Tomorrow's Kingdom (39 page)

A
S COMMANDED,
General Murdock showed Lord Bartok and his daughter into Mordecai's tent.

“
FATHER
!” cried Lord Atticus, wringing his soft hands and bouncing from foot to foot as though unable to decide whether he ought to run toward his noble father or run shrieking in the opposite direction.

“Atticus,” said Lord Bartok curtly, his cool gaze dropping to the lopsided codpiece before shifting to Mordecai.

“Oh, thank the
gods
you are here, Father! And safe— thank the gods you are safe, of course,” babbled the young nobleman as he anxiously—and clumsily—tried to adjust his codpiece. “I-I know that you probably have many questions about, you know, some of the things I've done over these last months, and I
swear
that I can explain everything if you'll just—”

Lord Bartok—who'd not taken his pale eyes off Mordecai's dark ones—silenced his son by raising an elegant hand to his face.

Mordecai smiled faintly. “Can I help you, my lord?” he asked.

“Yes,” replied Lord Bartok. “And I think I can help you.”

Mordecai leaned forward in his chair. “I'm listening,” he said.

“The recently anointed queen may be of royal blood, but by her companions, opinions and manners I know her for a gutter rat unfit to wear the crown,” said Lord Bartok.

Mordecai was dumbfounded—and infuriated—by this pompous announcement of a truth that he, himself, had known from the outset. Breathing heavily in an effort to control his rage, he said, “And yet you have spent months causing me trouble on her behalf!”

“That was before I knew what I now know,” said Lord Bartok calmly. “That was before I'd seen what I've now seen.”

An almost imperceptible tremble in the great lord's voice made Mordecai believe that he was speaking from the heart—or whatever it was the cold bastard possessed in place of a heart.

“And knowing what I know and having seen what I've seen,” continued Lord Bartok, “I would have us work together to defeat her.”

“To what end?” asked Mordecai sharply.

“When the unworthy queen is vanquished, you shall become the greatest of the great lords,” explained Lord Bartok. “And I shall become king.”

Mordecai let out a bark of laughter. “You would propose such a thing even though you well know that becoming king has ever been
my
goal?”

“You will never be king,” said Lord Bartok bluntly. “The capital is crammed with people intent upon joining the queen's army and more flock there every day. I had thought they were there simply for free meat and wine, but it seems I was wrong. Soon, the queen will have an army that numbers in the thousands upon thousands. With none but your New Men to fight on your behalf, you will not be able to take the throne by force against such an army, and forgive me, Your Grace, but I think you do not inspire the love and loyalty that would cause the unwashed masses to clamour to see you wear the crown.”

“If the queen's army is as great as you say,
you
will not be able to take the throne by force either,” snapped Mordecai.

“No,” agreed Lord Bartok. “But assuming I come out of this war alive, Your Grace, I will still be the greatest of the great lords. At best, you will be nothing.”

Mordecai felt as though he'd been slapped; out of the corner of his eye he saw Murdock lick his thin lips. “You are without a guard in the heart of enemy territory,” hissed Mordecai. “Assuming that you and yours will come out of this
meeting
alive is a big assumption indeed, my lord.”

Lord Bartok said nothing to this, and Mordecai understood at once that it was because he knew the implied threat was a hollow one. Alone, Mordecai faced the very real risk of utter ruination. Only by joining forces with Lord Bartok did he yet have a chance—and Lord Bartok knew it.

Still.

“You've tricked me before, my lord,” said Mordecai coldly. “Why should I believe you now?”

Lord Bartok turned to his daughter, who'd not made a sound beyond the occasional stifled cough. “Because as a gesture of good faith, I am willing that you should marry my daughter.”

Mordecai could not help gasping at these astonishing words. Looking past Lord Bartok, he stared at the noblewoman whom he'd despised as an insufferable shrew even before she'd treacherously entered into a secret marriage with the dead king. In spite of her noble features and her hair—which was long, thick and the colour of honey—Mordecai did not find her attractive in the least. She was tiny, bony and utterly lacking in breasts. Moreover, at present her pale face was pinched with misery.

“She does not look best pleased by the prospect of taking me as a bridegroom,” observed Mordecai, who could not keep his thoughts from drifting to the ripe young queen.

“Aurelia understands her duty,” said Lord Bartok shortly. “She will be an obedient wife to you, Your Grace.”

Though the girl did not lift her head, she did lift her gaze—but only to shoot daggers into the back of her noble father before abruptly dropping it again.

Faintly amused—and curious to test just how badly Lord Bartok wanted this alliance—Mordecai said, “Of course I am
flattered
by the offer, my lord, but your daughter … well, she is used goods.”

He shrugged as though embarrassed at having had to bring up this most awkward detail.

“Aurelia is the widow of a king,” said Lord Bartok, not appearing the least insulted. “She is the first daughter of the greatest lord in all the land.”

“Hmm,” said Mordecai, drumming his fingers on the arm of the chair. “Is she fertile?”

“We cannot know for certain, of course, but her mother was of a similar build and she bore live children,” replied Lord Bartok.

“And when would this marriage take place?” asked Mordecai.

“Immediately, if you wish,” said Lord Bartok.

“
Immediately
?” spluttered Mordecai, who'd just
assumed
that Bartok would try to get him to play some kind of waiting game.

“That's right,” said Lord Bartok smoothly. “If you've a chaplain nearby, you could be bedding her within the hour.”

At these words, Lady Aurelia cried out as though she'd just been burnt with a hot poker. Skittering forward, she grabbed at the sleeve of her father's doublet and sobbed, “Father,
please
! I am
begging
you—”

Lord Bartok shook her off without looking at her. Taking a step toward Mordecai, he spread his hands wide and said, “Your Grace, I no longer have any desire to play games with you. The situation is too grave. My past enmity toward you is nothing compared to that which I feel for the new queen. She would make a mockery of … of
everything
. At least, in a strange way, you and I have always been more or less on the same page when it came to understanding that there are those who matter and those that don't.”

“You're right. We have,” said Mordecai in surprise. Cocking his heavy head to one side, he said, “So. If I agree to your proposal, what happens next? We join forces and march on the imperial capital?”

Before Lord Bartok could reply, Murdock quietly cleared his throat.

“What?” said Mordecai, flicking his gaze toward him.

“May I make a suggestion?” asked Murdock as he daintily picked at something caught between his long, yellow front teeth.

Irritably, Mordecai gestured for him to get on with it.

“Why don't you take advantage of both the queen's soft heart and her belief that Lord Bartok is loyal to her and your sworn enemy?” said Murdock placidly. “Let Lord Bartok return to Parthania with his fighting men—and also with a message from you stating that you will consider surrendering without a fight if she comes north to meet with you in person.”

Mordecai laughed loudly to show Bartok what he thought of his general's foolish idea. “Even if she were to agree to a parlay, Murdock, she would hardly come
alone
,” he said scornfully. “She would bring her entire army!”

“Yes,” said Murdock, unperturbed, “which means that if Lord Bartok were able to secure a flank position or, better yet, a rear position, when the queen came to meet you she would find her army sandwiched between two enemy fighting forces.” He sighed softly before adding, “It would be a bloodbath.”

Despising Murdock for making him look the fool in front of Bartok, Mordecai made no comment but that he wanted the queen and the cockroach captured alive that he might question and kill them at his leisure.

“Just so long as they end up dead,” said Lord Bartok before turning to Murdock and asking, “What explanation
shall I give for having received a message from the queen's mortal enemy?”

Murdock gestured toward Lord Atticus. “Tell her that your son was released with orders to deliver the message.”

Lord Bartok stroked his silvery beard. “It is an excellent plan,” he said at last.

“Yes,” agreed Mordecai grudgingly.

“Does this mean I'm free? Does it? It does, doesn't it? Oh, thank the
GODS
!” brayed Lord Atticus, hurrying over to stand at his father's side.

As he did so, his sister tried to grab at their father's sleeve again.

Again, Lord Bartok shook her off. “Goodbye, Aurelia,” he said in a voice that was not unkind. Placing his hand on her back, he gave her a gentle shove toward Mordecai and added, “Try to be grateful that I am giving you another opportunity to do your duty to the family.”

With that, he nodded at Mordecai, gestured to his son that he should follow, turned and strode out of the tent.

As he watched the two of them go, Mordecai wondered if it had occurred to Lord Bartok that if his became the new royal family, and if he and his son were both to die, his daughter—the girl Mordecai would shortly take as his bride—would be next in line for the throne.

With a smile of satisfaction, Mordecai gave the girl in question a lingering, speculative look. “So,” he said with a deliberate lack of enthusiasm. “I suppose I ought to send for the chaplain.”

At these words, Lady Aurelia collapsed to the ground at his feet and began to wail so hysterically that she drove herself to a coughing fit.

Not the most enthusiastic bride I've ever seen
, thought Mordecai as he extended his foot and nudged one of Aurelia's honey curls with the toe of his shoe.
But at least she knows her place.

FORTY-NINE

T
HE THREE WEEKS
following Lord Bartok and Lady Aurelia's departure from the imperial capital had seen the size of Persephone's army swell beyond her wildest expectations.

As she sat in the royal garden with Moira and Rachel partaking of a hearty noontime meal at the behest of her royal husband—who felt that for a woman nearly seven months along, she'd lately been working too hard and eating too little—Persephone said, “Azriel says my army is now nearly of a size to rival Mordecai's.”

“I'm not the least surprised,” said Moira quietly, her remaining eye briefly closing as she reverently bit into a piece of thickly buttered bread.

“I'm not the least surprised either,” said Rachel. She paused to thank Meeka for refilling her wine goblet before continuing in a worried voice. “Yet I must confess that the height of the piles on the city death carts is beginning to worry me, Your Majesty. Parthania has become crowded beyond belief and the grounds outside the walls are not much better. Attempts to contain the filth—or at least to keep it from contaminating
everything
—have met with futility and the rats are breeding like … well, like rats. Conditions are ripe for an outbreak of sickness, and I worry not only for the fighting men but also for the many women and children who accompanied them to the city.”

Persephone—who did not need to be told that an outbreak of sickness would have catastrophic consequences for the war effort—was about to command Rachel to begin quarantining the sick when she glanced up to see Azriel striding across the manicured lawn toward her with Lord Bartok and—

“Lord
Atticus
?” she exclaimed, jumping to her feet so fast that she bumped the table with her big belly and nearly knocked over Rachel's wine goblet.

The nobleman who'd once threatened to turn Persephone's scalp into a dog collar gave her a glittering courtier's smile before flinging his arms wide and bowing so ostentatiously that his noble father winced before bowing himself.

As Lord Atticus straightened up again, Persephone saw his watery eyes slide toward Meeka's ample bosom. Resisting the urge to snatch up the wine carafe and put another dent in his fat head, Persephone tried to sound civil as she said, “I am most surprised to see you, my lord, for it was my understanding that you were being held captive by Mordecai.”

“He was,” said Azriel. “Until a week past when he was released that he might deliver a message to you.”