“I am sure your friend Lord Isher has thought it through. He’s not a man to under-plan, eh? We both know all that nonsense with Wetterlant was entirely his design.”
“How d’you mean?” muttered Leo, feeling as if he was blundering into a trap but unable to stop himself.
“He came to me. Isher. Offering to heal the wounds between the Closed and Open Councils. To orchestrate a deal that would see Wetterlant imprisoned, the commoners satisfied, the noblemen mollified and me looking like a masterful statesman.” Orso snorted. “I should have known. Any plan intended to make me look good has to be doomed. Ah! Fish!”
Orso’s blonde-haired girl came out of nowhere and whisked a steaming plate in front of Leo. “Bernille really does work magic with seafood.” Orso twirled a fork around between his fingers. “She’s more sorceress than cook, even in a farmhouse kitchen. No, no, it’s the small cutlery, Leo. What was I saying?”
“Wetterlant and Isher,” said Corporal Tunny.
“Ah, yes. I went into the Lords’ Round that day expecting to emerge just yet merciful. Imagine my dismay when I ended up the epitome of an idiotic tyrant. But then, spare a thought for Wetterlant.” He forked up a chunk of fish and chewed with great relish. “He was left dangling. Literally. I couldn’t even make a clean job of that. Quite the ugly scene. I bloody hate hangings. Still, I’ll confess I don’t miss the man. An utterly loathsome specimen and guilty as the plague. So much for the good graces of Lord Isher, eh? He loves to play the peacemaker, but he’s been sowing discord this whole time. I daresay he’s the one who sold this little package to you first? Told you Wetterlant was wronged and I was a monster? Men of quality.” And he shook his head and chuckled.
Leo frowned, fork frozen halfway to his mouth. He’d been rather pleased with how he’d done the righteous anger, but now he wasn’t enjoying himself at all. Talking to Orso was like talking to Jappo Murcatto, but with higher stakes and lower hopes of success. All his firm reasons, his noble certainties, his staunch alliances, seemed to be crumbling like castles made of sand.
“I don’t know what story you’ve been told about reform, and freeing me from my chains and blah, blah, blah, but I’m quite certain Isher means to replace me entirely. Probably with you. Not sufficiently glorious to make a good puppet, is he? But I daresay he imagines he could pull the strings skilfully enough. And then, of course… there is your wife.”
Leo forced the words through gritted teeth. “Leave her out of this.”
“Please, no one has a higher opinion of Savine than I do.” Orso gave a sad little sigh, staring off into the middle distance. “I’ve been in love with the woman for years, in spite of my best efforts. But I don’t think it’s unfair to say she’s just…” And he held up finger and thumb with a hair’s breadth between them. “A teensy bit ambitious. I wouldn’t put money on great Juvens if he came between her and what she wanted. I never imagined she would be able to resist being queen. That’s why I was so surprised that she turned me down.”
“That she what?”
“When I proposed to her.”
Leo just managed to stop himself giving a strangled squawk. If he’d been floundering in the conversation before, he was drowning in it now. Clearly his wife hadn’t shared the whole truth when it came to her relationship with the king. What else might she have kept from him?
“A bolt of lightning could have struck me no more forcefully than when she said no,” mused Orso, chopping at his fish with the side of his fork. “But… perhaps she found another way to make herself queen? I hear she is with you on campaign. She always did like to keep a close eye on her investments.”
“You’ve got it all wrong!” growled Leo, wondering if he actually had it all right. His chair shrieked on the stone-flagged floor as he stood, and he had to smother a gasp at the stab of pain in his leg. “We’ve nothing more to discuss!”
“But we’ve still got the main course!”
“It’s liver,” said Hildi.
“Ah! Bernille does it so it just…” and Orso closed his eyes, touched his lips and let his fingers flutter gently off, “melts away to nothing. You know.” He opened his eyes and smiled. “Like excuses for rebellion.”
“You mind if I…?” Hildi was already poised over Leo’s half-eaten fish with a fork in her hand.
“Have at it,” he snarled as he turned for the door. “I’ll see you on the battlefield.”
Orso almost choked on his wine. “Bloody hell, I hope not.”
Doubts and Desires
“Are you awake?” whispered Leo.
Of course she was. How could she sleep with the endless kicking of her baby, the endless noise of soldiers on the move outside the window, the endless doubts, fears, hopes chasing each other around her mind like stray dogs after the butcher’s cart?
Savine had to slide her arm under her belly and half-lift it so she could wriggle over to face him. The first light was touching the sky outside, a faint gleam in the corners of his eyes, a glow on his cheek, shifting as his jaw nervously worked.
“You should go back to Ostenhorm,” he said. “It’s not safe here—”
“We’re together in this, Leo.” She tried to make her voice the essence of calm. Like a mother soothing her child. Like a lion tamer trying to keep his beast on the stool. “We have to be together in this.” She took his hand and slid it onto her belly. She wasn’t sure which of them the trembling came from. “All our futures are at stake.”
“By the dead, Savine…” His voice was the essence of panic. “Have I made a terrible mistake?”
She felt a stab of anger, then. Everyone has doubts. The Fates knew she did. But leaders have to crush their doubts down deep inside where they cannot leak out and stain the entire enterprise. It was far too late for second thoughts. The dice were out of their hands and already rolling.
She felt a stab of anger, but losing her temper was a luxury she could not afford. “You’ve done the right thing.” She made herself meet his eye, made herself sound sure. “You’ve done what you had to.”
“Can I trust Isher?”
Savine would not have trusted him to carry her night-pot. “Of course you can, he’s bound to us, Leo, he has no—”
“Can I trust Stour?”
To call Stour a wild dog was unfair. Wild dogs were at least capable of loyalty. “He respects you. And it’s a little late to be—”
“Can I trust you?”
Silence. Faint cries and clatters outside as they moved up supplies by torchlight. “How can you ask me that?” she snarled. She wanted to slap him. “You’re the one who chose this! All I’ve done is everything I can to make sure it succeeds!” And promised Uffrith to Stour, and promised the Closed Council to Isher, and promised the throne to herself. “Orso stuffed your head with doubts, didn’t he? Damn it, I told you not to underestimate him!”
Another silence. She could hear his quick breathing. She could hear her own. “You’re right,” he said grudgingly. “You’re always bloody right.” He even managed to make that sound like an accusation. “I just don’t even know where half my friends are, let alone my enemies. Rikke, and Jurand—”