Master of Dragons (31 page)

“I was thinking we
could send a small force north to slow the dragon army’s march. Then feint a
retreat, draw them back to Idyls-wylde castle, which is their objective anyway.”

Edward nodded his
head, approving. “I have been thinking much the same thing.”

He turned to
Ermintrude. “You should pay a visit to your father in Weinmauer, my dear. If
you left this evening, you and your ladies—”

“Don’t talk
rubbish, Edward,” interrupted Ermintrude crisply.

“You would have an
armed escort—”

“—of knights who
will be of much more use on the field of battle than trotting along after me. I
won’t hear of leaving, Edward, so save your breath. Carry on with your war and
leave me to my business.”

Edward and Marcus
exchanged glances.

“Draconas says
that the dragons fear the cannons. He warned that they may attack them prior to
the battle. Have they tried?” asked Marcus.

“The only dragon
who has come calling is Draconas,” Edward said wryly.

Recalling the
loathing for the cannons he’d seen in the dragons’ minds, Marcus was surprised.
“I find it odd that they haven’t attacked.”

“So did Draconas,”
said Edward. “I don’t, however. You have the answer—the dragons won’t face the
cannons. They don’t have to. They are going to send these wretched humans of
theirs to the slaughter.”

Marcus pondered.
That answer was logical, though not altogether satisfactory. His father was
implying that the dragons were cowards, hiding behind humans, and that wasn’t
true. He found the fact that the dragons hadn’t tried to destroy the cannons
disquieting. He would have liked to discuss this with Draconas, but Marcus had
been ordered to “stay in his room.” Recalling the ancient and powerful force
that lay outside that room, waiting for him, he considered this advice
sensible.

His father laid a
hand on his shoulder.

“You look about
ready to drop, my son. Go to your rest. Gunderson and I will do what needs to
be done to start this war in motion. No, my son, I insist,” Edward added,
seeing Marcus ready to protest. “Don’t worry. I’m not going to leap into the
saddle and ride off this instant. Today I’ll be sending out messengers, warning
the crown prince and the barons to the north to fortify their borders and
prepare for an attack.”

“From an invisible
kingdom. They’ll find it hard to swallow,” said Marcus.

“Weinmauer is not
invisible,” said Edward imperturbably. “They’ll easily believe that his troops
are on the move. I’ve already called the muster. We’ll have men and equipment
set to leave tomorrow.”

Marcus was amazed
and, apparently, his father saw that in his face, for Edward added, with a
touch of bitterness, “I may not trust Draconas, but I’m not a fool. No matter
what he tells you.”

“Father,” said
Marcus, “this army we face is like no other army on earth. The soldiers fight
with weapons that are not of this world. Their armor is made of the scales of
dragons. I think we should warn our people what they face.”

“Should we?”
Edward returned. “Won’t they think we are lying or worse—raving lunatics? I
encountered the mad monks. I saw one of them send Draconas flying across the
highway with a wave of his hand. I saw a wall that wasn’t a wall and a feeble
old woman turn herself into a fire-breathing dragon. Nothing anyone could have
told me would have prepared me for that.”

“They’ll think
they’re under attack by the Devil,” said Marcus, shaking his head. “At least
tell the knights and the barons.”

“I’ll discuss it
with Gunderson,” said his father. “Perhaps you’re right. After all, even if
they don’t believe me, they’ll know better to say it to my face. And they’ll be
prepared when the time comes. I will summon the messengers and prepare the
letters. You spend some time with your mother.”

Marcus looked at
his father in silent appeal.

Edward clapped
Marcus on the shoulder. “Courage, my son,” he said softly and left the room.

Marcus turned
reluctantly to face Ermintrude, thinking he would rather be facing the dragon.

The queen rose
ponderously to her feet, her silk rustling. She clasped her hands over her
broad stomacher and said briskly, “You made love to this girl and now she
claims she is pregnant with your child and you must marry her or buy her off.
Is that what you are
not
telling me?”

“Mother!” Marcus
felt his face burn in embarrassment.

“Don’t worry, my
son. She cannot trap you like this. You are a prince of the realm and she is .
. . What is she? What do you know about her?”

“Nothing, really,”
he said, keeping to himself the facts he did know.

“I thought as
much. How many times did you make love to her?”

“I don’t remember
making love to her at all,” Marcus admitted. “But there was wine . . . and she
was . . . was there . . . beside me . . . when I woke up . . .”

“Do you love this
girl?”

Marcus hesitated. “She
was so pretty and she was in danger. We were both in danger. We had only each
other . . . She was brave and level-headed and—”

“You thought you
were in love with her.”

“Yes,” he said. “I
was even tempted . . . But I don’t think I did. I just don’t remember!”

“Does she love
you?”

Marcus’s flush
deepened. “I think she does. I didn’t mean to lead her on. It’s just—”

“You are young and
thrown together in dangerous and romantic circumstances.” Ermintrude sighed. “I
understand, my dear. Don’t blame yourself.”

“But I do blame
myself. I have to take responsibility and, well, she made threats.”

“Did she, now,”
Ermintrude said, her eyes flashing.

“She was
distraught and didn’t know what she was saying. And I mean to take care of her
anyway.”

“
You
will
stay out of it,” said Ermintrude firmly. “I will deal with Mistress Evelina.
And, yes, you will take responsibility. We’ll arrange to care for her and her
baby, if she’s truly pregnant, which she could hardly know for certain yet.”

“Mother, I don’t
want any child growing up under the shadow of being called a bastard. Not like—”

“Not like you?”
His mother, who was really his stepmother, squeezed his hand. “I know how
difficult it has been for you, dear heart. I am sorry, so very sorry. We tried
to protect you, your father and I. But you are the son of a prince and people
will talk. It will be different for this girl. We’ll marry her off to some good
man who will care for her and the child. We’ll see to the child’s education. In
the meantime, you will meet the Lady Izabelle.”

Marcus shook his
head. “The last thing I need is more women in my life, Mother.”

Ermintrude
smoothed out her skirts and patted her jewel-encrusted headpiece into place.
She adjusted her many rings and her numerous bracelets. Marcus recognized the
signs. She was arming for battle, just as any knight, and he knew he’d lost
before he’d begun the fight. He was the son of a king, and king’s sons had no
say in who they married.

“Your father and I
have already agreed to the wedding,” said the Queen. “The young lady is lovely
and quite charming. You two played together as children. She still remembers
some of the stories you used to tell her. The Lady Izabelle already knows about
your magic. You used to conjure up fairies for her as a child. She told me all
about it. Do you remember?”

“No.” Marcus tried
to think back, but memory of his childhood ended and began in a cave with
Draconas. “I don’t think much about that time if I can help it.”

Ermintrude patted
his hand. “Go get some sleep. You’re falling over on your feet.”

“I told Evelina
she could have new clothes. She really was very courageous, Mother, and she did
help me escape from Dragonkeep. She deserves something for that.”

“She’ll have every
comfort,” his mother assured him. “She will be well treated. She can live in
the castle until we make other arrangements for her, so long as she behaves
herself After you’ve had a good rest, you and the Lady Izabelle can take a nice
walk along the battlements. She’s interested in the cannons. You can show them
to her and explain how they work.”

Marcus did not
believe for one minute that the daughter of an earl would be interested in
cannons, but he let it pass. He knew what his mother was about. Ermintrude
embraced him, hugging him as close as her hooped skirt would permit.

“I am so glad you
are home, my dear one. I prayed to God, day and night. And now I must go to the
chapel to thank Him. Sleep well! I’ll send Joseph to wake you in a few hours.”

Ermintrude hurried
off, wiping her eyes as she went. Marcus went to his bedchamber, thinking that
he would lie down and try to sort out his tangled thoughts. Weariness put an
end to that. He fell asleep and, if he dreamed, his dreams were not the dreams
of dragons. Just the ordinary gray dreams of humans.

EVELINA ARRIVED AT
THE CASTLE IN A POURING RAINSTORM, A DAY and a night after Marcus’s return.
Drenched and exhausted, she had to be lifted off the horse, for she was so
stiff and saddle-sore she could scarcely move. Consequently, she was in an ill
humor that was not improved upon discovering that the only person to meet her
was a crippled-up old retainer named Gunderson, who had only one eye.

Her squire escort
was clearly glad to be rid of her and she glad to be rid of him, for he was
forty years old, proud and snooty, and he coldly repulsed her little smiles and
flirtations, when all she was trying to do was make the long journey less
tedious.

The courtyard was
in a bustle of activity even in a driving rainstorm. Everyone seemed to be
running somewhere with faces that were serious, tense, and wet. If they weren’t
running, they were shouting, for the army was making ready to march, although
Evelina did not know this. Dismayed and bewildered, she was very nearly
trampled by a knight on horseback. Gunderson arrived at that moment to claim
her, and he hauled her out of the way, escorting her up an enormous flight of
stone stairs and into the palace.

Evelina walked
into the beautiful and impressive building, gazing at the spires and turrets,
the gargoyles and leaded windows, the enormous double doors, made of wood and
banded with iron, and as those doors opened for her, she hugged herself with
glee and wished her father could be here to see her. She imagined herself
walking past Ramone. He would humbly doff his hat to her. Haughty and cold and
rich, she would throw him a gold coin. Evelina sighed with regret that he was
dead.

Gunderson
introduced himself with grave formality, which pleased Evelina, though she didn’t
like the shrewd and knowing look in the old man’s one glinting eye. He led her
into a huge and echoing hall. The only time Evelina had been inside a building
like this was when she’d taken refuge in a cathedral, fleeing a man who claimed
she’d picked his pocket.

She had never in her
life seen so many beautiful things— tapestries whose rich colors gleamed in the
light, chairs so heavily carved that she wondered who could possibly sit on
them in comfort, long tables covered with white linen on which stood plates
heaped with food. She had dreamt of what Marcus’s palace would be like. She had
expected to find riches and warmth and good food. She had not expected to find
that it was all so big and shadowy or that she would feel so small, standing in
the entryway, sopping wet, dripping onto the floor.

It was then she
saw Marcus. He was some distance away, walking down a long staircase, and he
was not alone. Beside him was a young woman, slender, elegant, graceful. The
two conversed as they sauntered down the stairs. They did not see her. They
were entirely absorbed in their conversation. And in each other.

Evelina’s jealous
eyes noted every detail of this woman, from her thick, rich coil of chestnut
hair, tucked beneath a fine lace head-covering, to her small bosoms and
delicate-boned face, her pink cheeks and large, brown eyes.

Evelina opened her
mouth and drew in a breath to call out to Marcus.

Gunderson said
quietly, “A proper young woman does not shout like a fishmonger, Mistress.”

Evelina let out
her breath in an irritated hiss. She was forced to watch in smoldering silence
as the two of them reached the bottom of the stairs and continued walking
through a door into another part of the castle.

Men are such
fools. To fall for a doe-eyed, pasty-faced little tart like that . . .

Reminding herself
that she had every right to be here, because, after all, she was carrying the
prince’s child, Evelina shook out her wet curls and turned to Gunderson.

“You will tell
Marcus I’m here,” she stated.

“
His Highness
”—Gunderson
emphasized the words—”will be informed.”

“See that he is,”
Evelina said loftily. She made an attempt to boldly meet that single eye and
found it difficult. “You may take me to my room now, my good man.”

Gunderson led her
upstairs and through corridors and down halls and up halls, so that she was
immediately lost and confused. Once they reached her room, Evelina was vastly
pleased with it. The room was larger and warmer and cleaner than any she’d
known. At the sight of a beautiful gown on the bed—a gown that he said was
hers, a gift from the Queen—Evelina clapped her hands. And when he introduced
the servant who was to wait on her, Evelina could almost feel the royal crown
being placed on her head. Later she would discover that the room was in a wing
of the palace located as far as possible from the chambers of the royal family,
and that the servant was not so much a servant as a prison warden. But Evelina
now thought herself in heaven.

The servant was an
older woman, with a face like an axe and a steely eye. She obviously
disapproved highly of Evelina. The woman assisted Evelina in discarding her old
clothes and drying herself off. Then she showed her how to put on the new
clothes, for with the chemise and the stockings and the underskirt and
overskirt and bodice with sleeves that had to be tied on, Evelina would not
have known where to begin. The woman brushed out her hair and, when Evelina
said she was hungry, ordered a servant to bring up a tray.