Privateer

by Margaret Weis

  The autumn rains began and their walks were spoiled by gray clouds, and sheets of water pouring from the sky. Thomas and Phillip and Sophia stayed indoors, playing round games, cards, chess, and checkers. They read books in the library and took their exercise as afternoon strolls up and down the long gallery.

  One afternoon, near the end of their stay, Thomas was by himself in the library. He had been chagrined to discover his ignorance of world affairs, especially compared to Sophia, who knew far more than he did. He was resolved to learn more. He chose a book on Braffa, but instead of reading, he listened to the rain fall and gazed into the fire, thinking of Kate.

  He was relieved when a knock on the door interrupted his melancholy mood. Expecting Phillip, he was surprised to see Sophia enter, accompanied by the ever-present Bandit.

  “I am sorry to interrupt you—” Sophia began.

  “No, no, please do!” said Thomas, rising to his feet. “This book is rather heavy going, I’m afraid.”

  Sophia glanced at the title and laughed. “The History of the Braffan Oligarchy. I am surprised you are still conscious.”

  “I fear I would have succumbed if you had not rescued me,” said Thomas.

  He stirred the fire, for the library was an immense room and a chill wind whispered through the lead-paned windows and disturbed the curtains.

  “May we talk, Your Highness?” Sophia asked, sitting down in a chair. Bandit curled up in front of the fire. “I leave tomorrow for Freya and I did not want to go without letting you know that I am aware of your regard for Kate.”

  Thomas jumped up once more to stir the fire and hide his confusion.

  “I am sorry,” he said politely. “I do not take your meaning.”

  “I know you like her very much, and so do I,” Sophia explained. “I think she is splendid. If it is any comfort, I believe she feels the same for you.”

  Thomas remained standing by the fire, although he had stopped stirring it. “Did she mention me?”

  “Oh, no. Kate would never talk about anything that personal. She was not aware that I saw how she feels. But I think I am right,” Sophia said calmly.

  Thomas did not know what to say. He thought he should apologize for loving someone else, but then he looked at Sophia. She was regarding him with understanding and sympathy, and he felt as though he was confiding in a beloved sister. He returned to his chair and brought it closer to her.

  “So what do we do now?”

  “Our duty,” said Sophia.

  Thomas shook his head.

  “Our marriage will unite the people of Rosia and Freya and bring two warring nations together,” Sophia said.

  “I am not king of Freya and there is every likelihood I will never be,” said Thomas with a rueful smile. “You could be buying a prince in a poke.”

  Sophia laughed. “You are a member of the Estaran royal family. Your father is Marquis of Cavanaugh. The countess says that if you choose, you can exert your influence over Freyan politics even if you do not wear a crown.”

  If I choose … Thomas thought again of a plan he had been half forming in his mind. He said nothing, however. He had not told anyone. Not even Phillip.

  “Do you know why the countess arranged for you to be my husband?” Sophia asked. “I had many suitors,” she added in matter-of-fact tones. “All of them wanted to marry me for my influence or power or to gain some advantage in their home countries. The countess chose you for two reasons. The first is that she hopes to bring about lasting peace between Rosia and Freya. She says she does not want to see another war in her lifetime.”

  “The second reason?” Thomas asked.

  “Because you are close to my age and she believed you were someone I could love,” said Sophia. “I think I could have…”

  “If you had not met Pip,” said Thomas. “I will not ask if you are in love with him, Sophia, for, of course, a lady would refuse to answer such a delicate question. But if it is any comfort to you, I know he loves you with all his heart.”

  Thomas took her hand in his, to make a vow. “When we are wed, I promise that I will be a good and faithful husband to you, Sophia.”

  She clasped his hand in hers. “And I promise I will be a good and faithful wife. I am so glad to know that I will be marrying a dear friend.”

  They shook hands to solemnize their oath, only to be interrupted by Phillip, who opened the door and thrust his head inside.

  “Thomas? The countess is asking for us—” Phillip saw Sophia and stopped. “I beg your pardon, Your Highness. I thought Thomas was alone.”

  “I was just going,” said Sophia, rising. “I am glad we spent this time together, Thomas.”

  She gathered up Bandit and left Thomas with a smile, giving an even warmer smile to Phillip as she passed him. Phillip stood gazing after her.

  “She is to leave tomorrow,” he said softly.

  “I know,” said Thomas. “What did you come to tell me?”

  “Oh, yes, sorry,” said Phillip. “The countess sent me to find you. She wants to see both of us now in the solar.”

  “Both of us? Did she tell you what this meeting was about?” Thomas asked.

  “She did not,” Phillip answered. “But I saw her private secretary, D’argent, enter the palace about an hour ago; the dust of travel was on his cloak. I think the party has ended.”

  THIRTY-TWO

  A servant guided Thomas and Phillip to the solar, a room in one of the upper stories of the palace, used by the family, particularly the women, as a private sitting room. Small and intimate, the solar was the ideal place to retire in solitude and peace, escape the bustle of servants and guests.

  The solar was charming, with old-fashioned, ornately carved woodwork covering the walls, a large stone fireplace, and comfortable high-backed chairs. A deeply recessed window faced west to take advantage of the bright afternoon sunlight. Thomas and Phillip found the countess standing at this window, gazing out of it, her arms folded across her chest.

  When the servant announced them, Cecile turned to greet them with a cool and gracious smile.

  She was elegantly though simply dressed in a gown of gray silk with a lacy shawl around her shoulders. Her only ornament was a gold ring on her left hand. She did not invite them to be seated. She was clearly deeply troubled.

  Cecile did not waste time in niceties. Confronting Phillip, she said abruptly, “Your Grace was in the service of Sir Henry Wallace.”

  “I was in his service, my lady,” said Phillip, laying emphasis on the past tense. “I have assured Your Ladyship before that I no longer work for Sir Henry. My loyalties are to His Highness.”

  Cecile impatiently brushed his words aside. “Be that as it may, are you acquainted with a man named Franklin Sloan?”

  Phillip was startled and wary. “Sir Henry has a private secretary who goes by that name.”

  “Would you say this Mr. Sloan is a man to be trusted? That is…” Cecile rephrased her question. “Would Sir Henry be likely to trust him?”

  “Mr. Sloan is more than a secretary to Sir Henry,” said Phillip. “He is a valued friend and confidant. Sir Henry would trust him implicitly.”

  Cecile gave a grave nod. “That was my assessment, as well.”

  She fell silent, lost in thought, twisting the ring on her finger.

  “Let us sit down,” she said abruptly. “We could be here some time.”

  She indicated a sofa by the fire. Thomas sat down near the fire, Cecile took her place at his side, and Phillip drew up a chair to sit near Thomas.

  Cecile turned to face him. “You visited an army encampment while in Bheldem, Your Highness.”

  “I did, my lady,” Thomas said.

  “You accompanied Prince Thomas, Your Grace. The two of you spent a day and a night there.”

  “Yes, my lady,” Phillip answered, exchanging puzzled glances with Thomas.

  “Were you aware that Mr. Sloan was present in the fort at the same time?” Cecile asked.

  Phillip w
as taken aback. “That is not possible, my lady! I would have recognized him immediately.”

  “Mr. Sloan feared you would recognize him and took pains to keep out of your sight,” said Cecile. “He was there, I assure you, to gather intelligence about Your Highness’s plans to invade Freya and overthrow the queen.”

  Thomas gaped at her. “But … that is ludicrous! I have no such plans!”

  Cecile studied him searchingly. Thomas realized she was trying to find out if he was lying and he flushed beneath her scrutiny and said angrily, “I assure Your Ladyship I have no plans to invade Freya!”

  “You may not, sir. But your colonel has,” Cecile said.

  She reached over to an end table on which stood a large inlaid chest made of ebony and rosewood. She opened the chest, drew out a sheaf of papers, and placed them on the table in front of Thomas. He made no move to touch them.

  “Mr. Sloan discovered that Colonel Smythe and your parents are making these plans in your name. He relates all this in his report. I did not truly think you had knowledge of these plans, but I had to make certain,” said Cecile.

  “I don’t believe it. This man, Sloan, is a creature of Sir Henry’s!” said Thomas, giving the papers a glance of contempt. “We cannot trust him.”

  “We can, because he wrote this report for Sir Henry,” said Cecile.

  “I don’t understand,” said Thomas.

  “Mr. Sloan is unshakably loyal to Sir Henry,” Phillip explained. “He would not give him false information.”

  “Very well, I grant you that. But if this was intended for Sir Henry, how did you come by it, my lady?” Thomas asked.

  “Lord Ander,” said Phillip promptly.

  “Your Grace is very perceptive,” said Cecile dryly. “Lord Ander was there on another mission, one that has nothing to do with Your Highness. He was as astonished to see Mr. Sloan as Mr. Sloan was to see him. The two knew each from the war against the Bottom Dwellers. Lord Ander owes Mr. Sloan his life and despite the fact that the two are avowed foes, they have developed a certain amount of trust.

  “Mr. Sloan was in desperate straits. He needed to find a way to send this information to Sir Henry. He found out Lord Ander was staying at your home with a female journalist who, it seems, was there for the sole purpose of receiving information from Mr. Sloan.”

  Phillip cast Thomas a glance that said, “I told you so.”

  “Miss Nettleship has presumbably delivered the information to Sir Henry. Lord Ander was so troubled by what he read that he made a copy and immediately brought it to me.

  “I dispatched D’argent to Freya to try to confirm Mr. Sloan’s information. Colonel Smythe is very clever, however, and D’argent could not discover much. What he did find is disturbing.”

  “And that is?” Thomas asked.

  “Colonel Smythe is involved in a plot with your mother, Thomas, and a group of people in Freya who call themselves the Faithful. They plan to overthrow the queen, foment revolution, and take advantage of the unrest to place you upon the throne.

  “As proof, Mr. Sloan found that vast sums of money are being sent to Freya to hire and train armies and provide them with weapons and ammunition. These armies are being raised in secret locations in northern Freya. When the time comes, they will be positioned near strategic cities.”

  “This answers our questions about the troop carriers,” said Thomas. “My mother has done nothing all her life but scheme and plot to make me a king. I should not be surprised.”

  “You did not choose your fate, Thomas,” said Cecile. “But you can choose how to deal with what fate has given you.”

  Thomas gazed into the flames, silent. He had no choice. He had to act. But once he told them about his idea, spoke the words, they could change his life forever.

  “What will happen when the queen dies?” he asked abruptly.

  “Civil war will break out,” Cecile replied. “Hugh and Elinor are already planning for that eventuality. They are garnering support from various factions, raising money for their own armies. Neither will accept the other on the throne.”

  Thomas was silent, considering. He had seen armies marching in the streets during the war, people living in fear and dying in terror. He recalled Sophia talking about their duty, bringing peace to warring nations.

  Phillip was regarding him with a troubled expression. Thomas had not mentioned this plan to his friend, but Phillip knew him well and could probably guess what Thomas was going to propose. Thomas could also guess that his friend would not be happy.

  Thomas made his decision. “My lady, could you arrange for me to meet with the queen of Freya?”

  “I could, Your Highness,” Cecile replied, with a slight frown. “Such a journey would be fraught with peril, however. You would need to have a very good reason to undertake such a dangerous mission.”

  “I believe I do,” said Thomas. “I have been thinking about this for some time. I would like the chance to introduce myself to Her Majesty. Persuade her that I am not a power-seeking, vainglorious youth interested only in my own aggrandizement. I want to convince her that I would work hard to be a good ruler. She could name me as heir and trust that I would elevate myself to the country.”

  “An interesting idea, sir,” said Cecile in thoughtful tones.

  “I think it’s madness!” Phillip exclaimed. “I beg your pardon, my lady, but if Sir Henry discovered Tom was in Freya, he would most certainly have him arrested or killed!”

  Thomas made an impatient gesture, but Phillip was not to be deterred.

  “And let us say, for the sake of argument, that the queen does name you her heir. How would that stop your mother and Smythe?”

  “The Faithful would stop them,” said Cecile. “If Her Majesty proclaimed that Thomas, the heir to King James I, would be her heir, she would validate the Faithful, reward a century of loyalty and dedication. They would be glad to wait years, if need be. They do not want war. They would withdraw their support for a revolution.”

  “Such was my thinking,” said Thomas. “I am glad to have Your Ladyship’s confirmation.”

  “What about Hugh and Elinor? They will never accept Thomas as king,” said Phillip, pursuing the argument.

  “The prince is already immensely popular with the people due to the stories about him in the newspapers,” said Cecile. “Those backing Hugh and Elinor do so reluctantly, for neither is well liked. Given a better choice, the nobility would be quick to switch their allegiance, especially if Thomas were to actively seek their support. The Faithful could assist you with that endeavor.”

  Cecile rested her hand on his. “Your proposal is a good one, Your Highness. I know what it cost you to make it.”

  “And what it could cost him to go through with it,” Phillip said grimly.

  Cecile ignored him. “I will reach out to a high-ranking member of the Faithful to assist with the arrangements. His name is Sir Richard Wallace. He is a member of the House of Nobles and has direct access to the queen.”

  “I believe I may have met this man,” said Thomas. “My mother introduced me to a member of the Faithful she called ‘Sir Richard.’ She made him seem very mysterious, of course. She would not tell me his surname.”

  “Was he tall, balding, beaked nose, slight stoop, and a bit of a paunch?” Phillip asked.

  “That description fits him,” said Thomas. “Do you know him?”

  “Richard Wallace is Sir Henry Wallace’s elder brother,” said Phillip gravely.

  Thomas was startled. “Did you know that, my lady?”

  Cecile raised an eyebrow. Thomas flushed.

  “I beg your pardon, Countess. Of course you knew. But how can Sir Henry’s own brother be a member of the Faithful? Did you know that about him, Pip?”

  “I did not. And neither, I’ll wager, does Sir Henry,” said Phillip. He shook his head in wonderment. “He has long feared the group had members at the highest level of government and he is apparently right. Sir Richard is a leading member of the House
of Nobles and, as my lady has said, he has direct access to the queen.”

  “Richard Wallace has been a member of the Faithful since his father’s death,” said Cecile. “The secret is passed on to the eldest child or closest kinsman. The Wallace family backed King James I. When he was forced from the throne, the family lost everything. King Alfred, fearing that James’s adherents would try to oust him, stripped them of their lands, their money, their power. Like most of the Faithful, Sir Richard hopes to recover the family’s glory. The Faithful believe that the time is at hand.”

  She paused, thoughtful, then said, “I wonder if that has something to do with this reference to lex talionis.”

  “What does that mean?” Thomas asked.

  “The Law of Retribution,” said Cecile. “Mr. Sloan refers to it.”

  Thomas brushed that aside. He wanted to discuss Sir Richard.

  “If Richard is Henry Wallace’s brother, how can we trust him?” Thomas asked.

  “Sir Henry and his brother have never been close,” Phillip said. “Richard is considerably older. He did not approve of Henry’s choice of friends, particularly Captain Northrop, or his involvement in royal intrigues. The brothers did not speak for years, until Henry married the queen’s niece. Then Richard took care to renew their acquaintance. Now they dine once a month. Henry refers to Richard disparagingly as the ‘Old Chap’ and talks of how he uses him to influence votes in the House of Nobles. All this time, it seems Richard has been the one using Henry.”

  Phillip added reluctantly, “I must admit that if someone told Henry that Richard was plotting against him, Henry would burst into laughter. He would never believe it. If you insist on this mad course of action, Tom, Her Ladyship is right. I would choose Sir Richard to act as an intermediary.”

  “I will write to the queen and to Sir Richard this day and dispatch D’argent with the letters tomorrow,” said Cecile. She fixed them with a look, particularly Phillip. “You understand, gentlemen, that this secret must not leave this room.”

  “You have my assurance that I will tell no one, my lady,” said Phillip.

  “My only worry is that Sir Richard will tell my mother,” Thomas added. “If she found out that I was meeting with the queen, she would immediately rush to Haever to prepare for my coronation.”