Is This Apocalypse Necessary? - Wizard of Yurt - 6 (44 page)

"What about Prince Walther?" she demanded, a protective hand on his shoulder. "I cannot believe your supposed magnanimity would extend to the rightful heir to this kingdom! Or are you expecting him to issue the surrender you appear unwilling to accept from me?"

"Well, no," said Paul uneasily. Then he spotted the bishop and me, and for a moment his face lightened. But only for a moment. "This will all become very clear in just a few minutes," he said quickly and stepped aside.

There was something going on here, something the kings had worked out. I suspected that the bishop had been instrumental, but if I didn't watch it I would again be given all the credit.

Joachim came forward then, and even the queen seemed somewhat abashed under the dark intensity of his gaze. "I speak here not as someone on one side or the other of battle," he said in a clear voice, "for those in God's service can never be part of battle. My only side is that of right and justice. Members of this army have asked me for my spiritual counsel, but if you would prefer, my lady, we can defer proceedings until the bishop of this kingdom could be summoned."

She looked uncertain for a moment, suddenly having to deal with a bishop when she thought she was only going to have to face down kings of kingdoms smaller than hers, men she considered her inferiors. But then she waved the issue away. "I have never had much use for our bishop," she announced. "If you are here to offer these kings' terms, I will be happy to hear you."

Prince Walther had been looking uncomfortably from side to side, but he gave me a quick smile before turning back to the bishop.

"I am here for quite a different purpose," said Joachim. "I am here as spiritual supporter of the oaths of the Princess Hadwidis."

Hadwidis hesitated a second, then squared her shoulders and came forward. She had put on a silk dress from Xantium, in which she shivered, and had apparently made some attempt to regulate her short, unruly hair.

She stood before the assembled kings and war-leaders, chin up, a girl not all that much older that Antonia, wearing a thin dress that gave her a boldness they would never have allowed in the nunnery. She opened and closed her mouth, scanning her audience with an expression almost of disdain. I knew her well enough to realize that she was in fact almost too terrified to go on. But she did go on, and I thought her performance one of the bravest things I had ever seen.

"I come before you," she said at last, "before the western kings and before my own mother and brother, not due to my own ambitions, but to the urgings of a saint. Saint Eusebius, the Cranky Saint of Yurt, never liked me very much, but he did love me. And he wanted me here, to do what I am about to do."

She paused then, looking around again while the armies waited in silence. Some of the men watching her wore a livery unlike anything else in camp—the livery of this kingdom, I realized. These must be the prisoners, but they were not bound in any fetters, even though they were well-scattered, and each one was closely attended by a knight of the victorious armies. Banners snapped in the cold air above us.

"I'm sorry, Walther," Hadwidis said at last. "I know you thought all your dreams were coming true. But instead your troubles are only beginning."

The queen seemed finally to realize what was happening. She started to rise from the chair in which she still sat, but Joachim gave her a rather cold nod and she slowly settled back again.

Hadwidis leaned toward her brother now, ignoring everyone else. "I know this is very painful, but I have to tell you. You are not the heir to our kingdom."

I had expected some sort of shouted protest, but the boy and his proud mother only went white and waited for the rest.

"You see, Walther, you are not the king's son—not the son of the man you always thought was your father. You are the son of the wizard Elerius."

At this the queen could contain herself no longer. "Outrageous girl!

What is the origin of these lies? I cannot believe the nunnery taught you—"

The bishop cut her off. "Princess Hadwidis had feared you would dispute her word. Therefore I am prepared to witness the oaths of both of you." Tall, formal in his scarlet vestments, carrying with him the full authority of the Church, he stared her back into her chair with burning eyes.

"Both of you will swear on the Bible," he continued, "telling the truth as best you know it. I also have with me a vial of the water from the shrine of Saint Eusebius, a relic I have carried with me since my days in Yurt.

Swear to the truth, and God and His saints will judge where real Truth lies."

There was a brief pause in which no one moved, then Hadwidis stepped up to the bishop, her back straight and her hands shaking. The queen rose slowly then, bright spots of color on either cheek, and stood beside her.

For the moment, everyone had forgotten Prince Walther: that is, everyone except Antonia. From the corner of my eye I saw her dart forward and take his arm. "It's all right," I heard her whisper. "The bishop and my wizard will make sure everything is all right."

I admired my daughter's concern for others, but her assurances would not help. From Walther's point of view, everything was about to be all wrong. I turned back toward Joachim.

He held his heavy Bible in both hands, the vial of holy water tucked into one palm. The queen shot her daughter a venemous look as Hadwidis put one hand on the Bible. But the latter had eyes only for the bishop.

"I swear," she said in a low voice, "I swear that what I speak is true. I am my father's only true-born child, though I would have been much more content in the nunnery than as queen of this kingdom. My mother lay with our Royal Wizard, and from their coupling came my brother Walther."

I sniffed surreptitously for the scent of roses. If the Cranky Saint was going to put in another appearance, I wanted to be ready.

But nothing happened, other than a sigh running through the crowd, and the queen standing even straighter and growing even redder.

"Will you confirm this, Mother?" Hadwidis asked at last.

But she was stubborn. Not more than a day or so ago, I thought, Elerius would have been telling her she would soon be empress of the West. Their son might have become nominal king in a few years, but she and her lover would both have known where the true power would lie. And abruptly an Ifrit had ended all her plans.

"I will not confirm this," she said, a little too loudly, "because it is false!"

"Will you so swear?" asked the bishop, holding out the Bible politely.

The queen didn't quite dare scowl at him, but I could tell she would have liked to. Elerius would have taught her lack of respect for the Church—if justifying her adultery in her own mind had not already made her persuade herself that religion contained little useful. On the other hand, there were a great many people watching her intently, and it was hard not to respect Joachim. She lifted her chin, in a gesture very like one I had often seen in her daughter, and slapped a hand on the Bible. "I swear before God—" she began.

Now was the time for the saint to appear. I squeezed my eyes shut.

But there was no flash of light, no scent of roses. Instead, I realized, opening my eyes again, there was sudden silence from the queen.

She stood before the armies of the West unable to go on, opening and closing her mouth in a not very good imitation of a fish. The Cranky Saint had no need to waste his time exploding into sight before us. His influence, or the queen's guilty conscience—or both—had kept her from swearing falsely.

"If you would like to withdraw a false oath, my daugher," the bishop said kindly, "and swear instead to the truth, I am certain the saint will return the power of speech to you."

The queen was not yet ready to yield. A few more attempts at speech, with her hand both on and off the Bible, yielded nothing more. Hadwidis suddenly stepped up beside her mother, embraced her, and led her back to her chair.

King Paul, realizing that the next was up to him, took Hadwidis's hand and led her away from her mother, back to the center of the circle of shocked and attentive kings and knights. "You are here before many of the highest lords of the West, my lady," he said, "those who must accept you if you take your place on this kingdom's throne." My exhausted brain had finally worked out what this series of oaths was supposed to demonstrate: Paul couldn't leave Elerius's armies in the castle, even if without the kingdom's regent, and the only way to get them out was to persuade them to follow a ruler opposed to Elerius. "Our acceptance of you as our co-ruler, however, will be valid only if your position is established both by heredity and by the support of the powerful nobles who would serve you here. One question first: how old are you?"

"Eighteen," she said, sounding defiant because she was almost incapable of speaking at all. "I came of age this year."

"Then if you are your father's sole heir, and you are ready to inherit, then the regency is over," said Paul, with a sidelong glance at the queen.

"We will need to assemble your kingdom's greatest lords for your coronation."

Walther had been standing with my daughter's arm protectively around his shoulder, as silent as his mother. But now he said, his voice thin and high, "All our dukes and counts are there in the castle."

"Then we shall assemble them here," said Paul. "Perhaps we should send a delegation."

"Walther and I shall go," announced Hadwidis. "They'll remember me from when I was a girl, and they certainly all know Walther. They will listen to us. Mother?"

But the queen was not moving. I recovered enough from my stupor to realize that there was no need for them to walk all the way back across the broken fields and offered them a ride on Naurag. In a short time, the prince and princess had been admitted in through the front gates of their castle, while I waited outside with the flying beast, alert for anyone shooting at us from an arrow-slit.

But the great nobles and knights of this kingdom were no longer in a warlike mood. They must, I thought, have been promised glorious victory, in a great battle they would have dreamed of in the same way that Paul or King Lucas had dreamed of glory. Instead, Paul's armies and the Ifrit had reduced what should have been their greatest moment into a humiliating and terrifying retreat, barely in time to save their skins. They emerged from the castle gates within less than half an hour, waving a white flag to show they were not about to reopen hostilities, and rode slowly toward the great encampment of those they had made their enemies.

A central tragedy of this war had always been that they all knew each other. Most of the kings present had attended the funeral of Hadwidis's father. Many had relatives among the nobility of this kingdom; Paul himself had cousins among the region's castellans. The men from the castle waved their white flag defiantly, sitting their horses at the edge of camp, not wanting to appear to capitulate too easily, but there was no concealing that it was a relief to everybody.

By the time we arrived at the camp, Paul had arranged everything for Hadwidis's coronation—with, I noticed, Gwennie's help. She and the king were not looking at each other, but between them they had organized all the great lords by position, put a red cloak over a camp chair to stand in for a throne, and set up a table with a crown on it—doubtless one of the kings', for it looked far too large for Hadwidis. Her mother was still sitting silently, almost forgotten now. I didn't know what the normal coronation ceremony was for this kingdom, but we clearly were going to have the ceremony of Yurt.

Paul had not brought his own crown with him to war, but he had cleaned and put on his silver breastplate, which gave him a somewhat formal air. He was not, however, wearing his sword. "There is no more fighting here," he told those from the castle, speaking quietly, almost as if their battle of the night before had never happened. "We do not expect a surrender, because we do not seek to conquer—only to restore the friendship lost through the renegade wizardry of one who temporarily led many others astray. Come and join us as we prepare to recognize the daughter of your late king as your new queen—a recognition we cannot give without you."

Blaming it all on renegade wizardry, I noticed. It might be a way to allow those who had fought for Elerius to make peace with the armies at their gates without too much humiliation, but I didn't like the possibility that we might soon be back to kings distrusting organized magic.

Hadwidis spoke earnestly with the bishop for several minutes while final preparations were made, then everyone became quiet except for the trumpeters, who blew a festive fanfare. She walked slowly out in front of everyone and stood supporting herself on the arm of the improvised throne.

"Your royal highnesses, lords and ladies," said Paul into the silence at the end of the trumpet fanfare. "We are assembled today for the coronation of a new queen. Hadwidis is the daughter of your late king, born to rule. For several years this kingdom has been governed by a regency, but now that she has come of age the time for that regency is over! She has not recently lived among you, but now that she has returned I trust that you will all learn both to respect her and to love her."

The ceremony abruptly put me in mind of my own funeral. It would be just like Elerius to come back, invisible, to observe what was being done to his kingdom. And after I had taken Hadwidis all the way to the East with me to keep her out of his way, I didn't want her blasted with lightning in the middle of her own coronation.

Surreptitiously I started probing with magic. Nothing there. I found Theodora's mind and cocked an eyebrow at her across the crowd. She shook her head—she hadn't been able to find him either.

Which either meant that Elerius was off somewhere else, plotting his revenge safely distant from an Ifrit he might think was still with us, or else that he had become good enough to conceal himself not only from another school wizard but also from a witch who was actively looking for him.

"Princess Hadwidis's mother," said King Paul in a pointed fashion, "will now swear to her legitimacy and fitness to inherit this kingdom's rule."