“And as a descendant of Roele,” he went on, “who better than himself to guide the empire and provide for the emperor’s widow? The empress is a beautiful woman, so I suppose it would not be very difficult for Lord Arwyn to convince himself he loved her. He is a strong and handsome man, and he might even be able to convince her. After all, the only man that she has ever known has been the emperor, and a man of his age and constitution does not really stir the fires in a young woman’s heart.
But whether he courted the empress or coerced her, Lord Arwyn would convince himself that he was acting out of the best possible motives.
And that is why ambitious
men are dangerous, my son. I would rather have an evil man to deal with any day. At least evil men are honest with themselves.”
“But how could he possibly justify doing anything to Michael?” Aedan asked.
“Well, perhaps he wouldn’t really need to,” Lord Tieran replied.
“Ambitious men often do not work in obvious ways, and they tend to surround themselves with underlings who know how to carry out their wishes, even if they are not obviously expressed. Lord Arwyn might decide to go out hunting with some of his knights one day, and that evening, over the campfire, he might choose to share some of his concerns about the empire. He might expound, in a casual sort of way, about how difficult it was to govern with a temperamental child on the throne, whose abilities were unproven and whose disposition was not conducive to instilling confidence in his subjects. He might sigh wearily and muse about how much easier things would be if only he didn’t have to worry about Prince Michael all the time….”
“And his knights would take that as an order for his murder,” Aedan said in a low voice as understanding dawned.
Lord Tieran shrugged. “No direct order would be given, of course, but his men would understand his meaning, just the same. And when Prince Michael turned up dead, no one would be more outraged than Lord Arwyn, who would vow vengeance on the regicides, whoever they may be. He would decree a period of mourning throughout the empire, during which he himself would mourn sincerely, and following which, for the good of the empire, he
would reluctantly allow himself to be persuaded to ascend the throne.”
Aedan shook his head, stunned. “How is it you can even think of such things?”
“Because it is my duty to think of them,” his father replied. “I do not say that this is what Lord Arwyn will do, merely that it is something he may do. It is a possibility, and it is my duty-as it shall be yours someday-to consider such possibilities and determine just how likely they may be. And in Lord Arwyn’s case, I think it is a very likely possibility, indeed.”
“Then we must leave here and return to Anuire as soon as possible!”
said Aedan.
“What reason would we give for our abrupt departure?” asked his father.
“My unfounded suspicions based on my personal dislike for our host?
Thus far, he has done nothing to warrant our distrust. We are barely halfway through the season and the entire court is here, so we cannot pretend that some urgent business of the empire has arisen that requires our presence in Anuire. Moreover, we cannot simply pack up and steal out in the middle of the night. For one thing, there is the matter of Lord Arwyn’s men-at-arms, and for another, we could not risk the journey without an escort. Even if we did not take the wagons and left most of the court behind, it would still take at least a day or two to organize the party, and the emperor is in no condition to travel at present.”
“Then at the very least we must get the prince to safety,” Aedan said.
“With a small escort, I could take him to Anuire myself and then we-“
“No, that is out of the question,” said Lord Tieran, 53 shaking his head. “Your courage is commendable, as is your initiative in suggesting such a course, but it would be far too great a risk. For a small party, the journey would be dangerous in itself, and the moment he discovered that the prince was gone, Lord Arwyn could send a party of knights after him, which he would doubtless lead himself, citing concern for the prince’s safety. Suppose he overtook you on the road, with none to see what would transpire?
It would be a simple matter for him to return and claim he found the prince’s party ambushed by unknown marauders and slain to the last man
…
and boy.”
“Then what are we to do?” asked Aedan with chagrin.
Lord Tieran sighed. “For the moment, there is nothing we can do. Our situation may indeed provide a great temptation to Lord Arwyn, but we do not know for certain that he shall give in to it. These are all merely suppositions, after all. He may surprise us and prove he is a better man than I suspect he is.”
“And if he is not?” said Aedan, with concern.
“Then he must still take care about appearances.
He cannot seize the throne in a way that would be obvious to everyone.
That could easily provoke a war. He would have to take his time and manage things very carefully. That factor, at least, is in our favor.
And we must pray for the emperor’s recovery … or at the very least, for him to survive the summer. I do not think Lord Arwyn would dare to act while the emperor still lives.”
“It was folly for us to come here in the first place,” Aedan said. “If Lord Arwyn cannot be trusted, why have
we honored him by holding summer court at a rrow? Why have we placed ourselves into his hands?”
“Because we need him to safeguard the Western Coast provinces from incursions by our enemies in the Northern Marches,” said his father.
“Political alliances can be very complicated things, very delicate and tenuous. A leader must often ally himself with men he does not like or trust. Such things are less important than whether or not such men can be controlled. Do you recall when you first learned to ride?”
Aedan blinked, surprised by the sudden change of subject. Yes. My horse threw me and I landed so hard I had the wind knocked out of me.”
“And you were afraid to get back on,” his father said. “Do you remember what I told you then?”
“That my horse threw me because he sensed my fear,” said Aedan. “And that if I did not conquer my fear and get back on again at once, I would never learn to ride because I would always be afraid and the horse would always sense it.”
“Exactly,” said Lord Tieran. “In some ways, men are much like horses.
if a strong hand controls the reins, they may be spirited but will respond to commands. However, if they sense fear - - .”
Aedan nodded. “I think I understand,” he said.
He took a deep breath and exhaled heavily. “There is still so very much I have to learn.”
His father smiled. “It is a wise man who knows he has much to learn.
It is a foolish one who thinks he knows it all. Take care of the prince, my son. See to it he is not left alone. My concerns may prove groundless in the end-and I pray they do-but remember 55 that it is not wise to place temptation into the path of an ambitious man.”
That night, Aedan couldn’t sleep, so he made his way up to the parapet of the tower in the west wing of the castle, where the royal party was quartered.
This tower, one of four at each corner of the castle, was toward the rear, looking out over the sea. No guards were stationed here, so he could enjoy some peace and quiet in which to think, with nothing to distract him save for the pounding surf on the rocks far below.
For the moment, he was not concerned for Michael.
Two men-at-arms from the Royal House Guard were posted at his door.
Soldiers also guarded the rooms of the emperor and the empress, and they were within sight of one another in the corridor. This was normal procedure, and as such, would not serve to reveal Lord Tieran’s suspicions to Lord Arwyn.
What the archduke didn’t know was that Lord Tieran had posted two additional guards inside both Michael’s and the emperor’s rooms, as well. Castle
s were often built with secret passages, and though Lord Tieran did not know if Seaharrow had such hidden corridors behind its walls, he wasn’t taking any chances.
As Aedan stood on the tower parapet and looked out at the sea and the surrounding countryside, he could see most of the castle, as well.
Lord Arwyn’s quarters were in the east wing, and Aedan wondered if he were asleep right now or if he were awake, considering what to do.
Lord Arwyn was not 56 a fool; he knew the emperor was ailing. Hadrian was old, and at his age, even a slight illness could easily turn fatal.
If he died, Michael would become the emperor, and he was not yet ready.
Nor was Aedan ready to assume the role of royal chamberlain.
Michael’s ascension to the Iron Throne would not mean Aedan would immediately assume that post, however. His father would continue in that role until he felt Aedan was prepared to take his place. But tonight, Aedan felt a long way from being prepared.
He had never even considered the possibility that Lord Arwyn might harbor ambitions to sit upon the throne himself, and after speaking with his father, he felt woefully inadequate.
What his father had said about considering possibilities had made him think more about his role in being Michael’s “nursemaid,” as he had always thought of it. When he was a few years younger, he had resented having to perform that task, but then he came to understand that its purpose was to help him develop patience and form a bond with the young prince, so that when the time came for Michael to assume the throne, he would feel trust for his royal chamberlain and, in turn, Aedan would have learned how his sovereign thought. Now, however, Aedan realized that there was much more to it than that.
Without knowing it, he had also been training him to consider possibilities. The role that he had played in the young nobles’
reenactment of the Battle of Mount Deismaar had, in a sense, been similar to the role his father played in the political maneuverings of the Imperial Court. He had learned enough of Michael to know how he was likely to respond in
given situations, and when young Corwin had shown him up, he had considered the possibility correctly, as it had turned out-that Michael would take out his anger on Corwin in the game. He had also considered the possibility that the bigger boy might hurt Michael if things got out of hand. He had been equally correct in that assessment, too, though he had failed to anticipate that Ariel would interfere with his ability to step in and stop it at the proper time.
Children’s games. Yes, they were that, and he had been both frustrated and embarrassed to be forced to play them at his age. But now, for the first time, he understood why his father had insisted on it. On a smaller scale, he was learning how to consider possibilities, how to assess the personalities and idiosyncracies of the players, how to gauge their reactions and deal with them appropriately. Now, however, he would have to learn how to apply those skills on a much higher level.
For the first time, he began to understand just how difficult his father’s duties really were.
In the distance, dark clouds roiled over the sea. He saw a flash of lightning and a moment later heard the distant roll of thunder. The wind picked up. A storm was moving in. In more ways than one, he thought grimly.
“It appears I was not the only one who could not sleep,” a young female voice said from behind him.
He turned and saw Princess Laera standing on the parapet behind him.
At nineteen, she was the eldest of the emperor’s seven daughters, and next spring, she would be the first to wed. Ironically, she was to marry none other than Lord Arwyn, who was twice her age. However, if his father’s fears were realized,
thought Aedan, there was a possibility Laera might lose her intended to her own mother. Strange were the ways of imperial politics, indeed.
“Good evening, Your Highness,” Aedan said, bowing to her.
“Good night, you mean,’ she said. “It is almost the midnight hour.”
111 had just come up to get some air and think awhile,” Aedan said.
“However, I shall not intrude on your privacy.”
“Nonsense. it is I who am intruding on yours, she said. “Stay, Aedan.
I would be grateful for the company.
As you wish, Your Highness.”
“Must you be so formal?” she asked. “We have known each another since we were children, yet you have never called me by my name.”
What, Aedan wondered, was this peculiar penchant in the children of the royal family to want to be acknowledged by their names? It was as if being addressed by their proper titles, as was their rightful due, somehow failed to acknowledge their individual existence. And even as the thought occurred to him, he realized that perhaps, from their viewpoint, that was precisely what the protocol of court accomplished: they forced people through law and custom and tradition to acknowledge what they were rather than who they were. No one had ever acknowledged their individuality, only their positions. it had to make them feel rather lonely.
“Well, since we are alone, I will call you Laera, if you will allow me the rare privilege,” he said.
“I do allow it,” she replied with a smile. “It would be nice if you could see me as a woman and not only
as a princess of the royal house.”
It was difficult not to see her as a woman, Aedan thought, with her dark hair hanging loose and billowing in the breeze, which also plastered the thin material of her nightgown against her body. She looked altogether too much like a woman and not enough like a princess.
Selfconsciously, and reluctantly, Aedan averted his gaze and looked out to sea.
“A storm is coming,” he said uneasily. She came up beside him and rested her arms on the parapet wall. “I love summer storms,- she said.
“The way the sheet lightning lights up the whole sky, the way the thunder rolls, as if the gods were playing at ninepins, the way the rain comes down so hard and fast and leaves everything smelling so fresh and clean. I love walking in the rain, don’t you?”
He glanced at her. The wind was blowing her long, raven tresses back from her face as she inhaled deeply, taking in the moisture-laden sea air. Aedan could not help noticing the way her chest rose and fell with her breaths. She was leaning forward against the wall, and her posture accentuated her breasts, which threatened to tumble out of her lowcut nightgown. She glanced at him, and he quickly looked away. Had she caught him staring? Aedan felt himself blushing and turned his head so she wouldn’t see.
It wasn’t all that long ago that Laera was a gangly, coltish little girl, proud and haughty, with legs too long for her torso, but since she turned fifteen, she had begun to blossom and seemed to become more beautiful with each passing year. Her once reed-thin figure now possessed lush curves, of which Aedan
was all too uncomfortably aware with her standing so close, barefoot and wearing nothing but a sheer white nightgown.
It struck him that they really shouldn’t be alone like this, especially with her being dressed the way she was. Or barely dressed, he thought.
She was promised to Lord Arwyn, after all, and if someone saw the two of them together in such circumstances, it could easily be misinterpreted.
It wasn’t right.
“Well … I think perhaps I should be going,” he said, rather awkwardly.
“No, stay awhile,” she said, reaching out and putting her hand on his arm. Her touch lingered.
“We never have a chance to talk anymore. Why is that?”
Aedan’s lips felt very dry. He moistened them.
Did she feel completely unselfconscious standing before him in her nightclothes? “I suppose we never talk because I am usually kept busy with Prince Michael, and you are kept busy with…” He actually had no idea how she spent her days. “. . . whatever it is a princess does,”
he finished lamely.
“Learning courtly graces, sewing and embroidering, dancing, riding, lessons on the lute … all those things meant to prepare a girl
to be a noble’s wife. I am sure you would find it all quite boring. I know I do.”
“We could trade,” Aedan offered with a smile.
“Then I could learn to sew and play the lute while you could spend the day reenacting the Battle of Mount Deismaar with Prince Michael and his little friends.”
“No, thank you, very much,” she said, making a face. “I concede you have the worse of it. I cannot
imagine how you stand it. Michael is an absolutely horrid child. It must be awfully trying for you.”
“Oh, it’s not really so bad,” said Aedan, though privately, he could not agree with her more. “It is good training for my future role as royal chamberlain. It teaches discipline and patience.”
“It must,” said Laera. “I don’t know how you can put up with him. He may be my brother, but he is an insufferable little monster. When I heard that Corwin knocked him senseless, I thought it was just what he deserved. To tell the truth, I wish I’d done it myself.”
“That was entirely my fault,” Aedan said. “I should have prevented it, but I fear I was not quick enough.”
Laera smiled. “Yes, I heard that Lady Ariel slowed you down a bit.”
Aedan blushed again. Damn that Ariel. The story must be all over the castle by now and everyone was probably having a good laugh at his expense. “Yes, well, that was my fault, too. I wasn’t paying attention. I was trying to keep an eye on Prince Michael, and she managed to get in a lucky blow. I really should have known better.
She always comes after me during the games. She knows that I won’t strike her, so she takes advantage.
Laera smiled again. “That isn’t why she does it.”
“Oh? Why, then?”
Laera chuckled. “You mean you don’t know?”
He frowned and shook his head. “No. What other reason could there be?”
“She is in love with you.”
“What? Ariel? Oh, that’s absurd!”
“It’s true, you know.”
“But she’s just a child!”
“a child on the verge of becoming a young woman,” Laera said. “In many ways, a girl of twelve is more mature than a boy of the same age.
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