The Secular Wizard - Wis in Rhyme - 4 (55 page)

"There is something to be said for night school," Matt admitted.

"Uh, I've, uh, taken the liberty of strolling through the marketplace in my minstrel's costume, and out into the suburbs. . .

"Spying again, Lord Wizard?

"Yes, but for you this time."

"And for Queen Alisande, of course,"

"Well, of course! And already I'm hearing peasants singing arias while they work, and seeing people really beginning to look at all those pieces of statues left over from the Caesars. People are even beginning to debate what is Right and Virtuous on the street corners. Of course, one of those corners is in the redlight district ... I1

"But even there the discussion should render some improvement in the way they treat one another."

Boncorro nodded. "I can no longer deny it, Lord Wizard-my actions have been aimed at making people good, for my father was good, and that is the quality I will always admire secondmost."

"Second? May I ask what the first is?"

"Strength," said the king. "Survival. But come, Lord Wizardwe will be late in meeting the pope's ambassador."

Matt exchanged glad greetings with Brother Thomas, then introduced

him to the king, and right away the whole meeting had a much less formal tone. Before they could even mention any matters of state or the purpose of the visit, Matt told Boncorro, "Brother Thomas is studying the notion that magical power is not good or evil in itself, and doesn't come from either God or Satan-that only the knowledge of how to use it comes from Good or Evil, and makes the magic what it is."

"Really!" said Boncorro with keen interest.

"Ah-well, yes, but I may not speak of that, your Majesty," Brother Thomas said uncomfortably. "The pope has not given me leave and is not sure that what I say can be correct."

"Correct?" Boncorro gave him a hard smile. "But surely, just between two men who pursue knowledge, we may speak of it! It is not as if you were going to preach it from the rooftops! Now tell me I if magic does not come from God, what are miracles?"

"Oh, something else altogether!" Brother Thomas fell without even realizing it, and the two of them were off into an hour's conversation that had overtones of argument, but undertones of keen enjoyment. They finally got around to mentioning the pope's objectives over dinner.

"His Holiness sends his thanks for freeing himself and his clergy, yourr Majesty, and allowing them to preach openly, without fear of persecution.

"It is my pleasure." Boncorro smiled. "And quite possible, now that most of the leading sorcerers in the land have revealed them-selves in trying to aid Rebozo, and have been dealt with. Tell his Holiness that I am pleased by his attentions."

"I shall," said Brother Thomas. "He hopes that you will return this visit of courtesy and come to the Vatican to visit him." The room was silent. Finally, the king spoke. "I thank his Holiness, but I fear that matters of state are too demanding at this time. I will send my ambassador, however."

"Ah," Brother Thomas said with regret. "You are still shy of religion, then?"

"Let us say that I am not yet ready to become an ardent Catholic, Brother Thomas-but I have begun to see a great deal of merit in many of your Church's views and am beginning to think God may exist after all. However, I will invite his Holiness to appoint a chaplain to my court-provided he is yourself."

"Your Majesty!" Brother Thomas said, dazed. "I am not worthy! I am not even a priest!"

"Then perhaps you had better be ordained," King Boncorro said shortly. "Now, good friar-you were saying that mathematics is, in

essence, only a language for describing how the universe works. Might it not, then, be a means of effecting magic?" And they were off again, with Brother Thomas explaining that trying to understand the universe was one more way of trying to under-stand its Creator, and that mathematics, therefore, could be another route to God.

Matt leaned over to Saul and said, "Maybe we ought to introduce the printing press. After all, we want this learning to reach the masses, don't we?"

"Maybe we shouldn't," Saul retorted. "Bring in the printing press, and your university will degenerate into 'publish or perish Their last day began with an impressive ceremony in the throne room, at which Boncorro knighted Pascal. Then, while he was still dazed, he declared the poet and Flaminia to be man and wife. Dazzled even more, the poet left the king's presence to begin his honeymoon. Then they all went out of the castle into the bailey, where Al-isande's knights stood bridled and ready, and Stegoman huffed beside Sir Guy, impatient to be off.

But Manny lay purring, watching Pascal and Flaminia move toward the entrance tunnel. He rose to his feet. "I must follow where his spell leads me, Wizard."

"Well, somebody's got to keep him out of trouble. His Majesty has sent word through all his reeves that any farmer who sells you a cow can just bill his Majesty. But don't stuff yourself, okay?" "I shall be circumspect," the manticore promised. "Farewell, Wizard! Summon me at need!" He bounded off after the young couple, who were too busy gazing into one another's eyes to notice him. Matt had to admit he wasn't entirely sorry to part company with the manticore. All those teeth made him nervous.

Then he turned and felt the fire of instant jealousy. King Boncorro was paying entirely too much attention to his sister monarch-and the attentions were anything but brotherly.

His eye gleamed as he bowed to the young queen, her habergeon again lashed behind her saddle, standing demurely clad in a gown that nonetheless should have been classified as a diplomatic weapon. Bon-corro kissed her hand, and may be excused if he lingered, for she was very beautiful.

May be. Matt had to remind himself that the king wasn't really making advances-but his blood boiled anyway.

"I regret that you could not accept my invitation to stay longer, your Majesty," King Boncorro said.

"I am honored, your Majesty." Alisande gave the handsome young man a roguish smile, making Matt's blood boil. "But I must needs tend my own kingdom, and I have been absent too long."

" Ah, well! " Boncorro sighed. "Perhaps I might return this visit?" "We will always be glad to welcome yourself and your knights at our court, your Majesty-my husband and I together." A flash of irritation crossed Boncorro's features, but he took it in good part, turning to Matt and saying, "I suppose I should count it a compliment, Lord Wizard, that you have never allowed me more than a minute's conversation alone with your enchanting wife."

"A compliment ... ? Oh! Yes. Of course. Definitely," Matt said. "Well, I must despair of the opportunity, then," Boncorro sighed, "for I would not wish the early death of the Lord Wizard, when he has aided me so vastly-even though that may not have been his intention." "A live ally is always worth more than a dead rival," Sir Guy pointed out.

"True, true," Boncorro admitted. "But if you should have a daughter, your Majesty, and if she is as beautiful as yourself, I will pray for an introduction."

"For your son, perhaps, your Majesty." Alisande dimpled.

"But first I must see to an heir."

"Well, we're working on it," Matt reminded her.

"I am.

"No," said Alisande, looking directly into his eyes. Your part is done."

"What do you mean?" Matt frowned, and the jealousy boiled over.

"What is this? One look at a handsome king, and I'm suddenly redundant? I mean ' I know he's-" Sir Guy coughed. "Lord Wizard," he said, "I think her Majesty's meaning has escaped you."

"What do you mean? She was saying my part in it was-" Matt broke off as realization hit him, and stared at Alisande.

She smiled, as much with relief as with joy.

"Oh, darling!" Matt gathered her to him. "Why didn't you tell me?"

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Christopher Stasheff spent his early childhood in Mount Vernon, New York, but spent the rest of his formative years in Ann Arbor, Michigan. He has always had difficulty distinguishing fantasy from reality and has tried to compromise by teaching college. When teaching proved too real, he gave it up in favor of writing full time. He tends to pre-script his life, but can't understand why other people never get their lines right.