The Singer's Crown (8 page)

“You would be a bold and lovely queen, not weak-stomached and pensive.”

“We are complete opposites, he and I.” She planted her fists on her hips. “He'll sit at court all day and decide nothing! What's to think about? Farmers' spats and petty theft.”

“He is learning to be king.”

“Kings go to battle, or to hunt during peacetime. They make examples of people and command them. That's what Father has always done. If he were to be a true king, my brother would have something more important to worry about than how I choose to run my household. I made a request of him yesterday, one request, and he could not grant it.”

“Do not blame that on Prince Wolfram alone,” Kattanan suddenly said.

Both women stared at him. “What do you mean by that?” Melisande demanded.

“Only that he asked my opinion of the man, and I gave it, Your Highness. The squire and I do not get on well.” Kattanan studied her feet. “I did not expect the prince to listen to me.”

Melisande gave a little sigh.

Faedre sighed with her mistress. “The marriage is one decision they cannot make for you. Then you may at least rule a separate household.” Faedre watched Kattanan through slitted eyes while she spoke. She allowed a slender ankle to escape the hem of her long skirt. She flexed that foot, and slid it a little farther still. “Your brother tried, though, did he not? Speaking of his friend, the baron, and never of the other suitors. I am sorry I was not here for the ball. My husband was at last released from his suffering.” She turned delicately aside.

“Oh, no,” the princess said, coming to sit beside her lady. “Why did you say nothing?”

“You have had a difficult time while I was gone, and I would not burden you with my own grief. I should have remained at home to watch over our lands, but I did not want to leave you like that.” She gazed at her mistress with a faint smile.

“You are so good to me, Faedre. I do not ever want to be without you. The others just don't understand.” Melisande held Faedre's hands in both of hers.

“When you marry,” said the lady, “I want to go with you to your new estate. Most of the court ladies would not leave here, but I want to serve you wherever you go.”

Melisande grinned. “It doesn't matter whom I marry, I will have you with me. In spite of everything, as least I have your friendship.” The women embraced, and the princess beamed over her lady's shoulder. She caught sight of Kattanan then, though he had turned away from their intimacy. “And you, Singer. I want you to sing the prayers every morning.”

“I would be honored, Your Highness.”

Faedre regarded the princess. “You were to sit at court today, Melisande.”

“I can't. I hate how he treats me as an adult in public, then as a child when we are alone.”

“The only way to show him your strength is to deny him the comfort of your absence. You have as much right to advise as he; more, because you are made as the Goddess. Take your rightful throne and hear your people,” she urged.

The smile left her face, but Melisande's eyes were shining. “Yes, Faedre. He will not get the better of me, no matter how angry he makes me. Let us return to court.”

In the room where Wolfram held court a large crowd had gathered, so their entrance through the side door was not noticed at first. Flanked by Faedre and Kattanan, Melisande glided forward. Heads turned, then the people scrambled to their feet and bowed deeply. “I am glad you have not waited court for me, brother.” She nodded graciously to the crowd.

Wolfram, too, had jumped up, and turned to offer her seat. “Good sister, you are a welcome guest this morning.” He tossed a quick glance to Faedre and the singer, eyes dark. “These men have come to ask rights to build a dock on our side of the canyon.”

“As I was saying, Your Highnesses,” said one of the elegant merchants before them, “landing the goods upriver and hauling them overland, even so short a distance, requires all manner of expenses, especially when the loads are intended for the castle. With your good father's permission, I sent several men to investigate the castle side. They are in the process of mapping a series of tunnels up from the river into the castle itself. There is evidence that a dock had been built there before but was not maintained.”

“Is it not possible, my lord, that it was washed out by a flood? Our river frequently runs high, as you must know,” the princess interrupted.

The merchant looked at her with raised brows, then at the prince. “That is possible, Your Highness, but we are willing to undertake the risk in order to provide this service to the castle.”

“The question is not about the dock.” Wolfram settled back into his throne. “If you build and use it, you will have an advantage over any other merchant we might buy from.”

Melisande frowned a little. “But this is easier for both of us, brother.”

Wolfram set a calming hand upon hers. “You are indeed correct, but it would be as if this fellow were our royal merchant, and we might feel constrained to buy only from him.” Before she could protest, he went on, “There is a solution, however. You may build your dock, and we shall buy it. Any merchant who desires may land his goods and use the passages in his dealings with the castle. We shall have the heralds draw up papers and distribute them to all of the guilds. In return for your excellent initiative and the mapping of the tunnels, we will grant you an exclusive contract for the class of goods of your choice for six months.”

At this, the merchants' faces brightened. “Your Highness is both wise and generous.”

“When you are ready to begin construction, have a copy of the map sent up to me.”

“Yes, Your Highness.” He bowed first to the prince, then the princess, and left.

During the pause, Melisande leaned over to her brother. “Wouldn't it be more fair to him to let him keep the dock? He could rent it to the others if they wanted to use it.”

“Commerce with the castle is not just another trade agreement. Our business influences how the other nobles purchase as well, and even who holds power in the guilds and councils. To give it all to one man would change the market of all the city, and perhaps beyond.”

The princess frowned. “But we might get cheaper goods.”

“The world is not so simple as that.”

“I know that!” she hissed at him, crossing her arms.

He caught her elbow before she could retreat to the far side of the throne. “I know you know, but you may not know how that applies in this instance.”

“I did not come here for a lecture, Wolfram.” She shook off his grasp.

“The Royal Messenger of Princess Asenith of Lochalyn, for Prince Wolfram.”

Kattanan snapped alert, ricocheting his glance from the prince to the messenger, who wore the royal badge that had once been his. He should have expected some contact with his former home. It seemed unlikely that the Usurper's minions would recognize him after so long, but he felt suddenly exposed, waiting in the arms of trust for someone to betray him again.

“Your betrothed sends warmest greetings unto you, Prince Wolfram,” the messenger began, “but regrets that she will be unable to come to you before midsummer. The higher roads are still in snow, and there have been many robbers of late. The king even now prepares a rout of the hills, but he would not have his daughter travel in danger. She begs your continued patience and goodwill, and sends regards to your father and sister.”

Wolfram's face fell. “Have there been more threats against my betrothed and her father?”

The messenger shifted his weight. “She does not like to speak of it, but there have been. Still it is not known whence come the rumors, but several of the king's most loyal have vanished. We doubt not that they have been kidnapped by this villain who hurls such accusations against the king, but is not willing to face him. When a message is to be sent, three messengers ride, all separately, and in guise of common men so that we shall not be known for royal men. Myself, Your Highness, I changed into my livery not half an hour ago.”

“They are our allies, should we not send aid?” Melisande inquired.

“What aid can I send? I cannot alone raise a small army and march out to meet my bride, much as that might comfort her. Several patrols of ours are already assisting in tracking the kidnappers. I should take this up again with Father, in spite of his illness.”

“Asenith is to be your wife; surely you can take some action.”

“Good sister,” he began, but his voice was tight, “I would like very much to discuss this with you, but this man is waiting on our dismissal to take his rest.” He again addressed the messenger. “Thank you for your pains in bringing this message and for sharing your news. Would you join me after supper in my chambers?”

“I would be honored, Your Highness.” The man bowed deeply and took his leave.

Melisande, arms crossed, glowered just a bit. “There was no need to rebuke me,” she grumbled under her breath. Faedre patted her arm with a nod.

She did not speak for the rest of court, though she managed to acknowledge the supplicants and messengers with some grace. Kattanan sat a little behind her throne, still reeling from the news that Wolfram would wed his cousin. He did not remember much of her, except her laughter. Being two years older than he and taller, she took it on herself to torment him while they were growing up at the castle. He had seen her once since then, at a concert at the monastery shortly before he left. She would be tall and beautiful by now, but when he heard the name, he pictured an eleven-year-old princess seated among friends, who saw him as he stood to solo and laughed until the abbot asked for her silence, ringing high laughter, piercing as the cry of a hawk. But Wolfram might never have met his bride. Kattanan shifted a little so that he could see the prince in the gap between the thrones. His tawny head was cocked to one side, intent on the old woman before him. He nodded as he listened, and sighed at the end of her tale.

“Ancient hag,” Faedre's voice hissed. “It does not surprise me that she was caught stealing from a temple. It does surprise me she was brought before royal court, though.”

Melisande nodded absently to this comment, smiling stiffly.

“If it pains you to kneel, then please rise,” the prince said. “I would not have you caused more discomfort.” As the old woman rose, the hood fell back from her head and showed her naked scalp. The gathering murmured at this revelation. “You are a priestess.”

“I was, Your Highness,” the woman said through crumbling teeth, “but I have no temple, and those of the city would not have me. Goddess forgive me for taking of their bread.” She moved to make the sign of the Goddess, but doubled over, coughing.

“Thomas, some water,” the prince ordered, but the page looked around. There was no spare cup. “Use mine. This woman is of the Goddess and deserves at least that much.”

The boy offered it to her and held it while she drank deeply. “I thank you, Thomas, and you, Your Highness. When you feel most accursed, then shall you find blessing.”

“You do readily admit the theft, Priestess, so it cannot go unnoticed. Take this lady to the temple in the garden there to atone for her wrong, and to pray for those who have wronged her. I give her leave to stay there until her every prayer is done.”

She shuffled toward him, waving back the guards, and bent to kiss his boot. Wolfram touched her stooped and ragged shoulder. “I am not the king, you need not do obeisance to me.”

“You never will be, Highness, but are more deserving than who shall follow.” She shuffled backward then, without explaining, despite the sudden rise in the murmurs of the court.

“What a foul creature! And what she said to you.” Melisande shuddered. “If you are accursed, it is by such words.” Faedre looked quickly to her mistress; she had been watching the back of the old woman as she was led away.

“Let her alone, sister.” Wolfram sighed. “She is aged, and may be feeble. If she is not, then at least I have her blessing as well.” He wiped a hand over his face, and Kattanan noticed the droop of his shoulders, as if borne down by the crown above. “How many more?”

“Only two who must be seen today, Your Highness,” the herald responded.

“Bring them up and let them be quick.”

Fortunately, the last two cases were easily resolved. Wolfram asked Melisande and her attendants to join him in his chambers for supper, and she accepted in the most civil tones but did not take his offered arm. They dined simply in the prince's sitting room, with Thomas sitting tall by Kattanan's side.

“I appreciate your presence in court, Melisande, and that you clearly took interest in it today,” the prince said, pushing away his plate.

“I'm so glad you noticed.” Melisande dissected the chicken leg that lay on her plate.

“Please tell me what's bothering you.”

“Many things,” the princess said, “but mostly why you won't help Asenith. I've heard her messages in the past and seen her portrait; I would like to meet her, but you won't do anything, even though you know she is in need!”

“Let me tell you what I could not say while her messenger was there.” The force of his words made her draw back a touch. “This is the third time she has postponed coming. She may in fact be in danger, but her father has his own armies, his own spies, and knows much more about the situation than I do. If she were ready to come, and he ready to let her, she would be here by now. I know they have received threats. More than one voice has accused her father of usurping a throne that should not have been his, not saving a kingdom from a madwoman who killed her own sons as he has professed—” Kattanan choked and dropped his fork, but quieted himself when their eyes were upon him. Wolfram continued, “They are still only anonymous voices, though, and not enough to hold back a king from his purposes. So she is hiding behind this excuse, or something else is going on.” He caught his breath and stared at his sister, who stared back, but with lowered chin and a guilty air. “I will not send aid they do not want, and I will not go to someone who is not ready.”