"Greetings, ladies! I trust you rested well after yesterday's harrowing experiences?"
"What news?" Blanche demanded.
His smiles made his eyes disappear altogether. "Good news! Excellent news. The Fiend has been dealt such a blow as he never dreamed of. Come, let us together break our fast, and I will tell you all about this miracle."
Lisa was still not sure whether she liked the Khan's son or not. She had been prejudiced against him by Hamish, who had foamed at the mouth when denouncing the prince's meddling. An idiot, he had said — a libertine who wantoned with loose women when he should be attending to business, a procrastinating popinjay who claimed the right to make all the decisions and then refused to make them or made stupid ones, and so on, with other complaints fortunately being expressed in languages she did not comprehend. Now she had lived in the same palace as Sartaq for almost a month, and he did not seem so contemptible. He had insisted they adopt the royal habit of addressing each other as "cousin" to avoid awkward considerations of precedence. He could be witty and even charming once you got used to his horse-stepped-on-it face. From the neck down he was impressive. Although Mother had mumbled some embarrassed warnings, and the chambermaids had told very scandalous stories, he had behaved like a perfect gentleman to Lisa. Despite his lack of years, he had more self-esteem than a peacock and could brandish his father's authority like a battle-ax when he chose. He had taken charge of the whole palace after Pietro's death and evidently still retained it.
Now he commandeered a minor dining room and demanded fast service. While waiting for results, he explained: "The Fiend has fallen into a brilliantly planned trap. Yesterday he brought his two armies together at Florence. This morning he was taken by surprise when comandante Longdirk attacked. The battle still rages, but I am confident that Nevil is doomed to a major defeat."
"Praise to the spirits!" Blanche cried, dramatically clasping hands under her chin.
"So the big man really is a military genius?" Lisa inquired uneasily. "Did he burn any forests this time?"
Sartaq glanced at her inscrutably. "No, Cousin, but he conceived one of the greatest deceptions in the history of warfare, and then managed to pull it off. With a certain amount of assistance, I add in all modesty. Let us sit here, Aunt. We have still found no trace of Lucrezia the wicked. Perchance we never shall. No one knows who will succeed to leadership of the family and city. I expect the cardinal will make the final decision. This need no longer concern us, for Florence has served its purpose."
As soon as food had been laid out, he shooed the servants away. "I shall myself wait upon you, ladies," he declared, "for I have secrets to impart unheard. Red wine or white?"
When he had poured wine for everyone, he settled on the other side of the table. "A toast! I am confident that the threat to Italy is over. Nevil has met his match at last." He raised his goblet in salute. "To his fall and destruction!"
"To the fall and destruction of Rhym." Blanche had recovered much of her color, although she was not yet about to smile at anything.
"Ah, true! Forgive me. If your unfortunate husband can be restored, then we shall all applaud that outcome. However…" Seemingly quite unabashed by his slip, he looked thoughtfully at Lisa.
She dropped her eyes and noticed the basket of rolls in front of her. One day she had told Pietro how much she had enjoyed the French-style rolls she had met in Savoy, and they had appeared on every table since, fresh baked. She would not pretend she had ever loved him, but he had been a considerate host and a generous fiance. She had grown accustomed to the prospect of being married to him, comfortable with it. He had not deserved that shameful death. She knew she might yet do a great deal worse in the husband market than Pietro Marradi.
The prince was still appraising her like a dealer at a horse fair.
"Am I now a widow, Cousin?"
Sartaq chuckled. "You mean can you claim a share of the Marradi fortune? I doubt it very much. Even if there is a way for a woman to own property in this city, which I doubt, and if you can hire a skilled advocate to take your case, which I doubt even more, to expect any Florentine court to rule in your favor would be optimism verging on fatuity. Whatever gifts the Magnificent gave you will still be yours, I expect, and you can probably extract a generous settlement if you just promise to go away and stay away, so you are a wealthy woman by most standards. Without even counting your claim to England, I mean."
"But it is my claim to England that is chained around my ankle, isn't it?"
"Lisa!"
"It's true, Mother. There are men dying out there, so let us not play games in here. You are already wondering who to marry me off to, aren't you, Cousin?"
The prince acknowledged her argument with an amused nod and reached into the fruit bowl. "Not exactly."
"You've already decided?" Her heart sank. No, it dived under the table and tried to creep out of the room unnoticed.
"The choice is very limited." He popped a date in his mouth. "Fair lady, I would most eagerly marry you myself. That solution creates new problems, though, because I gave my father and certain significant brothers my most solemn oath that I would neither name myself suzerain nor otherwise attempt to seize power. This condition they insisted on before they would approve my meddling in the affairs of Europe. It is written into my accreditation, and I am fairly sure they also hexed me so that I will drop dead or my head will fall off if I break my word. Trust" — he turned his face to spit out the pit—"is not a prominent trait in my family.
"The situation let me explain, Cousin. My mother was my honored father's third wife, one of those chosen for political reasons, and of his sons I am seventh born. I am not sure how many of us there were at last count, but enough for any reputable purpose. In recent centuries it has become customary for the succession to pass to the Khan's eldest son by his principal wife. Eldest surviving, that is, for mortality has always been fairly high among the leading candidates to rule the Golden Horde. Nevertheless a run of six misfortunes — accidents, sudden fevers, or suicides — is not reasonably to be expected. I seemed foredoomed to limit my interests to falconry and camel racing."
Lisa had not heard him discuss himself or the royal family before. She was not at all sure she wanted to. "You are being cynical."
His slit eyes narrowed in what might have been a smile. "I enjoy the chance to speak freely, Cousin. In Sarois these remarks would be suicidal, even within the family. Especially within the family. Where was I? Oh, yes. We have known for many generations that the Horde is not what it was. The descendants of fanatic steppe warriors have become fat cattle, indolent and timorous, who will one day be conquered and enslaved just as our ancestors enslaved the known world. Nor were we at all surprised to see Europe rise up against our rule. Our claim to overlordship has been largely a fiction for at least a century, although we did provide a useful service by maintaining the balance of power. If any ruler grew too powerful, the Khanate would assign the suzerainship to whomever seemed most likely to bleed him back to health, but such dominion must ultimately rest on the power to enforce it, and Nevil exposed our bluff for all the world to see. We regretfully concluded that our hegemony had ended.
"A confession: In my youth, being somewhat ambitious — within the limits of my loyalty to my dear Brother Kublai, of course — I always harbored a secret dream of striking some dramatic blow to bring the rebel lands back into the fold, and even had hope that such a demonstration of martial prowess might win me advancement."