Once In a Blue Moon (21 page)

The King’s head came up suddenly, as he finally put a name to his son, and the Seneschal. A great smile lit up his face, and he nodded cheerfully to them both. He seemed to be quite happy to be interrupted in whatever it was he thought he was doing. He sat down in the nearest chair, as though it were his throne, and the Seneschal moved quickly to brush a pile of important-looking papers off the seat before the King could sit on them and crush them. The King beamed at him.

“Ah, thank you, young man. Most kind. Most kind . . . Now, who are you?”

“The Seneschal!”

“Bless you!” said the King.

“No, Sire,” said the Seneschal very patiently. “That is my title. I am your Seneschal, your head servant.”

“Oh, good,” said King Rufus. “I’m glad we’ve got that settled. I thought you had allergies . . . There is a lot of dust in here. So, now we’ve got that settled, I have another question for you.”

“Yes, your majesty, what might that be?”

“Who am I?”

“You are His Most Royal Majesty, King Rufus VII, Ruler of the Forest Land, Defender of the Faith, and Monarch of All You Survey,” said the Seneschal.

The King blinked a few times. “Pardon?”

“You’re King Rufus!”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes!”

The King looked at him suspiciously. “Then what was all that other stuff?”

“Those are your titles!” said the Seneschal. Richard noted interestedly that the Seneschal was already dark red in the face and shading into purple. With a bit of luck, sputtering wouldn’t be far behind, hopefully to be followed by shaking of fists in the air, kicking of the Royal furniture, and with any luck, an aneurysm.

“Good, good, good,” said the King. “Yes . . . What are you doing here, in my private rooms? These are private, you know.”

“You have some important news for your son, Prince Richard,” said the Seneschal.

“Important news, eh?” the King said brightly. “That sounds important!” He nodded serenely, and then looked hopefully at the Seneschal for a bit of a clue. The Seneschal sighed and turned to Prince Richard.

“You’d better introduce yourself to him, your highness. Just to make sure he knows who you are.”

“I can’t believe he’s got so bad so quickly,” said Richard. “Why wasn’t I told?”

“You weren’t here,” said the Seneschal. “He’s not going to get any better. We’ve tried everything, from medicine to magic and back again. He’s not under a curse, or being poisoned, so there’s nothing they can do. He’s just . . . old.”

“I know,” said Richard. He stepped right in front of the King and smiled determinedly at him. “Hello, Father! It’s me—Richard!”

“Ah, hello, young Rupert!” said the King happily.

“Richard, Sire,” said the Seneschal.

“Not now, Richard,” said the King to the Seneschal. “I’m talking to young Rupert here.”

“No, Father. I’m Richard,” said Richard.

“Then who’s he?” said the King.

“The Seneschal!”

“Bless you!”

Richard hung grimly onto his self-control with both hands, because if you didn’t, you were lost. “You have important news to discuss with me, Father.”

“Do I?” said the King. There was a long pause.

“Well?” said Richard.

“Fine, thank you for asking,” said the King. “Had a good movement of the bowels first thing, that always helps. Mustn’t grumble.”

“Let me, your highness, or we’ll be here all morning,” said the Seneschal. He snapped his fingers craftily, to get the King’s attention, and then plunged right in. “Prince Richard, I have to inform you that your arranged marriage with the Princess Catherine of Redhart will be taking place rather sooner than any of us had anticipated. We have received an official communication from the Redhart Court, that the Princess is already on her way to us, and should be arriving here within the next few days. Redhart also made it very clear that they expect the marriage ceremony to take place as soon as humanly possible. They didn’t actually use the words
or else
, but they were quite clearly there, between the lines.”

Richard stared at the Seneschal with something very like horror. “
What?
Why weren’t we given any warning?”

“Don’t look at me like that!” said the Seneschal bitterly. “This is all Redhart’s doing. We hadn’t even decided on the flower arrangements yet. It would appear that both Parliaments have been in touch with each other, behind the scenes, and are putting the pressure on to get you two married so the Peace Treaty can be signed . . . before certain vested interests on both sides can find a way to sabotage things. And both countries probably want to get the marriage moneymaking machine started as soon as possible. Lots of money to be made from a Royal marriage. We’ll still be selling ceremonial plates years from now. So you must prepare yourself, Prince Richard. Which means no more running off to play hero! Perhaps now you realise how much trouble you caused for us, when all this started kicking off and you weren’t here!”

“Is that it?” said Prince Richard. “Can I go now?”

“You stand right where you are, boy,” said King Rufus, and Prince Richard and the Seneschal both looked round sharply. The King was sitting up straight in his chair, his gaze was steady, and his voice was deeper and far more sure than they were used to hearing these days. Richard could feel a broad grin breaking out on his face. It was like his father had been away and now was back again. The King regarded Richard steadily.

“I know you thought you’d have more time to get used to the idea, Richard. And I know you never wanted this marriage anyway. But I have been King long enough. Too long, I’m sure some would say. Soon enough you’ll have to wear the crown and sit on the throne, and serve the Land and its people with all your strength and all your heart. And for that you’re going to need a wife, a Queen, at your side.”

“But how can she be coming here so soon?” said Richard. He could hear the plaintive, almost childish upset in his voice, but couldn’t help himself. “There’s months of hard travelling between Redhart and here!”

The King gave the Seneschal a hard look, and the head servant bobbed his head quickly in response. “Normally, yes, your highness, but it seems Redhart has a particularly powerful sorcerer working for them. Called Van Fleet. Powerful enough to open up a dimensional gate, a shortcut between two places. They drove the Royal carriage into it in Redhart, and it popped out just a few days’ riding from here. We’ve already had sightings. We’ve sent armed troops to meet them and escort them safely here. Two days, your highness; no more.”

“You’ve been off adventuring again, haven’t you, boy?” said the King. He fixed Richard with a disapproving gaze but couldn’t keep a smile off his lips. “Trying to forget your responsibilities, by running away to play hero . . . I was just the same at your age. But it has to stop. Now! I don’t really have to give you the set speech on duty and honour again, do I?”

“No, Father,” said Richard. “I know what’s expected of me.”

The King shifted uncertainly on his chair, the strength and focus fading out of his face for a moment, as his concentration slipped, but when he looked back at Richard again his eyes were clear and cold. “I know this has all come as a shock to you, Richard. We always think there’ll be more time, to do the things we always planned to do, but never got around to . . . I never met your mother before our marriage day. But we made a go of it. So will you. Because that’s part of the job! Of being King. Seneschal! With this marriage so close, so unexpectedly . . . there’s a lot of work that needs doing. Isn’t there?”

“Yes, Sire,” said the Seneschal. And Richard couldn’t help noting that the Seneschal was smiling despite himself, so glad to have his old King back again.

“Then lead me to it,” said King Rufus. He rose from his chair with the strength and speed of a man half his age; and then he winced, and slumped, and frowned . . . as though trying to think of something that was just on the tip of his tongue. Richard’s heart sank, but the King seemed to get his second mental wind, and looked directly at him. “I would have liked a chance to actually
be
King. To fight for the Land, to stand between the people and what threatened them, to live and fight and die for the Forest. Just once. But I left it too late. Don’t you make the same mistake, young Rupert.”

He strode out of the room, leaving the Seneschal to hurry along in his wake. Richard could hear his father amiably barking out orders, and questions, as he disappeared down the corridor. And Richard had to wonder . . . was his father like this all the time, really, trapped inside a dying body and a crumbling mind? Looking out at the world but unable to reach it except for short periods like this? Richard hoped not. That would be cruel.

He sat down on the chair his father had just vacated. He had some hard thinking to do. He’d always known the day would come when he would have to be King. Have to place the crown on his head, and the cares of the world on his shoulders. But just as his father said, he’d always thought he’d have more time. To come to terms with it, and maybe even find a way out. He hadn’t just gone riding out looking for adventure for the sake of it. He’d wanted a chance to prove himself worthy. If you had to do that before you could stand for Parliament, surely you should do that before you could be King?

Rufus had been in his fifties, and on his second wife before Richard arrived. The one and only Royal child. And so Rufus was still on the throne in his seventies, long after everyone had expected he’d be gone. Richard had spent the last few years watching his father die by inches, and knowing there wasn’t a damned thing he could do about it.

The Seneschal took care of most of the everyday work, all the paperwork and day-to-day decision making. Richard helped where he could, mostly by forging his father’s signature. Everyone was very polite, inside the Court and out, pretending not to notice the King’s increasingly confused condition, but it couldn’t go on much longer. The moment Richard married Catherine, the pressure would be on to retire Rufus and place Richard on the throne. And that would be the end of Richard’s life, as he knew it.

He looked up suddenly, his brooding interrupted by raised voices outside in the corridor. He swore briefly and heaved himself out of the chair. No rest for the wicked, or those who might be wicked, given a chance. Typical bloody Castle . . . He slammed out the door and into the corridor and glared around. And there, heading straight for him, was the First Minister, head of the Forest Parliament. A crowd of not very civil servants surrounded him, trying desperately to get his attention, shouting in his ear, tugging at his clothes, and even trying to thrust papers into his hand. The First Minister ignored them all, his attention fixed on Prince Richard. He finally turned on his followers and drove them all away, with shouts and curses and the occasional blow when they didn’t leave fast enough for his liking. The civil servants fled, but only to regroup at the end of the corridor and wait for another chance. They stared sullenly at Prince Richard, who waved happily back at them. The First Minister planted himself in front of the Prince, drew himself up to his full height, and looked Prince Richard over. The Prince smiled sweetly at him.

Peregrine de Woodville was head of the party that currently dominated Parliament, and as King Rufus’ First Minister, he set general policy for the Forest Land. And used the King’s annual speeches to put a good face on it. Peregrine was a tall, thin, dry, and dusty presence who cut an aristocratic figure, and was more ostentatiously regal and overly fond of himself than any member of the Royal line, truth be told. He had a sharp, pinched face, with cold eyes and a mouth like a steel trap. He was fiercely intelligent, and never let anyone forget it. He dressed formally, but still fashionably, and never appeared in public with so much as an undone button, or an inch of lace cuff out of place. He finally deigned to nod briskly to Richard.

“Might I inquire where you’ve been these last few months, Prince Richard?”

“Yes,” said Richard.

“What?”

“Yes, you may inquire,” Richard said pleasantly.

“I know very well where you’ve been!” said Peregrine.

“Then why are you asking me?” said the Prince, in his most reasonable and deeply irritating voice.

“It’s not your job to go out and kill monsters! Your job is to look good in public, and smile and wave for the tourists! Not put your precious Royal life at risk! Leave heroic actions to all those muscular oafs from the Sorting Houses!”

“Couldn’t agree more,” said Richard.

“What?” said Peregrine.

“I’m the Prince. I don’t have to be brave. I have all sorts of perfectly good chaps to do that sort of thing for me.”

Peregrine de Woodville looked savagely at Prince Richard. It always drove him crazy when the Prince just stood there and agreed with him. Especially when Peregrine had a whole handful of unassailable arguments that proved he was right and the Prince was wrong—and then the Prince just took all the wind out of his sails by agreeing with him. So the First Minister couldn’t put the Prince down in public, the way he was entitled to. Which was, of course, why the Prince was doing it. Peregrine had a strong feeling that wasn’t playing the game.

“Princess Catherine of Redhart is on her way to the Forest Castle,” said the First Minister pointedly. “She’ll be here in the next forty-eight hours.”

“I know,” said Richard. “I’m looking forward to it.”

“No, you’re not!”

“I’m not?”

“I mean—” Peregrine stopped himself with an effort. If he lost his temper in public with the Prince, for no good reason, that meant the Prince had won. Peregrine drew in a sharp breath and leaned in close. “I will make your life a living hell once you are King, Richard.”

“Really?” murmured the Prince. “That’s just what I was thinking about you, Peregrine.”

The First Minister turned his back on the Prince and stalked away. The crowd of waiting civil servants immediately closed in around him again and departed along with him. Richard waved cheerfully after them. He turned to go the other way, and then stopped and sighed heavily as he saw the Seneschal heading straight for him. Without the King. Richard seriously considered taking to his heels and racing the Seneschal to the nearest side exit, but he had a feeling the Seneschal was in better shape than he was, just at the moment, and would probably win. So Richard stood his ground and waited for the Seneschal to join him, looking reproachfully at him all the while.