The Conqueror (13 page)

The fact that it was also a military
road would not be overlooked by Vall, whom she was certain was a
perceptive and capable fellow, no matter what he looked
like.

Everything had been perfectly
choreographed so far. Her own ministers, accompanied by Theo, had
met Vall and his party dockside. The ambassador disembarked from
the stately galley with his impressively-attired attendants. There
were four ships in all, his and three more overtly military
vessels. The message was not lost on her, for the word was that
they towered above most of her own vessels. The procession
proceeded through a couple of smaller riverside towns and then came
the stunning first view of Windermere Castle. With something like a
hundred and forty hair-dressers, barbers, food and wine-tasters, a
personal meat-carver, masseurs and masseuses in Vall’s party, her
chamberlain had been forced to make do. Her own household staff
were scattered all up and down the town, with the younger males
sleeping all lined up in rows, on cots. They were in the long rooms
above the royal stables—a fact which had necessitated some cleaning
and burning as it was dubbed.

With Lowren’s recent example still
foremost in their minds, security was tight but as unobtrusive as
possible. For the duration of the official visit, some of her
troops were sleeping in tents in the yard between the inner and
outer walls.

As soon as Ambassador Vall
left, hopefully
soon
but one couldn’t simply shove him out the door again, repairs
and new construction would begin on the town and keep’s
fortifications. There was precious little time before spring and
the season for campaigning would commence. With new earthen
outer-works, and outlying bastions, their plans drawn up long
beforehand, much could be done before the freeze. Much might also
be done after the spring thaw, when the land tended to soften while
sea ice still made navigation dangerous if not impossible. Work
would go on until the battle was actually joined.

Vall’s presence was not a good sign. He
was a little more important than Windermere usually rated. She had
no illusions about her status in the councils of kings and khans
and emperors.

While the Great Khan was paying her
rather more attention than her small but prosperous kingdom might
generally rate in strategic terms, these were uncertain times. The
attention was most definitely unwelcome, but what could one do
about it? She could hardly refuse to consult with her neighbor and
quite frankly, greatest trading partner. As such things were
labeled. Both nations regulated trade via the mechanism of duties
on all major commodities. Such trade had always been mutually
beneficial in the past.

We must have something he wants, she
realized. There was a sick feeling in her belly, mostly because no
one had the slightest idea of what that might entail, outside of
outright submission and no doubt a costly tribute. All of that
would be wrapped up in the fog of a very uncertain future, with the
Khan’s guiding hand in the selection or appointment for virtually
every office. The technique was well-known, and he had a track
record which she and her counselors had examined with great care.
The Khan was raising the stakes. That much seemed
obvious.

Troops lined the road rising up from
the town, four thousand of them in all, many hastily drawn from
nearby garrison towns, all liveried in her household colors. They
stood, with drawn swords presented, straight up the bridge of the
nose, eyes looking straight ahead.

Regimental officers saluted in turn
from atop their mounts as the cavalcade drove by, with color-boys
holding all flags butt to the ground and perfectly
vertical.

The only thing that might have spoiled
the scene was the complete lack of any breeze at all, the resulting
clouds of tiny black insects, and the sky, which had the curiously
leaden-blue color that presaged a late-afternoon storm. Bulky
thunderheads loomed to the west, making Windermere stand out in
stark contrast with her hard vertical lines and pale stonework. As
if to save the weather’s reputation, an errant shaft of golden
sunshine came slanting down just as the first carriage pulled up.
For a moment there it was sublime. Vall’s door was opened by a
waiting attendant, and he got out, helping a female companion and
then sneaking a quick peek around before his face turned and lifted
to confront Eleanora.

She stood three steps up from the
bottom with outstretched hands.

“
My Lord Vall. On behalf of
ministers and state, and the right good and honorable citizens of
Windermere, I bid thee greetings.” She smiled, and bowed her
head.

The slightest bending of the knees
conveyed the feminine version of a royal greeting to persons of
importance. There weren’t very many of those who rated it, but any
Ambassador of the Khan would have expected no less and he
graciously tipped his head.

He put his foot on the bottom
step.

“
My Lord and Master, the
Khan sends his greetings and felicitations. This is La-Eisha, first
among my concubines.” Almond-shaped eyes stared at the Queen in
unfeigned admiration of the most juvenile nature.

Vall looked around, a small, tired,
extremely competent and as word had it, rather vain little man with
the power to treat with kingdoms. Even under the traditional metal
skull-cap, he looked prematurely bald, with curious, pale,
bleached-looking eyebrows.

“
It looks like we’re in for
a spot of rain, Majesty.”

With a wry grin at the Ambassador’s
unexpectedly mild wit, (but what else did we expect?) and now that
Theodelinda was hurrying from her carriage to assist, Eleanora did
her royal curtsy again, and then turned to lead the party
inside.

Feeling self-conscious and foolish, but
with nary a trace of it on her calm features, she took the arm on
the opposite side of the whore and conducted Ambassador Vall into
the calm, measured quiet of her home.

One step at a time, and they must all
try not to say anything to provoke him.

This visit was rather sudden and she
wondered why he was here at all. The two countries had trade
consuls in all major ports and cities on a reciprocal basis.
Ostensibly, Talonna, the previous ambassador, had been relieved for
reasons of ill health. Not that the former ambassador’s health
issues couldn’t have been faked, but her own impression was that
Talonna was a sick man and never should have been sent out in the
first place. The whole episode was causing her to question and
second-guess almost anything any foreign power or potentate did, or
said, wrote, or reportedly did or said or wrote.

***

After the usual round of state dinners,
a festival of flowers and music, and other public affairs during
which Lord Vall had been feted and lionized extensively, the time
had finally come for a frank, face to face talk. There would be the
minimum of attendants. It was early afternoon, when the palace
could be strangely quiet. Breakfast was over, morning Court
sessions had been cancelled, and the staff members were off in
their own strange little worlds. How everyone could just disappear
like that, and in such a short time, had always been one of the
great mysteries of the queen’s life. She was more appreciative than
curious and so she had never asked.

Lord Vall had brought only his personal
secretary to take notes and have charge of any documents he might
wish to consult. For Lord Vall to carry his owned damned papers
would be an imposition upon his dignity, and one of the highest
order. Any rational person could see that.

He at least had the grace to leave his
concubines behind.

Eleanora had Lord Pell, her own
Minister of Commerce, and Gilbert, her private secretary, to make a
full and accurate record of the proceedings. Eleanora had the
feeling this was a vital consideration when dealing with just such
a one as Vall, and not incidentally, his Lord and Master
Jumalak.

Theo and two beefy soldiers would be
watching from hidden niches through small peepholes.

Presumably Lord Vall was not here to
assassinate her, but one never knew. Such things had happened, as
they all knew.

“
Ah. At last. Now we can
speak our minds.” Lord Vall looked like he had just swallowed a
canary, or perhaps thought he was about to. “Thank you for all of
the wonderful entertainment and hospitality, but we must, needs be,
get down to a little work.”

He had big, dark, expressive eyes and
some rather effeminate mannerisms to go with them. The whole act
was a kind of unspoken pantomime, she decided. Don’t be fooled by
the fool act.

“
Yes, it’s good to be away
from the madding crowd. This is our opportunity to finally get to
know one another a little better, as people first, and those
charged with the governing of a great people second.” Eleanora sat
in a comfortable chair beside a crackling fire in one of the more
intimate chambers in the part of the palace reserved for public
reception. “We can never really forget, can we? I do my best to
enjoy my people, and I like to think I give them something precious
in return for my good fortune. I call it good
government.”

She smiled, and it was like a cobra
spotting lunch.

“
So. Lord Vall. What can I
do for you?”

The Minister of Commerce quickly lifted
a scented handkerchief and stifled a sudden, dry little
cough.

“
Ah-ha.” Vall’s liquid eyes
took in the Minister, smiling and sitting a little straighter.
“Well! You did warn me about her Majesty, didn’t you?”

None of the Khan’s
ambassadors had been entirely without charm. That was part of the
job, to appear
nice
at all times.

Pell kept his eyes downcast, only
coming back with a little shrug. But if truth be told, his hearing
wasn’t the best these days and he really had to work to follow
along sometimes. His useful days were becoming rather numbered. He
was wondering if he would be able to adequately serve the Queen in
this sort of thing.

Vall beamed at the Minister of
Commerce, a ruddy old gentleman, quick with an abacus or a tariff
for that matter, but the sort of fuddy-duddy who would not, must
not, could not say shit if he had a mouthful.

A fine flush began to creep up Lord
Pell’s neck under Vall’s unabashed scrutiny, and he avoided a quick
glance from Her Majesty.

When Eleanora spoke, it was with
precision.

“
Yes. Ha-ha. That’s quite
all right. Lord Pell did well to prepare you in advance for a
conversation with me. Or my cousin Theodelinda, for that matter. We
speak our minds when we can. When we have to. When we must. For she
speaks for all of us in so many things…what is it exactly that we
can do for our great Lord and Master, Jumalak, the Great Khan of
the Hordes?”

This time it was Vall’s turn to
blush.

“
Well. It really isn’t like
that.” He laid a special emphasis on the last word but she wasn’t
buying it.

He began again.

“
It’s really more a matter
of certain, ah, clarifications.”

“
Ah.”

Even Pell got into the act. There was
something frosty in the tone—very few men could have projected it
so well, so unmistakably.

“
Oh.”

Eleanora had the sudden urge to reach
over and pat him on the arm or something. He really was a dear
sometimes.

Lord Vall’s gaze switched to Lord Pell
who returned a wintry smile, pale blue eyes gleaming at that
ingenuously open visage.

“
We’ve never doubted your,
er, frankness, nor the Great Khan’s, ah,
sincerity,
Lord Vall.”

The Ambassador’s jaw dropped slightly.
This was beginning to look like a tough reception.

“
And you’re right, Your
Eminence—I did try and warn you.”

Vall nodded thoughtfully, finally
tearing himself away from Pell, whom he had met previously. At one
time the fellow had been a member of a trade delegation to the
capital and some other major cities of the Great Khan.

At the time, he seemed competent
enough, nothing more. He was quite a bit younger then, seven or
eight years Vall recalled. But as he now saw him, perhaps there was
more—much more, lurking behind a carefully-contrived surface.
Competent back then—possibly still competent even in his old
age.

Eleanora sat there, strongly tempted to
cross her arms, which she could not do as the wooden arms of this
particular chair wouldn’t allow it, being too high and too close in
to her sides. It was all she could do to clutch the front corners
of the arms in white-knuckled impatience and tap her little foot
where the gentleman, seated directly across from her on a low
couch, could clearly and plainly see it peeking out from under her
stiff silk brocade.

If one must bluff, then at least look
the part.

“
Very well, then. And it is
good to be able to speak plainly. My compliments to the Queen, and
I mean no disrespect or offense—but I can see that she is neither a
fool, nor does she suffer fools gladly. This may save us a little
beating about the bush as people say—”