Court Wizard (Spellmonger Series: Book 8) (79 page)

“I don’t really see much compelling reason for our lad
to
wed, actually,” Sister Saltia said, thoughtfully, between sips of onion soup.  She was truly enjoying the social battle unfolding in front of her.  For a change she wasn’t the subject, and she delighted in watching the conflict between her social betters. “While some additional revenue from dowry lands would be nice, it would also dilute his focus on affairs in Alshar.  Assuming you have someone from
outside
Alshar in mind,” she asked the Countess, innocently.

Pentandra resolved to play a few rounds of dice with the nun, later, and purposefully lose.  It was a brilliant question, and gave the ladies of the court a wealth of information about the Countess’ - and the Queen’s - motivations.

“Oh, my yes!” agreed Shirlin, grateful that the matter she’d come to Vorone about was being taken seriously by someone at court.  “Her Majesty has proposed a great number of potential matches, each from a distinguished great house or suitably ancient line,” she said, removing a scroll of parchment from a pouch behind her back.  She unrolled it and began scanning through the names.  “We have an
outstanding
selection of matrimonial prospects, here, the real cream of the Castali lands . . .”

“Now why under heaven would our lad get himself attached to a
Castali
bride?” asked Lady Bertine, scornfully.  “When there are plenty of pretty
Alshari
maids at his beck and call?”

“These are all ladies of
suitable
station and birth,” Countess Shirlin answered, stiffly.  “All of whom have been
properly
vetted for rank and class.  
Real
noblewomen, as befits a sitting Duke,” she finished, triumphantly.

“Vetted by
Grendine
, you mean?” Lady Bertine scoffed.  “Better to be a bachelor forever than wake up a husband with a rat tail in his ear, like his dame!”

“That’s
Queen
Grendine!” demanded Countess Shirlin, crossly.

“I think His Grace can keep his
own
counsel on his romantic life,” Pentandra informed the busybody countess, her face amused by her discomfort.  “He’s barely been in power a season, yet.  Let him get used to power a little before he is forced to share it,” she suggested, reasonably.  She really didn’t want an all-out social war between courts, but she also didn’t want Anguin to be no more than Grendine’s puppet, either.

“And allow this . . . this
debauchery
to continue
indefinitely
?” the Castali noblewoman sniffed, her lip curling into a sneer.

“Debauchery?” scoffed Viscountess Threanas, speaking up for the first time in a while.  “My lady, I came to Vorone as a maid, during the rule of the Black Duke.  I assure you, the antics you object so strenuously to are a simple and wholesome pavane compared to the orgies Enguin the Black used to hold here!”

“Orgies?
” asked Sister Saltia in a whisper.  “What’s an
orgy
?”

“That was
long
ago, and I’d
assumed
Alshar had progressed since that time,” Countess Shirlin replied, stiffly.  “It was
assumed
that the ladies of Alshar knew how to keep their men in order!”

“Our men do not
require
keeping,” Pentandra said, coldly.  “And it is
insulting
to them to insinuate that they do.  I, for one, can think of no compelling reason for His Grace to seek a wife, so early in his reign.  He is a young man, newly come to power.  Allow him to enjoy it as long as he can before the considerations of dynastic life intrude.”

“Do you want him to sire
bastards?
” sneered Countess Shirlin angrily.  “Because when you mix stupid sluts and horny nobility, you’re going to get
bastards!
”

Pentandra watched Lady Pleasure’s face turn from mild amusement to barely-controlled wrath.  That was an exceedingly sore subject for the courtier, and she was not about to be trifled with over it.

“Bastards?
” she said, softly, her tone belying the look in her eyes.  “When a child is created out of
love
– or even out of base commerce – he is no less a man for his parents not having wed.”

“Some of the greatest heroes in the Duchies were bastards,” reminded Sister Saltia.

“And they often carrying the strength of the line more fully than
legal
children,” pointed out Lady Esmara, clearly thinking of someone in particular, and fondly at that.  “That can be a
lot
of strength,” she added, dreamily.

“If one scorns the laws of Trygg, perhaps one
can
concede that point,” the stuffy old noblewoman snarled.  “To flout the rules of marriage so blatantly invites the displeasure of the goddess!”

“Which goddess?” Lady Pleasure asked, pointedly.

“If the lad
doesn’t
wed, he
cannot
violate her laws,” Sister Saltia pointed out, fingering her dice in her left hand.  “The Laws of Trygg concern
only
the responsibilities a husband has for his wife and heirs, and vice versa.  They do
not
apply to the unwedded,” she said, authoritatively.  “As there are ample means of legitimizing a bastard, it may well serve the duchy best if Anguin’s bachelorhood persists.  We can always select an heir later from one of his descendents.  I don’t see it as a problem if he doesn’t wed.”

“If he
doesn’t
. . . wed . . .” Shirlin began, but trailed off.  Pentandra picked up on the conversational thread and could not help but pull at it until the Countess, herself, unraveled.

“If he doesn’t wed . . .
what?
” she prompted the woman, sharply.

“All manner of problems result!” Shirlin continued, stiffly.  “He will lack an heir, for one thing!”

“He has two young sisters, either one of whom can marry,” Lady Bertine dismissed.  “There is no succession crisis, here.”

“Well, to strengthen the state alliances,” Shirlin offered, more carefully.

“With the rebels in his own land, or with the foreign queen he’s not particularly well disposed to?” asked Bertine.  “Which should his
people
support?  Which
will
they support?”

“Look,” the Countess said, growing desperate in the face of such widespread opposition to her mission, “
any
of these noblewomen would make excellent duchesses, and
any
of them would strengthen the alliance between Castal and Alshar!” she burst out, slapping the scroll on the table, rattling the crockery with the force.  

“And put a spy in His Grace’s bed for the rest of his life,” sneered Lady Pleasure, shoving the scroll back at the countess.  “Thank you, Excellency, but
no.
 
Alshari
women will see to the Alshari duke finding his bride . . . in due time.  When he is ready.  And not at the direction of his murdering aunt!”

Countess Shirlin stared darkly at the baroness.  It was clear she was not pleased with the direction of her mission - or the tea - had taken.  In the face of such vocal opposition, she retreated to the one basis of power and command she felt available to her.

“
Her Majesty
is
not
going to be pleased that her nephew lives in such deplorable conditions, with such unsteady and uncertain advisors!” she nearly spat as she roughly rolled the parchment and put it back in her pouch.

“What pleases Her Majesty,” Lady Pleasure said, sweetly, “should
never
be spoken of in polite company.”  That caused a storm of whispers around the table.  “And to be brutally frank, the affairs of Alshar are none of her concern.”

“But she was
raised
in Alshar!  
In this very court!
 
Of course
she has concerns about how it comports itself!” protested Shirlin angrily.

“And she’s
moved on,
” Pentandra said, coming to the defense of her fellow courtiers.  She may have had issues with each of them, individually, but they all shared an essential and basic loyalty to Anguin, either personally or institutionally.  In the face of such a threat, Pentandra was gratified to see the ladies responsible for running the government were unwilling to use the incursion from Castal as a means of advancing themselves.  When their lad was threatened, they rallied together to his defense.

“She has her
own
court.  This is
Anguin’s
.  She might
think
that her pointy hat means that it is hers, too, and can be ruled by proxy through such base tools as corrupt Baron Edmarin and . . .
others
,” Pentandra said, her eyes lingering pointedly on the woman’s irate face.  “But in that belief she is
mistaken
.”

“The ladies of Alshar jealously guard our lad,” Threanas added, finding support in the eyes of every other woman around the table.  “We have only recently had him returned, and the very
last
thing we would permit would be for him to be subject to the romantic whims and political schemes of his . . .
aunt
,” she finished, turning the last term into a slur.  “Not when her interest has, historically, not always been in the
duchy’s
best interest.”

“Why, Her Majesty has
always
had her homeland’s best interest in mind!” scoffed Countess Shirlin.

That declaration produced such an unanticipated and unstoppable gale of laughter amongst the Alshari ladies that Shirlin looked around, confused and sputtering, while they sought to marshal themselves.

“Grendine had an international reputation for having it out for Alshar since she was a girl in this very palace!” laughed Viscountess Threanas.  “Shall we review the result of her compassionate interest? A third of the duchy taken by Castal, a third in rebellion, and a third invaded and occupied.  Thus far, her protection of Alshari interests has been . . . checkered, at best.  How shall we endure
more
of this woman’s benevolence?” she wailed, tears coming out of the corners of her eyes as she laughed.

“This is hardly the way a
loyal
subject speaks of her monarch!” insisted Shirlin, who was out of productive and reasonable arguments in the face of united opposition.

“We are loyal to our
duke
, Excellency,” Lady Bertine insisted, forcing herself to stop laughing.  “
Whomever
His Grace elects to swear fealty to, in his wisdom and guided by the gods, well, we will
follow
him.  

“But this bloody-handed woman who wears three-fifths of a crown?  She does
not
rule in Alshar.  She
hates
Alshar, though she seeks to impose her will here.  She may reign over Alshar - that is not my decision.  But she does not
rule
Alshar.  Duke Anguin, may the gods preserve our brave lad,
does!”

There was a little more, but in the presence of such strong opposition to her mission, all that the Countess could do was make a retreat as graciously and as dignified as she could.  Any illusions she had about taking control over the “simple” women of the “rustic” Alshari court were shattered, now.  If Grendine thought she could rule Vorone by proxy through this woman, she would have to go about it another way.  No one at the table wanted to see the Duke prematurely wed to some controlling Castali noblewoman whose first loyalty was to Grendine, not her husband.

Pentandra finished her meal and her tea with a new respect for Threanas, Bertine, Saltia, even for Lady Pleasure, who had not taken the opportunity to use Shirlin’s appearance to divide the court, as she could have.  Despite her misgivings about Lady Pleasure’s motivations, operations, and eventual plans, she was
Pentandra’s
problem, not Grendine’s – and certainly not Shirlin’s.  The two women (or one woman and one goddess) might have been at odds, but neither of them were willing to involve someone as disruptive as Grendine and her lackeys into the middle of the conflict.

No, Pentandra reflected, despite the petty differences – or very real differences – each of the women in the court had with each other over matters of policy, propriety, and appearance, those were relatively minor in the face of a threat from outside.  Countess Shirlin reminded them all that there were others watching the court, others who were all too willing to usurp control of it, if they were
not
watchful.  And united.

Pentandra made a note to remember to thank the Queen for that, someday, if she ever had the opportunity.  If Countess Shirlin hadn’t arrived at Vorone when she did, and galvanized the women of the court against her, there was no telling how chaotic things might get when the inevitable political or military crisis erupted.