“It's hardly fair, is it?”
“No, it's not, but we're working on it.” Harry patted Justin's shoulder, “We have friends.”
“And it's not as bad as it could be. At least that woman isn't here.”
“Why are you so certain thing's would be worse if she were?”
“I saw how things were going, before I went to Belenos.”
“She was playing on already existing fears and ignorance.”
“You plan to do something about the fear and ignorance?” Justin challenged Lizzy with his eyes.
“I'd be a hypocrite if I didn't.” She smiled crookedly, a gleam of something dangerous dancing across her face.
The coach clanged to a halt; the coachman leaned down, “Press house Miss Lizzy.”
Lizzy sighed, “Shan't be long.”
Lizzy stepped down from the carriage and ducked under the awning. The paper caller bowed quickly and returned to shouting the news from the relative dryness of the canopy. Lizzy pushed open the door, revelling in the bash-whomp of the presses as they hit the paper, and the shouts of the workers. One or two recognised her and nodded as she passed journalists scribbling on desks littered with paper and climbed the stairs to the editor's office.
“Lizzy! You're back at last.” Peterson looked up from his latest proofs, “Any news?”
“Nothing you can print yet. I can't stay long, is there anything for me?”
“Some letters from the Ladies Guild and the Emancipationists.”
“Great; now that I'm back, we can return to normal.”
“Normal's the last thing the city is right now.”
“Do tell.”
“You said you didn't have long?”
“I don't, give me the short version.”
“The High Curate has died.”
“Another one?”
“Yeah, they drop like flies in that job, don't they?”
“They do indeed; who replaced him?”
“A fellow called Barnsmath, proper Fundie too. Might be trouble for us and our friends.”
“Maybe, depends on how the other Curates react.”
“They've already had a minor dispute, over chapel clothing. All women must cover their heads in chapel.”
“I thought we'd dealt with that a decade ago?”
“We did, and now we have to deal with it again. I haven't been to a service myself, but I work seven days a week, so.”
“So you hear the Holyday sermon in the square every week, and publish as much of it as can remember.”
“You remember!”
“Of course. What have you been hearing?”
“Not good stuff. Apparently, this war is a punishment from the One that we shall surely lose unless we allow the bitch to return and stamp out licentious behaviour and,” he was reading from his notes, “here it is, 'the King's continued approval of immorality and perversion'. I think you're the immorality, but I'm not sure who the perversion is.”
“Probably me, and a few of my friends.”
“Our friends.”
Lizzy smiled.
“Oh, and they denounced any reform of the Moot as unholy. The One ordained, and all that nonsense.”
“I see; more than one war to fight then?”
“Pick your battles Lizzy; now isn't the time for divisions, not when we have to defeat the Tarjani fleet.”
“Just the Tarjanis. Not all Sumoast?”
“The northerners and western clans won't play nice, according to my sources.”
“Interesting. And talking of sources, you want to tell me about your contacts in Belenos?”
“Oh, who did you run into?”
“Someone at the Embassy.”
“I see; problem?”
“Not really, but I could do with a warning next time.”
“Hopefully there won't be a next time.” Peterson muttered under his breath. At Lizzy's raised eyebrow he spoke more loudly, “I mean, hopefully you won't need to go abroad for a few more years?”
“We'll see. I'd like to visit the rest of the islands at some point. And now I must be going, those messages please?”
“Of course.” Peterson stood and retrieved the bundle of papers from a locked file against the wall. Each letter was addressed to Lizzy under her pseudonym of 'Maggie'. Lizzy briefly glanced at each envelope before placing them in her bag. Everyone had their own jobs, and now she had hers.
Chapter 37
“Anything good?” Alex looked over Lizzy's shoulder as she read her messages.
She shook her head, exhausted from the long day. After visiting the printer, their carriage had delivered Sarah to the Office then the rest of them to the Palace. After being welcomed home by the King, they had joined Phil in the chapel with his mother, and Gos's body, for the funeral. After waving Phil, Dowager Lady Val and the corpse off to their estate, the remaining travellers had to meet with the Duke and the King's Council to debrief and hand over the documents they'd acquired. Forier was introduced as an expert on the situation in Belenos. The Duke eyed the younger man sceptically then nodded his thanks when the news that the letters taken from the Sumoasti embassy had been liberated by him was imparted to the gathered admirals, marshals, spies and government officials. Finally, not long before midnight they'd got out of the meeting, with promises of more on the morrow. Harry departed after offering his new aide-de-camp accommodation at his town house and the three remaining travellers slouched out of the Council Chamber and headed to their suites in the palace.
“Lizzy, you just walked past your door.”
“Huh, what?” Lizzy looked up from her letter, slightly dazed.
“Your room?”
“Oh yes.” She laughed and back tracked, pushing open the door, “night you two.”
“Night.”
“Night.”
Shutting her door on her cousins' backs she glared at her still-packed baggage and bent to pull off her boots and cloak, dumping them on a chest. Her trousers and shirt were next to find the floor as she traipsed through the parlour and into her public office and library. She shouldered the next door, into her bedroom, open with a crash as it banged back on to a bookshelf. Throwing the satchel of letters on to her desk before kicking off her underclothes, she threw herself on to her bed, naked as the day she was born.
“Oh what a lovely sight.” Sarah stepped out of the private closet, where Lizzy's most valuable books and private notes were kept.
“Piss off Sarah, don't you have spies to organise?” Lizzy rolled over, wrapping the topmost blanket around herself.
“All organised; and your father hasn’t relieved me of my duties as your Lady-in-Waiting yet.”
“Then go to bed and I’ll ask him tomorrow.”
“No you won’t; it wouldn’t be safe now.”
“War to fight, more important than babysitting me.” Lizzy mumbled, too tired to form complete sentences.
“I’m sure it is, but, nevertheless, those are my orders.”
Lizzy grunted and rolled around on her bed again to rearrange the blankets. Somehow (Sarah had witnessed this feat several times and had yet to work out how she did it) Lizzy was under the slightly rumpled sheets and blankets, and looked to be sleeping.
“LIZZY.”
“Told you, go ‘way.”
“I’m going. Is there a Guard on your door?”
“Prolly no’.”
Sarah sighed, shook her head and left, unimpressed by the mess she passed. Someone would get a thick ear in the morning for not unpacking the Princess’s travelling cases, and the Household Guards weren’t going to be in a much better situation either.
Morning, and the next round of war councils, inevitably came. Lizzy was woken by the banging of doors and servants hurrying to unpack her chests and tidy the rooms. Sarah stood in the parlour, a vision of ire.
“What's going on?”
“Sorry Your Highness, we didn't mean to wake you, but Mistress Sarah is rather angry.” A maid, of indeterminate age and a ha
rried expression gabbled as she opened cupboard after draw after cupboard, putting away clothes.
“I see. That box is laundry.” Two more maids had appeared, carrying a box clearly marked 'laundry'. They looked down, looked at her incredulous face, turned round and carried the box out of the room.
“Idiots, I told them to take it to the laundry.” Sarah stamped into the room, “Aren't you finished yet?” She glared at the maid unpacking the clean clothes.
“Yes, ma'am.”
“Wait, those need to go to Mistress Caro, my dressmaker. Take them to her, will you?”
The maid held up the Belenosian dresses she'd managed to acquire during her attenuated visit – thanks to Charley and her grandmother’s shopping trip – to confirm which she meant.
“Yes, those ones. Take a message to her for me, will you, with the dresses?”
“Yes, Your Highness, of course.”
“Tell her I'll be along when I can, there's so much to do here yet.”
“Yes ma'am. Is there anything else?”
“Send someone up so I can order my breakfast.”
“Yes ma'am.”
“I've already ordered your breakfast; it'll be here in ten minutes. Hurry away girl, the princess is busy.”
“The princess isn't awake yet.”
The maid grinned at Lizzy's grumpy response and left, carrying the dresses, to visit Caro's establishment.
“Any particular reason you decided to wake me up so early?”
“You have to be at the Council Chamber in an hour, there's going to be a full War Council now that everyone's here. We've been waiting for our Ambassador in Calman to send a representative, and for the rest of the Umari to arrive.”
“The rest, who are we expecting?”
“The Queen of Umar sent her eldest two with three regiments apiece.”
“I see; I don't think I've met them. Aren't they cousins of Aunt Catherine?”
“They are; and they've arrived with a proposal.”
“Oh dear, not another one.”
“You might like these two better. And they have lent us a small army.”
“That's nice. Have they brought a large navy with them, because I suspect this war will be fought at sea?”
“Yes, twenty ships, fully armed with their new cannons.”
“Is that all?”
“It's all they had spare; they can't risk Sumoast attacking Umar while their forces are defending Albon. Be grateful that they have, we'd be further in the shit than we are if they hadn't.”
“How bad is it?”
“Bad enough.”
Lizzy dropped back on to her bed. “Can we win?”
“Maybe. Look, we won't know until the Sumoasti declare their intent. We have evidence of their intentions, they'll either have to back down or declare war.”
“They'll declare war; they can't do anything else but complain that our evidence is false and declare war, or they'll lose face, especially with the Belenosians.”
“Don't be so pessimistic; for all we know, Tarjan will say that a group of conspirators is responsible, punish some random group of political rivals and pretend to be contrite.”
“Such hope. Much likelihood.”
“Well, I'm only the Spymaster, obviously, I don't know as much as my Princess.”
“Yes, yes, alright. Point taken. So, what do your minions tell you?”
There was a knock at the door.
“You can find out when everyone else does, at the council meeting. Your breakfast is here. Put a robe on and get out of bed.” Sarah extracted a dressing gown from the back of the bedroom door and threw it at Lizzy.
“Be there in a minute; go let them in.”
Sarah curtsied and left as Lizzy dug herself out of her blanket nest to pull on the red silk and brocade garment. She found a pair on matching slippers under her bed and went to face breakfast.
“Lizzy! Are you decent?” Michael's voice called from her public office.
“Well I'm not naked at the minute, is that good enough?”
“It'll have to do. Ooh, this bacon is yummy.”
“You leave that bacon alone, you rat!” Lizzy scampered out of her room to confront her bacon stealing brother, slipping slightly on the parquet flooring.
“There's plenty left. You coming to the meeting in that?”
“No, I was going to get dressed first, but now you mention it, it would make an interesting fashion statement.”
“Lizzy!” Sarah snapped and pointing at one of the chairs, “Sit.”
“I should really object to the way you talk to me.”
“You should but you won't.”
“No, probably not. Are you two eating as well?”
“I've eaten.” Sarah sniffed, she'd had three or four hours sleep then returned to her office to work while Lizzy had been snoring.
“I have too, but I could eat a second breakfast.”
“You always can. I swear you have hollow legs.”
“That's John. I hope he stops growing soon, or he'll be taller than me.”
“He's only fourteen, he's got a few more years yet.”
“I don't want him to be taller than me; it'd look ridiculous if the Duke of Albon is taller than the King. The portraits would be unbalanced.”
“I'm taller than you are. So with one of us on either side it'd be quite a balanced picture.”
Michael rolled his eyes.
“So, what'd I miss?”
“Nothing much. You know about the raid on the Rocks?”
“Most of it, father and the commanders told me yesterday.”
“Hmm, okay, we're having a load of trials of traitors next week. I'm going as the representative of the Crown.” He grinned, it was his first major public engagement.
“Really?”
“Do you want it instead?” Michael looked disappointed.
“No, you can have it. It'll be good experience. I think I'm mostly being kept out of the way anyway.”
“Why?”
Lizzy shrugged and concentrated on her food. Nobody had said anything but she felt they blamed her for the war in the first place. If she'd stayed away from court the queen would never have become so paranoid. And then she'd not have plotted so much and wouldn't have been exiled.
Michael listened to the silence and grinned at her, “Father said he'd rather fight a war than let mother back in the country.”
“Really?” Lizzy laughed.
“Oh yes, he had his serious face on and everything. John's a bit upset about it to be honest, but all he remembers is a lady who used to give him sweets every time he saw her.”
“And you? You're only three years older.”
“I remember enough to know she barely tolerated father and only visited the nursery when it suited her.”
“Careful brother, you're becoming a cynical as I am.”
“I'm not cynical.” He grumpily munched a sausage sandwich.
“Yeah you are. Sarah, how long will we be in Council today? There's something I need to see Caro about.”
“Clothes can wait Lizzy. You have more important things to do that chat with your dressmaker.”
“Who says it's about fashion?”
“Why else would you visit your dressmaker?”
“Because she's my friend?”
“She knows you're back in one piece, I'm sure she'll write and let your mother know without any help from you.”
“Sarah.”
“Alright, we'll probably be in meetings all day. Happy now?”
“No, but I'll manage.”
Frustration burned in her stomach turning the breakfast to lead and grease. She needed to speak to Caro soon; she was her contact point for the Women's Suffrage League and the Campaign for Women's Marriage Rights. They couldn't come to the palace but Caro's house was a safe intermediary; she needed to set up a meeting with the leaders of both organisations and soon.
Chapter 38
Late Weedmonth A.E. 1336
Wa
r hadn't been declared but the long wait was nearly over. The Calmani ambassador, who had acted as a peace envoy between the opposing islands had given his final deadline for a resolution but both sides had remained resolute. Albon required reparations for the damage done by the Sumoasti pirates; Sumoast denied any responsibility for the piracy.
Lizzy, spent her first week home sending messengers to various landholders informing them of their responsibilities for the foreseeable future, and attending meetings with Sarah and the twins. She felt, temporarily at least, that she was back where she would have been had she not been adopted and legitimised, fighting the covert war that had already started; she still wasn't allowed anywhere near the 'front lines' but instead she acted as an informal Minister for Public Information, controlling what went into the paper and what didn't.
Eventually, a fortnight after returning home, Lizzy escaped the palace alone, on horseback, to visit Caro. It was a late summer evening, a chilling breeze off the sea making a light cloak necessary. Caro had moved premises since Lizzy had first endowed her with the funds to set up her own dress making establishment; she now worked from a large building on Royal Square (owned by Lizzy) where her creations were seen and bought by the most important ladies in the land. She had a stable yard ’round the back and a quiet parlour above the shop where favoured clients came to inspect works in progress, drink tea and gossip about fashion. Tonight, it would be the scene of a most unusual gathering.
The leaders of Albon's fledgling Women's Movement had been persuaded by personal messages from Lizzy to meet in the parlour above Caro's Couture Clothing; many were wary of being noticed, the new High Curate had denounced as heretical the movement to improve the 'One ordained position of the female sex' and threatened any woman with a long imprisonment if they were caught involved in the Movement. The Curacy had the power to try them in clerical courts for the crime of heresy, though it had been a century since anyone had (during the campaign for male householders' enfranchisement). Waiting nervously were the Working Women's Association chairwoman, Angie Burgess, and her deputy Lou White. Less nervous but still cautious, was the chairwoman of the Suffrage League, Breda Tailor and the chairwoman of the CWMR, Margie Cooper. Lizzy had watched them for a few seconds before entering the room, trying to fix in her mind the dynamics of the group. There was some tension between Angie Burgess and Breda Tailor; Lizzy watched as they avoided each other’s eyes and the tension when they were forced to speak to each other by a lull in the general conversation.
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