Quillifer the Knight

by Walter Jon Williams

  The Pilgrim, the abbot proclaimed, had set us each in his proper station, great and small alike, man or woman, in order to teach us the proper acceptance of our condition. Kings and paupers had their burdens alike: the first to justly rule a realm, the second to submit to those placed above them. All had an equal chance of freedom, for freedom was found only in the mind, not in things of the world. I thought it a fine philosophy for a fat man to so disparage his jewels, his satins, and the silk cushion on which he perched his buttocks, and wondered how he would fare if I dropped him naked on a wintry mountaintop, and with what resignation he would enjoy his true freedom.

  I felt enlightened by this idea, though perhaps not in the way Their Majesties intended.

  At this retreat I made the acquaintance of the cofferer of the royal household, Elvina’s brother. Harvey Meens resembled his sister not at all, being a bluff, booming gentleman a few years my senior, tall and broad-shouldered, with long dark hair and a beard cropped very short in the Lorettan fashion. He was genial and lively, but I noticed that as he told a joke, or commented on some doings at court, his dark eyes watched me with close attention, as if judging how well I might best serve him. He was ambitious, I concluded, yet I reasoned ambition is not a sin in a courtier.

  Ambition or not, he was pleasant enough and soon absorbed into Elvina’s coterie, where he joined our merry-making.

  Five days after the retreat, Henrico, Dom Nemorino, and Priscus were gone, to join the army forming on Thurnmark’s borders. Priscus made a formal farewell to his Berlauda on the steps of the palace, and she gave him a silken banner to fly in battle, a banner stitched by her own hands, along with those of her ladies. She was visibly with child, and kissed her husband tenderly before he mounted his horse, doffed his cap, and rode away. He went with trumpets and drums and the rattling of armor, Loretto’s royal guard marching in their white jerkins, and demilances trotting in advance of columns of pikemen. No soldiers of Duisland marched, for our battalions had not yet arrived, and the Queen’s Own did not join the army, for they were Berlauda’s personal guard, and the sight of their handsome young officers was a solace to our queen in the absence of her husband.

  I wished for solace myself, but Elvina was obliged to spend the day with her husband, consoling Berlauda in her loneliness. I rode home with a reduced company of Elvina’s friends, for half the gentlemen had ridden to war just that morning, and though we enjoyed a good dinner, games, drink, and song, we were more sober than usual, and wondered how many of our friends we would not see again.

  * * *

  One afternoon in mid-February I was lying with Elvina in my chamber. We had closed the bed curtains for warmth, and in the near darkness the bed seemed like a small boat drifting down a warm, lazy river of pleasure. Even in the dusky light I could see Elvina’s body rosy with contentment, and her scent lay heavy in the air.

  “Dom Petro is heartbroken,” Elvina related. “Contesa Amaranta is to be married off on the orders of her father.”

  “You were married off,” said I. “But you and I manage to find time for one another. Can’t Dom Petro manage a similar arrangement with his mistress?”

  “Not everyone has a husband as reasonable as mine,” Elvina said. “Viconte Xabier is a haughty man, very concerned to maintain his rights. Or so Amaranta says.”

  “Poor Petro.” Petro and Amaranta were both young members of Elvina’s set, and very much in love. Amaranta’s father would not permit his daughter to marry a mere knight, and had found an older, far wealthier nobleman eager for the match.

  “Petro said he might go to the war, in hopes of winning a title, or at least a fortune. But even if he succeeded, it would be too late.”

  “We should learn from this example to make every moment count,” said I, and took her in my arms. “Fate could sever us at any moment.”

  She received my kisses for a moment, and as I began to caress her, I sensed a shift in her mood.

  “My love?” said I.

  “Quillifer,” said she, her tone earnest. “What do you think about our having a child?”

  You might imagine that this took me by surprise. As was my custom, I had used sheaths to keep our love free of any consequences save that of pleasure, and now Elvina had raised an issue that I had never considered.

  “What would my lord of Erquem say about that?” asked I.

  Elvina made an equivocal sound in her throat. “Well, I think it would not so much matter. For he has three grown sons, and the continuance of his line is assured. And of course I might convince him the child is his.”

  “Unless the infant has the ill luck to look like me,” said I.

  “I would like to conceive a child in love,” said Elvina, “and I do not love my husband. And if I should conceive, I think dear Blaise would not be so terribly put out.”

  “I should care for a little more reassurance along those lines,” I said, and wondered how I felt about a child of mine being raised as a count’s younger son. The idea seemed too fantastic for me to have any response beyond amusement.

  I reached for her again. “For the present time, let our arrangement remain as before,” said I, “and I will ponder on what you suggest.”

  “I should like to have your child, Quillifer,” said she. “And as for my husband, he will not live forever.”

  I felt my ardor dissipate, and I considered how a degree of darkness might be concealed behind my lover’s ingenuous manner. “Well, my dear,” I began, and then there was a knock on my door.

  “Dom Keely-Fay.” I recognized the deep voice of Braud the steward.

  “Si?”

  “You have a visitor, milord. A Lord Edevane.”

  “Offer him refreshment in the library,” I instructed. “I will see him directly.” I turned to Elvina, but she spoke before I made my apologies.

  “Edevane?” she said. “Everyone is terrified of him!”

  “The more reason why I should see him, then bundle him out of the house.”

  “But why should Edevane want to speak to you?” Then she clutched the sheets and pulled them to her neck. “Unless he’s here about me!”

  “I doubt it, my sweet.” I kissed her on the nose. “I am after all a royal official, and he may wish to know how well I am killing monsters.” I opened the bed curtains and reached for my hose. “I will return as soon as I can.”

  I dressed with care and brushed my hair, then went to the parlor where Lord Edevane waited. He wore his gold chain, gold-rimmed spectacles, and violet-colored velvet, and stood by the window fidgeting with a pomander. Braud had brought him a cup, a silver-gilt ewer filled with sweet sauternes, and a footman to pour it.

  “Leave us alone, if you please,” said I, and Braud and the footman withdrew. I bowed to Edevane.

  “You are welcome, my lord,” I said. “If you had let me know ahead of time, I would have been here to welcome you.”

  Edevane regarded me with his mild, dead eyes. “I apologize,” he said. “The business is trivial, but I was in the neighborhood, and I failed at first to realize you had another guest.”

  He not only knew that Elvina was with me, but he wanted me to know that he knew. I decided that his omnipotence was verging on impertinence.

  “The inconvenience is trivial,” I assured him. “But first I should let you know that the iron birds of Inchmaden are no more. I received word this morning that my deputy has accounted for all of them.”

  “I heard that some days ago. The lord lieutenant wrote directly to me.”

  “Have you then some other task for me, my lord?”

  He set his wine-cup down on an onyx table and frowned. “You failed to report to me in the matter of Wilmot’s death.”

  I spread my hands. “I was unaware that you would have an interest in that business, my lord.”

  “I am bound to have an interest when the son of a duke is killed by violence,” Edevane said. “His Grace of Waitstill has every reason to expect the crown to make a full report.”

&nb
sp; “Allow me to refresh your glass, my lord, and I will tell you the story.”

  We sat, and I related the story of Wilmot’s madness, malice, and death. I stressed that his mind had been damaged in his fight with the dragon, and how I and the others aboard Kiminge had gone to great lengths to spare his life.

  “Prince Alicio is a witness, then?” Edevane asked. “As well as Dom Nemorino and the captain?”

  “Ay,” said I.

  “But the first two are in the army,” said he. “And the last frozen in the ice of Steggerda or some such place.”

  I stood and went to my portable desk, which had been placed in the library, and I opened a drawer. “I have their statements already prepared. You are welcome to view them.”

  My experience in the law, and particularly my sanguinary appearance before the Siege Royal treason court, had recommended to me that I secure testaments from all witnesses, lest some magistrate, prompted no doubt by Orlanda, hurl me in a dungeon. “There are also testaments from Countess Marcella,” said I, “as well as Elisa d’Altrey.”

  Edevane paged through the testaments with a frown. “I asked you also to report on those two ladies,” he said.

  “I discovered nothing that could not wait,” said I. “Countess Marcella was furious with Wilmot because he mistook her for a courtesan, and I think she may be heartily sick of the company of humans and ready to return home. She said nothing of her origins to contradict the story she has told elsewhere.”

  “And Mistress d’Altrey?”

  “She resents her loss of standing after the rebellion, the more so because she says that she warned her family not to underestimate Queen Berlauda, and they ignored her.”

  He looked up from his reading. “Do you think her loyalty is in question?”

  “She plots no plots,” said I. “How could she? She has no power. Yet I think the best way to secure her loyalty would be to give her something to lose. A small estate, a pension.” I shrugged. “The usurper’s rebellion was hardly her fault. She was raised with expectations of high estate, and now she has nothing but what Princess Floria gives her.”

  “I will take your suggestion under advisement,” said Edevane. “Though I hardly think the crown has estates to spare.” He returned the testaments to me. “These statements support one another,” he said. “They are not in the same hand, nor even in the same language, and all are signed and with the appropriate seals attached. I shall write to Lord Waitstill and assure him that you did your best to preserve his son’s life.”

  “I thank your lordship,” said I. “I should also mention that both these ladies have expressed their strong reservations concerning the apartment to be offered to Princess Floria. It is but a single room, and a small one.”

  Edevane appeared untroubled. “The palace is old compared with Ings Magna, and filled with inconveniences. It is so crowded that there is little room for anyone.”

  I had heard from Countess Marcella of the luxurious apartments granted Berlauda and Priscus, filled with gold, mirror-glass, and bright hangings.

  “There is no room for Floria and her ladies together.”

  Edevane waved a hand. “The palace has hundreds of servants. How many ladies could Her Highness need?” He touched the fingers of his left hand with those of his right. “Have you considered my suggestions for election to the House of Burgesses?”

  “My lord,” said I, “I could run, but I would lose.”

  “Perhaps in Ethlebight,” said Edevane. “But your manor is in the county of Hurst Downs, is it not?”

  Curses raged silently inside my skull. “That is correct, my lord.”

  “Hurst Downs is ably represented by Sir Silvanus Becket,” he said. “But if Becket is elevated to a barony, he will support Her Majesty from his place in the peers, and the seat in the Burgesses will be open to you in a by-election.”

  It will cost the crown nothing, I thought. For it all takes to make a baron is a letter patent signed by the monarch.

  “I am astounded and flattered by the attention you pay me,” said I.

  A smile ghosted across Edevane’s lips. “I have every confidence you will serve Her Majesty well,” he said, and rose. “And now I will leave you. I apologize to you and to your guest for the inconvenience.”

  He floated out of the room in his royal velvet, pleased with himself, and I, displeased, returned to Elvina, and found myself worried less about what might grow in Elvina’s womb than what vicious, bloodthirsty beast might be engendered in Lord Edevane’s mind.

  * * *

  The encounter with Lord Edevane made me wonder if I had tarried too long in Longres, yet I decided to remain. I didn’t fancy a winter passage home, for the passage would take much longer in the teeth of the prevailing westerly winds. I was pleasantly situated with Elvina, but more importantly, I had received a report from Mountmirail and the surveyor that my plan of a canal from Ethlebight to Gannett Bay was feasible, and would require only money and the ability to obtain the right-of-way. The money I felt I could probably raise, but permission to obtain the right-of-way from those holding possession of the land would require an act of the Estates confirmed by the monarch.

  I wished to consult members of the Privy Council, but I hesitated, because their number would necessarily include Lord Edevane. He might be able to pass the bill through the Estates, but I feared what he might ask in return.

  Invented testimony at Princess Floria’s treason trial, perhaps.

  And so I remained at court and devoted myself to the pursuit of pleasure in a place devoted to little but pleasurable pursuits. There were entertainments, hunts, games, music, and plays—Blackwell’s players made an enormous impression with their dragon, and followed that play with The Kingdom of the Birds, which enchanted everyone. After the birds came The Red Horse, or the History of King Emelin, which—as it explained to Loretto the magnificence and heroism of the founder of Queen Berlauda’s dynasty—was out of politeness well received even by those who did not understand the Duisland tongue. The play had been altered somewhat from when I had last seen it, for new scenes were added for the boy actor Bonny Joe Webb, who played Emelin’s queen, and whose performance in all three plays charmed every audience. The court went into raptures over his beauty. Blackwell paid little attention to the success of his work, for he was embroiled in writing his verses about the vicious follies of the court.

  My pleasures were lessened when Elvina left Longres with her husband. As there was little need for an ambassador when queen supped with queen, and king marched with king, Erquem had received permission to leave court and visit his estates, both those in Duisland and in Loretto. So I sadly kissed Elvina good-bye, and realized that there was even less reason for me to remain in Longres.

  “Your problem, Quillifer,” her brother told me, “is that your office does not call attention to itself unless you turn up at court with the head of a dead monster. Whereas as cofferer, I am seen daily by the chancellor of the exchequer, and by others of importance at court. As I pay the queen’s servants, I encounter them all, and I’m in a position to speak with all of them, and hear all the news, and I can place this news in the ear of anyone who might help me rise in office. Whereas you—” He waved a hand. “You are merely here.”

  There was another advantage to his office that I had worked out on my own. As Meens had access to the funds that supported the palace, he would be able to advance monies to the servants or the office-holders, or to his friends, and then charge a rate of interest that would go entirely into his pocket. The monarchy would support his money-lending, and that was a fine perquisite indeed.

  The skies loured on us, rain tapped the windows, and we took our recreation indoors. We spoke in Prince Alicio’s game room, and played bagatelle while our other friends occupied themselves with cards or dice. Logs snapped and popped on the hearth, and woodsmoke scented the air.

  I missed my stroke, and my ball stranded itself among the pins. “Sadly, Harvey,” said I, “you state the case tr
uly.”

  “You must find a way to stand out.”

  “In Howel I was well known, I believe. A dragon-slayer, a captain of my own galley—”

  “A duelist,” said Meens. “It is a route to fame, but comes with a degree of hazard.”

  I agreed, but by this time I was growing wary of any kind of fame. The higher a man rose, it seemed, the greater his chance of meeting a scaffold.

  Meens bounced his ball off one of the pins, and it dropped into a hole, scoring five points.

  “Of course I am known for my gems,” said I. In fact, with a single exception, I had sold every gem I had brought to Longres and now awaited the return of Sovereign from Tabarzam, with a new supply of stones.

  “I say nothing against it,” said Meens, “but some might view that as trade, and trade is very much looked down on here.”

  “Yet without trade the court would have to do without its silks and smaragds,” said I.

  Again he waved his hand. “I do not approve of this prejudice, but I acknowledge its existence.” And then he struck the ivory ball with his cue, and it bounded from pin to pin until he won twenty points.

  What Meens said was true, and I could not change the opinions of an entire country. This I took as yet another reason to leave Longres, but I thought I might stay until Berlauda gave birth, so that I could give the child a gift, the magnificent and nearly flawless sapphire I had saved from my hoard for just such a purpose.

  In fact I did not stay that long, but I remained long enough for the news of King Henrico’s astounding winter campaign to reach the city. For marching in February, months before the season for campaigning normally opened, he and an army crossed the frozen river on the Thurnmark border, stormed several cities, and besieged others. This notable achievement was itself more success than any reasonable person had expected, yet it was followed by wonders. For once Thurnmark had committed its own forces to shoring up its borders, Priscus, with Loretto’s main army, crossed into the empire of Sélange, on Thurnmark’s southern border. Despite the imperial pretensions of its monarch, Sélange is a small nation and could put up no resistance. Priscus fought no battles in Sélange, and did not attack its cities, but marched across the country to attack Thurnmark from the south, outflanking Thurnmark’s fortified river lines and marching deep into the heart of the country. When Thurnmark’s army under their Hogen-Mogen met Priscus at the Hill of Menne, the result was a resounding victory for Loretto, and the Hogen-Mogen’s forces scattered to the winds. The forces of Loretto spent less than two weeks in Sélange before marching out again, leaving no devastation behind them.