“Yes, your Majesty-especially since their dallying here means they are not plotting rebellion on their estates in the provinces.” The chancellor looked up at his king with a cracked smile “Your tapestries are very well-chosen toward the encouragement of such. ”I know,“ Boncorro sighed. ”I had meant them to be an inducement to education and culture. It seems I still overestimate human nature.“
“Perhaps, though, they would be a bit more effective if your Roman gods and goddesses were being a bit more forthright in their play,” the chancellor suggested, “or if your tapestries showed them in all the various stages of the game.”
“No, I wish them to inspire my courtiers with the urge to cultivate their aesthetic senses,” the king replied. “I will have the tapestries show nothing obscene-my lords and ladies do well enough at that as it is.”
“Wherefore?” Rebozo spread his hands. “I had thought your Majesty’s aim was to have them occupy their time with pleasure, to keep them from objecting to your plans for government.”
King Boncorro looked up at the chancellor with pleased surprise. “You delight me with your insight-or am I so transparent as that?”
“Only to me, and I am used to the ways of intrigue,” Rebozo assured him. “But why seek to stimulate their appreciation of the arts, Majesty? Why not merely encourage them to wallow in the pleasures of the flesh, as your grandfather did?”
“Because those pleasures pall, Rebozo,” the king told him. “The proof of it is the increasing decadence of my grandfather’s amusements, as he strove harder and harder to pique his interest in the flesh. His courtiers, too, found that sexual pleasure required greater and greater excesses to stimulate them, when it was pleasure of the flesh alone.”
The words sent a thrill of alarm through Rebozo-new ways, always new ways!-so he tried to make light of it. “Greater excesses, and greater expenditures to buy living bodies for them to degrade and torture.”
“ ‘Living bodies,’ yes-not ‘people,’ “ Boncorro said with irony. ”Well, there is some truth to your claim, Rebozo-my courtiers are far less expensive than grandfather’s depraved coterie. My lords and ladies provide one another’s amusement and pleasure. Still, the cost of these nightly revels is substantial.“
“What cost? The tapestries, which you bought once, and once only, whereas your grandfather had need to procure new toys every week, sometimes every night? The acrobats and jesters, the musicians who fill this room with lush strains and a sensuous rhythm? They are serfs, and glad indeed to have such light work, with better lodging and food than ever they might have had in their villages! The nightly banquets and the barrels of wine, all provided by your own farms and vineyards? The occasional troupe of strolling players, who are glad of a few ducats for a week’s work? These cost only a fraction of your grandfather’s expenditures on performers of decadent amusements and providers of perverse pleasures.”
The king smiled. “Come, Rebozo! The cost is still considerable.”
“Aye, but it yields a handsome profit, though it will never show on the ledgers you so assiduously scrutinize‘”
King Boncorro laughed aloud, and the nearer aristocrats looked up alert for a joke they should share. He only smiled indulgently and waved his cup at them. They raised their own in salute, then went back to their badinage. “That must be half the reason I keep you by me, good Chancellor,” Boncorro said, “to have one about who can appreciate my scheming.”
“Your genius, you mean.” Rebozo’s smile fairly glowed with pride. “I rejoice that my risk in preserving your Majesty’s life was so richly merited. But tell me-” A shadow of concern crossed his face.-why do you not join in your courtiers’ games? Why do you hold yourself aloof, and not disport yourself among them? You, too, must have your lighter moments, Majesty!“
“I must, and you know that as you suggested, I maintain a dozen beautiful serving maids who have no work but to wait upon me in my private chambers,” Boncorro answered. “As to the behavior of my aristocrats, I do not think it politic to impose my own morality on them-or my lack of morality; I have no objection to fornication, though I do not share their delight in adultery ”
“Do you not?” The old chancellor cackled “I think you long for it as much as any man, your Majesty! I have seen the way you look at Lord Amerhe’s daughter!”
“Yes, and so has the rest of the court.” Boncorro glanced at the lady in question and felt the fire of lust blaze as he let his glance linger on her flawless cheek, her full ruby lips, her swelling bosom more displayed than covered by the cut of her neckline. For a few minutes he devoured her with his eyes, enjoying the surge of desire she wakened in him-then he forced his eyes to took elsewhere. “The new Contessa of Corvo, you mean? Ah Rebozo! You know I must not gratify my senses with such as her, no matter how I long to!”
Even as he spoke, Sir Pestilline, seated next to the countess reached past her for a tidbit from a platter on her other side; as he was bringing it back, it “happened” to drop into her cleavage. The lady squealed, clapping a hand to her décolletage, while the gentleman laughed, leaning forward, reaching-and the lady shrank away, giggling, her hand slipping lower… A hand clamped down on the man’s shoulder and wrenched him about. He stared up in surprise-at the Conte of Corvo. With a single motion, the count loosed his hold and slapped the offender’s cheek. Sir Pestilline’s head rocked; then he was on his feet catching his dagger from the table. Corvo sneered and stepped back, drawing his sword. The ladies screamed, the men shouted, benches turned over as all sprang up and away. In seconds a circle had opened around the two men, even as the count lunged at Sir Pestilhne. The knight jumped aside, dagger flicking out to parry the count’s lunge as he drew his own sword-but too slowly, for Corvo riposted, then shouted in anger as he lunged again. And again Pestilline dodged, but too slowly; Corvo’s blade slit his doublet and came away with its edge reddened. Pestilline howled in anger and leaped in, thrusting and parrying in earnest now. Corvo gave back as good as he got, and there wasn’t even the slightest sign of mercy in either of their faces. “Enough!” Boncorro cried, but the two hotheads could not hear him over the clash and clang of their swords. The king’s mouth tightened in disgust, and he waved to his guards, who plowed through the throng, halberds at the ready. But they were taking too long; one man might be dead before they came. Boncorro rolled his hands about one another, then pantomimed throwing as he rapped out an arresting verse in an archaic language. A loud report shook the great hall, and smoke billowed up between the two fighters. Ladies screamed and clung to their men; the two fighters leaped back, covering their mouths and noses, already coughing. Then the guardsmen were there; the king flung his hands up and out, and the smoke disappeared, leaving not a trace or a teary eye behind. Corvo and Sir Pestilline looked up, startled, to find crossed halberds separating them. “Not within my great hall, lord and knight!” King Boncorro called. “My lords of L’Augustine and Benicci! Act for these two while they cool their heels outside my door! Conte Corvo! Sir Pestilline! Leave this hall at once! Do not return until you have settled your differences and can sit at the same table without seeking to murder one another!”
The two men turned to face him, drawing themselves up and sheathing their weapons. They bowed, then turned and marched out. The guardsmen opened the door before them and shut it after. L’Augustine and Benicci stepped forward to confer with one another as the courtiers turned to take their seats again with a buzz of avid conversation, everyone comparing notes on the incident. Even the young countess, the cause of the fracas, sat down and joined in the talk with a merry glint in her eye.1 “They shall duel at sunrise tomorrow, I doubt not,” the chancellor said, just as hungrily as any of the others. “I do not doubt it,” the king said, “and the outcome is forgone, unless Pestilline has some noteworthy surprise in store, for Corvo is the best swordsman among the young bloods, and has slain two in duels already.”