The Black Swan (21 page)

He sat on the edge of the bed with a crooked smile. “Yes I can. I want you to take this money, get a pony, buy lace, hire girls, and go to Vienna. I want you to sell it at ridiculously high prices to puffed-up lords and ladies, and get fabulously rich, marry the Guildmeister, have a dozen children, name the worst brat for me, and live to be a terrible old woman whom everyone is afraid of.”

She laughed at this, rather breathlessly, for this was probably more money than she had ever seen in her life. “But—you—”

“But I was going to use that money to buy a Spanish Barb, new falcons, and a new pack of dogs. I don't
need
a Spanish Barb, new falcons, and a new pack of dogs. I
do
need to know that I have made at least one woman's life better, and not shorter.” He hadn't meant that last to slip out, but when it did, she gave him a startled glance.

“The gypsy?” she whispered. Now it was his turn to stare. He really
hadn't
thought she was that intelligent! How on earth had she come up with that? “You didn't—” She clapped her hand to her mouth, white-faced, as if she hadn't intended that to slip out, either.

But he shook his head; since it was out, and she had guessed, he might as well admit it. “I didn't kill her, but—I was probably the reason she killed herself.” Let her make of that what she would.

She leaped to an entirely different conclusion, much more romantic than he would have imagined. “Poor thing—she didn't know you were a prince and couldn't marry her, and when she found out, she couldn't bear it.” Her face took on a curious expression, half pitying and half exasperated. “That's hardly the end of the world, and no reason to kill yourself, but I suppose it might seem that way under the wrong circumstances.”

He shrugged, relieved at the turn of her thoughts, and a little amused; evidently the fantastical notions of the minstrels were trickling down to infect even the peasants! “She evidently thought so, and I—I didn't want to be the cause of anything like that ever again.”

“Oh, my poor prince!” She shook her head at him, carefully gathered up her coins and drew on her own clothing, tucking the pouch into her cleavage. Then she looked up at him with a face full of such pleasure that he'd have given her twice twenty crowns to see it. “Trust me, Highness, I am a sensible woman, and very, very appreciative of your generosity!”

So, now I am “Prince” and “Highness.” Good.
Trinka accepted the transaction, the generosity, and was putting distance between them.

“And,” she continued, twinkling, “you may return to the palace knowing that I am putting your generosity to good use. I am going to pack up today, buy a pony and a travel-wagon, and go
right
out on my lace-buying venture! And when I hear that you are going to be wed, I shall send a special lace veil for your bride!”

Touched by the thought, whether or not Trinka ever carried it out, he moved to her side of the bed, took her hand, and kissed it as he would a great lady's. “Then I will have balanced, at least in part, my mistake. Go with God and good luck, Trinka, and show the people of Vienna that our women are a hundred times more beautiful and clever than their own.”

If Trinka didn't question Siegfried's motives, and the court paid no attention to this new burst of virtuous and generous behavior, the queen very quickly was apprised of the situation.

As usual, it was Uwe who was her informant, on a beautiful, sun-filled afternoon, the air rich with the scent of late roses and curing hay. She strolled in her garden, attended closely by Uwe, and at a discreet distance by her ladies, becoming more puzzled with every new revelation Uwe reported to her. She was under no illusions as to
why
Siegfried was acting this way—at least, not after what the priest had told her of her son's confession.

So, he'd been the cause of the gypsy's suicide, or thought he was. He'd had a few nightmares, dreams which
could
be interpreted as hauntings (she certainly wasn't going to dismiss the notion out of hand) and had been frightened into pensioning off his whore and arranging for the virtuous disposition of Lady Adelaide. Fine; there was no difficulty there. The problem was that he continued in this pattern of admirable behavior. People were noticing; the old noblemen who had scorned him as an arrogant young puppy were beginning to speak approvingly of him, and say that he had finally outgrown his rakehell ways.

“You actually saw him deliberately
lose
to one of the younger knights?” she said incredulously to her minstrel. This was incredible; Siegfried had always prided himself on never letting another man win a fight unless that man truly beat him.

Uwe nodded, his thin mouth sober. “I have no doubt; he could have won the bout easily, but he held his hand and let Dieter disarm him with a blow he could have countered in his sleep.”

“You're certain?” she insisted, a little desperately. If Siegfried began to win the friendship of the younger knights as well as their grudging admiration, things could become very difficult for her plans. “It could have been that he was still suffering from a round of drinking with Wolfgang and Benno.”

“Except that it is the tutor who drinks most of the wine lately; the prince waters his wine and drinks it sparingly, and his friend Benno follows his example.” Uwe's clouded expression betrayed him. He was as puzzled as the queen at this upwelling of good behavior. “No, he wanted the boy to have a victory and gave it to him as a gift. That is the third time he has done so this week.”

The queen glanced at the manicured topiary trees with an absent, unseeing gaze. “Would you say that he is losing respect among the younger knights?”

“To the contrary; they respect him more and fear him less. They no longer worry about suffering inglorious defeat, for they know that if a lady they care for is present, Siegfried will forfeit to them so that they can bask in their victory. There's more, because if he beats them, he no longer mocks them. In fact, he has taken to
instructing
them, showing them the turn of a blade that defeated them, then coaching them until they have mastered it.” Uwe frowned. A flock of crows flew by overhead, calling insults down on the humans in the garden. “He gains in esteem with the older nobles as well. He shows them courtesy when they advise him, even when they are clearly talking nonsense. This is not good, Majesty. It will be difficult to persuade them that he is not fit to rule if he undoes all that we have established.”

“I am aware of that.” Quietly, she gritted her teeth. “It becomes all the more important to distract him with a bride! Have you heard aught from that magician?”

Uwe shook his head. “Not as yet, Majesty—but our plans do not depend on him or his daughter.”

She relaxed her jaw. “No, that is true; we can manage fully well with any of the young women you selected.”

“And his good behavior with women is unlikely to continue,” Uwe persisted, hopefully. “I cannot imagine him going on like this for much longer. Old habits are difficult to change, and I would expect him to be in the bed of another woman as soon as the bloom is off the bride.”

“True.” Still, it was irksome to have carefully cultivated irresponsible behavior in the prince only to have him reverse his habits and begin acting like a little saint.
The longer he goes without nightmares, the more likely it is that I can find a way to turn him back to his old self.
“Tempt him, if you can find ways to do so discreetly—perhaps through his friends. If not—”

“If not, I shall encourage him in hunting,” Uwe said, and smiled, more confident. “Just now, he has a restless energy because he no longer wastes himself in vice. It will be easy to convince him to throw himself into his favorite sport. The more he hunts, the likelier he is to have a natural accident. You know, this spate of virtue may work in our favor rather than against us. He may have changed some of his ways, but he is still reckless in the hunt, ready to risk all for the thrill of the chase.”

“True.” Her thoughts lightened. After all, it had been a hunting accident that had rid her of the king. “I think I shall develop a taste for wild game. Boar, I believe.” Wild boar was the most dangerous game that could be hunted, and the Prince preferred to pursue boar afoot, with few companions.

“A bearskin blanket would be welcome to his tutor this winter,” Uwe added slyly. “Or so I would think. The prince has never hunted bear before, so the experience would have the benefit of novelty, and I think he would welcome it for that reason alone.”

Now the queen's mind raced on other possibilities that promised danger. “Is there not some ancient custom of the old pagan warriors, of proving bravery by hunting a stag with only a dagger?” she asked Uwe, who would surely know these things.

He laughed. “If there is not, rest assured that I shall invent one,” he promised. “And compose an
authentic
ballad to stir the blood of our young warriors. If they all fall to boasting, Siegfried will not be able to resist the temptation of such a hunt.”

“He might not be able to close with a stag, though.” She considered other alternatives. “There is much to be said for waterfowl, as well,” she continued, thinking about swamps and the hazards hidden therein. “Something with challenge. Swans—don't swans prefer marshy land?”

“Not nearly so much as geese, but we have domestic geese in plenty, and he would think it odd if you asked for wild ones, when our own are so much more succulent,” Uwe replied. He smiled at last. “I think the prince would appreciate a gift from his loving mother—a set of boar-spears, a new crossbow with bird and bear arrows. And a similar gift for him to present to his friend Benno would put the seal on his pursuits.”

Ah, Uwe, I can always depend on you to think of the most subtle way to accomplish our tasks.
“See to procuring them for me, then,” she told him. “I know I can leave everything necessary in your hands.”

Uwe bowed, and then pulled his lute from his back and nodded at the circle of benches that they approached. “Would Your Majesty care for some music for yourself and your ladies? The days grow short, the nights long, and autumn is fast approaching. There will be few of these pleasant days in the garden when the frosts come.”

Out of the corner of her eye she saw that the ladies had caught up with them and realized why Uwe had suddenly changed the subject. “Indeed, I think that music would be most pleasant,” she replied smoothly, and gestured to the ladies. Adelaide hurried up with a basket, taking a cushion from it and placing it on the choicest seat for the queen's comfort. When Clothilde had taken her place, the basket of embroidery beside her, Adelaide and the rest took seats around her, getting out their own work. The queen made it a rule that they never walk out in pleasant weather without their needlework, citing the oft-repeated homily that “idle hands were oft filled with mischief, and idle minds with wickedness.”

Uwe struck a chord as soon as they were all settled, and lifted his voice in one of the myriad of ballads around the tale of Tristan and Isolde.

What can he be thinking?
she wondered, alarmed at his choice of subject, for Tristan had presented himself to Queen Isolde first in the character of a minstrel. If any of the ladies had any suspicions of the queen's relationship with Uwe, this song could reveal things that the queen would find inconvenient—

Then she glanced around the circle of women, ending her survey with a careful examination of Uwe's features. The minstrel showed nothing more than concentration on his music, the women naught but simple-minded appreciation. She relaxed. No danger there; Uwe had simply picked an easily sung ballad, one that her ladies would find appealing. They were all her loyal creatures, and suspected nothing.

And if all goes well, there will be no danger from anything else, either.
She picked up her work with a smile of secret satisfaction, and continued to work on the intricate floral border of a sleeve.

Hopefully, by the time it was ready to put on a gown, this would be a sleeve that she would wear to celebrate being crowned the reigning queen, leaving the title of Regent behind forever.

T
HANKS be to God, it's sunset at last. I don't think I could have flown for very much longer.
There was a roughly circular lake in the middle distance, and von Rothbart (little more than a dark v-shape at this distance) dropped down toward it, the flock following him obediently.

Odile lowered her head and dropped out of a purple sky streaked with crimson and gold in the west, toward the waters of the secluded lake. Without so much as a zephyr to ruffle its surface and surrounded by towering, dark pines, it lay in shadow, as still and black as her scrying mirror back in her workshop. The others landed, sliding gently into the water, and floated ahead of her like water-lilies among the weeds of a little cove. As her webbed feet touched the water and she landed with a weary flip of her wings, she saw her father standing on the bank, his owl shaped discarded. So tired from the long flight that every muscle and sinew ached, she paddled toward him, heaved herself up onto the grass with an effort, and using the last of her hoarded strength, banished her swan form.