Impossible Odds

by Dave Duncan

  “No, I think it must be pleasure,” Karl said judiciously. “Margarita is said to have tresses whiter than flax and breasts like sweet cherries. Thirteen she is, and a right dainty royal morsel.”

  Where the long descending trail curved around a spring-fed pool and a bank gave shelter from the wind, Lord Volpe called a halt to rest and water the horses. The mounts all had to be inspected, of course, especially their hooves. Johanna was quite capable of doing that, but it was not a task for a grand duchess, so she waited to see who would assist her. Her husband was already inspecting the refreshments, leaving his horse to the junior knight who had been appointed his custrel for this journey.

  For a while she was ignored, but when that same knight had finished with the duke’s horse, he strode over and set to work on hers without a word or a glance in her direction. She found being invisible to young men a disconcerting experience.

  “Knight-brother Nickolaus, isn’t it?” she asked sweetly.

  He ignored her. He had an admirable profile and no doubt its sudden flush was caused by the cool wind. As he released the first hoof, a voice spoke behind her.

  “I will attend Her Highness, Nickolaus.”

  “Sir!” The youngster saluted and walked away.

  Lord Volpe patted the mare’s neck and bent to lift its right forefoot.

  “Again I am honored,” Johanna said. “Good chance to you, my lord.”

  “And to you, Highness.” He gripped the hoof between his knees.

  “Your newfound courtesy is very welcome. Complete abasement is not required.”

  Volpe scratched snow from the horseshoe with the quillon of his dagger. “It is no abasement for a knight to tend a horse.”

  “My husband will be pleased to see what you are doing.”

  “You do not appreciate the military mind, girl,” he told the shoe. “I am the greatest, most renowned warrior in Eurania. States have retracted declarations of war when I signed with their foes.” He ducked under the reins to inspect the left foot. “I have never surrendered and never will. Tactical withdrawals I have made many times.”

  “I see. So after you have negotiated your son’s betrothal, it will be back to studied rudeness, will it?”

  Volpe released the hoof he had been about to lift and straightened up to stare at her. “After I have done what?”

  Evidently Johanna had revealed a secret. With anyone else she would have backtracked, but a flash of wicked joy drove her on.

  “Lord Karl informs me that his purpose in coming is to woo the Lady Margarita. Are you not backing his suit?”

  Volpe snorted, a sound perilously close to a laugh. He bent to his work again. “He has not mentioned it to me. I was even considering courting her myself. No, my main objective in coming along was to prevent my nephew from making a total idiot of himself.”

  Was he mocking her, or did that remark hint at his real purpose in staging this conversation? She did not know him well enough to guess his motives. She would never outwit a warrior of his stature.

  “Then we are allies on this mission,” she said. “What can I do to help?”

  “Keep him well exercised, although I truly believe he is insatiable, even now. At seventeen, he…Never mind. Was Karl serious, for once?”

  “I do not know, my lord.”

  Volpe straightened and tucked his dagger back in its sheath. His raptor eyes stared at her over the mare’s neck, making her feel like a mouse about to die.

  “I hear he has been pestering you, back in Krupa.”

  “Yes he has.” Had Rubin complained, or did the Provost have spies at his nephew’s Court? Of course he did. Did they spy on his son? Why wouldn’t they?

  “Is he just amusing himself tormenting you, or does he plan real trouble for you?”

  “Explain ‘real trouble.’”

  “Getting you with child to disgrace you.”

  “If he tries that he will not succeed, I assure you!”

  Instead of starting on the mare’s saddle and girths, Volpe scanned the hollow, studying the travelers. “Our family is the oldest in Eurania, did you know?”

  “I know it is very distinguished,” she said, puzzled.

  “It is also well documented. Over the centuries it has produced many odd characters and several crazies. Even a few warriors as renowned as I. Rubin’s predatory ways recur every few generations. One grand duke acquired a retinue of over two hundred dwarfs. Another set out to father a thousand children. Our ancestors have all shared one trait, a mark as distinctive as a malformed lip or a white forelock.” The midnight eyes fixed on her again. “Lazy and cowardly as your husband is, his success with women is extraordinary, would you not agree?”

  She wondered where this harangue was leading. Volpe trying to be pleasant was almost worse than Volpe spurning.

  “‘Disgusting’ would be a better term.”

  He shook his head, sneering. “Not as long as he confines his attentions to people who cannot cause trouble. My purpose in going to Trenko is to ensure he makes no obscene advances to Margarita. When he got trapped in marriage with a baseborn floozy, that was disgusting. We are descended from fourteen generations of rulers. Your son is a peasant’s child. Nobody worthwhile will ever marry that one. Our web of royal alliances will wither and Krupina will be put at risk.”

  “An outcross strengthens the breed,” she said furiously. “It may reduce the number of crazies in future.”

  He ignored her comment. “A Krupina always succeeds, you see. Whatever it is he sets as his life’s goal, he will achieve it, without exception.”

  “Even the one with the thousand children?”

  “He made a good start, but died young. That is why Karl annoys me so. At his age I had fought in three major battles. His only aim seems to be to have no aim and I find that intolerable. If he has set out to seduce you just to annoy Rubin, he will have to be spanked. And he should not be babbling of marriage without my permission. Inspect this saddle yourself.” Lord Volpe limped away.

  Frederik was the only sane one in the whole family.

  • 5 •

  Trenko was a jewel in a mountain setting, a pearl of many-colored buildings where forested slopes swept down to the shores of a jade green lake. With city and state in mourning for their young prince, there were no festivities during Johanna’s brief stay, but it was a happy time for her. The palace was so crowded that she and Rubin had to share a room. Rubin made the best of it, giving her hope that Frederik would gain a brother or sister from this rare opportunity.

  Representatives of many neighboring states had come to the funeral, most bringing their wives. The men tended to collect in corners, like cobwebs, spinning alliances and plotting the dismemberment of rivals. The women, likewise, exercised their claws in small groups, rending reputations and plotting the future matrimonial geography of Eurania. Johanna found herself accepted into genteel company for the first time. The gossip would soon have palled on her, but for a short while it was an interesting change. The wine and cakes were delicious.

  Lovely Margarita stood at the head of the agenda, of course, but was not on display. She was incommunicado, distraught at her brother’s death and the importance thus thrust upon her. Competition for the damsel’s hand was going to be ferocious. So the good dames said, frequently.

  Detecting glances in every direction but hers, Johanna learned to go on the offensive at this point in the masque. “Very wise! The child is far too young for public duties yet.”

  More glances. Just thirteen, the harpies would agree. And promising to be a great beauty!

  “My husband was interested,” Johanna would announce then, pretending not to notice the reaction, although obviously Rubin’s reputation had preceded him. Then, “But we agreed that the age difference is far too great.” More shock. “Frederik is not yet three.” Ah!

  “But there is Lord Karl, isn’t there?” a henna-haired hag inquired once. “Your husband brought him along?”

  “No, he followed us h
ere,” Johanna said cheerfully. “We forgot to tie him up.”

  “I heard he had an accident on the journey?”

  “Nothing serious. He took a tumble off his horse.” Johanna had not witnessed that accident, but she had seen Karl arriving at Trenko with a very muddy cloak and his face so badly bruised that he had gone straight to the town elementary for a healing. No one had been crass enough to ask how he had managed to muddy the back of his cloak while landing on his face. Life was full of little mysteries like that. The same first evening, during the formalities of welcome, she had been standing beside Lord Volpe and wondering how he had grazed his knuckles so badly. Perhaps he had fallen off his horse also. She did not discuss those family matters with the harpies.

  Their next gambit usually went: “Her father dotes on her. The Margrave is insistent that Margarita choose for love.”

  To which Johanna would respond that she thought that was an excellent procedure. She was sure it would rule out Rubin and Volpe, and probably Karl also. Karl did have looks and birth, of course, and might stand a chance if he could mend his manners. Unless he was being favored above the other suitors, he had no opportunity to try his wiles on the young lady during that visit, because the fair Margarita had still not made an appearance when the time came for Grand Duke Rubin and his retinue to return to Krupina.

  • 6 •

  Good news and bad news flew together, so they said.

  The good news had arrived nine days earlier, setting Fadrenschloss agog and atwitter—the Grand Duchess coming to visit, their own fledgling returning at last. The cooks planned a great feast, the minstrels and musicians rehearsed interminably, and Seneschal Priboi organized the greatest clean-out and pretty-up the old castle had known in centuries. Ernst himself stumped around, inspecting, interfering, approving, and generally having a wonderful time. Life had been boring for too long, and he could not expect to see many more happy occasions in whatever years he had left.

  The bad news followed Priboi home. With preparations all complete, Ernst had been happy to grant the old seneschal a few hours’ leave. It wasn’t as if he asked for it every decade, Ernst told him, but he mustn’t make a habit of it. When he returned and reported what he had learned at Vamky, joy gave way to terror. There was nothing Ernst could do before Johanna arrived, except swear Priboi to secrecy and order him to make sure the foxhole was clean and well stocked.

  The following morning the lookout saw her procession approaching, two women and a contingent of the Palace Guard. The entire staff assembled in the bailey to greet her, their cheers almost drowning out the fanfare from the battlements. Ernst himself lifted her down from her mount, and then tried to kneel to her, but she caught him in a hug and would not permit it. She was both laughing and crying as she greeted all the old familiar faces.

  The terrified child who had disappeared into the ducal coach three and a half years ago was a woman now, a poised royal beauty. She told him he had not changed at all. Just fatter and uglier, he said, priding himself on being as spry as ever. It was wonderful to be home, she said, but the look she gave Ernst after that first happy moment told him she had already guessed that something dire weighed on his mind.

  It was an hour before all the reminiscences and pleasantries were over and he could get her to himself. The two of them settled comfortably in the solar and the talk turned to serious matters. He confessed how much he still missed her. He complimented her on growing up so beautiful. She admitted that she was no longer as homesick for Fadrenschloss as she had once been. She did not tell him how far her married life had fallen short of what it should have been, but she did not have to. Although he was no longer persona grata at Court, he still had friends in Krupa, mostly sons or grandsons of men he had fought beside in his military days. He knew how she had been humiliated and shunned. She had never complained in her letters, but her face glowed with happiness as she spoke of Trenko—the people, the houses, the land itself, all new to her—and especially how she had shared in the royal honors paid to Rubin.

  The timing began to make sense. “So Lord Volpe deferred to you at last?”

  “He was cool and correct the whole time.” The wry little smile he remembered flickered momentarily. “He hinted that this state of affairs might be temporary, though.”

  “He is a strange man.” Ernst remembered Volpe as a child, a bitter, tight-wound, melancholy child. Even then, it had been obvious that he would make a much better Grand Duke than Rubin, his nephew and playmate, ever could. By the time the boy had gone riding to war with the Brotherhood, Ernst had been ready to hang up his lance, so their military paths had crossed only briefly. Even as a stripling, Volpe had gained a reputation for courage and ruthlessness.

  “The greatest warrior in Eurania, he told me.” Johanna’s tone asked confirmation.

  “The most sought-after mercenary, certainly. Most hirelings take their pay and never earn it. They march and maneuver and dance gavottes with their opponents; do anything rather than risk their skins. Volpe was never like that. With him it was a point of honor to go on the offensive as soon as possible. With the might of the Vamky conjurers behind him, he never lost a battle, never failed to take a stronghold. Few rulers could afford his prices, but he did give good value.”

  “‘Did’? He has retired?”

  “It seems so. He did not campaign last year or the year before.” The man must be fifty! Incredible! Where had all the years hidden themselves?

  “Why does he limp? An old injury?”

  “Deformed foot,” Ernst said. “It was more obvious when he was a child.” And that flaw had mattered infinitely more to the sensitive orphaned boy than it did now to a veteran of many battles. “It shows less when he is wearing a sword.”

  “Now, my lord!” Bright azure eyes were missing nothing. “I have talked enough. Tell me what is wrong.”

  “Ah, women! We poor simpleton men can never keep secrets.” And must not keep this one. “Yes, my dear. But please remember that this is third- or fourth-hand information and may have no truth in it.”

  “Go on!” She had learned the tone of command.

  “You remember Harald?”

  “Which Harald?”

  “Priboi’s.”

  She nodded. “‘Teensy,’ we called him. How is he?” They were of an age.

  “Turned out the biggest of the litter. He is a novice in the monastery. He is allowed one visitor every six months. His father went to see him just yesterday and found him quite upset.”

  “So would anyone be who had to live there. What of it?”

  “This may be a test,” Ernst warned. “They test the novices in strange ways, and it would be easy to pass along a rumor just to see if the boy told his father. Harald did tell, so he may turn up here at any time with sore feet—rejected, expelled.”

  “What rumor?” she snapped.

  “A coup being plotted.”

  Color drained from her face. “Volpe? How? When?”

  “I don’t know,” Ernst said. “No details. It would be easy! He can muster four hundred knights without even calling in troops from foreign service. He could just ride down to Krupa and take over. A few hours would do it.”

  “The Palace Guard would fall flat on its face,” she agreed. What was it you used to say—‘Throw down their arms and put up their hands’?”

  She knew it was no laughing matter. She was playing for time to think. Although Rubin ruled competently enough, a man with his moral shortcomings could never be popular. The people would not rise if the military hero took the coronet from the libertine.

  “Rubin will abdicate if Volpe holds a sword to his throat?” Ernst asked.

  “He would pass out cold.” She shivered, hugging herself, staring at the floor. “The wonder, I suppose, is that Volpe has not tried this long ago.”

  “Mercenary’s honor again, I think. Oaths are sacred to him, and he is Rubin’s sworn vassal.”

  Johanna looked up—two sapphires set in white marble. “So what was
negotiated at Trenko, I wonder? My lord, I hardly mind what happens to my husband. I care nothing at all for my own place and title. But I will not let my son be cheated out of his birthright!”

  Had she thought of murder yet? An unwanted widow might be tossed in the gutter, but legitimate heirs were prone to nasty accidents. Again and again in his career Volpe had proved that he was ruthless. If he now chose to set aside his fealty, Frederik would have to die.

  “When will it happen?” she asked.

  Ernst spread his hands. Fat, soft, useless old man’s hands. “Soon, I imagine, if even a novice has heard of it. Remember, this may not be true!”

  “Nevertheless, my husband must be warned.”

  “I would have sent word to Court if he had been…He has gone back to Krupa?”

  “I think so. He left the monastery before I did this morning.” She bit her lip in sudden doubt. “So I was told.”

  “That does not sound like him.” At Fadrenschloss he had regularly slept till noon.

  Johanna sprang up. “I must go to my son!”

  This was not the hesitant, uncertain child the Duke had married.

  Von Fader heaved himself to his feet. “Volpe may be there before you.” And the babe dead?

  “I must know he is all right!”

  “Or the story may be false. Rubin may be there, carrying on as usual.”

  “And if he isn’t? Suppose Rubin has heard the news and fled? Advise me, my lord!” Fury shone in her eyes like sunlight. Why did the spirits of chance persecute some people?

  Ernst had thought about this all night. “Your son’s safety must come first. Can you smuggle him out of the palace?”

  “I can try. It will be dark by the time I get there. The gates close at sunset.”

  “And the guards are more alert at night. If Rubin is there, warn him. If he is not, wait until morning. Dress in servant clothes, put a basket on your arm and Frederik in a sling on your back. Walk out chattering to someone and the guards won’t look twice at you.”

  She nodded.