The Black Swan (24 page)

He could hardly believe what was coming out of his mother's mouth—but she had made her speech before two witnesses, who seemed as bemused as he was. Impulsively, he left his chair and went to one knee before the queen, seizing her hand and kissing it impulsively. “Lady Mother, I will never be able to thank you enough for this boon! I swear to you, if there is not a child in the proper time, it will not be for
my
lack of trying!”

A faint blush colored his mother's cheeks, and she snatched her hand away with an oddly playful gesture. “Enough of that, young fool! Go on with you—I will see to the celebration and the gathering-in of young women, do
you
see to it that there are no inconvenient encumbrances within the palace walls for your bride to stumble upon.”

“There are none now, my Lady,” he replied, just as playfully, bowing his head. “Has your priest not told you? I am a reformed man.”

“Oh, and no doubt the sun will set this night in the east, the moon give birth to a twin, and wine fall down from the rain clouds,” she chided, lightly striking the top of his head with her glove. “Off with you! Reform is not in the claiming, it is in the doing, and actions tell more than any protestations.”

“Then let my actions speak for me; I will say no more.” He kissed her hand again, rose to his feet, and bowed himself out, anxious to find Wolfgang and Benno and share with them this unexpected—and oh, so pleasant!—news.

Clothilde turned toward the door to her solar, where Uwe had been standing just out of sight, listening carefully. Now she dismissed her two ladies and, beckoning to Uwe, led the way up to the battlements. Here, beneath the open sky, they were unlikely to be overheard—but well within sight of all of the sentries, they were unlikely to start any unwelcome rumors. She had been closeted alone with him more often of late than her cautious soul appreciated; it was time to make sure they were seen as nothing more than the queen and her adviser.

“Well?” she asked, when they had gone a pace or two down the narrow walkway, her skirts blowing about her ankles in the cool breeze that made the pennons and flags above the battlements stand straight out. “What do you think?”

Wind teased the minstrel's hair, and he brushed it back from his face with a studiously graceful gesture. “That the prince, for all his learning, is not in the least worldly-wise,” Uwe replied dryly. “Not once did he ask what should have been the
obvious
question, when you pointed out that he would attain his majority in mere weeks.”

“When his coronation would be, do you mean?” She smiled with pleasure, when she recalled how well she had manipulated the conversation. “I think I distracted him from that subject very well.”

“You certainly picked the best possible subject to distract him.” Uwe laughed, with just a touch of scorn as his eyes narrowed against the sun. “So much for his reformation, when you offer him his pick of pretty women.”

“The women you chose to invite to this fete are, aren't they?” she asked, feeling just a little anxious when she recalled how often princesses turned out to be less-than-lovely. “Pretty, I mean. I never trust those court portraits; court artists are born liars, and their job is to make their clients look less like themselves and more like what best suits the purpose of the portrait.” She allowed herself a tiny grimace. “In any case, I want him to have the maximum possible distraction. I don't expect him to make a choice at once; in fact, it would please me very much if he dithered about it for weeks.”

“They are all quite pretty, one or two are enchanting,” Uwe assured her. “And speaking of enchanting—Baron von Rothbart has sent a message pledging that he and his daughter have arrived and are staying nearby, and will certainly attend your fete for the prince.” Uwe smiled his most charming and winning smile. “He asked me to assure you that he has not trespassed on your hospitality out of respect for you, knowing that the inclusion of his party was not in your original plan. He says that he would not stretch our resources any farther, when he can easily provide for himself.”

“Ah!” she exclaimed. “Excellent! I really have high hopes for
that
particular pair.”

“As do I.” Uwe turned slightly and stared out across the open lawns leading up to the palace and its first line of defense, its moat. Clothilde followed his gaze.

It was a pastoral scene, with sheep and geese grazing beneath the careful eyes of their herders, and more geese and ducks paddling about in the water of the moat. No one had offered a serious challenge to the defenses since her husband's grandfather's time, but she had been scrupulous about keeping them all in repair. One never knew—she thought that none of her neighboring monarchs were tempted to enlarge their lands, but one never knew.

On the other hand, with a powerful magician as an ally,
she
might think about enlarging her land.

“A few more hectares gained along the borders wouldn't come amiss,” Uwe mused aloud. “There are neighbors who would think twice before challenging a sorcerer, if we annexed a few unused fields.”

“As usual, you echo my thoughts,” Clothilde replied. “But let us not anticipate the future too much. Siegfried might not choose the magician's daughter.”

Uwe snorted. “Not if the magician has anything to say about it. He's determined to have his daughter crowned princess, if not queen.”

She shook her head. “Never assume,” she cautioned. “He might not use his powers to assure Siegfried's choice; he might learn things about my son that he does not like. The girl herself might not care for the boy. What we need to make certain of is that he is so entangled in his choice and his bride that he takes no thought for his coronation.”

“And it will be my task to make certain none of your advisers think to remind him of it,” Uwe added. “Mind you, that won't be as difficult as it sounds, since Siegfried avoids their company as much as he can, and they are all too old to try to seek him out in his habitual haunts.”

Clothilde laughed, thinking of her aged advisers trying to keep up with Siegfried on a hunt, or engage his attention during a passage of arms. “The only place they
could
find him is in the library,” she agreed. “And I truly pity anyone attempting to distract Siegfried and his tutor from one of their manuscripts. I do believe that a siege of the palace could break out right below the library window, and they wouldn't even notice.”

“Certainly I have seen him completely surprised by the arrival of nightfall,” Uwe replied. “No, I believe I can keep your advisers so occupied with the prepara tions for the fête, the betrothal, and the wedding, that they entirely forget to inquire about the coronation.”

“With great good fortune, preparations for a birth and baptism will keep them all equally absorbed.” Clothilde considered how long she could use distractions to hold both the prince and her advisers at bay.

“We'll buy a year of time, at least, perhaps two.” Uwe nodded. “A great deal can happen in two years. The bride might die in childbed, and throw Siegfried into mourning. The bride may demand all of his time and attention—the young ladies in question, other than the magician's daughter, are all much-indulged, and very much taken up with the ideals of Courtly Love. As long as the prince remains infatuated with his bride, the lady will lead him a lively dance.” He turned and smiled into the queen's eyes as she nodded appreciatively. “That was one of my considerations.”

“And if the young lady does not command his attention, many other things may happen,” Uwe continued blandly. “After the birth—perhaps we will be preparing a funeral, and not for infant or mother.”

“Perhaps we shall,” she acknowledged, and slightly raised one eyebrow—not enough to disturb her makeup. “So let us hope that my dear son chooses a lady who looks well in black.”

S
IEGFRIED'S birthday celebration was mere days away, and Queen Clothilde had expressed a desire for swans. Dead swans, not live ones—to grace the feast table, roasted and redressed in their plumage. Such a dish was very popular in the greater courts for major festival occasions, and the queen wished this birthday fete to be regarded with as much awe and wonder in the recollection as any celebration of the Emperor's. She had considered peafowl, but decided on swans as there were only a handful of peafowl that had survived the ravages of foxes this summer, and she wished to keep them for breeding.

Siegfried, very eager to please his mother, had jumped at the chance to contribute to the festivities. Now he and Benno stood on one of the lower battlements, surveying the countryside with their hands shading their eyes, looking for swans in the air. Ducks they had seen in plenty, and a flock or two of geese, but as yet there were no swans.

“It can't be all that difficult to find swans,” Siegfried protested. “Last year it seemed as if every time we went hunting for geese, we kept starting up swans instead.”

“I don't know, Siegfried,” Benno replied doubtfully. “It's a bit early for swans; I don't think they'll start migration for a few weeks yet. I haven't seen any flocks in the air since last fall.”

“I'm beginning to think you're right,” the prince answered. “Neither have I, but Mother wants roast swan for the banquet, if we can get it, and I hate to disappoint her.”

Benno grinned at him, his eyes sly as he squinted into the sunlight. “I can't blame you for wanting to give her what she wants, given the bevy of beauties that's shown up so far. What lucky star were you born under, that you're going to get your pick of the fairest blossoms of the country? I never would have guessed that the queen would be so besotted with you that she would arrange a choice of lovely brides!”

Siegfried was about to reply, when a shout from below interrupted their conversation.

“Hoy! Prince Siegfried!”

Siegfried looked in the direction of the shout to see Uwe approaching up the battlement stairs, burdened with a pair of unwieldy bundles wrapped in deerskin. The minstrel smiled broadly as he neared them, and Siegfried wondered what the man wanted. Although Uwe had continued to display an unusual amount of friendliness toward the prince, it was somewhat out of the ordinary for the minstrel to come looking for Siegfried.

“Hoy yourself, Uwe!” Siegfried said genially, feeling such high spirits that very little could spoil his day. “We were discussing doing some hunting—”

“Ah, then I come in good time!” The minstrel approached, and offered one of his bundles to Siegfried, and the other to Benno. “Here, my prince; I thought I would make my natal-day gift to you a little early, so you have a chance to use it. I rather doubt you'll have much time for hunting winged and four-footed prey after the fête!” He winked broadly at Siegfried, who only chuckled and shook his head. The man could be amazingly charming when he chose, and there was no doubt he had decided to exert some of that charm on Siegfried. It was difficult to resist, and Siegfried didn't see any reason to try.

“And as your own natal day is just past, Benno, the queen thought you might make good use of this, her gift to her son's boon companion and truest friend,” he continued, with no diminution of his cheer. “Knowing how much the two of you enjoy hunting together, it only seemed appropriate to equip you equally for the field.”

The parcel wasn't heavy, but it was quite oddly shaped, and contained something hard and angular. Siegfried undid the lacings wrapping the package; the deerskin fell away, revealing the finest light crossbow he had ever seen. With an exclamation of pleasure, he held it up; made of the toughest blued steel and cured wood, it was decorated with inlaid designs of game birds made of silver, gold, and mother-of-pearl. With it was a quiver of heavy boarhide to match, ornamented in silver and gold in the same designs. The quiver held perfect bird-bolts, suitable for any game bird from quail to heron.

Benno's gift was identical except that the crossbow and quiver lacked the ornamental silver-and gold-work; he would have to be content with the same motifs as mere gilded carvings in the dark wood and leather.

“Uwe, I hardly know how to give you proper thanks,” Siegfried said with genuine appreciation. “This is very fine of you; I've rarely seen such a perfect bow.” He cocked the bow experimentally and grinned with enthusiasm when he realized what kind of pull it had. This bow should be able to take a large bird in full flight at a formidable distance. “I didn't have any idea you knew how much I needed a new bow!”

“You mean, you would never have guessed that a decrepit old man such as I would have any knowledge of hunting equipment,” Uwe replied, with a grin and a twinkle in his eyes. “It might interest you to know that a few centuries ago when I was
your
age, I caused notable slaughter among the ducks and pheasant. But I have another gift for you, and that is the gift of information. Know you the whereabouts of the Lake of Black Pines?”