Theovacar snorted. "I can see that We have been too lax. That gold has been assembled century by century by my forbearers for the good of Our subjects. No one will profit if we squander the Treasury."
"Of course, Your Majesty. I will pass your words to the Assembly and urge them to support your proposed taxes in this hour of need."
"Good, Ruffulo. I knew I could count upon your support."Then the King turned away, staring at the mosaic map, a reminder of a time when Greffa ruled a far larger kingdom with an iron hand.
Ruffulo slipped out of the audience chamber in relief. He would only have to deliver the bad news, not eat it-this time. He remembered those halcyon days when he was unrecognized by the King and did not have to parse his every word, nor pass on the King's demands to his fellow lords in the Assembly. He was making no new friends and losing old ones now that he was acting in the King's service. Fortunately, those friends who knew him best understood he was playing this deep game for survival; one where losing the King's favor would mean either banishment or death. Nor was he the only noble acting as the King's cat's-paw.
III
For their mid-day repast, Phidestros was eating roast pork with succotash and sweet potatoes in his private audience chamber with Lady Sirna. Despite the good food and blazing fire in the fireplace, the air was so chilly he felt as if he was in danger of getting frostbite. This had been going on for some time. Even the musicians felt the chill and as a result were playing music more appropriate to a funeral than an afternoon meal.
"Have you been outside today, Sirna?"
She shook her head. "Why do you ask?"
"I thought maybe you'd brought the early winter chill into the castle with you. What's wrong?"
"You can't be that oblivious, or can you?" she asked, with a piercing stare.
Suddenly, Phidestros got it. "You're angry because of the coming visit by Princess Arminta."
She nodded, her lips tight.
"Dearest, you know it's not of my choice."
Sirna stood up as if to leave, then shook her head and sat back down. "Of course not, nothing is ever your choice. Did you think your upcoming nuptials would please me?"
Phidestros almost said, "But you're my mistress, Sirna, so why should it bother you?" but wisely thought better of it. He was learning, although slowly it appeared, because he really hadn't thought of Sirna in regards to his upcoming union with Princess Arminta, whom he'd never met. This marriage had been plotted by his sovereign before Lysandros had left Harphax City to join the Grand Host; he hadn't learned of it until Lysandros was about to depart with the Grand Host. He suspected it was the King's clumsy attempt to guarantee his loyalty through a dynastic marriage.
Not that he had a lot of choice in the matter. He could refuse and upon Lysandros' return he'd find himself in hot water. Although, if sword came to shield, his army outnumbered the King's, soldier for soldier, and he would have the advantage of a more rested and better trained army. However, that would make him an outlaw, like Kalvan before him, and he might soon find himself in a war against Lysandros, Grand Master Soton and Styphon's House's Treasury. That was not a fight he'd welcome.
These Grefftscharrer women were more independent and concerned with fidelity than the Zarthani women he'd known. On the other hand, most of the women he'd known had been serving wenches or paid companions. Sirna was neither; she was a Lady. Until recently, he hadn't had the social position to spend much time with real Ladies, but he was getting a quick education.
"Sirna, I knew nothing about this until just before we left Hostigos Town. Lysandros sprung this marriage upon me. I've never even met the Princess."
"Just because Lysandros sprung it on you didn't mean you had to spring it on me. If the Queen hadn't told me, I bet you still wouldn't have broached the subject. If you'd have said something before we left Hostigos Town, well-"
Phidestros knew women enough to understand that that "well" covered a lot of territory. He hadn't brought it up back in Hostigos Town because at the time it seemed far in the future, and because he didn't want to start the fight they were having now. He'd grown quite fond of Sirna; she wasn't frivolous like most of the women he'd known. She had a firm head on her shoulders and a good heart, and he could reason with her like a man. It also didn't hurt that she was the best lover he'd ever encountered. However, while she might be the perfect mistress, Sirna would not bring a large dowry or the political connections that Princess Arminta would bring to their marriage bed.
"Maybe this Princess will be as disinterested in Lysandros' proposed union as I am," he said. "That would settle the whole affair nicely."
"And, maybe Great King Lysandros won't be interested in capturing Kalvan and beheading him," Sirna rejoined.
"All right, you win, Sirna. I'm probably stuck with Arminta. But that doesn't mean anything, really. It's just a dynastic marriage; we'll have a few brats and live separate lives. Meanwhile, you and I can do as we wish."
From the storm clouds gathering on her face, he rather welcomed the interruption when Mynos, his manservant, opened the door carefully and stuck his head inside. "Your Highness, I have an urgent message for you from Baron Ranthos."
"Bring him in," he ordered, thinking: This interruption couldn't have happened at a better time.
Sirna, meanwhile, crossed her arms and gave him a look that would freeze a pigeon in mid-flight.
Ranthos, still in a wet cloak with his breeches dripping water, came into the room, blowing heartily on his bent fingers. "Your Highness, Lady Sirna. Please excuse me while I warm myself a bit before your fire."
"Of course, Baron. What brings you to my quarters in such haste?"
The Baron turned from the fire with a big grin, rubbing his hands briskly. "Can I speak freely before the Lady Sirna?"
"Of course," Phidestros replied, "I trust her implicitly." Surprising even himself, his words were truthful; he trusted Sirna as much as his confidants Geblon and Kyblannos.
"We captured one of Styphon's messengers."
"And what makes this one so important?" It was standard practice to detain every Styphon's House messenger at the Shastan border and give them a sleeping potion along with a tankard of winter wine. The messages they were carrying were opened and read, while the courier was sleeping off the potion at the way station. General Kyblannos had engineered a way to open Styphon's Great Seal and then reseal it so the messengers never knew that their letters had been compromised. So far it had given them valuable insight to what was going on between Balph and the Grand Host of Styphon.
It was interesting that so far Investigator Roxthar had received only a single message; it was from Lord High Marshal Xenophes of Styphon's Own Guard, informing Roxthar that he was joining Grand Master Soton at Thebra City in preparation for the invasion of Hos-Agrys next spring. Phidestros was still trying to figure out how he could make the best use of that knowledge. The truth was he had no love for King Demistophon, nor did he know any of the Agrysi Princes, so he would have to wait and see what Lytris, Goddess of Chance, turned up. He knew there was some way he might yet profit from this information.
"This dispatch is from Styphon's Own Voice Anaxthenes informing Grand Commander Aristocles of Great King Cleitharses' impending death."
"Is it in the usual code?" Ranthos' value had increased tenfold when he'd demonstrated the ability to decipher Styphon's secret messages.
"Yes, Your Highness."
"Please, read it for us, Baron."
Ranthos pulled out a parchment with a decipherment of Anaxthenes' words. Phidestros could read quite well for a former commoner who'd learned to read late in life. But he was still a hesitant and slow reader.