Aedan frowned. “Is something the matter with the emperor?”
His father nodded. “His health is rapidly failing. It is generally known that he has not been well, and that he is old and tires easily, but I have taken pains to conceal just how weak and frail he has become. I do not know how successful I have been in keeping his true condition secret, but I am seriously concerned that he may not last out the summer. And if he were to die before we returned to the Imperial Cairn, we could all find ourselves in a rather precarious situation.”
“Why?” asked Aedan.
“The Archduke of Boeruine is an ambitious man,” his father said. “A powerful man. Prince Michael is much too young to rule unguided. He will need a regent. Ordinarily, the empress would fulfill that role, guided by myself as royal chamberlain, but she too is young and Boeruine could easily claim that the empire required a stronger, more experienced hand. With the court at Seaharrow, it would be a simple matter for him to take control and appoint himself as regent. And once he had done that, he would be but one step away from the Iron Throne itself.”
“But… Prince Michael is the heir,” said Aedan. “Surely, Lord Arwyn could not entertain notions of displacing him. That would be high treason!”
“You still have much to learn, my son,” Lord Tieran said, shaking his head. “Once he was regent, Boeruine could wed the empress, and whether she wished to marry him or not, she would be in a poor position to refuse while in his hands here at Seaharrow. Once he had brought about the marriage, if some unfortunate accident befell Prince Michael, Lord Arwyn would become the next Emperor of Anuire.”
“And I always thought Lord Arwyn was loyal to the emperor!” said Aedan.
“He is,” his father replied.
“But… if he is loyal, how could he contemplate committing treason?” Aedan asked, uncomprehending.
“Because he would not see it as treason,” his father explained patiently. “He would see it as a responsible and entirely reasonable act taken to safeguard the security of the empire.”
Aedan simply stared at his father with disbelief.
Tieran saw that he didn’t understand, so he elaborated for his benefit. “Arwyn of Boeruine is not an evil man,” he said, “but he is an ambitious one. In many ways, an evil man is easier to deal with, because you always know what to expect. An evil man knows what he is and accepts his nature. As a result, he has no need to justify his actions. An ambitious man, on the other hand, is a far more slippery creature, and highly unpredictable. He often fools himself as well as others.
“Boeruine is not an evil man,” Lord Tieran continued, “but he could easily convince himself that the empire was in danger with a mere child on the Iron Throne, and that the empress was herself too young and inexperienced to rule as regent. In that, at least, he would be correct. She could certainly do so with my guidance, but Lord Arwyn would doubtless feel that his guidance would be superior to mine. And he may even be right at that—who knows? He certainly is capable of governing the empire. Either way, he would tell himself that, as a widow, the empress would be vulnerable to unscrupulous suitors seeking to gain power, so by marrying her, he would only be protecting her and safeguarding the empire from greedy and ambitious men.
“And as a descendant of Roele,” he went on, “who better than himself to guide the empire and provide for the emperor’s widow? The empress is a beautiful woman, so I suppose it would not be very difficult for Lord Arwyn to convince himself he loved her. He is a strong and handsome man, and he might even be able to convince her. After all, the only man that she has ever known has been the emperor, and a man of his age and constitution does not really stir the fires in a young woman’s heart. But whether he courted the empress or coerced her, Lord Arwyn would convince himself that he was acting out of the best possible motives. And that is why ambitious men are dangerous, my son. I would rather have an evil man to deal with any day. At least evil men are honest with themselves.”
“But how could he possibly justify doing anything to Michael?” Aedan asked.
“Well, perhaps he wouldn’t really need to,” Lord Tieran replied. “Ambitious men often do not work in obvious ways, and they tend to surround themselves with underlings who know how to carry out their wishes, even if they are not obviously expressed. Lord Arwyn might decide to go out hunting with some of his knights one day, and that evening, over the campfire, he might choose to share some of his concerns about the empire. He might expound, in a casual sort of way, about how difficult it was to govern with a temperamental child on the throne, whose abilities were unproven and whose disposition was not conducive to instilling confidence in his subjects. He might sigh wearily and muse about how much easier things would be if only he didn’t have to worry about Prince Michael all the time….”
“And his knights would take that as an order for his murder,” Aedan said in a low voice as understanding dawned.
Lord Tieran shrugged. “No direct order would be given, of course, but his men would understand his meaning, just the same. And when Prince Michael turned up dead, no one would be more outraged than Lord Arwyn, who would vow vengeance on the regicides, whoever they may be. He would decree a period of mourning throughout the empire, during which he himself would mourn sincerely, and following which, for the good of the empire, he would reluctantly allow himself to be persuaded to ascend the throne.”
Aedan shook his head, stunned. “How is it you can even think of such things?”
“Because it is my duty to think of them,” his father replied. “I do not say that this is what Lord Arwyn will do, merely that it is something he may do. It is a possibility, and it is my duty—as it shall be yours someday—to consider such possibilities and determine just how likely they may be. And in Lord Arwyn’s case, I think it is a very likely possibility, indeed.”
“Then we must leave here and return to Anuire as soon as possible!” said Aedan.
“What reason would we give for our abrupt departure?” asked his father. “My unfounded suspicions based on my personal dislike for our host? Thus far, he has done nothing to warrant our distrust. We are barely halfway through the season and the entire court is here, so we cannot pretend that some urgent business of the empire has arisen that requires our presence in Anuire. Moreover, we cannot simply pack up and steal out in the middle of the night. For one thing, there is the matter of Lord Arwyn’s men-at-arms, and for another, we could not risk the journey without an escort. Even if we did not take the wagons and left most of the court behind, it would still take at least a day or two to organize the party, and the emperor is in no condition to travel at present.”
“Then at the very least we must get the prince to safety,” Aedan said. “With a small escort, I could take him to Anuire myself and then we—”
“No, that is out of the question,” said Lord Tieran, shaking his head. “Your courage is commendable, as is your initiative in suggesting such a course, but it would be far too great a risk. For a small party, the journey would be dangerous in itself, and the moment he discovered that the prince was gone, Lord Arwyn could send a party of knights after him, which he would doubtless lead himself, citing concern for the prince’s safety. Suppose he overtook you on the road, with none to see what would transpire? It would be a simple matter for him to return and claim he found the prince’s party ambushed by unknown marauders and slain to the last man … and boy.”
“Then what are we to do?” asked Aedan with chagrin.
Lord Tieran sighed. “For the moment, there is nothing we can do. Our situation may indeed provide a great temptation to Lord Arwyn, but we do not know for certain that he shall give in to it. These are all merely suppositions, after all. He may surprise us and prove he is a better man than I suspect he is.”