“What’s her name?”
“M… Magdalena, sire.” Madlenka was an unusual pet name for Marie. The Magnuses were in the public eye now, and to have two of the brothers marry Madlenkas in a week might raise questions about how many husbands she needed. Wulf had foreseen the need to tweak the prince, but not all this disgusting mealymouth lying.
The heir apparent snorted. “I don’t believe it. I don’t believe what you said about that slut Darina. You can’t expect me to trust you if you lie to me. I grant you your horsemanship-I could barely believe my own eyes when I saw what your brother did last week, and I truly expected you to break your insolent young neck today. But I don’t believe Darina picked you up in the palace stable. And she set up our encounter last night, not you; I want to know why.”
Either Konrad had been primed by some perceptive crony, or he was smarter than he pretended. That was encouraging.
“I’m not at all sure you do, sire.”
“Do what?”
“Want to know. It’s very bad news. I mean, I am a loyal subject of the House of Jorgar, and I began picking up worrisome rumors. I stress that I have no hard evidence and I am not completely sure of my facts, but it felt like my duty to-”
“Evidence of what?” The prince hadn’t slackened his pace at all, and yet he was giving all his attention to Wulf. He must have remarkable faith in his horse and his own horsemanship.
How to convince him? Konrad was not among the Wise. Told that Wulf was a Speaker, he would either flee in terror or scream for the Church. And even sorcery had given Wulf no hard facts.
His father had always said that truth was safer than lies because it was easier to remember. “Treason, sire. The brewing of a plot to depose you very soon after your grandfather’s passing.”
Konrad’s sudden pallor showed through its coating of dust and a long day’s sun- and windburn. Deposed monarchs had the life expectancies of mayflies. Everyone knew that, even stupid princes. But he did not scoff, so he must have at least considered the possibility.
“I will have their heads! Who are they? Give me names!”
“Names I do not have. It may reach up to the Assembly of Nobles.”
The prince’s muttered blasphemy suddenly changed to a shout of annoyance as the cavalcade came to a ford. The stream was flowing rapidly, and severa?y, and sl minutes were needed to cross. Then he dug in his spurs, yelling for Wulf to close up again. Other courtiers were looking disgruntled at this blatant favoritism.
“Talk!”
“Yes, sire.” First lay a foundation of truth. “You know my brother was serving in the cavalry. I was his varlet and had much time on my hands.” Now build an edifice of lies. “I overheard some nasty jokes about ‘King Konrad the Brief.’ I accompanied my brother for a couple of days on his way north, and then doubled back to join my wife. Being known in the stable, I could prowl around, and I made it my business to do so. What the marquessa told me last night confirmed my suspicions. There is a plot forming in the shadows. Of course I may be worrying unnecessarily, and nothing may come of it.”
“That slime Zdenek is behind it, I’ll wager. I swear that the first thing I will do when I succeed is throw him in a dungeon.”
“And who will replace him?”
“I will. I intend to rule, not just reign.”
Heaven preserve Jorgary! “A very noble sacrifice, sire.”
The horses had slowed to a walk for a stony hill. The prince scowled at Wulf, suspecting mockery. “What does that mean?”
“Just that the old man works all day and half the night. No more hunting for you, sire. No grand balls or late parties. No wrestling, no jousting. Just reading all those reports would keep a team of clerks working from dawn to dusk. Your life will be nothing but drudgery. ”
Konrad’s scowl became a glare at such impertinent back talk. But he had to believe what Wulf was saying. “I’ll find some senior underlings for the routine. Maybe two or three good ministers to do the rough work, and I’ll supervise.”
“An excellent idea, sire. Of course they will have to be trained.”
Probably no one had dared question any of the lummox’s harebrained declarations since he was shoulder-high. He shot Wulf another suspicious glance. “Now what are you getting at?”
“If Your Highness is really asking my opinion, I would suggest you tell the Scarlet Spider to start training his successor.”
“I can’t tell him a damned thing! Nothing! He just nods very solemnly and then ignores everything I say.”
Wulf just smiled until the pause was obvious, then said, “I could suggest some orders he would accept from you already, sire. Sadly, we all know that your accession is only a matter of days away. So there are certain instructions he would have to take now, without waiting for your grandfather to die. I don’t know for a fact that His E?ct that minence is involved in the plot against you, but I am sure the plotters will want to enlist him as soon as possible. Of course, the Assembly of Nobles-if that is who is behind this, as I suspect-are a quarrelsome bunch.” No one had ever told him so, but any collection of nobles was certain to be a quarrelsome bunch. “So it seems likely that their plan will be to keep Zdenek on, running the country for them and their puppet king.”
“What puppet king?”
“Whoever they choose to receive the crown matrimonial.” That was what Otto had called it.
Konrad practically screamed. “Laima? Laima wouldn’t do that!”
“They may leave her no choice, sire.”
The pallor had faded, but now it returned. They had stopped discussing deposition and moved on to assassination.
Fifteen minutes and three tweaks later, the hunt arrived at Kastan Lodge, a minor timber palace on the shore of a small lake. Wulf had seen it a week ago, when the water had been jade green, reflecting the forest around it, but now it was silver below the darkening sky. The sun had set and he had less than twenty-four hours to betroth Princess Laima to Louis of Rouen.
A haze of wood smoke greeted the visitors as they dismounted, grumbling about stiff muscles and saddle sores. Between the escort and the lodge staff, there must have been two hundred servants fussing around a royal party of thirty or so. The hounds had long gone back to Mauvnik; grooms led away the horses and the hunters climbed four steps to the front door.
They passed directly into a large hall, open to the rafters and lit by four great chandeliers of a hundred candles each. This was new to Wulf, for last week he had not been allowed indoors. A staircase led up to a gallery flanking three sides of the hall and giving access to bedrooms. He wondered uneasily if it also served as an observation gallery for orgies staged on the main floor, because the furniture there consisted of well-padded divans and thick rugs, not the spare, rustic seating he would have expected in a hunting lodge. Did new boys get hazed, and if so, in what ways? Half a dozen girls were there to greet the hunt-either well-dressed street girls or informally dressed court ladies, who could tell? They squealed with childish delight at being reunited with old friends, kissing the men with more fervor than discrimination. Darina was not among them.
Darina was dining with a grandfatherly, well-dressed gentleman, just the two of them. Most likely he was her cadger, and she was reporting the results of her meddling.
Pretty servant girls were proffering silver cups of wine. Manservants were emerging from an upstairs door to carry steaming water buckets along the gallery. The courtiers, now entangled in twos or threes, were congregating at the foot of the stairs, while an elongated young noble stood a few steps up, vai?steps upnly calling for silence. His buck teeth identified him as Lubos, the prince’s chamberlain.
“Pavel Chlebicek of Podpazi,” announced a slender youth, blocking Wulf’s path. He was dusty and windburned, but last night he had been a true dandy. “Wherever did you get those exquisite duds, my dear Wulfie?”