exchanged a quick glance with Baru. ‘What’s afoot, I wonder?’
Baru shrugged.
The soldier said, ‘The Swordmaster took the liberty of sending extra mounts, Your Grace. He knew you’d left on foot.’
Martin said, ‘Lead on,’ and they followed the soldier to where others waited with mounts. As they readied themselves for the return to Castle Crydee, the Duke felt a sudden disquiet.
Fannon stood waiting for them as Martin dismounted. ‘What is it, Fannon?’ said Martin as he slapped at the road dust on his green leather tunic.
‘Has Your Grace forgotten Lord Miguel will arrive this afternoon?’
Martin looked at the lowering sun. ‘Then he’s late.’
‘His ship was sighted beyond the point at Sailor’s Grief an hour ago. He’ll be passing Longpoint lighthouse into the harbour within the next hour.’
Martin smiled at his Swordmaster. ‘You’re right, of course. I had forgotten.’ Almost running up the stairs, he said, ‘Come and talk with me, Fannon, while I change.’
Martin hurried toward his quarters, once occupied by his father, Lord Borric. Pages had drawn a hot tub and Martin quickly stripped off his hunter’s garb. He took the strongly scented soap and washing stone and said to the page, ‘Have plenty of cold fresh water here. This scent is something my sister might like, but it cloys my nose.’ The page left to fetch more water.
‘Now, Fannon, what brings the illustrious Duke of Rodez from the other side of the Kingdom?’
Fannon sat upon a settee. ‘He is simply travelling for the summer. It is not unheard of, Your Grace.’
Martin laughed. ‘Fannon, we’re alone. You can drop the pretence. He’s bringing at least one daughter of marriageable age.’
Fannon sighed. ‘Two. Miranda is twenty and Inez is fifteen. Both are said to be beauties.’
‘Fifteen! Gods, man! She’s a baby.’
Fannon smiled ruefully. ‘Two duels have been fought already over that baby, according to my information. Remember, these are easterners.’
Martin stretched out to soak. ‘They do tend to get into politics early back there, don’t they?’
‘Look, Martin, like it or not, you are Duke – and brother to the King. You’ve never married. If you didn’t live in the most remote corner of the Kingdom, you’d have had sixty social visits since your return home, not six.’
Martin grimaced. ‘If this turns out like the last, I’m going to return to the forests and the bears.’ The last visit had been from the Earl of Tarloff, vassal to the Duke of Ran. His daughter had been charming enough, but she tended to the flighty and had giggled, a trait that set Martin’s teeth on edge. He had left the girl with vague promises to visit Tarloff someday. ‘Still,’ he said, ‘she was a pretty enough thing.’
‘Pretty has little to do with it, as you well know. Things are still reeling in the East, even though it’s approaching two years since King Rodric’s death. Guy du Bas-Tyra’s out there somewhere doing what only the gods know. Some of his faction still wait to see who will be named Duke of Bas-Tyra. With Caldric dead and the office of Duke of Rillanon also vacant, the East is a tower of sticks. Pull the wrong one and it will all come down on the King’s head. Lyam is well advised by Tully to wait for sons and nephews. Then he can put more allies in office. It would do well for you not to lose sight of the facts of life for the King’s family, Martin.’
‘Yes, Swordmaster,’ Martin said, with a regretful shake of his head. He knew Fannon was right. Once Lyam had elevated him to the position of Duke of Crydee, he had lost a great deal of his freedom, with even greater losses to come, or so it seemed.
Three pages entered with buckets of cold water. Martin stood and let them pour the water over him. Shivering, he wrapped himself in a soft towel, and when the pages were gone, he said, ‘Fannon, what you say is obviously right, but … well, it’s not even a year since Arutha and I returned from Moraelin. Before that … it was that long tour of the East. Can’t I have a few months just to live quietly at home?’
‘You did. Last winter.’
Martin laughed. ‘Very well. But it would seem to me that there is a lot more interest in a rural duke than is required.’
Fannon shook his head. ‘More interest than is required in the brother to the King?’
‘None of my line could claim the crown, even if three, maybe soon four, others didn’t stand in succession before me. Remember, I abdicated any claim for my posterity.’
‘You are not a simple man, Martin. Don’t play the woodsy with me. You may have said whatever you wished on the day of Lyam’s coronation, but should some descendant of yours be in a position to inherit, your vows won’t count a tinker’s damn if some faction in the Congress of Lords wishes him King.’
Martin began to dress. ‘I know, Fannon. That was meant only to keep people from opposing Lyam in my name. I may have spent most of my life in the forests, but when I dined with you, Tully, Kulgan, and Father, I kept my ears open. I learned a lot.’
A knock came and a guard appeared at the door. ‘Ship flying the banner of Rodez clearing Longpoint light, Your Grace.’
Martin waved the guard out. He said to Fannon, ‘I guess we’d better hurry to meet the Duke and his lovely daughters.’ Finishing his dressing, he said, ‘I will be inspected and courted by the Duke’s daughters, Fannon, but for the gods’ love and patience, I hope neither of them giggles.’ Fannon nodded in sympathy as he followed Martin from the room.
Martin smiled at Duke Miguel’s jest. It concerned an eastern lord Martin had met only once. The man’s foibles might have been a source of humour to the eastern lords, but the joke was lost on Martin. Martin cast a glance at the Duke’s daughters. Both girls were lovely: delicate features, pale complexions framed by nearly black hair, and both had large dark eyes. Miranda sat engaged in conversation with young Squire Wilfred, third son of the Baron of Carse and newly come to the court. Inez sat regarding Martin with frank appraisal. Martin felt his neck begin to colour and turned his attention back to her father. He could see why she had been the excuse for a duel between hotheaded youths. Martin didn’t know a great deal about women, but he was an expert hunter and he knew a predator when he saw one. This girl might be only fifteen years of age, but she was a veteran of the eastern courts. She would find a powerful husband before too long, Martin didn’t doubt. Miranda was simply another pretty lady of the court, but Inez hinted at hard edges Martin found unattractive. This girl was clearly dangerous and already experienced in twisting men to her will. Martin determined to keep that fact uppermost in mind.
Supper had been quiet, as was Martin’s usual custom, but tomorrow there would be jugglers and singers, for a travelling band of minstrels was in the area. Martin had little affection for formal banquets after his eastern tour but some sort of show was in order. Then a page hurried into the room, skirting the tables to reach Housecarl Samuel’s side. He spoke softly, and the Housecarl came to Martin’s chair. Leaning down, he said, ‘Pigeons just arrived from Ylith, Your Grace. Eight of them.’
Martin understood. For so many birds to have been used the message would be urgent. It was usual to employ only two or three against the possibility of a bird not finishing the dangerous
