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Authors: S. M. Stirling
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said.
She forced herself not to give an incredulous snort; what else would a ruler′s consort or heir await? That was one reason she′d enjoyed her yearly stay with the Mackenzies so much after the Protector′s War—there on the Clan′s land she was just Rudi′s friend Mathilda.
What did you expect when you married the ruler here, Kate? she thought but did not say. Gossiping with the other goodwives at the village bakery while your husband digs the garden or sits in the tavern with his cronies over a mug of beer?
Instead she turned to take a real drink off a tray; it was something sweet but potent in a glass like a cone on a stem, with a little cherry on top. For the first time in her life, she understood the temptation that made some people drink to excess. It wasn′t so much a matter of drowning sorrows as of untangling the knot of fear that curdled under her breastbone. Or at least putting a slight glassy layer between her and it.
There wasn′t anything she could do about the fear—she was here, the guards wouldn′t let her leave, Rudi was in hideous danger across the river among the savages with only Edain at his side, poor Ingolf was in a dungeon, and most of the rest of her friends were hiding God-knew-where in this vast alien city, even dear kindly Father Ignatius was away so that she couldn′t confess or receive the Sacraments . . .
But God does know where each is, as He sees every sparrow. Mary pierced with sorrows, watch over the ones I love! And especially Rudi. Everything depends on him. And I miss him so much.
″And sometimes I wish I was back on father′s farm—″ Kate went on; she probably felt freer to speak with a stranger than with most of her courtiers.
Farm . . . ah, she means a barony , Mathilda translated; they′d kept the old words here, but a tract one family could work with machines before the Change needed scores or hundreds now, with the landholder as lord. A manor, a knight′s-fee, at least.
″—instead of all this. I like a party, but they′re all the same and there are so many of them. And a lot of the people aren′t really here for the fun.″
″I get the same feeling at balls and tournaments,″ Mathilda said.
Sometimes. As Mom says, they′re our working time. If God calls you to a station, you have to do your best, whether it′s peasant or Princess. With princes and nobles, socializing is a big part of the business of ruling. Things that come up formally at councils really get settled first while you′re feasting or hawking or hunting or dancing a pavane.
″This is a fine country,″ Kate said softly after a moment. ″We Iowans have so much more than anyone else. Our parents were so lucky! Why do people have to quarrel and fight each other for more?″
Mathilda bowed her head slightly, honoring the sentiment if not the thought.
″Why indeed?″ she said. ″But that seems to be the way people are, a lot of them. It′s a ruler′s duty to keep their quarrels from spilling too much blood.″
And to lead in war so that the realm′s strength is a single blade of power in a skilled hand , she thought unhappily. But in the west, we have no single ruler to fight the Prophet. The Meeting is well enough but it′s a council and never gets anything done quickly. Most of the time it′s much better at stopping things than doing them .
The thought carked at her. Her own duty . . .
But the rest of the Meeting realms will never accept an Arminger. The Protector′s War showed that. They don′t hate and fear me the way they did Father, but they would if they thought I wanted to be overlord. And our nobles wouldn′t accept anyone—
A thought made her eyes go wide.
But the Association would accept the man who brought back the Sword of the Lady and led them to victory—it could just as well be the Virgin who′s the Lady as some pagan goddess, after all. Not accept him as Lord Protector in Portland, but as . . . what did the ancient Gael call it, an Ard Ri , a
She forced herself not to give an incredulous snort; what else would a ruler′s consort or heir await? That was one reason she′d enjoyed her yearly stay with the Mackenzies so much after the Protector′s War—there on the Clan′s land she was just Rudi′s friend Mathilda.
What did you expect when you married the ruler here, Kate? she thought but did not say. Gossiping with the other goodwives at the village bakery while your husband digs the garden or sits in the tavern with his cronies over a mug of beer?
Instead she turned to take a real drink off a tray; it was something sweet but potent in a glass like a cone on a stem, with a little cherry on top. For the first time in her life, she understood the temptation that made some people drink to excess. It wasn′t so much a matter of drowning sorrows as of untangling the knot of fear that curdled under her breastbone. Or at least putting a slight glassy layer between her and it.
There wasn′t anything she could do about the fear—she was here, the guards wouldn′t let her leave, Rudi was in hideous danger across the river among the savages with only Edain at his side, poor Ingolf was in a dungeon, and most of the rest of her friends were hiding God-knew-where in this vast alien city, even dear kindly Father Ignatius was away so that she couldn′t confess or receive the Sacraments . . .
But God does know where each is, as He sees every sparrow. Mary pierced with sorrows, watch over the ones I love! And especially Rudi. Everything depends on him. And I miss him so much.
″And sometimes I wish I was back on father′s farm—″ Kate went on; she probably felt freer to speak with a stranger than with most of her courtiers.
Farm . . . ah, she means a barony , Mathilda translated; they′d kept the old words here, but a tract one family could work with machines before the Change needed scores or hundreds now, with the landholder as lord. A manor, a knight′s-fee, at least.
″—instead of all this. I like a party, but they′re all the same and there are so many of them. And a lot of the people aren′t really here for the fun.″
″I get the same feeling at balls and tournaments,″ Mathilda said.
Sometimes. As Mom says, they′re our working time. If God calls you to a station, you have to do your best, whether it′s peasant or Princess. With princes and nobles, socializing is a big part of the business of ruling. Things that come up formally at councils really get settled first while you′re feasting or hawking or hunting or dancing a pavane.
″This is a fine country,″ Kate said softly after a moment. ″We Iowans have so much more than anyone else. Our parents were so lucky! Why do people have to quarrel and fight each other for more?″
Mathilda bowed her head slightly, honoring the sentiment if not the thought.
″Why indeed?″ she said. ″But that seems to be the way people are, a lot of them. It′s a ruler′s duty to keep their quarrels from spilling too much blood.″
And to lead in war so that the realm′s strength is a single blade of power in a skilled hand , she thought unhappily. But in the west, we have no single ruler to fight the Prophet. The Meeting is well enough but it′s a council and never gets anything done quickly. Most of the time it′s much better at stopping things than doing them .
The thought carked at her. Her own duty . . .
But the rest of the Meeting realms will never accept an Arminger. The Protector′s War showed that. They don′t hate and fear me the way they did Father, but they would if they thought I wanted to be overlord. And our nobles wouldn′t accept anyone—
A thought made her eyes go wide.
But the Association would accept the man who brought back the Sword of the Lady and led them to victory—it could just as well be the Virgin who′s the Lady as some pagan goddess, after all. Not accept him as Lord Protector in Portland, but as . . . what did the ancient Gael call it, an Ard Ri , a
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