The Sword of the Lady (40 page)

″
We
couldn′t stop it if we tried. But if we throw the Throne′s weight
behind
the notion, even the independents like Corvallis and the Yakima League whose rulers don′t have any blood link to either the Havels or the Armingers will fall in line. Every single power represented in the Corvallis Meeting. Especially given how frightened they are over the war with Boise and Corwin, and the way the previous messages and all those songs and stories dear Juniper′s spread have primed them. If things go well with the war—″

One of Tiphaine′s brows raised: Sandra interpreted that as
well, there′s deranged optimism for you
. She continued:

″—we might even get Idaho included at the end. That rescue of young Frederick Thurston—splendid mythmaking! It couldn′t have been better if it were a lie made up by one of our hired troubadours, and the cream of the jest is that it′s
true
.″

″Support it?″ Conrad goggled. ″Why should we? Hell, Sandra, we
created
this country. Did we do it so Juniper′s brat could rule all we built up? What . . .″

He paused, and used the most desperate argument. ″What would Norman think? Rudi . . . he′s damned smart and damned tough and damned likeable with it, but he′s the son of the man who
killed
your husband, and his mother was our second-worst enemy all through the wars. You and God and anyone who was within hearing knows I had my arguments with Norman Arminger. But you and he and I
made
the Association.″

″Yes. And what did we make, Conrad? A nation? A country?″

″Well—yes.″

″Well—no. We made a
feudal kingdom
, Conrad. Which isn′t at all the same thing.″

He frowned. ″That′s terminology. Yes, you and I were in the Society, and Norman took it all very seriously but—″

″No, it′s
not
just terminology. You′re showing your age, Conrad. Think like a feudal noble for a moment, not an executive; think the way the younger generation thinks all the time and you do half the time, for example when you were arranging the marriages of your sons. Think about
family
. If Rudi becomes the High King, he rules Montival—presumably as a loose federation of autonomous realms; that
is
what a High King does, after all, as opposed to an Emperor. The Association territories would be self-governing, but part of Montival.″

″That′s the problem! Not that I don′t like Rudi, but—″

″No, that′s not the problem, that′s the
solution
, my dear old friend. It′s the solution to the problem that I . . . and you . . . and Norman, before the Protector′s War . . . have been struggling with since the Change. The problem being that Mike Havel and Juniper and the damned Yakima League and those greed-mongering pedant anachronisms in Corvallis
wouldn′t
submit to the Throne. To House Arminger.″

″What do you mean?″ he said, baffled.

″The High King of Montival must have a
High Queen
. And if she is none other than
my
daughter—and bear in mind that she′s also Norman′s daughter and only child—then one of her children becomes the High King in turn. Or High Queen regnant, to be sure. Then that means that my grandchild—and Norman′s grandchild too, don′t forget that part—
rules the whole west side of the continent
, as well as being Lord Protector of the Portland Protective Association. Which is what Norman and I wanted to begin with, and the son of the man who killed him is handing it to us on a golden platter!″

Tiphaine stared at her for a moment. ″Ah . . . my lady, how long have you had this in mind? Just as a matter of curiosity.″

″Since . . . oh, March 6, 2008.″

They both blinked at her, and Tiphaine spoke: ″That′s . . . the day I brought Mathilda and Rudi back, during the Protector′s War. The day we arrived at Castle Todenangst.″

Sandra nodded. ″Well, of course, I′d had the
beginnings
of the notion before that, as soon as the Mackenzies took Mathilda prisoner and it became obvious how well she and Rudi were getting along. Everyone knows that a dynastic marriage has been . . . mmmm, under consideration for a long time. But that would have been between the heir of the Mackenzies and the heir of Portland—many, many problems. But a
new
kingdom, that′s a different matter altogether. Thinking outside the box, as it were.″

″You certainly got me and them out of Todenangst fast,″ Tiphaine said thoughtfully. ″I thought it was just to get Rudi out from under Norman′s bloodshot eye.″

″That too. Dear, dear Norman; he could be so hot-tempered sometimes. But I had to evaluate Rudi personally before it was worth pursuing. Not in detail, of course—the details you always need to improvise as the situation dictates—but in broad outline. And Mathilda
had
to think it was her own idea, which meant it had to
actually be
her own idea. Not difficult, really. Rudi′s a delightful boy . . . man, now . . . Intelligent, with quite stunning looks and an embarrassment of talents, and all the charm in the world. And his people
did
insist on Mathilda living with the Mackenzies part of the year, at the peace settlement.″

″Where you insisted on Rudi coming and living with
us
part of the year,″ Conrad said, sounding dazed. ″Jesus, that far back?″

″Precisely. To shape him, you see, and also to expose the younger generation of our nobility to him.″

Tiphaine burst into laughter; Sandra was slightly surprised. She hadn′t seen that happen during business hours more than once or twice in the quarter century they′d known each other. The Grand Constable of the Association went down on one knee and drew her sword, bringing the cross hilt up to her lips in salute.

″Even for you, my liege-lady, that is . . . it′s just so fucking
brilliant
!″

Conrad had been standing with his mouth open. He shut it, sat down again, and his gargoyle face split in a grin as he reached for one of the blueberry tarts, absently brushing powdered sugar off his jupon.

″Well, I
will
be damned. I
wasn′t
thinking dynastically. And when you do, that′s exactly how it looks.″

He cupped a hand to his ear. ″You hear that? It′s old Norman laughing fit to split his mausoleum open.″

Sandra sighed, the quiet glee fading from her face.

″And I
still
miss telephones,″ she said. ″Now we know they′ve arrived safely at this Readstown place. That′s the edge of civilization, and they′re about to plunge into the unknown. How long will it be before we know what happened there, or later?″

CHAPTER TWELVE

″A hhhh,″ Rudi Mackenzie said, and let himself slide blissfully deeper into one of the tubs to which the Readstowners had shown their guests.

″Ahhh, indeed,″ Odard said happily, sitting up in his own bath and scrubbing at his nails with a small brush. ″
Warm
hospitality.″

Rudi nodded, with his hair floating around his neck and shoulders.

″Now this, my friends, is an improvement over squatting in a cold creek with your ballocks crawling up, that it is,″ he said. ″Or a cloth and a pan of hot water by a fire with your backside freezing.″

″Or just plain dirt and smell,″ Fred Thurston said. With a wide white grin: ″I remember the first time I came back from a three-week field exercise with my Junior ROTC class. My mother said:
How are you?
And I just said:
Mom, I stink.
″

The smile faded; Rudi judged that he was thinking of his father again, or perhaps his mother and sisters, trapped in Boise with an elder brother who′d turned to parricide to make the position of President hereditary. Lawrence Thurston had been about to call real elections. That and the birth of a son to Martin′s wife had sealed his fate.

If his mother suspects that Martin killed his father that will be a grim thing indeed,
the Mackenzie thought.
Having to treat her son as before, knowing herself watched and every word and glance weighed to see if she suspects.

He didn′t suppose Martin would hurt his own kin without need . . . but he′d shown himself to be a pellucidly ruthless man. By killing his father, and by allying with the Church Universal and Triumphant.

The thoughts ran on as he lay watching the younger man′s misery fade, or at least burrow deeper:

Or does Fred wonder if they believe Martin′s tale that
he
was responsible? That would be an extra twist of the knife in his chest, surely it would. Not likely though, I would say. His mother struck me as a very clever lady indeed. And none too friendly with Martin′s wife, who I think has been whispering ambition into his receptive ear for years now.

″This rather reminds me of the baths at Mt. Angel,″ Ignatius said, after a swift glance at the younger Thurston′s face. ″The layout is similar.″

He′s a kindly man, the good Father,
Rudi thought.
A gentle one, even. Except when there′s a sword in his hand, the which you would not think unless you′d seen him fight. And then he is a thing of terror to anyone on the sharp and pointy end.

″That it is,″ he said aloud. ″Though not as prayerful, to be sure. It was an interesting thing, the first time I scrubbed my hide with a brother reading Scripture from the lectern.″

The Mackenzie heir was a frequent guest at the great fortress-monastery, and had studied there in its famed university and libraries, and its equally famous combat schools. The Clan and the Order were old allies, from the days after the Change, and from the wars against the Association.

″It′s
not
much like Castle Todenangst,″ Odard grinned. ″I hear the Silver Tower″—where Sandra Arminger had her private quarters amid the castle-cum-palace—″has baths carved out of whole pink marble blocks, and gold taps.″

″Sure, and Mathilda has told me the same,″ Rudi said, and then had a sudden vision of her naked in such a setting, rising out of the suds . . .

″Even the guest quarters for humble vassals from Gervais had sunken tubs with silver fittings,″ Odard went on, looking slightly dreamy at the thought. ″The Lord Protector and Lady Sandra didn′t steal anything but the best when they were looting the decorative features for Todenangst. This is comfortable, though.″

Albeit a little different from the way Mackenzies would have handled it. For one thing, the womenfolk were in a separate section, but Rudi was used to that; there were plenty of folk back in the western lands who had such taboos. And the bulk of their party of both sexes were elsewhere, this apparently being the gentlefolk′s part of the manor. The tubs were of the old world, enameled cast iron on claw feet and meant for single bathers, but amply sized for his six-foot-two, and the water was gratefully hot and smelled slightly of herbs, aromatic steam rising from the surface and misting on the room′s tile floors and walls. There was plenty of it, too, from a big sheet-metal tank with its own wood-fired furnace that also served to keep the room comfortably warm.

″This was part of the fire department, in the old days,″ Ingolf said, scratching his hairy muscular chest. ″Dad started joining the buildings together that first year and moving ′em around. Everyone had to live close. It was still damned cold here in March when the Change came, that′s the tag end of winter here. We knew it would be worse come
next
winter and all the old-style furnaces were kaput, and we could only make so many new ones, what with everything else that had to be done. I remember thinking how cool it was to be able to go from place to place inside, you know how kids are. Convenient for playing hide-and-seek in a blizzard, too!″

They all nodded. In the new world that had grown up with them there were few places where a single family could live off by itself, for reasons ranging from defense to the sheer difficulty of heating water, if you wanted something better than hanging a bucket over an open fire. With the aches and stiffness soothed out of him, Rudi′s thoughts turned to the next necessity.

″I take it your sister-in-law Wanda is a cook of note?″ he said respectfully; that was an occupation honored among Mackenzies, who admired skilled makers of all sorts. ″She seemed to be putting her own hand to it, as well.″

The which I approve of,
he thought.

His mother had always done her share of the chores in Dun Juniper′s hall, and seen he′d had experience of scrubbing dishes as well.

″Yah. Wanda was a refugee herself—one of the first ones to get here,″ he said. ″Her family were brewers in Madison; she was their only kid. They called it a microbrewery then—God knows why, from the way she talks it was a hell of a lot bigger than the one here.″

″Which isn′t small,″ Edain said.

″They were in a city, and lived?″ Odard said, slightly surprised; that was a bit unusual, and much more unusual for such to end up with rank and position.

″They left Madison about three days after the Change—they had a big wagon and some horses, some sort of show-off thing brewers did back then. Turned up here . . . I can just remember it, mainly how excited I was . . . about ten days after that.
With
all the equipment they needed to make first-rate beer, sacks of good hop and malting barley seed, some of their workers, and six big draught horses, Clydesdales. You can imagine how popular they were!″

″I find it equally impressive that they arrived here without being robbed,″ Ignatius observed.

″Just so,″ Rudi said. ″And then she married the heir of Readstown?″

″It was a bit more complicated than that, but yah hey, she did, six years later. She already ran our food supplies when I left besides the brewery, under Mom—not just cooking, you know, the storing and curing and smoking and salting and preserving side of things too.″