Ambition and Alavidha (10 page)

* * * * *

A tenday after
Daniel’s return and two men were standing deep in conversation in
one of the antechambers of the New Palace.

They were
discussing some problems that had come to their notice.

“What do you
think of Prince Crispin?” asked Kellen Robert Crawford.

“A quiet and
unassuming young man,” replied Lord Prince Marshall Pierre.
Although reputed to be a martinet on the parade ground, he was
always prepared to give people the benefit of the doubt.

“He has hidden
depths, I wonder if he is as innocent about all this as he
professes?”

“You think the
King of Leithe is behind this? Dangerous thoughts,” said Lord
Prince Marshall Pierre, raising an elegant eyebrow, “and even if he
is what proof do you have and that Prince Crispin is aware of
it?”

“But what if it
is
true? We all know that Cadan of Leithe is ambitious and
Prince Crispin
is
his son. The Dukes of the Western and
Eastern Isles are worried and so is the Earl of Galland; he’s so
worried that he’s building extra defences along the more vulnerable
parts of his coasts. The Kings of Randall and Eilidon are scared
stiff and that’s
with
their sons married to Cadan’s
daughters.”

“Perhaps that’s
why,” suggested Lord Prince Marshall Pierre. “And how do you know
so much about what’s going on out-kingdom? I would have thought you
had enough to be going on with regarding our internal
problems.”

“I am concerned
when the external threatens the stability of the internal,” Robert
Crawford answered, “just as you are.”

“I like to be
aware of everything,” said Prince Pierre, “I have responsibilities
to keep our kingdom safe.”

“Of course, My
Lord Prince.” Robert Crawford had a sudden sinking feeling in his
stomach, a sense of foreboding. He was sure that the Lord Prince
knew more. He was right.

“And just to
add to your worries Kellen Crawford, perhaps you should be aware
that we’re sure King Cadan has made accommodation with the sea
pirates,” said Prince Pierre.

Kellen Robert
tried to assimilate this piece of news and how it might affect the
situation.

The Lord Prince
Marshall placed his hand on Robert’s shoulder.

“Robert, I
believe the time has come for you to go see Paul Hallam. I think he
needs to know about this. Me, I’m going to take three regiments
into the southerly duchies. I have a feeling in my guts that if
trouble is going to happen it will begin there.”

* * * * *

In the event,
Kellen Robert didn’t travel to see Duke Paul Hallam on his own.
There were a number of people travelling that way, nobility and
their attendants and Robert joined them. His fellow travellers were
returning to the manor from Fort where they had been attending the
christening of the new Prince-Heir.

* * * * *

The Royal
Chapel at the Palace of Fort was ablaze with colour and light.
Candles in sconces had been set at intervals along the walls and
illuminated the paintings that decorated them. These were the
finest icons and religious depictions in the kingdom, painted in
bright colours, reds and blues predominating but there was an
abundance of gold and silver gilding too. The columns that held up
the decorated, vaulted roof were also bright, swirls of red and
amber, blue and green. Even the carpets were of thick red
weave.

Queen
Antoinette’s guests were gathering for the baptism of her grandson,
the baby Prince-Heir Elliot. One day he might, should, become His
Most Royal Majesty King Elliot the Seventeenth.

Queen
Antoinette had, only the previous tenday, decided to hold the
ceremony in the Royal Chapel rather than in the Cathedral. The
Cathedral was, admittedly large, if the ceremony had remained there
she could have invited a great number of guests but it was cold and
forbidding, she didn’t like it and in her view it was not a
suitable place for Elliot’s naming, however important he was and
would become.

The size and
coldness of the cathedral was not however the only reason the Queen
had changed her mind.

* * * * *

She had
countered the arguments against the change in venue with many
counter-arguments. Elliot could be shown to the populace after the
ceremony she had decreed and the Dukes had noisily subsided.
Indeed, the Lord Prince Marshall had been against using the
cathedral in the first place. Effective security would have been
near nigh impossible there he had insisted and his counter argument
had most effectively quietened the continuing ducal rumblings of
discontent.

The Queen’s
real reason was more complex. It was also a person. It was her
son-in-law, Prince Crispin of Leithe. She didn’t like him. She
didn’t trust him.

Queen
Antoinette had perused the original guest list for the cathedral
venue drawn up by the Head of Protocols with a heart full of
disquiet.

She had made a
mental note to dismiss the present Head of Protocols and replace
him with someone not in the Prince’s group.

There are
far too many. What is the term?
she had frowned as she had
perused the seating plan. Yes, that was it, there were far too many
of his ‘cronies’ in advantageous sitting positions dotted down the
main apse.

There were
rigid rank protocols for occasions such as these and they had been
put aside with impunity. It, she decided, would simply
not
do
.

Those planning
the seating arrangements hadn’t dared overturn the conventions for
the front three rows she had been relieved to see. They hadn’t
dared. These rows were always reserved for the royal family, for
the dukes and members of their families and for important foreign
dignitaries and representatives. Further back however, conventions
had been flouted with a vengeance. Barons and Kellens had been
placed in front of Counts and Margraves and one or two who held the
lowest of the noble and gentle rank, that of Thane had been placed
in the fourth row from the front.

Queen
Antoinette had pursed her most royal lips together and had made her
decision. She didn’t intend that there be any more unpleasantness
than possible but her son-in-law must
not
be allowed to get
away with this. That was the real reason why she had informed the
Dukes at Conclave that she had decided that the Chapel Royal would
be the venue. The Archbishop had been placated with the promise
that he would still officiate and for the others who would be
disappointed she had delved deep into her privy purse and provided
a series of court entertainments and processions.

* * * * *

The Chapel
Royal was not large and guests could now be restricted to those she
wanted to invite, within limits. The royal and ducal families would
all still be invited. Foreign invites could be culled to the
Ambassadors themselves (and their wives if they were so encumbered
– most Ambassadors were, by tradition, bachelors).

As for the
other few remaining places, the Chapel Royal was her own personal
chapel.

I’ll invite who
I damn well please.

* * * * *

Now the day had
arrived and here she was sitting at the front of the royal stall
waiting for the most important participant in the ceremony, her
grandson. Light music was playing in the background; six of the
best violinists the royal music master could provide. In fact, he
was playing himself. There wasn’t a choir. Queen Antoinette
disliked voice music and much preferred instrumental.

The Archbishop,
the Royal Chaplain, both resplendent in full canonicals, were
waiting.

The violins
moved on to another piece and the Queen sat up straighter. Through
the side door entered her daughter, the Crown-Princess, baby Elliot
in her arms and beside her, his face as bland as ice walked Prince
Crispin of Leithe. His eyes however, resembled raw agates. To those
who knew him, these eyes told a story; of intense displeasure and
then some. Queen Antoinette’s gaze went to her daughter. The
Princess looked flushed.

So the couple
had been ‘having words’, again.

Why did she
marry him?
The Queen, not for the first time, asked this
question.
I advised her not to. Infatuation. Is the infatuation
dissipating?
If so, it is too late now
.

The Queen knew
the law as well as her subjects. One life, one marriage. This rule
had been promulgated as long ago as the end of the first century as
a means of keeping the inter- house (royal and ducal) marriages
within limits; to keep the inheritance laws as simple as possible
and to avoid bloodshed between ambitious heirs if the direct
blood-line were to die out. There had been three civil wars during
the first century alone.

The Princess
had insisted she loved Prince Crispin and would take no-one else.
Had the love been real? No, decided her mother, it had not. But
nothing could be done about it now.

Queen
Antoinette sighed. Her beloved daughter would just have to live
with it but she foresaw great problems in the future.

The royal
couple walked slowly to their assigned positions in front of the
altar and stood waiting for the Archbishop to begin.

The godparents
were requested to join them. As a royal prince, Elliot must have a
number of godparents as befitted his exalted status. It was a great
honour to be chosen.

What further
disquieted the Queen and a considerable number among the
congregation were the identities of some so chosen.

Traditionally a
prince had eight, six male and two female.

The females
chosen were Duchess Elizabeth of Hallam and her sister Duchess
Katie of North Baker. The two had been born Princesses of the
Blood, though from one of the more junior branches. They were
cousins of Lord Prince Marshall Pierre. More importantly for the
Queen, they were also Crown-Princess Antoinette’s aunts; their
brother had been Queen Antoinette’s beloved husband who had died of
the ague the year their daughter had been born.

Queen
Antoinette had chosen three of the other six after a discussion
with her daughter but the other three were, by tradition, always
chosen by the father.

The Queen had
chosen Prince Xavier (son of the Queen’s second cousin), Prince
Pierre (son of the Lord Prince Marshall) and Duke Raoul van
Buren.

The other three
were the choice of Prince Crispin. They were not of ducal rank,
they didn’t even descend directly from one of the twelve ducal
houses; they were not even Barons. The three consisted of two
Kellens and one Thane.

The three
weren’t even good, upstanding members of society. They were noisy,
argumentative young men, more suited to wenching and drinking than
looking after the morals of a prince.

However, the
Queen tried to comfort herself,
they’ve been behaving much
better lately
(she knew nothing about the activities in Prince
Crispin’s tower room)
so I suppose we must just hope for the
best.

The three were
conducting themselves well; they were making the right responses,
they had put aside their party outfits and were dressed in sober
hues, so Queen Antoinette relaxed.

* * * * *

Queen
Antoinette was not the only one to be worried. Other members of the
congregation were making notes of the activities at the altar.

Crown-Princess
Antoinette appeared awkward and nervous to all who were sitting
close enough to see her properly. She kept glancing at her husband,
almost, the onlookers thought, as if she was desperately seeking
his approval.

Lord Prince
Marshall Pierre was sitting in the front pew.

By the gods,
Robert Crawford was right to be worried.
“That young man is
trouble my dear, make no mistake,” he whispered in an aside to his
wife during one of the frequent stops and starts of the ceremony,
“you mark my words.”

Baron Peter
Taviston made a mental note to tell Kellen Robert Crawford to tell
Duke Paul Hallam about his observations of Prince Crispin.

Kellen Robert
Crawford made a mental note to inform Duke Paul Hallam about it.
Prince Crispin is getting above himself though he hides it well.
Look at that mocking expression on his face. I very much wonder
what he is planning.

* * * * *

In fact, Prince
Crispin wasn’t planning anything particularly dire, at least this
day. He was just an angry and disappointed man.

There he had
been, helping the cathedral deacons with their planning of the
baptism; in the huge cathedral, with him the centre of attention,
when out of the blue, his mother-in-law had poured freezing,
icy-cold water on top of it all when she had moved the ceremony to
the Chapel Royal.

Crispin was,
deep down, a vain person; he shone in company; he liked being the
centre player in the court pageants and he had intended that the
baptism be a pageant that would never be forgotten.

Now here he was
in the pokey (his word) chapel and there was hardly anyone here to
view his achievement.

For he
considered the birth of his son to be an achievement of a very high
order.

Queen
Antoinette was correct in her suppositions in doubting his
attachment to her daughter. He didn’t love his wife, he had
difficulty sometimes even liking her. He considered her to be a
mousy, boring sort of person and as different as chalk from cheese
from the women who did attract him. He liked his women loud and
blousy, with large chests and who enjoyed sex.