With hostile territory abutting more than half its 39 borders, Boeruine was a vital outpost of the empire, and the emperor took pains to ensure that Lord Arwyn was always kept aware of the important role he played in the interests of the Iron Throne. Summer Court at Seaharrow, therefore, was more than merely a holiday for the nobles of Anuire. It was also a time for important business of the empire to be conducted and for political alliances to be reaffirmed.
Arwyn of Boeruine was well aware of his important position in the empire, and he took it very seriously. Each year, before the Imperial Court arrived, he took on an additional staff of servants from the town, in addition to court pages, an honored and coveted function fulfilled by children of Seasedge. Seaharrow was swept and scrubbed from top to bottom, an enterprise that took up the entire spring season, and the kitchen larders were freshly stocked with game from the nearby forest and produce from the outlying farms. Visiting nobles and dignitaries arrived from all the nearby provinces, doubling the population of the town and filling its inns to overflowing. It was a busy time for Seaharrow and the town of Seasedge, and the Archduke Arwyn went to great lengths to make certain everything ran smoothly.
Consequently, he became extremely agitated when word reached him that Aedan Dosiere was coming up the path to the castle, trailed by the survivors of the reenacted Battle of Mount Deismaar and carrying the injured young heir to the throne in his arms.
So great was the archduke’s consternation that one might have thought it was his own son who had
been gravely injured. His shouts roused the entire castle into a flurrry of activity. He sent for the physicians and gave loud orders for the doubling of the guard at the gates and on the walls. He ordered water heated in case the prince’s wounds needed to be bathed, and he had servants running in a dozen different directions. In fact, the archduke was overdoing it a bit, purely for the sake of appearances, because secretly a thrill of excitement had run through him at the news.
Prince Michael was Emperor Hadrian’s only heir, and if anything happened to him, Arwyn himself, who was descended from the bloodline of Roele, would be the successor to the Iron Throne. At least, so he believed.
None of this impressed itself on Aedan, however, for he was worried to the point of panic over the young prince, who had been his responsibility. After being confronted by the archduke himself and informing him what happened, he had been dismissed with a rather ominous, “I shall deal with you later.” Then Lord Arwyn had personally taken Michael from his arms and carried him upstairs.
Had Aedan been a few years older and somewhat wiser in the ways of Imperial Court politics, he might have had second thoughts about turning Michael over to the man who stood to gain the most if anything should happen to him; but fortunately, Aedan’s father was on the scene, having been alerted by all the commotion, and did not leave Michael’s side even for one instant.
The fact that his father had not said a word to him made Aedan still more miserable, certain it was contempt that silenced him. However, that was not the
case at all. The lord high chamberlain knew perfectly well that Arwyn was within one twist of his powerful wrists from possibly becoming next in line to assume the throne, not that Lord Tieran suspected the archduke of treachery. He simply had a healthy respect for the foibles of humanity and so would make sure Lord Arwyn was not unduly tempted.
Under such circumstances, he could not spare any thought at all for his own son.
Fortunately for everyone, except perhaps Lord Arwyn, Michael’s injuries were no more severe than a mild concussion and nasty bruise on his forehead.
The physicians bled him just a bit and ordered bed rest for a couple of days. Meanwhile the archduke took out his frustrations first on young Viscount Corwin, whom he ordered confined to the dungeons, and then on Aedan, whom he would also have thrown into the dungeons save for the fact that he did not wish to antagonize the lord high chamberlain, who was closer to the old emperor than any other man. He was therefore forced to satisfy himself with mercilessly browbeating Aedan until he ran out of breath, then dispatching him to clean the stables.
It was there that Lady Ariel found him, several hours later, shoveling manure and cursing his existence.
“Aedan?”
He looked up and saw her standing there, looking nothing like the screaming, armored banshee who had knocked him senseless earlier that day. She had changed into a simple, dark green velvet gown that fell to her feet, which were shod with dainty black slippers. She was bareheaded, her long blonde pigtails hanging down on either side of her chest. She looked like a perfectly normal little girl rather than the roughhousing tomboy that she was.
Aedan grimaced as he scraped horse droppings off the dirt floor and shoveled them into a wooden wheelbarrow. “What is it, A-riel?”
“Aedan, I just. . .” She hesitated. “I just came to say I am sorry.”
He merely grunted and resumed his work. “Well, think nothing of it.”
“I know that it was all my fault,” she said in a small voice. “What Corwin did, I mean. If I hadn’t struck you down, perhaps you could have stopped it.”
“It was my own fault,” said Aedan. ‘It serves me right for allowing a mere slip of a girl to knock me down. I should have been paying more attention.
Frankly, I’d just as soon you didn’t mention it to anyone.”
“Well, I just thought that if I told your father what I did, he would know it was all my fault and wouldn’t blame you.”
Aedan froze, bent over his shovel. He glanced up at her with disbelief.
“You told him?”
She nodded. “I did not wish to see you get in trouble. I went to him and said it was I who was to blame, and I would take whatever punishment was meted out, and he should not fault you for something you could not possibly have prevented because you were lying senseless on the ground when it occurred.”
Aedan shut his eyes and groaned inwardly. “Wonderful,” he said.
Ariel did not quite catch his sarcasm. She smiled and said, “I thought you would be pleased. And
your father was very understanding. He said I was a brave girl for coming forward and telling him about it, and told me not to worry about being punished since no real harm was done. He also spoke with Lord Arwyn, and Corwin’s been released from the dungeons. So, you see?
Everything’s turned out all right.”
“Just great,” said Aedan with a sigh of resignation.
“I only hope you’re not too angry with me for knocking you down,” said Ariel.
“No, Ariel, I’m not angry.”
“I never meant to hurt you.”
“You didn’t hurt me, Ariel. I’m fine.”
“Because I would never wish to hurt you, Aedan.
I’m afraid I got a bit carried away. Sometimes, I just don’t know what gets into me.”
“Can we please forget about it, Ariel?”
“So then you’re not angry with me?”
“No, I’m not angry with you!” he shouted in frustration.
She flinched and took a step back. “You are angry.”
He took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. “I’m not angry, Ariel.
Honestly. I just don’t want to talk about it anymore, all right? I have a lot of work to do, so if you don’t mind, I’d like to get on with it.”
“I only wanted to say I was sorry.”
Aedan closed his eyes in silent suffering. He counted ten, then said,
“Very well. You’ve said it. It’s over and done with now. We shall speak no more of it. Agreed?”
She brightened. “Agreed. Well then, I shall leave you to your work.”
“Thank you.”
She turned and started to leave, then paused. “Oh, and your father said he wanted to see you as soon as you were done.”
“Of course,” said Aedan with a sour grimace.
“Thank you for delivering the message.”
“You are most welcome.” She gave him a q
uick, bobbing curtsy, then turned and left the stables with a spring in her step.
Aedan moaned, leaned on his shovel, and hung his head in misery. One of the horses whinnied.
“Oh, shut up!” he said.
A couple days’ bed rest was more than sufficient for Michael to be up and about. After the first day, he was already complaining that he didn’t want to stay in bed, demonstrating he was as hardheaded as he was stubborn. But for a change, the empress put her foot down and gave Aedan orders to make sure he remained in repose, even if he had to tie him down.
Aedan delighted in the opportunity to take these orders literally, and the first time Michael tried to disobey, he tied him to the bedposts.
This brought on a royal tantrum of epic proportions, but after several hours, Aedan succeeded in getting Michael’s grudging word that he would not try to get out of bed if he untied him, and though he complained about it bitterly, the remainder of the recuperation period passed without further incident.
To his credit, Aedan thought, when Michael found out that Corwin had been sent to the dungeons on his account, even though it had only been for about two hours, he was deeply chagrined and immediately sent for the older boy.
Corwin arrived looking pale as death. When Lord Arwyn had ordered him thrown into the dungeons, the poor boy had been convinced that he would never see the light of day again. However, when he was released a mere two hours later, though it had still felt like an eternity to him, it was without any explanation. Consequently, when the jailer came to take him from his cell, Corwin had felt sure he was on his way to meet the headsman’s axe.
Aedan was there when Corwin came into Michael’s chambers and fell to his knees to plead forgiveness.
Michael immediately told him to get up and come over to the side of his bed, whereupon he told the older boy that, by rights, it was he who should be asking his forgiveness.
“What you gave me I had coming,” Michael told him. “I got no more than I deserved. And it was a well-struck blow, whereas mine was most unseemly.
I am truly sorry, Corwin, that you had to spend time in the dungeons on my account. I promise I shall try to find a way to make it up to you.
Will you forgive me?”
Corwin was so flustered, he did not know what to say.
“Corwin, please say you’ll forgive me, or Aedan will be very angry with me and I shall never hear the end of it.”
“But … Your Highness, it is not my place to-“
“Corwin, if I say it is your place to forgive me, then it is your place to forgive me, so forgive me and let’s have done with it, shall we?”
Corwin accepted Michael’s apology, and then Michael accepted his, remarking how it was the first time Haelyn had ever lost the Battle of Mount
Deismaar, and to a goblin general, at that. “Next time, there shall be a reckoning,” he cautioned.
Corwin looked dismayed. “Next time?”
“Of course,” said Michael. “After all, I have a score to settle with the goblins now.”
Corwin swallowed nervously. “Perhaps, Your Highness, next time I might have the privilege of fighting on the side of the Anuireans.”
“No, no, I want you on Azrai’s side,” said Michael.
“Everybody else always holds back a little when they fight me, because I am the prince. But you did not hold bac . And that’s just what I want.
I will never get any better if everyone always holds back and lets me win. Next time, Corwin, I want you to make me work for it.”
“As you wish, Your Highness,” Corwin said, with a bow, though he was clearly unhappy with the whole idea. The thought filled him with dread.
“And another thing,” said Michael. “I’m tired of everybody calling me that all the time. Your Highness this, Your Highness that…. Nobody ever calls me by my name except my sisters and my parents, and I hardly ever talk to them. What is the point in having a name if no one ever uses it?”
“It would not be proper for people to address the heir to throne by his first name, Your Highness,” Aedan said, not bothering to comment on the fact that the reason Michael’s sisters rarely spoke to him was because they were spoiled rotten and detested him, and most parents had better things to do than spend time speaking with their children, anyway.
Besides, the emperor was in poor health and rarely spoke to anyone these days, leaving most matters of state to his royal chamberlain, and the empress was
too busy with her daughters, trying to get them married off, which was no easy task considering their lofty rank and still more lofty dispositions, to say nothing of the fact that there were seven of them.
“Well, I don’t care. I’m tired of it,” the prince maintained. “Can’t they at least call me ‘my lord Michael’ or something?”
“Hmm,” said Aedan. “As it is a point of royal etiquette, I shall have to consult my father. Perhaps, since you wish it, he may allow it in informal circumstances, but only among your intimate friends at court.”
“He may allow it?” Michael said, bridling. “Why should it be his decision? I am heir to the throne, while he is only the royal chamberlain.”
“That is very true,” admitted Aedan, “but the matter does not rest with him alone. There is the question of precedent, and the etiquette of titles and so forth, which may have to be researched. It is a complicated matter.”
“Well, have him look into it as soon as possible,” said Michael. “My name is not Your Highness, it is Michael Roele, and I want people to use it.”
“I shall speak with my father at the earliest opportunity, Your High-uh, my lord Michael,” Aedan promised.
“When I am emperor,” said Michael, petulantly, “I shall make such decisions on my own, without having to consult all sorts of people. It is foolish.
Suppose we are in battle and someone is coming up behind me? By the time you call out, ‘Your Highness, look out behind you,’ I’ll be dead.”
“In such an event, my lord,” said Aedan, suppressing a smile, “in the interests of brevity, I shall be 48 sure to call out your name.”
“Good,” said Michael. “I should hate to die of royal etiquette.”
That evening, when Aedan repeated the conversation to his father, Lord Tieran responded with amusement. “I see no reason why the prince’s intimates cannot address him as ‘my lord Michael’ or my lord’ in informal circumstances,” he said, “though use of his first name alone would be highly improper, of course. Unless it were in battle, in a situation such as he described,” he added with a smile.
“And as emperor, needless to say, he will certainly be free to make all such decisions on his own, without consulting anyone.” Then he grew serious. “And I fear that he may get his wish much sooner than he .”
Aedan frowned. “Is something the matter with the emperor?”
His father nodded. “His health is rapidly failing. It is generally known that he has not been well, and that he is old and tires easily, but I have taken pains to conceal just how weak and frail he has become.
I do not know how successful I have been in keeping his true condition secret, but I am seriously concerned that he may not last out the summer. And if he were to die before we returned to the Imperial Cairn, we could all find ourselves in a rather precarious situation.”
“Why?” asked Aedan.
“The Archduke of Boeruine is an ambitious man,” his father said. “A powerful man. Prince Michael is much too young to rule unguided. He will need a regent. Ordinarily, the empress would fulfill that role, guided by myself as royal chamberlain, but she too is young and Boeruine could easily claim that the empire required a stronger, more experienced hand. With the court at Seaharrow, it would be a simple matter for him to take control and appoint himself as regent. And once he had done that, he would be but one step away from the Iron Throne itself.”
“But. . . Prince Michael is the heir,” said Aedan.
“Surely, Lord Arwyn could not entertain notions of displacing him
.
That would be high treason!”
“You still have much to learn, my son,” Lord Tieran said, shaking his head. “Since he was regent, Boeruine could wed the empress, and whether she wished to marry him or not, she would be in a poor position to refuse while in his hands here at Seaharrow. Once he had brought about the marriage, if some unfortunate accident befell Prince Michael, Lord Arwyn would become the next Emperor of Anuire.”
“And I always thought Lord Arwyn was loyal to the emperor!” said Aedan.
“He is,” his father replied.
“But … if he is loyal, how could he contemplate committing treason?”
Aedan asked, uncomprehending.
“Because he would not see it as treason,” his father explained patiently. “He would see it as a responsible and entirely reasonable act taken to safeguard the security of the empire.”
Aedan simply stared at his father with disbelief.
Tieran saw that he didn’t understand, so he elaborated for his benefit.
“Arwyn of Boeruine is not an evil man,” he said, “but he is an ambitious one. In many ways, an evil man is easier to deal with, so because you always know what to expect. An evil man knows what he is and accepts his nature. As a result, he has no need to justify his actions. An ambitious man, on the other hand, is a far more slippery creature, and highly unpredictable. He often fools himself as well as others.
“Boeruine is not an evil man,” Lord Tieran continued, “but he could easily convince himself that the empire was in danger with a mere child on the Iron Throne, and that the empress was herself too young and inexperienced to rule as regent. In that, at least, he would be correct. She could certainly do so with my guidance, but Lord Arwyn would doubtless feel that his guidance would be superior to mine. And he may even be right at that-who knows? He certainly is capable of governing the empire. Either way, he would tell himself that, as a widow, the empress would be vulnerable to unscrupulous suitors seeking to gain power, so by marrying her, he would only be protecting her and safeguarding the empire from greedy and ambitious men.
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