[Galazon 00] When the King Comes Home

by Stevermer, Caroline

  “Yes. What was this crown an offering for?”

  “Why, for nothing save pure piety, just as with all these other offerings,” Julian said with weary resignation.

  “No, truly. I want to know.” His friendly ease with me made me feel that I could say anything to him. Any distraction I could offer him was my duty.

  “Andred was ill. I had to travel to Vienna, and I didn’t wish to. I made a pilgrimage here and offered this up with my prayers for her recovery.”

  Had that been his last journey, the one to Vienna? I found there were some things I did not dare to ask after all. Instead, I said diffidently, “She is so beautiful in the donor panel. But remote. Like a mountain with snow all year around. Was she like that?”

  “That’s Giuliana’s Andred you mean. The one in the Archangel Chapel?”

  I nodded.

  “I thought so. She didn’t like to sit for Giuliana. She said Giuliana painted her with the wrong sort of ship, but there was no remedy. It ought to have been a cog-built coaster or a coaster-built cog—something of that nature. Whatever sort it ought to have been, Giuliana thought it was ugly. So she insisted on a more regal sort of ship. Andred was displeased. She preferred substance to appearance.” Julian looked up at the crown again. “Andred was made to rule Lidia. She should have been born to the throne. Instead she married it.”

  “She married you. The king.”

  “Oh, yes. Thank God. The substance of our marriage far outweighed its appearance. When Andred swore her marriage vow, the ring I set on her finger was fragile in comparison. What she promised, she fulfilled. I did my best to match her. Though I was but crown prince when we married.”

  I held my tongue while Julian looked back at memories that made the corners of his eyes crinkle. His voice was warm and gentle as he continued. “She was such a pretty child, you see, no one thought she would amount to anything. Flaxen blonde, she was, and when they called her Andred the Fair, at first that was all they meant by it She was like a doll when we were wed, a blue-eyed, stiff little painted doll. Not a word out of her. I was impatient. I had work to do. I was twenty-two, a grown man, with serious matters on my mind. She was scarcely seventeen, frightened mute by the ladies-in-waiting and by my mother.”

  Julian smiled to himself and strolled slowly on. I kept pace with him, straining to catch his words.

  “Andred was shy, so the courtiers let her alone. Waiting for me to get her with child, I suppose, though we never had that particular piece of good fortune. They seemed to think that because she never said anything, she never thought anything. Even I knew better than that, though I never knew what she was thinking. I could tell by her eyes that she never stopped thinking, never stopped trying to make sense of it. It took Istvan to draw her out. They were always a pair. She was as speechless as he. At first…”

  Julian’s voice trailed off. We paused before the altar containing St. Istvan’s heart, a golden reliquary shaped like a heart held in two angelic hands.

  “Istvan doesn’t say much now,” I prompted at last. By comparison with Julian, he was nearly mute.

  “Istvan’s never needed to. Deeds, not words, that’s my Seraph. Hands and heart. He left the fine speeches to the courtiers. Yet almost from the first he spoke to Andred as freely as he does to me.” Julian shifted his weight, moved his shoulders a little stiffly. “Thank all the saints that he could find something to say to Andred when she needed a friend. She gave him her favor, and he wore it in the lists. How he could fight. It made me want to cry to watch him sometimes. I had lessons all my life. I recall a dozen scoldings for every technique I mastered. I was competent, but there’s only so much that muscle can do when the will alone is giving orders. With Istvan it was muscle and will and heart and soul together, a lyric all his own. He made her name more famous than I did. He was my champion first, but he was her champion best.”

  “Who did he fight? Did he fight duels?”

  “No one would let a quarrel turn into a challenge with Istvan. They’d seen enough of his fighting to know that to duel with him would be folly. He fought only in the lists, only according to the laws of chivalry. Andred the Fair, they called her, and Istvan made them see how fair she was. Quite beautiful and so young it wrenched your heart to see her. What she gave Istvan in return was the power of speech. She knew what quotations he could cap. She let him finish her couplets. It drove the courtiers wild to see them at it. Like Paris and Helen of Troy.”

  How much like Paris and Helen of Troy? I was so afraid I’d say the words aloud I forced my tongue against the roof of my mouth and hoped it would dry there.

  Julian looked at me and saw my thoughts. His eyes narrowed with amusement. “Launcelot and Guinevere, is that what you’re thinking? Oh, don’t deny it. The courtiers thought so. My mother thought so. Fair enough, I thought so too, for about a fortnight. But Istvan never thought so, and if it ever did cross Andred’s mind, she was wise enough to know that Istvan would never touch anything that he thought belonged to me.”

  But the ring, I thought, her ring. I managed to keep silent.

  “It was a very difficult fortnight,” Julian continued. “The Austrian ambassadors were in Aravis, and the Venetian ambassador, and the Carinthians as well, and the Russians were worse than all three put together. There was a tournament, and a masque of courtly love, and a spell of unseasonably hot weather. Andred flirted as if she’d invented the art. The ambassadors thought she was Aphrodite come again. I thought I would go mad or die of jealousy before it was all over. If it had been left to me, I would have slain the Carinthian champion in the lists. Mother pointed out to me the little glances Andred shared with Istvan, the confidence they had in each other. I was too blind to see they shared the same looks with me, to realize their confidence included me.” Julian paused for a moment and frowned at his recollections. “There’s a calmness that comes only when the ones you love the most are near. I never realized how badly I needed it until my jealousy drove it away. Envy is a deadly sin.” He fell silent, eyes on the reliquary.

  When I could bear the silence no longer, I prompted him. “You were lonely?”

  was miserable. Yet even that success of Mother’s betrayed her, for that misery was the thing that made me realize how much I had come to love them both, depend upon them both, trust them both. My mother resented the power they had over me. She thought Istvan was an ignorant commoner—not too far from the truth—for if he ever read anything beyond a prayer book, I never heard of it. She thought Andred was a puppet—which must have begun as wishful thinking and which ought to have ended when Andred betrayed her by having a keen wit and a great heart, instead of the empty head and fertile womb she’d counted upon.”

  “She sounds powerful herself, your mother.”

  “Oh, yes. What she had, she used. Wisely, for the most part. She kept what she considered my best interests in mind. It was no fault of hers that I disagreed.”

  “What did you do?”

  “I was too proud to do anything. I would have held my peace until doomsday. What a dunce I was. Fortunately, Istvan came to me when he realized I believed the rumors. He was hurt, though he tried not to show it. He knelt before me, as if I were a relic of St. Istvan, as if I were somehow holy, just because I was the king. Yes, I know that is what the crown and chrism do, they make me somehow holy. So I have always been told.” Julian trailed off, looking back into his memory with an air of gentle abstraction.

  Listening to the story was like riding my horse. I had to prod at regular intervals. “What happened?”

  “Istvan lay his sword on the floor between us. He offered to go on a pilgrimage for me. I asked him what pilgrimage, why? One to the Holy Land for choice, he told me, but any pilgrimage. He would go gladly to the farthest corner of the world. He would climb a mountain in Cathay and bring me back a handful of snow. He would travel with a trade delegation, with courtiers, even with ambassadors—he offered any amends I wished. He didn’t know his misdeed, but he would make amends.
” Julian shook his head. “I was stung out of all reason and I had no idea why. It made me cruel, my confusion. So I asked if Andred had told him to speak so.”

  “Had she?”

  “No. I thought it would hurt him to hear me ask, that’s all. It did. He stared at me so sadly. He said, ‘I serve only you. Unless you no longer wish me to.’ I realized that he had set that sword of his down before me and meant not to take it up again. I was not the only one, it seemed, who had been hurt by the past fortnight of misdirection. Istvan had hated it. He had been patient long enough. Any more, from anyone, most particularly me, and he would take his life away from me and spend it somewhere else.

  “Such men do not last long, be they never so good at fighting. For a moment I saw how it would be. He would find someone else to fight for, and he would fight too long, and all that I would ever know of him would be rumors and gossip until the news came that he was dead.”

  I protested. “But he’s a good fighter, the best. Who could beat him?”

  “Rarely do men like Istvan die in battle. They kill themselves privily, either by the bottle or in some quarrel provoked by reputation.”

  “So you didn’t let him go.”

  “I could live without a great many things, but I found that I could not spare Istvan. He trusted me, even I could see that, though I was but a dunce. I trusted him. Belatedly, I saw the nature of my malady. At court honesty is very like dishonesty. I tried to be careful not to dress matters up too formally and hurt him by putting more distance between us. ‘You honor me,’ I told him. ‘I cannot be without you. You must let the fools’ tongues wag how they will. I know it’s hard.’

  “He didn’t understand me, but he understood that our misdirections were at an end. No pilgrimage. No penance. He took up his sword and we both understood that he was mine again.”

  “Did Queen Andred understand that too?”

  “She always understood that. She understood more than I ever did. I have no idea how she accomplished it, but Andred persuaded the lot of them, even the Venetians, to sign the accord on the alum trade.”

  Even if I hadn’t known how important it was in making dyes, I would’ve known what alum was. It’s nearly as important to the wool trade as sheep are.

  Julian continued. “Fine stuff, alum. It’s the only useful thing ever to come out of the Haydocks. We bartered our borders with it. Andred succeeded in getting the Austrians to open the negotiations. Their ambassador assumed she was a light woman, the way she had behaved that fortnight, and that she could be persuaded to ask me anything. He assumed that I was so besotted I would grant her anything she asked. Once my wits were about me again, I found it diverting to watch her handle them. Better than a play.”

  “She tricked them?”

  “Not with words. Her speechlessness played to her advantage at times. One can’t record a lingering touch, a smile, or a tilt of the head. Once the trade agreement was signed, she let herself be put back on the pedestal, where no one was able to tempt her with verses or songs of courtly love. But I realized that she was an accomplished mummer in our royal acting troupe and that she knew it too, and that she would perform for the benefit of our crown and not just for her own amusement. It was then I realized I was her friend in addition to everything else and that she was my friend, much the way Istvan is—a friend who trusted me, whom I could trust. That frightened me at first.”

  “What’s frightening about a friend? It would be more frightening not to have one.”

  “Ah, but who was Ito befriend anyone? I was the king—my duty had made me do terrible things. I knew that if I had to, I would sacrifice anyone for the crown. How could I accept their trust when my duty might make me betray it? Yet I did. They trusted me, and I let them. For my sins, I behaved as if I deserved them both.”

  “But you did deserve them. Istvan understands about duty. I’m sure Queen Andred did too.”

  Julian shook his head. “I did my best. I claim no more than that.” Ludovic Nallaneen came into the nave to find us. Istvan was beside him, and they both looked grim.

  “The abbot has resealed the urn,” Istvan said. “Only the siege medal is missing.”

  “The inventory is specific,” said Ludovic. “The—other things are there, but the seal has been broken. It was intact when the abbot checked last, six days ago. The abbot is questioning the brothers and the servants. We must find out who saw the urn’s seal intact last and learn who came and went since. It will take time.”

  His calm appalled me. “How could Dalet have stolen anything from a place like this?”

  “Dalet might have employed someone else.” Ludovic’s eyes narrowed. “Let’s hope the culprit left some trace to help us.”

  “You think it was the siege medal that Dalet used to call me back?” Julian looked intrigued. “My medal?”

  “The prince-bishop’s inventory seems depressingly thorough,” said Istvan. “Do you think it might be incorrect?”

  “No, no. I don’t question its accuracy, It would make great good sense that my medal would work. After all, it had my blood in the casting.”

  Ludovic was horrified. “Blood?”

  “Maspero studied alchemy as well as art. He believed that blood would clarify the gold, enhance the casting.”

  I blinked. “He did?”

  “He had a theory about representing the soul of the sitter in material terms. It’s in his notebooks. He recorded the theory with care.”

  “He did not.” It was my turn to be horrified. “I’ve studied Maspero—everything I could find—and he says nothing about it in his published work.”

  “It was all in the notes he took while casting the siege medallion. He wrote a treatise later. There’s a copy in the royal archive.” Julian caught himself. “There was a copy there in my day.”

  Istvan said, “Dalet called me back by your name and the jasper ring that was buried with Andred. Anything of yours would have done as well as the medal. She needn’t have known about the blood. When we were in the tower, she seemed surprised to find me there—as if she cannot sense me without seeing me. But you she called back by your own name, Julian, and her grip on you is unhindered. She may know all your comings and goings. She may be able to control you. You felt her, just as I did. I am sure she could control me, save for the accident of the ring.”

  “It doesn’t matter, does it?” I asked. “We shot her, didn’t we?” Ludovic caught my wrist. “You shot someone?”

  I shook myself free. “Dalet. She turned into an owl and flew away.” I examined my wrist but it didn’t seem likely to leave a bruise, so I refrained from scolding him.

  Ludovic’s relief was obvious. “You shot an owl.”

  “No, no. Istvan shot her first. Then I shot her. Then she turned into an owl and then she flew away,” I said.

  “So we know she wasn’t injured seriously,” said Istvan. “If she could fly away—”

  A new thought drove Ludovic to interrupt. “What did you shoot her with, Hail? You can’t pull a long bow. I’ve seen you try. You don’t have a pistol, do you? What criminal fool of a gunsmith would sell you a pistol?”

  “It’s really Istvan’s.” I had it with me, but I was certain that if I showed it to him, Ludovic would confiscate it.

  “Amyas told me what I’d need,” Istvan explained.

  Ludovic closed his eyes for a moment. When he opened them again, he was resigned. “I might have known that brother of yours would be in this somehow. It frightens me to think what he’s been doing back in Aravis with no one to stop him.”

  “Father would stop him if he needed stopping,” I reminded Ludovic. He seemed unconvinced.

  Julian was very thoughtful. “If Dalet has such power over me, why hasn’t she exerted it? If she used the medal to fetch me, she had it when she worked her spell. That’s sure, and it may aid the questioners as they try to find who stole the medal and why. Yet it doesn’t explain why she hasn’t moved against me since.”

  Istvan frowned. “She
might have tried. Perhaps we outstripped her on the journey here. Perhaps she cannot harm you while you are in a consecrated place. Perhaps her wings hurt her.”

  “Perhaps the moon is made of cheese,” Ludovic put in.

  “What do we do next?” I asked. It seemed time for a new subject.

  “For the moment, I must insist you remain here,” Ludovic said. “The brothers of the abbey will extend their hospitality to you. We will stay here until we learn what happened to the urn and until I receive new orders from the prince-bishop.”

  Somehow Istvan was between Julian and Ludovic, his eyes hooded. His voice held lazy interest and an edge of something that matched his eyes. “Must you? Must you insist?”

  Before Ludovic could answer, Julian did. “Where else would we go? There’s nowhere safe for us in all the world. Rest here for a few days. See what advice our friends can give us. Rest, Istvan, and then think again.”

  TWELVE

  (In which I am given advice.)

  The abbot questioned the brothers under his authority. His report to Ludovic was private, but crumbs of it emerged. The initial delay had occurred when the abbot waited to question Brother Tobias, who was responsible for the chapel in which King Julian’s remains were kept. Brother Tobias could not be found. At length the abbot learned that Brother Tobias had left the abbey five days before and hadn’t been seen since. There was no absolute proof that Brother Tobias had opened the urn and closed it again before his departure, but no better explanation presented itself.

  Ludovic stated his theory in the report he sent to the prince-bishop. Brother Tobias had stolen the siege medal from the urn, left the abbey, and conveyed the medal to Dalet, who had used it to conjure up the king.

  Though injured, Dalet remained at liberty. Ludovic was convinced of her alliance with Edward of Ardres. If she had pursued Julian and Istvan to Dalager, there was no sign of it. Ludovic’s men reported no untoward activity around Dalager, and there were no discernible rumors from Ardres.