Boncorro relaxed, disappointed. “There is no profit for me in that. I am a king, and cannot live a life of purity, for we who rule must ever make the hard choice between the lesser of two evils. Besides, I wish to make my life one of pleasure and joy, not one of suffering.”
“And your people’s lives, too?” Matt watched him keenly. Boncorro shrugged. “If their happiness will make my life more pleasurable, yes-and I think it will. The more they prosper, the more tax they can pay, and the more wealthy I will become. The more content they are, the less likely they are to rebel, and the less difficulty I will have keeping this crown on my head.”
So. A materialist, and one devoted to the good of his people, even if his reasons were less than noble. On the other hand, Matt wasn’t all that sure he believed the king was really so self-centered. “What of this third form of Eastern wisdom?” Boncorro demanded. “Alas, Sire! I fear it will interest you even less, for it teaches that everything that exists is only a small part of a greater, single whole-that all the universe is one unified entity, and that human happiness can be gained by working to live in harmony with all the rest of the world about you.”
Boncorro smiled sourly. “If that is so, then even the wolves and lions do not know of that harmony, for they slay and feed on other animals.”
That is a problem,“ Matt admitted, ”though I’m sure the Taoists have an answer for it. Unfortunately, their idea of living in harmony with the rest of the universe involves learning how to eat as little as possible and do without anything but the absolutely essential belongings-even clothes.“
Boncorro gave him a cynical smile. “No, I do not think that wisdom will make my people happy, and will certainly not make me so-unless it teaches how a king may cease to exist when he dies.”
The old guy behind him looked very worried. No, your Majesty,“ Matt admitted. ”Just the other way around-they try to find eternal life, by living lives of virtue.“
“Which doubtless entails poverty.” Boncorro gave him a sour smile. “What use eternal life, if there is so little of pleasure in it?”
There is spiritual rapture,“ Matt clarified. ”But only for the virtuous? Nay, I think competent kings could not gain that inner pleasure.“
“So do they, your Majesty. In fact, one sage actually came right out and said that governing a kingdom would make it impossible for him to live a virtuous life.”
“Perhaps he did have some wisdom, after all.” Boncorro gave an approving nod. ‘Tell me of him.“
“A king sent his men to invite the sage to come advise him on the best way to govern his kingdom. They found the wise man in the wilderness, wearing worn, rough clothing. He refused the king’s invitation. They asked him why, and the sage said, ‘What would you expect a turtle to say, if you invited him to dinner-when the dinner was going to be turtle soup, made out of himself? Would you expect him to be delighted to come to the palace, or to prefer to continue to draggle his tail in the mud?’
‘Why,’ said the messenger, ‘he would refuse.’
“And so do I,‘ said the sage. ’Be off with you, then, and leave me to draggle my tail in the mud.‘ ”
The king stared in surprise, then threw back his head and laughed. “A point most apt, and a sage indeed! But it is an insight that is of no use to me. So much for the wisdom of the East.”
“But there is another Western wisdom that you might find more useful,” Matt said, desperate to keep him interested. “There is also the learning of the ancient Greeks, who had begun to search for knowledge that came from neither Faith nor Wickedness.”
“Yes, I have heard of that.” Boncorro sat forward, his attention suddenly focused. Matt was surprised at the force of the young man’s gaze. “They say that scholars have unearthed scrolls that were moldering in libraries, or even dug them from the earth sealed in jars, and that, slowly and with great pain, they have begun to translate them. I have even read a few of their ancient tales of their gods and heroes. But how is it that you, a mere minstrel, know of this?”
“Ah, your Majesty! A minstrel’s stock-in-trade is news, and the discovery of things long past is just such news as I thought to have in store, for a king’s court.”
“Why, what foresight you had.” Boncorro grinned. “Have you read these scrolls, then?”
“Alas! I am fortunate to be able to read the language of Latruria itself, let alone that of the ancient empire or its elder neighbor! But I have heard that scholars have uncovered the thoughts of a man named Socrates.”
The old geezer behind the throne gave a start of alarm. Matt gave him a closer glance-he had a long white beard and a perpetually worried expression. His eyes narrowed as he met Matt’s gaze, and Matt suddenly felt a very definite dislike for the man. Heaven only knew why-he looked nice enough, if rather dyspeptic. Then he remembered that Heaven might very well know why, indeed. “Majesty.” The old geezer took a step closer to the throne. “Surely such talk of long-dead Greeks is a waste of your most precious time!”
“It beguiles me, my Lord Chancellor,” the king said. “But it is surely of no-”
“I said it beguiles me, Rebozo.” There was sudden iron in the king’s tone, and the old man took a quick step backward. “Now, minstrel, tell me of this Greek of whom you have heard. What manner of man was this Socrates?”
“Why, what men term a ‘philosopher,’ your Majesty.”
“ ‘Philosopher’?” Boncorro frowned. “Let us work that out from the roots… It means, ‘lover of wisdom,’ does it not?”
“It does, your Majesty, though I personally think the term may have been misused,” Matt said, with a hard smile. “Socrates claimed to love truth and to be preoccupied with searching for it, but from what I’ve heard of the man, his searching discussions with his students really seemed to be more a very subtle way of persuading them to agree with his ideas.”
Boncorro smiled with slow amusement, and Matt tried to ignore the restless shuffling and coughing from the spectators who, having the traditional courtier’s attention span-i.e., that of a gnat-were beginning to become bored. But the king seemed almost excited. “And how does a man go about searching for truth?”
The old geezer’s alarm turned into five fire trucks and a hook-and-ladder. “Alas!” Matt said “I know so little of this Socrates! But it seemed he thought all knowledge could be gained by reasoning, through a system called ‘logic’ ”
The geezer relaxed a little. “I have heard of this logic.” Boncorro frowned. “Wherein do you find it lacking?”
“It is more a question of how one finds it lacking, not where,” Matt said sourly. “The only way is to test its findings by observation of the real world, then perhaps even to attempt to put those findings into practice on a small scale; they call that ‘experiment.’ ”
The geezer’s alarm was back, and had added a paramedic van. Boncorro smiled slowly. “And how shall one test the conclusions of logic against reality, when they concern the human soul?”
“That, no one can do,” Matt affirmed. “That is why such mat”rs should be the only true domain of philosophy.“
Boncorro threw back his head and laughed. All the courtiers looked startled, especially the old geezer-but he sent the paramedics home and began to relax. “I think that I will keep this minstrel about awhile, to play the fool for me,” Boncorro said to Conte Paleschino. “I thank your Lordship for bringing him to me, but I shall relieve you of his upkeep for the time being. I must find a way to reward you for this, my lord.”
The count fairly beamed. “No reward is necessary, your Majftssy. Your good regard is enough.”
It sure was, Matt thought sourly-especially since the king’s good will would sooner or later be transformed into hard cash, by grants of land or monopolies. Well, Conte Paleschino had won some royal favor, the king had won a new and rather odd jester-minstrel, and Matt had won access to the king-so everybody had gotten what they wanted out of this transaction. Except, maybe, the old geezer behind the throne.
/> Chapter 17
Matt found his way back to his garret, and found it stifling hot. It seemed that all the heat of the whole castle had risen to this one little space under the eaves. The tiny window was open, with Pascal sitting by it stripped to the waist and sweating buckets. He was staring out at the sunset with so dejected a look that it could have set an example for all bloodhounds. Matt closed the door gently, then sat down across from him and a little way back. After a while Pascal said, “You need not be silent, friend Matthew. This is not a funeral.”
Isn’t it? Matt wondered. “You were in time, then?”
“In time for what?” Pascal said impatiently. “In time to meet Flaminia? Yes, for the servant girl contrived to bring her down to the hall, with two of the other… handmaidens to accompany her. They were most beautiful,” he added as an afterthought. But not beautiful enough to distract him from Flaminia, or ease his current depression? Matt frowned, puzzled. “You spoke with her? She hasn’t been… harmed?”
“Nor bedded by the king? No, though he may choose to sample her delights this very night.” Pascal shuddered. “So we’re in time to save her from a fate worse than death?”
“Yes,” Pascal said, “if she wants to be saved.”
Matt stared. “You don’t mean she likes the idea of becoming one of the king’s concubines?”
“No, she assured me of that.”
Matt waited. When nothing else was forthcoming, he prodded. “You didn’t believe her?”
“Well, let us say that she spoke with no great amount of conviction.”
Matt frowned. “She doesn’t figure it’s her duty to her country or anything like that, does she?”
“No, but she was fairly bursting with excitement about all the delights of the women’s quarter. She has taken a perfumed bath and is now clothed in silks. She is learning to paint her face, and finds the company of the other women… congenial.”
“Dazzled,” Matt interpreted. “The other girls don’t see her as competition?”
“They have at the least been most friendly, and are all beautiful” Pascal caught his breath, then said, “Very beautiful.”
“So she’s flattered just to be in there with them.” Matt found himself wondering why Flaminia was there-she wasn’t exactly a raving beauty herself. It must have been her figure, and the way she moved, and the air of sensuality she exuded… Yes, come to think of it, he could understand why the sorcerer had picked her to take home for Boncorro. He wondered if the king would. “The other women are happy about this, too?”
Most happy, as I have seen myself. They are peasant girls who have never have known such luxury as this, and might well have been compelled to wed men they did not love, by circumstance or by their fathers. This way, at least, their lover is handsome.“ He said, with sarcasm, ”It would seem that none of them needs to be coerced to share a bed with our glorious lord and master the king!“
Matt couldn’t blame him for a bit of jealousy. “But aren’t they worried about what will happen to them when his Majesty tires of them at all, since it has already happened to a dozen of their fellows?”
“He sent them away with gold and jewels worth a small duchy. For peasants, they are wealthy. They had no trouble at all finding husbands, for they are beautiful, after all-and now had excellent dowries. In fact, the other girls say they lord it over their husbands, who dare not treat them harshly, for fear of the king.”
“You’re afraid for her, aren’t you?”
Pascal gave a short nod. “For her, and afraid of losing her.” He gave Matt a bleak smile. “Is that not amusing? I cannot properly say that I have her-yet I am nonetheless afraid of losing her! We have given one another no promises, we have not shared a bed-I have but dried her tears, and laughed and jested with her! Is it not amusing that I should be so smitten so quickly?”
“Yes, I’m just quaking with laughter,” Matt said dryly, “but that’s the way it happens sometimes. She isn’t definitely lost to you though.”
“No,” Pascal agreed, “but I fear that she will be, between the prattling of her newfound friends and the dazzle of finery. I fear that present luxury and future riches may gloss over and make her forget that there is yet something to be said for virtue, and for true love.”
Matt sat very still, waiting, not looking directly at Pascal. “Oh, yes, I told her that I love her, friend Matthew,” the young man said bitterly, “and her smile glowed, she clasped my hand more tightly for a moment, and assured me that she loved me in return.”
Matt watched him carefully. “That sounds like cause for rejoicing.”
“It might have been-indeed, my heart did leap with gladness-had she not begun to seem distracted within a few minutes. I spoke to her of escape, and she said that it was useless to try, for their quarter is heavily guarded and she did not wish to risk my going to prison, or worse.”
“You don’t believe that she was really concerned for you?”
“Oh, I suppose I do,” Pascal sighed, “but if she was truly unhappy where she was, or truly frightened at the thought of the king’s attentions, she would have been glad of my help and willing to risk all to escape.”
Matt tried to see it from Flaminia’s viewpoint for a minute. It wasn’t as if she would be losing her virginity, after all, and Boncorro was vastly more attractive than the young man who had seduced her first. In fact, the young king really was very handsome and exciting… But Matt was a man and never had been very good at understanding the feminine point of view. He was sure he did Flaminia an injustice. That she intended to enjoy the advantages of the king’s harem for a little while, he didn’t doubt-but actually having to go to bed with the king was another matter. Still, he knew just how difficult it could be to resist temptation… “I take it she has become an ardent fan of King Boncorro’s?”
“Aye,” Pascal said grimly. “I told her that risks mattered not when it was a question of her safety, but she told me that she was frightened for me and was sure that the king would not hurt her. I demanded to know what sort of paragon of virtue he was, and she proceeded to tell me.”
Matt squeezed his eyes shut in sympathetic pain. Nothing like singing the praises of the Other Man to the one who has just told you he’s in love with you. “She told you how handsome he is?”
“Not in detail, no-only that he is, and that all the other girls are besotted with him-there are one or two who even dare dream of becoming his queen-and that she felt quite sorry for them, for she knew they were doomed to heartbreak.”
Trying to remind herself, no doubt-but Matt knew a chance to gain information when he heard one. “How about whether or not he’s a good king? Or a good human being? Did she mention that?”
Pascal shrugged, exasperated. “How should she know?”
“Just gossip,” Matt said, “but gossip can tell you a lot, and she seems to have been hearing plenty of it. He sounds as if he’s charming, at least to his wench corps.” Of course, just having concubines was definitely wicked-but he did seem to treat them humanely, even with care and consideration. Matt knew, from his own brief encounter, that the man was charming and did seem to be trying to do right by his people, whatever his motives. But was he effective? “If he gives orders, are they obeyed?”
“Why, I should think we can say yes to that, simply from the changes we have seen ourselves, as we came through Latruria,” Pascal said, surprised. “Whether those changes are good or not is another matter.”
“So is their real source. I’ve heard of many kings who have really been just false fronts; it was their advisers who actually ran the country. But the only adviser I’ve seen so far is Chancellor Rebozo, although he doesn’t seem terribly evil, or terribly powerful. In fact, he doesn’t seem to be able to do much-he’s scared of the king.”
“It would seem that everyone is,” Pascal said slowly. “Flaminia did indeed say that King Boncorro does not issue edicts very often. but that when he does, no one dares disobey him.”
“Oh?” Matt se
nsed pay dirt. “I take it some of his concubines have tried?”
“No, but one or two have incurred his anger. Flaminia told me, as a jest, of one girl who tried to work magic upon the king, to warp him into being obsessed with her and with her alone-”
“Love philter.” Matt nodded. “Even a minstrel hears about that-constantly. I take it she didn’t succeed?”
Nay. The king knew in a moment what she was doing. Sharp pains racked her body; it was her screams that brought the other girls to see. But the torture lasted only a minute, perhaps less; then the king commanded her to drink the philter. She did, and dotes upon him still, so devotedly that she will do anything he says-even to escorting other women to his bedchamber.“
“You mean he humiliates her like that?” Matt said indignantly.
“No, but when another wench taxed her with it in jest, she said in all sincerity that she would do it”
“Okay, so he dominates his harem,” Matt said, numb. “How about his kingdom?”
Pascal shrugged. “The wenches have heard his chancellor arguing with him-for it is Rebozo who recruits virgins for him. The king did not argue, but only told the chancellor again and again what to do, and would not yield.”
“Odd to discuss affairs of state in the harem-or women’s quarters, I think you said they call it.”
“Perhaps not; the issue was the future of the first woman King Boncorro discarded. He instructed the chancellor to see to it that she was laden with gold and gems, then escorted in state to her home. Rebozo argued furiously, claiming that having been favored with the king’s attentions should be reward enough for any woman-but Boncorro was adamant.”
“So she was taken home in triumph?”
“Well, not at first. Rebozo sought to bundle her quietly out of the castle with nothing but the clothes on her back-but a spasm of agony seized him, and he ordered his men to fetch her gold and gems, and a palanquin. Then the pains stopped.”
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