Gloriana's Masque

by Eleanor Burns

  “Err, no. It’s just …” he began, evasively, but changed his mind. Not that it made any real difference what he said, but he could see no good reason to spare her from the hideous consequences of her crimes, if she even cared. “I should have added, perhaps, that all of this is conditional on an immediate ceasefire. As long as Brython marauders are still attacking the border villages, the Senate is not inclined to–” but before he could finish, she suddenly turned her head to face Lord Lycon. The instant before she turned completely away from him, Kasimir thought he noticed a flash of red within her crystal eye.

  “Is that true?” she asked, her tone still controlled but now cutting. Lycon’s expression, tense and uncomfortable, was all of the answer that she needed. “Milord, you gave me to understand that the main body of the Incursion Fleet had returned to Brythenedd. How is it that– ?”

  “No, Your Highness, I said they had gone,” replied Lycon, matter-of-factly, but not with an easy conscience. “I did not say where. It was necessary to protect your people. Had they been allowed to remain in Kadar Ydril, Lord Corin’s berserkers would have caused mayhem, as surely as they would have drawn breath.”

  “And what is that supposed to imply, Milord?” asked Corin, with slightly slurry malice, returning to the table with both a half-full goblet and the rest of the wine jug.

  “Only that your brave lads are never happy unless they’re in a fight, which I’ve no doubt you’ll agree with.” With a non-committal grunt, possibly of concurrence, Corin sat back down and continued drinking, while Lycon turned back to the Queen and put on his best air of patience. “Better by far, Your Highness, that they should be fighting our enemies than fighting your own subjects, but we have not given them free rein to raise chaos. Lord Staakys and I both argued that it would not do to provoke a full-scale war with Lucinia, and Lord Corin saw the need for restraint. He agreed that his men’s activities would be a limited campaign of harassment, no more. Some light pillaging … the odd rape,” he added, with intense discomfort, which proved justified as Kasimir now saw Gloriana’s hands clenching into tight little balls of poorly-repressed rage. “However, there was to be no burning of dwellings, no enthrallments, and no killings, except in self-defence. Since the border-landers are going to have to clear out anyway, they won’t stand to lose very much. They might even come out on top, if the Senate compensates them for their losses. Anyway, that is war, Your Highness. Accept it if you would win it.”

  “Thank you for the lesson, Milord,” said Gloriana, icily, and turned back to Kasimir. “Tell me, Lord Citizen: to your knowledge, have these raiders been complying with this interesting new definition of ‘restraint?’”

  “There have been fatalities,” answered Kasimir, his tone severe, although it was now more out of contempt for Gloriana’s allies than for the Queen herself. She really didn’t know? How can someone so intelligent be so naïve? “The reports also mention some citizens having been carried away as slaves.”

  “So, Milords,” she continued, turning to the table again. “Correct me if I am mistaken, but it seems very much as if you have allowed me to convene a peace conference while we are in the very act of attacking Lucinia. Was it your intention to humiliate me, or is this truly the Brython interpretation of showing good faith?”

  “Your mean to insult our nation, Your Highness?” asked Lord Staakys, grimly, while Lycon winced.

  “I mean to help your nation, Milord,” she replied, opting for a more benign, although still fairly exasperated tone. “Goddess knows, Brythenedd has just complaints to make against the Republic. This ancient embargo of theirs, born out of mere resentment at your independence, has forced a life of backwardness and piracy on your people. But if we are to address that injustice, we must–”

  “You think we want their fucking pity?” interrupted Corin, his voice thick with wine and fury, while Staakys merely settled for a doubtful silence. “Screw their help, and their embargo. That’s all history now, and we are what we are, and we can take what we damn well please from them or from anyone. If they want to try buying us off with good honest gold, then fair enough, but why should we stop attacking when they’re paying us sod all and are obviously too weak to even defend themselves? You call that a fucking strategy?”

  “Too weak? Secretary Kasimir,” she asked, “could you please explain to His Lordship what will happen … what may at this moment actually be happening if these raids should persist?”

  “Lord Lycon is almost correct,” Kasimir explained, although he avoided eye contact with Corin. “Small-scale raids that do not appear to threaten Lucinia’s national security will attract no immediate government-level response. However, if the local citizen militias continue to prove ineffective in dealing with them, then the Steel Dome will have no option but to send in Republican troops. There’s a battalion of them encamped at Morogwin Barracks, not twenty kilometres south of Wynnadunn. They have the latest field artillery, and can also deploy steam dirigibles for aerial surveillance. Those can also be used for dropping grenades and alchemical poisons, should the raiders attempt to take cover in the foothills. If they attempt to flee north through Falkraine’s Corridor, the naval dockyard in Cullensport will send frigates to intercept and cut them off. Either way, they face a massacre,” he concluded, not without a sense of morbid satisfaction.

  “You think I’m scared of your machines, Lucinian?” sneered Corin, but to little avail, as Kasimir could see that his words had taken effect with the other two sealords. Staakys looked deep in sombre thoughts, while Lycon chiefly looked vexed. From what Maradith’s told me about their rivalries, like as not he was hoping Corin’s men would blunder into that massacre, he thought, but decided he did not dislike Lycon quite enough to express that belief, especially since it could only strengthen Corin’s position, and so he kept his reply very bland and simple.

  “No, Milord. That is just what will happen, though.”

  “So you see, Lord Corin,” said Gloriana, patiently, “we must not mistake Lucinia’s lack of appetite for war and its willingness to negotiate as them being ‘at our mercy.’ You are, I realise, a man of action, and such distinctions do not come easily to you, but you are also a leader; not only of your men but of your nation. You must see beyond the immediate struggle and consider Brythenedd’s wider interests. Trade and diplomatic relations with Lucinia will mean more to your people than a few more bundles of loot, and will re-open the possibility of you founding settlements in New Arkady. That will enrich Brythenedd without the need for this constant brigandage, which only isolates you. Don’t forget as well that Lucinia can provide expertise to improve the daily lives of your people in so many ways: modern farming techniques, engineering, sewerage, galvanics–”

  “Ah yes, the Lucinian ‘tame lightning,’” interrupted Staakys, with renewed enthusiasm. “I’m actually quite interested to hear more about that. Say, for example, someone’s uncle had left him a massive castle on Drennholm: a noble enough seat, I grant you, but draughty and gloomy as you please. Do you think, Lord Citizen, that this stuff could actually be used to make it a home fit for a– ?”

  “Am I going deaf or mad, or is it you fools?” shouted Corin, rising to his feet with a very slight wobble. “‘Diplomatic relations’ and ‘tame lightning’ now, is it? Tame bloody Brythons, more like. They mean to make us soft with their damn trinkets, make our women and thralls idle and uppity, and turn us into their puppets just like they did with the Alvere. I didn’t come to this stinking dump so I could parley us a future as a nation of pampered, cowardly weaklings, fawning at the Lucinians’ heels. I came here because I thought we were building weapons to make us strong, and make those arrogant fuckers crawl for a change,” he added, staring daggers at Kasimir, who had no reply for that, but Gloriana, rising in quick but stately fashion to her feet, proved eloquent on his behalf.

  “My weapons, Lord Corin, if I may remind you. My ‘trinkets,’ and I choose to use them to secure a lasting peace. You, on the other hand, seem to prefer
to let your brothers-in-arms be slaughtered for the sake of a futile gesture, and to let your countrymen live in poverty for the sake of your own misconceived pride. I was mistaken in you: you are no kind of leader at all.” Corin half-raised a fist, and his sweaty face twitched dangerously, but after a few tense seconds he relaxed somewhat, although not into any state that could have been mistaken for serenity.

  “If you weren’t a fucking woman–” he began, but she quickly cut him off.

  “Oh, don’t stand on chivalry for me, Milord. Not if you want to settle our differences in that way. I am quite capable, or did no-one mention that I used to be a Shadow Guard before I took up queening? I achieved the seventh dan in Morleth-Ychaf. There are three dans above that, admittedly, but you’d need to have a knack for psychoportation to have any hope of mastering those moves. I’m not saying I could wipe the floor with you … at least not when you’ve had a chance to sober up, but I can promise you won’t find me an insultingly easy opponent.” For all his appreciation of Gloriana’s talents, Kasimir was appalled. For Lord Corin was clearly a seasoned career killer, who had obviously not risen to his exalted status by ever considering the virtues of fighting cleanly. Fortunately, instead of accepting the challenge, he merely broke into a smile, unpleasant but harmless enough.

  “By Thalassa, Lycon, I’ll say this for her,” he declared, with cynical amusement. “She’s wasted on you,” and out of the corner of his eye, Kasimir thought he saw Lycon nodding wearily at this. However, since his head was cradled in his right hand, his elbow on the table, his eyes closed, and his whole posture radiating hopelessness, it was hard to be sure if this signified anything. “Still, I’m not staying here to see her sell us out to our enemies,” Corin announced, draining his goblet and making for the door, not quite in a straight line. Mind you, he can hold his liquor better than me, thought Kasimir, not that this was any major accolade.

  “Then go, Milord … but you will withdraw those men of yours from the border-lands at once, and emancipate any thralls they have taken. I will not insult Lord Citizen Kasimir by pretending to negotiate peace while simultaneously murdering and enslaving his countrymen.”

  “The fuck I will,” said Corin, unpromisingly, as he passed through the doors. Gloriana let out a frustrated sigh, and sank back into her chair. Awkward silence prevailed for a few moments, eventually broken by Lord Staakys in a more or less respectful but slightly chastising tone.

  “You antagonise him, Your Highness. Is that wise?”

  “Lord Corin is antagonism,” she replied, bitterly and succinctly. Two seats away, Lycon let out a very quiet moan, which Kasimir only just heard. Negotiations going nowhere, tainted in the sight of his beloved … It’s definitely not been his day.

  “Yet he speaks for many of our people,” continued Staakys. “If you insist on making an enemy of him, you may earn yourself many more.”

  “And you, Lord Staakys? Do you consider me an enemy?” she asked, and although she had not overplayed the winsome tone, it was hard for Kasimir not to picture her remaining eyelash fluttering under the mask. However, she seemed to have picked her man correctly: Staakys withdrew his hard, admonishing stare, the resolve left his voice, and even under his heavy, grizzled whiskers Kasimir thought he detected the hint of a blush. He may not be a gentleman, this one, thought the secretary, but that doesn’t stop him from having his delusions of chivalry, bless …

  “I, err … I’ve no wish at all to be your enemy, Your Highness,” Staakys replied, a tad awkwardly, “but I must see all points of view. There may be wisdom in what you say, but you are mistaken if you think Lord Corin is the only proud man in our nation. Indeed, what future will Brythenedd have if we are not respected?”

  “You do not think you will win respect by gaining these concessions from Lucinia? Not many have succeeded in getting the Republic to part with anything that was not in its own interests.”

  “Aye, true enough,” agreed Staakys, thoughtfully. “You may be on to something there … but talk is cheap. Perhaps if the Lord Citizen was prepared to make an immediate gesture of his good faith, that might put us in a better position for deciding what action to take on this whole messy border-lands business. What exactly is he prepared to swear to right at this moment?”

  “Secretary Kasimir,” began Gloriana, turning back to him with an imploring note. “I know it must seem a terrible liberty under these circumstances to request a favour of you, but the lives at stake must take precedence over courtesy and diplomacy. I swear to you, though, that I will remember and reciprocate all such acts in due course.” There was a painful sincerity in her voice, but Kasimir was mainly alert to the irony of the situation. Now she’s asking me for help? So what happens if I tell her to get stuffed? Lord Corin’s berserkers would be blasted, bombed, and poisoned out of existence, and if there were any future negotiations after that, he could only imagine the Brythons would be much more amenable to conducting them on Lucinia’s terms. On the other hand, that would not do the border-landers any good. Damn her, but she’s right … and lest I forget, this is probably all a farce anyway, so we may as well save some lives while we’re about it.

  “The trade embargo will be lifted,” he announced, jadedly, “as will the naval blockade in New Arkady. Brythenedd may send an ambassador to Lyssagrad, if it so wishes. We will accommodate them with full diplomatic honours. The Lyceum will send experts to plan and supervise whatever social improvements you wish for, as long as their freedom is guaranteed, and we’ll chip in a development fund of twenty million marks to get them started. That ought to be more than enough to get your castle fully plumbed, lit, and heated, Lord Staakys.”

  “Ah, well. That puts a different slant on things,” replied Staakys, with satisfaction. “That being the case … Hey, do you think they could get it done before this Anākstide? The thing is, my grandson’s getting married then, and if we could just get the ballroom, the kitchens, and a few bathrooms up to scratch, it’d make the perfect venue for the reception.”

  “I daresay,” said Kasimir, indifferently. I do appear to buying human lives with galvanic lamps and flush toilets. I honestly never pictured my political career turning out this way.

  “Well, in that case, I’m sure we can come to some accommodation. What say we call it a day, Your Highness, until we’ve sorted out this Incursion Fleet thing?”

  “I agree, Milord,” said Gloriana, solemnly. “Recalling Lord Corin’s men, and getting them back on ship to Brythenedd must take precedence now. We cannot in all honour ask more of Secretary Kasimir until that has been dealt with.”

  “Just as you say. He’ll not like it, mind,” added Staakys, gravely, as he heaved himself from his chair. “Oh well. I reckon it’ll come better from the both of us, Lord Lycon … oh, and do stop moping, for Thalassa’s sake,” he added, fairly summarising that lord’s tired, dejected posture. “That all went pretty well, I thought. Lord Corin’s likely to kick up a storm, I know, but–”

  “He can shove it up his arse,” suggested Lycon, rising wearily to his feet and making for the doors with a heavy tread.

  “We might put it just a bit more subtly than that,” advised Staakys, as he accompanied him. “Farewell, Your Highness. Pleasure doing business with you, Lord Citizen,” he concluded, as they left the throne room together. As soon as they were gone, Gloriana slumped in her seat and let her head fall upon the chair-back, looking almost as spent as Kasimir felt. He sipped the spring water in his goblet, which was at any rate very pleasant – fresh, and just the slightest bit sweet – but right here and now a clear head seemed like an absurdly overrated concept.

  “Did Lord Corin finish all of the wine?” he asked, dismally. “Only I’m kind of regretting I turned it down now.”

  “Afraid so,” said Gloriana, inspecting the empty jug. “I’m sure Aneuryn wouldn’t mind going to the cellar to get a refill. I’m sorely tempted to join you.”

  Let’s see … Do I want to spend the evening getting drunk in the company of this
woman who metaphorically killed my career prospects, and actually if unintentionally killed all of those innocent civilians in the border-lands? Kind of, but that’s just too disturbing in and of itself.

  “Thank you, Your Highness,” he replied, more formally, “but if today’s any indication of what’s to come, I’d probably be better off not for ruining my chances of getting a decent night’s sleep.”

  “You’re right,” she agreed, rather reluctantly. “All things considered, it wouldn’t do. New developments all of the time, never knowing when the next one’s to come … Are you returning to your quarters?” she asked, as he drained the last of his water and stood up.

  “With your permission.”

  “Of course. Please wish Delator Maradith well from me. Miryam … my chambermaid, that is, told me all about that ugly scene with Lord Corin in the office, and how the Delator rescued her. I’m only sorry I haven’t had a chance to meet her yet. We must remedy that before you depart.”

  “I’m sure she’ll be delighted.”

  “I won’t keep you … but Lord Kasimir,” she hurriedly added, as he began to leave. “Thank you for supporting me. I realise I have not made things easy on you … Please believe me, though, that this evening’s insults were not intentional. If it were not for your understanding, things could have gone very ill indeed. This service will not be forgotten, I promise you.”

  Although confused, he bowed graciously before making his departure, and as he walked the palace corridors he wondered what, if anything, she had meant. In his experience, it was common enough for people in high office to throw around casual and even extravagant statements of their gratitude without anyone imagining that any real consequences would follow, and nine times out of ten they would be correct. However, this was the second time Gloriana had taken him aside to say something like this, and he was finding the mystery troubling rather than exciting. Although her claim to the throne was now undisputed, save for Saskia’s pathetic hopes of deposing her, Gloriana still did not have all that much to offer a man of Kasimir’s high standing. Even if he faced the worst-case scenario on his return home and was sidelined into some petty provincial office, to spend a stagnant career being ignored and laughed at by his junior clerks, he would still have a high wage and benefits. Alvenheim’s non-existent economy could not hope to match that for decades, whatever development aid was poured into it.