The King sighed heavily. ‘Yes,’ he admitted.
‘And what if he gets above himself?’ asked Ser Richard. ‘Don’t you need the Southerners to balance the Galles?’
‘By Christ I hate all these factions,’ said the King. ‘And I’m the King, not the head of a rival faction myself. I need nothing to curb the Captal but my word.’
Montjoy’s eyes met those of Fitzroy. But after a long unspoken message – pleading – he nodded. ‘I’ll go. Where do you have in mind, my lord Constable?’
‘Albinkirk,’ said the Constable, ‘needs new men for the garrison, and Ser John has been fighting. He’s virtually alone, and he deserves better of us.’ He turned to the King and squared his shoulders as if entering combat, and said, ‘Is Your Grace determined on this new bishop? I feel it is an error to give de Vrailly another boon.’
The King set his face. ‘I will have nothing to do with factions,’ he said.
‘Your Grace, I have not asked you for anything. I stand for the kingdom. And I say that de Vrailly has too many men-at-arms and too much power already, and that this man should be sent back to Galle as soon as his ship touches the shore.’
‘I’ll consider it,’ the King said.
The Queen led the way down the corridor. ‘That was easier than I expected. Why do you think that the old King’s writs and letters are closed, Becca?’
Almspend was already regretting her fashionable gown with its high collar – managing it required the very skills she’d spurned when other girls were learning them, so that she could instead master High Archaic. Her beautiful deep-blue slippers offered no protection at all against the cold of the stone.
Why is it the Queen never seems to be affected by these things? Almspend wondered. The Queen seemed to float along, never hot, never cold, never troubled by cramps or headaches or even a runny nose.
‘My lady, I would guess that the old King said some outrageous things in his time. He certainly had lovers – women and men both, according to my father. He played favourites and while he was an excellent king, my lady, one rather has the feeling that he was not a particularly good person.’ She shrugged.
The Queen laughed. ‘How exciting! For the first time, I understand your interest in history. Where are we?’
‘My lady, this is the donjon – we are entering by what would have been the secret passage, back in King Uthaneric’s day. But when the New Palace was built-’
‘Becca, is there anything you don’t know?’ asked Lady Mary. ‘By the Virgin! I thought the New Palace had been here two hundred years and more.’
‘Yes, Mary,’ Almspend said, in the voice she reserved for the great number of otherwise intelligent beings who seem to have no interest in history. ‘The New Palace is almost exactly two hundred years old. I can show you a foundation stone with the date. Sixty-two sixty-three.’
‘How old is Harndon, then?’ asked Lady Mary.
‘The Empress Livia and her legions established a fortress here one thousand and fifty years ago. Or so.’ Almspend shrugged. ‘Actually, there’s a great deal of argument among scholars about the date of the expedition, and whether Harndon was established in the first or second expedition to the Nova Terra.’
‘Really?’ asked the Queen. She rolled her eyes at Lady Mary, but Almspend either didn’t notice or didn’t care.
‘At any rate, my lady, Harndon is a very old name and probably pre-dates the Archaics. When good King Ranulf returned from the Holy Land and built the New Palace, his chamberlain, Hildebald, writes that the deepest excavations found both tunnels, a temple foundation, and a road of logs laid side by side and planed flat with an adze of great antiquity. The temple still held enormous latent potentia and had to be cleansed by the archbishop. He died of the task, and the Patriarch had to come from Liviapolis.’
The three women walked along the corridor for a few more steps.
‘How terrifying!’ said Lady Mary. ‘Where was this temple?’
‘Oh, just behind us, about twenty paces. Some of the old stones were reused in the corridor – look – see the Green Man? That’s one of their old signs.’
The Queen put a hand on the stone. She closed her eyes. ‘They still have power. They called this place-’ She paused. ‘Harn Dum.’
‘Why yes!’ Almspend was delighted. ‘Did you read that in Tacitus?’
‘No,’ said the Queen, clearly shaken. ‘I just heard a voice in the stone.’
‘You mean to say that our world sits atop yesterday’s world, and that one sits atop another, and another? Under our New Palace is an older palace, and then a temple – what’s under the temple?’
‘Something wrought by the Wild, perhaps, or by the Old People.’ Almspend laughed.
‘The Wild cannot build anything,’ said Lady Mary.
‘Nonsense! The Wild makes wonderful things. The new scholarship studies these things. Irks build, they have music, and they have towns and castles.’ Almspend nodded, happy to be able to discuss the things that delighted her with her friends, who too often talked about dancing.
‘That is merely the imitation of man,’ said Lady Mary.
‘Not at all. That’s a very dated theology, my dear,’ said Almspend. ‘In fact, it is far more likely that our works are an imitation of theirs.’
‘Poppycock!’ snapped Mary, who was tired of being patronised by her father and didn’t intend to let Becca Almspend get into the habit. ‘Rubbish!’
Surprisingly, it was the Queen who agreed. ‘Before he left, Harmodius was experimenting with issues raised along these lines,’ she said. Almspend nodded. ‘The Archaics understood these things far better, Mary. I could-’
‘By the virgin, Rebecca, in a moment you’ll tell me that you worship Tara.’ Lady Mary crossed herself.
Rebecca smiled. ‘Mary, would it shock you to know that some scholars think that the Virgin may be the early Church’s attempt to harness the worship of Tara the Huntress?’
‘You only say that because we’re deep beneath the earth where the lightning can’t hit you,’ said Mary. Her voice was light, but she was clearly mortified.
‘Tar,’ said the Queen.
The other two women were silent. They had come to a great oak door with iron hinges and all three women stopped.
‘They call her Tar,’ the Queen said, in a dreamy voice. ‘She became later Tara, but her name is Tar.’
‘My lady?’ asked Mary.
The Queen looked at her strangely. ‘Yes?’ she snapped.
Almspend kicked Mary with one slippered foot and Mary squealed and stepped away from the Queen. ‘Ouch, what was that for?.’ Her eyes met Almspend’s.
‘What just happened?’ asked the Queen.
‘You touched one of the Green Man stones and went all funny,’ said Almspend in her matter-of-fact voice.
The Queen shrugged. ‘And now I remember. Well. Here we are.’ She produced a key, and the three women took turns working it in the lock with sweet oil until it turned.
The Queen put a strong hermetical light over the door, and the three women gaped. There were piles of scrolls spilling onto the floor, and heavy tomes piled on heavy slab tables. A large rat stood in the middle of the central table, chewing parchment with malevolent, spiky teeth.
The rat met the Queen’s eye.
The Queen raised a hand and the rat turned to ash.
‘Oh – very good!’ said Lady Almspend. ‘Well hit!’
The Queen allowed herself a smile. ‘I have been practising. That animal was under someone’s control – I can see the web of its hermetical owner.’
‘Who would want to read these old-’ Lady Mary stepped back and gave a shriek. She leaned against the door frame, a hand to her bosom. ‘By the Blessed Virgin. Saints protect me.’
‘By all that’s holy – or unholy!’ said Almspend. ‘I see why this room is protected! These are Plangere’s papers! In with the King’s! Sweet Jesu, my lady – this is raw power for the taking! Did Harmodius know?’
‘I’ll guess he did not. But his own papers need to be protected as well – you wouldn’t believe what I’ve found in his rooms. That man was far deeper than we ever realised.’