if I'm wrong, Baron, I believe your first marriage was annulled against your wishes, your bride coerced into another marriage and your daughter raised as another man's child."

  "My father paid the church, and abducted Lucy. I spit on your dishonest organization that pretends to Holiness." He turned his back on the Bishop and glared at Kurt. "And how did you come to this knowledge? Salacious gossip among the young bloods? The tale has grown, I've heard of no daughter."

  "Quite the contrary. I met Mrs. Lucy Hinton and all of her children in the course of this siege."

  "The Church would not annul a marriage . . . "

  The Baron flicked at contemptuous glance toward the churchman. "Without sufficient payment of cash. Clean your house, Bishop. It's not fit to worship in."

  "Bishop, perhaps you should look into this matter when you return to Arrival. If the official record books are unenlightening, surely the diaries won't be." Kurt suggested. "Now, your Eminence. Please step out. I wish to speak to the baron privately."

  The Bishop gathered up his robes in a great show of huffiness, and was ignored.

  Kurt listed to him stomping angrily away and smiled. "I do believe I enjoyed that."

  The Baron glowered. "What do you want, Prince Kurt."

  "Your daughter's hand in marriage. She is in all ways an exceptional woman."

  "I had heard you had . . . lost your interest in marriage."

  "I was injured. I have recovered sufficiently." He cleared his throat. "Something I have not mentioned to my father, so as to avoid another disastrous foreign engagement. He will no doubt be astonished by his acquisition of grandchildren, but with a very public
wedding, and a year gone by, I shall avoid a repeat of your experience with controlling fathers. However, there is the matter of your other children. The conundrum of whether the oldest child is illegitimate, or all of the others of both parents are, is . . . interesting."

  Paul snorted. "You are going to make things difficult for me . . . " his eyes got a bit distant, and he smiled unpleasantly, suddenly. "Actually, I think legitimizing my daughter is an excellent idea. Thank you, Prince Kurt, and I shall consider your proposal."

  "Sir, thank you." Kurt smiled. "I didn't know you would be here. You will come as a surprise to all. Especially Mr. Albert Hinton."

  Paul snorted. "No doubt." He ducked out of the tent, and Kurt sank back, satisfied with the first salvo. But after a moment he dragged himself out of the folding sling chair and hunted up the Bishop.

  "That was quick enough, young man. Couldn't it have waited?"

  "As it might change his travel plans, no, Your Grace."

  "I wanted to warn you against these wild rumors of magic. Everyone is laughing at you and your people. The Archbishop will have apoplexy and assign you a counselor."

  "Yes, Your Grace. Don't you want to see the evidence before you judge?" Kurt smiled at his expression.

  "And I am now obliged to do Jameson a favor."

  Kurt chuckled. "I don't believe you've thought it through, Your Grace. Certainly he hasn't, or recognizing his first marriage would be the last thing he would want. I don't think he will be happy to need to beg a declaration of legitimacy for his heir and, is it two other children? Three? Yes, petitioning the Archbishop and the King for four declarations of legitimacy will be humiliating."

  His Grace fought to keep his lips from turning up, with periodic success. "Indeed. It might be good for his soul to have to humble himself before God and man."

  "Well, no doubt I ought to have kept my mouth shut. Tomorrow we should reach Jeramtown and I shall show you the sorts of things I considered magical in nature." He bowed as a page trotted up.

  "His majesty requests your presence."

  Kurt braced himself as he walked back into the Royal presence. Still no softening, no hug. At least the man made it easy to be tough in return.

  "Father." He nodded politely and was waved to a seat. Only Omalley was present.

  "So, would you like a reward for your single handed defeat of a serious Arbolian infraction of the peace?"

  "Hardly single handed, but what did you have in mind?"

  "I have numerous Royal properties, is there one you wish to manage? What about Snowfields?"

  "The further away from Arrival the better, eh, Father?"

  "I thought you would prefer to avoid comments."

  "True. But, if it's land you're thinking in terms of, I'd prefer a Freehold west of here. Or if you're feeling generous, call it a territory, and I'll see if I can whip you up another state in a few dozen years."

  "Leaving me with another empty succession."

  "I have two older and two younger brothers. Surely one of them will have an extra son I could take off their hands? Or I could marry a widow with children."

  "You can't marry."

  "Why not? I may be damaged property as far as treaty negotiations are concerned, but I'll need someone to run my household, and if she's called a wife, we can pretend all those rumors were exaggerations, can't we?"

  The King drummed his fingernails. He wasn't meeting Kurt's eyes.

  "And out here in the West, I doubt I'll get into Arrival more than every other year or so."

  "We'll need to find a noble woman who can keep her mouth shut."

  "I'm want to marry Baron Paul's eldest daughter. His first marriage isn't well known, but he has a single daughter from it. Elizabeth, aged seventeen."

  The King frowned. "And you think I will agree to this?"

  "Yes. To keep up my reputation – and thus yours. To deal with me honorably. This time."

  "I needed that treaty."

  "Threw me to the lions, turned out they were hungry. Too bad. But it's embarrassing having a gelded son about the palace. So send me so far west I'm out of everyone's sight and won't embarrass you. I'll marry Elizabeth, adopt a nephew or whatever."

  His father squirmed. "Go away."

  "Sire." He bowed and walked out. He felt like he was juggling and all he really wanted to do was get back to Jeramtown. He walked to the edge of the camp and stared west as if it would help.

  "Excuse me, sir?" the boy was maybe fifteen and blond, and Kurt's breath caught. "You one of the men that came in from Jeramtown?"

  "Yes. Are you by any chance Lonnie Hinton?"

  "How'd you know that?" Belligerent frown. No, Lucy hadn't raised her children to act like peasants.

  "You look just like all your younger brothers and sisters. Liz has been fretting; she figures your body is rotting unburied out in the forest, somewhere."

  One of the patrolling guards, wearing Vista colors grinned. "He brought the first warning, Captain, beat your messenger by half a day."

  "Of course they didn't believe me until the guard come riding in with his purty uniform and his horse half dead. Huh, call that riding!"

  The Vistan grinned. "All true, and the lad is a good hand with the horses. The Baron's half minded to keep him, once the boy's seen what's become of his family."

  "They are all fine, and well, most everyone is, you'll see them tomorrow. They were at the North Cross tavern yesterday, but might be moving back to the Manor today. I suggested they see if they could beat it back into shape for the King to use while he's there."

  "Huh. The Baron'll like that."

  "He's dead. Sorry, boy, probably unwelcome news, but whoever takes over will still need a horsemaster."

  "Whoever! Is Roger dead too!"

  "No, he threw in with the Arbolians, and they took him with them."

  "But, but . . . "

  "Yeah, stupidest damn thing I ever heard of either."

  "Cripes!"

  The boy still looked a bit stunned in the morning when he left ahead of the slow column. Kurt looked wistfully after his shrinking figure, but rode along beside his Father. His own men saluted as they passed, going ahead with the scouts and the squad who would find a place fit for a King to stay.

  "People tell me the land to the west isn't very good farm land," his father commented.

  "I'm actually mostly interested in horse breeding. I suppose cattle and sheep would do well there as well. Limestone country, good for the bones."

  "Jeram State goes on another hundred miles. The next state, if I were to authorize a territory, would start there and go on for three hundred miles to the West, and roughly five hundred north to south. We haven't surveyed up north to check the ice movement in about twenty-five years."

  "Sounds good. If I settled about in the middle, I'd be roughly two hundred and fifty miles from Jeramtown, and twenty-five hundred or so from Arrival."

  "You've thought it out."

  "Yep. This is what I want."

  "I'm not sure about your choice of wife, though. I don't know a thing about her."

  "Knowing you, that will change rapidly."

  "Damn right." The King sighed. "Damn it boy, you were the brightest of my sons. The best at damn near everything."

  "I'm still the same person, however you're having trouble dealing with it. Most likely you'd have never seen me again, might have gotten a letter now and then about grandchildren. Although from what I heard when I was down there, I'm not even sure they mean the same thing as we do by 'Princess,' especially these Princess Primuses."

  "I know the Arbolians are rumored to have some bizarre customs . . . Damn it, I needed that treaty, and they wanted you. I thought they'd value you."

  "No doubt the Royals would have. It was only the rest of the Empire that didn't like the idea of declaring an Arrival a Prince Primus."

  "It wasn't as though you were truly in the line of succession."

  "But Princess Primus Augusta's first mongrel son would have been roug
hly number five, which isn't far enough down for comfort. It's over Father, let's live with today. So, you seem to be liking the idea of a territory. What name should we give it? Western Hills is descriptive, but unexciting."

  "Hmph, well we generally like it that way. Jeram is so—well, Jeremy and Amy Weigh, the first Baron's parents—but it's meaningless to everyone else. Western Hills isn't too bad, actually. Maybe a fancier name for your first town."

  "How about Charliesville? Honor the ancestor?"

  "Charliesville. Now that I like. Yes, that's good." He frowned at a farm they were passing. The farmer had two oxen out in the field, plowing. "A month behind, aren't they? Bad timing, really bad."

  "There's worse off. The farms the Arbolians looted before we got to them are going to be hurting come next winter. We were very careful about keeping accounts of who owned what, as we confiscated it, and made sure everyone paid for what they got from us and the farmers got paid in turn. With the siege so short, we've got plenty. The new Baron will just have to figure out how to keep the looted farmers fed, and the farms productive." He looked over to find his father smiling at him.

  "You just sort of took this place over, didn't you? That's why you want your own."

  "Yes, partially."

  As the town came into view on the horizon, they began to see evidence of the Arbolians. The camps and the ash heaps of watch fires, the broad paths formed by many marching feet. A few burned buildings. The east gate area was a wreck. A number of large prosperous homes had been ransacked, including the baronial mansion. The king's squad was busy, and the sergeant trotted out. He was a long time friend and companion of the King. "Nother two hours we'll have it fit for habitation. The Baroness took one look and removed herself and about half the staff to a house in town. The next Baron can deal with this mess, she says."

  Kurt nodded. "She's probably feeling a bit orphaned, just now. Would you like a tour of the town, sire? And lunch at the tavern where I've been staying?"

  "Certainly."

  Kurt led him to the center of the town, pointing out the Exchange, the market . . .

  "What the . . . What are all those doors?"