| |
Muriel settled back on her long settee, a glass of wine dangling carelessly from her fingertips. She studied their son with a puzzled look.
“What about during the war?” she asked. “When you went to Loshadnarod with the hillichmagnars. I thought you told me there was an Immani girl you met on that trip. What was her name? Julie or something?”
“Julietta,” said the boy. “She turned out to be an assassin, you know. The emperor sent her to kill Legate Faustinus.”
“Shame she didn’t succeed,” muttered Broderick.
“But nothing happened with her?” Muriel pressed.
Their son blushed. “Um...no, Mother. Not really, no.”
Youth was wasted on young men. Or at least on some young men. The boy was 19 now. By that age, Broderick had slept with at least a dozen women, and Lukas had slept with even more. And yet, from what Young Broderick was saying, it didn’t seem as if he’d ever had sex with anyone. What a sad waste of one’s teenage years.
“I’m a bit confused now,” said Muriel. “You don’t have any other great love in your life. And you tell me you never have had any great passion for any other girl before. So what exactly is the problem with marrying your cousin Elwyn?”
“Um...she and I have never gotten along very well, Mother.”
“Yes, she does have the personality of a hornet’s nest,” said Muriel. “But I suspect if you got to know her better, you’d find her more agreeable.”
“I feel sorry for her,” said the boy, looking down at his own wineglass, which remained untouched. “This can’t be easy on her.”
“You sympathize with her,” said Broderick, “and that means you care. That could be the start of something, you know.”
At the far end of Muriel’s parlor, a footman appeared and cleared his throat. “I do apologize for interrupting, my lord and lady. But there is a visitor who wishes to see his lordship.”
Broderick followed the man down the hall and through the door that separated his wife’s apartment from his. The visitor turned out to be Anne. Broderick was impressed at her tact in sending the footman. He and Muriel had no objections to each other’s affairs, but neither was crass enough to go parading them around.
Anne ran up and gave him a giddy little kiss. “I went to see the princess like you asked, dear. I’ve gotten her to agree to meet your son for a private supper. I was thinking a rustic little picnic out in Queen Maud’s Garden would be nice—back in the arbors behind the hedges, where it’s a bit more private, you know.”
“Well done.” He gave her a longer kiss for her reward, then asked, “How did Elwyn seem to you?”
“Like she always does—a priggish bitch who thinks she’s better than everyone else. I really don’t see why your son would want to marry her.”
“Yes, well, at the moment, he’s having trouble understanding why, as well.” He turned and looked back toward the hallway.
Anne put a hand teasingly on the top laces of his trousers. “Are you coming up to my room tonight?”
He gave her another kiss, quicker this time. “We’ll see. But thank you again, Anne.”
Then he left her and headed back to Muriel’s apartment, where he found that in his absence, Lukas had arrived. And apparently, the voice of the boy’s uncle had succeeded where those of his parents had failed.
“Fine, I’ll do it,” said his son. “But only if she says she actually wants to meet me.”
“Then I have good news for you,” said Broderick, and he told them all about the arrangements Anne had made.
“You’ll need new clothes,” said Lukas, slapping the young man on the back. He pulled out his coin purse and handed over two Sovereigns. “Here. Allow me to pay for them.”
“I can buy my own clothes,” said Young Broderick, a trifle defensively.
“Yes, and they are fine clothes for the training yard or the chase,” said his mother. “You are going to have a romantic evening with a princess. Try to dress appropriately.” She turned to Broderick. “Send one of your squires with him, will you? Make sure he gets something fashionable.”
They bustled him off with Squire Stanley, Lukas’s second son, and then the adults had another round of drinks. “Do you think this will work?” Lukas asked, lounging on the window seat.
“Probably,” said Broderick. “My son will do what he’s told in the end, so we don’t need to worry about him.”
“And Elwyn?” asked Lukas.
“Who knows?” said Muriel. “When he shows up in those new clothes, she might fall in love with him on the spot.”
They all looked at each other for a few seconds until they couldn’t control themselves anymore, and they burst out laughing.
“No, seriously,” Muriel went on, “Elwyn will do it, if she thinks it’s the only way to help her family. A girl will do almost anything if she has to.”
She met Broderick’s eyes with a knowing smile, and he raised his glass to her.
“The closer we get to the Gemot,” she continued, “and the more it looks like her brother is going to lose the crown, the more willing she’ll be.”
Lukas drained his wine and poured himself another cup. “Speaking of the Gemot, I’ve been around town, talking to people here and there. I know we’re trying to keep this marriage secret for now—”
“Too late,” said Muriel. “Yesterday I had four people ask me if we’ve picked a date yet.”
“Yes, yes, but we haven’t announced anything publicly,” said Lukas. “Anyway, I’ve been asking around, and it’s pretty clear the marriage would tip a lot of votes in your favor.”
“Lady Jorunn seems open to the idea,” said Broderick.
“Having the public support of a hillichmagnar would help a lot,” said Muriel.
“True, but we still need to get out there and make personal appeals,” said Lukas. He pointed with his glass toward Broderick. “I hope you didn’t have supper plans this evening. You’re going to a birthday party.”
“Am I? Whose?” He looked at Muriel. “It’s no one’s birthday we know today, is it?”
She shrugged.
“Sir Bryan Strudwick,” said Lukas. “He’s turning twenty. His father, Baron Strudwick, was very disappointed that the queen won’t be attending. I managed to convince him that you’re an acceptable substitute.”
“The Strudwicks are an old Keneshire family,” said Muriel. “Very well-connected.”
Broderick sighed. Spending an evening with a lot of young people didn’t particularly appeal to him, but Lukas was right. This was the kind of thing they needed to start doing if they wanted a convincing win at the Gemot.
As it turned out, the party was more fun than he had thought. Young Sir Bryan was about to leave for the Empire, where his father had arranged a spot for him as a Military Vice-Tribune. Lukas and Broderick had done the same thing back in their day, and they had plenty of opportunities to tell the more socially-appropriate anecdotes of their time there. They didn’t bother to mention the brothels or the orgies. Sir Bryan would learn all about those soon enough.
Late in the evening, Bryan asked Broderick his advice on what weapons and armor to buy. “Some people say it’s cheaper to buy it here, sir. But other people say it’ll be higher quality there. I don’t want to show up with the wrong kind of dagger, or what have you.”
“Get a proper short sword when you get there,” advised Broderick. “And your legate will tell you what kind of armor to buy. But as for the rest—knives and saddles and such—buy it here.”
As he told the boy, he had bought a great many very fine daggers of the best Turetanian steel, and had then proceeded to lose them or gamble them away. He had given the very last of them away to his wife, when he had found out she didn’t have a good hunting knife. To the best of his knowledge, she had it in the back of a wardrobe somewhere.
“No point in spending all your money when you can get something just as serviceable right here on Shieldworten Street,” Broderick said. “Save your gold for girls and wine.”
He ended the evening by giving a little speech about the friendship of the Immani and Myrcian peoples, telling young Sir Bryan’s family that the boy was taking part in a long and noble tradition. Which was mostly a polite fiction. Yes, Myrcians had been sending their boys to the Empire to learn how to fight for hundreds of years. There was nothing particularly fine or noble about it, though. It was another example of Myrcians’ slavish devotion to a nation that didn’t care about them in the slightest. But of course you couldn’t say that to a boy about to leave on the greatest adventure of his life. Or to his parents.
Afterward, as Broderick and Lukas said their goodbyes, Baron Strudwick came up and shook Broderick’s hand, tears glistening in his eyes. “That was a marvelous speech,” the man said. “I can’t tell you how much my wife and I appreciate it. If there’s ever anything I can do for you, let me know.”
Broderick bowed. “I certainly will.”