"Just thinking about our host," the chief of staff replied with a smile. "And about universality."
"How so?" Roger asked, mopping at his sweaty forehead. The evening was unusually hot, even for Marduk. It usually cooled off a bit after nightfall, but not tonight, apparently.
"If you don't mind, Your Highness," Despreaux said, "I'm going to turn in as well. I have guard duty in a few hours."
"Take off, Nimashet." Roger waved one hand in a shooing gesture. "I think we can guard ourselves for a while."
The sergeant smiled at him and left the room behind the captain. Roger watched her go, and then turned back to O'Casey.
"You were saying?" he said, then noticed her slight smile. "What?"
"Nothing," his former tutor said. "I was talking about universality. It's not quite a given that fops aren't to be trusted, but rulers who pay more attention to their wardrobes than their subjects have a habit of coming to bad ends."
"Did you have anyone in mind?" Roger asked coldly.
"Oh," O'Casey chuckled, "that wasn't directed at you, Roger. Although, at one time it might have been," she added pensively. "But, frankly, son, there's not much of the peacock left in you."
"Don't be too sure of that." Roger gave her a wry smile now that he realized the comment wasn't directed at him. "I'm definitely looking forward to getting back into some civilized clothing."
"That's fair." O'Casey looked down at her own stained uniform. "So am I. But I wasn't speaking of you. I was actually thinking of Ceasare Borgia and your father."
"Now that's a comparison you don't often hear," Roger said tightly.
"Perhaps you don't," O'Casey acknowledged, "but before I was your tutor, I used it frequently in lectures. I suspect that was one of the reasons I was assigned to you in the first place. That and the follow-through, which is that, frankly, it's an insult to the Borgias. They never would've screwed up their plot the way New Madrid did."
"You know the whole story?" Roger asked in an odd voice. "I never realized that."
"I'm sorry, Roger," O'Casey said sadly. "I'm surprised you weren't aware of how widely it's studied. I only learned the details after becoming your tutor, of course, but the broad outline is used in political courses as a case study. It's right up there with the takeover of the Solarian Union by the Dagger Lords."
"Really?" Roger's eyes were wide. "Well, you never discussed it with me!"
"It's a sensitive subject, Roger." His chief of staff shrugged. "I didn't want to hurt your feelings, and I felt that you must have already learned any lessons it could teach long before I was named your tutor."
"Really," Roger repeated, sarcastically, this time, and leaned one elbow on the table and fixed her with a glare. "That's just absolutely fascinating, Eleanora, because I have never known what it was that got my father exiled from Court, which makes it rather difficult to learn anything from it, wouldn't you say?" He let out an exasperated hiss and shook his head. "I'm so glad that you were respectful of my feelings, teacher!"
"But..." O'Casey stared at him, her face white. "But what about your mother? Or Professor Earl?"
"Ms. O'Casey," Roger snarled, "I don't remember my mother from when I was a young child at all. Only a succession of nurses. From the time I started to know who she was, I have a general impression of seeing her—oh, once a week or so, whether I really needed to see her or not. She would comment on the reports from my tutors and nannies and tell me to be a good boy. I saw John and Alexa more than I ever saw my mother! And as for Professor Earl, I asked him once—just once—about my father. He told me to ask my mother when I was older." Roger shook his head. "The good doctor was a fair tutor, but he was never very good with the personal stuff."
It was O'Casey's turn to shake her head, and she pulled at a lock of hair.
"I'm sorry, Roger. I just assumed— Hell, everybody probably assumed." She grimaced in exasperation, then inhaled sharply.
"Okay. Where do you want me to begin?"
"Well," Roger said with a smile, "I had this tutor once who was always telling me—"
"To start at the beginning, and go through to the end," she finished with an answering smile. "This will take a long time, though," she said more seriously, and Roger gestured around the room.
"You may not have noticed, but I've got all night."
"Hmph. Okay, let me think about how to begin."
She gazed into an unseen distance for several seconds, then made a little moue of annoyance which was clearly directed at herself.
"You know, I never really covered recent history with you too well, did I? I just let that little detail slide. Renaissance or Byzantine politics, yes, but not what was going on right under your nose. Of course," she flashed a quick grin, "most of the time it was stuck so far up you'd never have noticed anyway."
"True, unfortunately." Roger chuckled ruefully. "But I have to get the story."
"New Madrid," she said, nodding. "As you know, there were few major military actions during your grandfather's reign. This is sometimes pointed at as an indication that he was a great emperor, but what was actually happening was that your grandfather was almost completely ineffectual. The Fleet and Marines were being slashed to the bone, and we lost several border systems to treaties we accepted out of weakness—or disinterest—or small actions that never got much press coverage back home. There weren't any major actions because no one was drawing any lines to stop the gradual erosion of the frontiers. And while they were crumbling, the Empire was self-destructing internally with plots and counterplots.
"New Madrid was part of that action, but not as a central player." She sighed and looked at the prince in the glow from the camp light. "Roger, you got almost all your brains from your mother, thank God. If you'd gotten your mother's looks and your father's brains, you would have been shit out of luck."
"That bad?" he asked with a chuckle. "He's as smart as Mom is good-looking?"
"Say rather that he's as good-looking as your mother is smart. Which is where you come in."
"What a line!" he observed.
"John Gaston, John and Alexa's father, died as you know in a light-flier accident. The Duke of New Madrid was part of the Court at that time, fairly recently arrived. He was, and is, a gorgeous man, and quite the ladies man, as well. However, he was very circumspect at Court. He and your mother struck up an acquaintance shortly after the death of Count Gaston, and the acquaintance slowly changed to... um..."
"Me," Roger said with a raised eyebrow.
"Well, the 'proto' you. Empress Alexandra—Heir Apparent, at that time—might have been having a hard time, but she was no fool. She was more or less swept off her feet, which is why she wasn't on a contraceptive, but she landed back on them quickly. Especially when the head of the IBI brought her a report on New Madrid's contacts among factions known to be maneuvering to control the Empire.
"There'd never been a question of marriage, because she had to leave the way open for a dynastic alliance. With the IBI report in hand, though, she had to know if New Madrid's interests were from the heart or the scent of power. So she let herself appear to weaken."
Eleanora twisted her lock of hair again, and let a smile quirk.
"I understand New Madrid can be somewhat dominant, and he apparently found nothing odd in Alexandra's suddenly becoming compliant during her pregnancy. Which was when he tipped his hand. He began forcefully lobbying her for some of the precise policies that the Jackson Cabal had been promoting."
"Are you talking about Prince Jackson of Kellerman?" Roger asked. "He's one of the most important noblemen in the Senate!"