“Weren’t they afraid King Maledicto would punish them for telling on him, if his agents captured the letters?‘
“Tell on him? He boasted of his cruelties! Nay, he wanted them noised abroad, mat all might shudder and obey him!”
That unnerved Matt for a minute-but only a minute. Then he plucked back his composure and maintained, “They couldn’t know whether or not the rumors were true, then. The king might have been spreading them himself, just to intimidate everybody!”
“Do not doubt their truth! My father’s cousin was taken for the king’s army, then wrenched from their ranks to be mutilated for his Majesty’s sport! There is no question that they would have slain him, had they not already had a maiden for the sacrifice. Nay, they let him go, with stern injunctions to tell all that he had seen!”
That unnerved Matt, for longer than a minute or two. A blood relation was as strong a piece of evidence as he was likely to get, and pretty thoroughly validated all the rumors. It was having to confront the fact that they were true that shook him. “I had wondered why you carried a lute on your back,” Pascal said. “Is it to trade songs of virtue for news of King Boncorro?”
“Something like that,” Matt admitted, “and because of that, I’d appreciate it if you’d lay off the ‘Sir Matthew’ sobriquet. Just plain ‘Matthew’ will do very nicely, for the nonce.” He looked back over his shoulder. “You, too, Manny!”
“My lips are sealed,” the manticore promised. “Somehow I doubt that. I’ll settle for you watching what comes out of your mouth a bit more closely than what goes in.” He turned back to Pascal. “Mostly I had in mind picking up gossip about the last few years in Latruria-and the current state of affairs. I find it difficult to believe that the new king could have reformed the land so completely, after almost a century of corruption.”
“I doubt it, too, and I intend to be extremely cautious as to whom I trust, and into whose power I let myself fall. The king may have forsworn needless cruelty himself, but his noblemen have been trained to it, all their lives, and may not so cheerfully forsake the old depraved ways.”
“My thought exactly,” Matt said grimly, “and though a knight might be treated with a certain amount of courtesy, a minstrel would not.”
Pascal stared at him, appalled. “You have deliberately made yourself their target?”
“Call it bait for the trap.” Matt just hoped he would be able to spring that trap if he needed to; he was getting very nervous about how weak his magic seemed to be in Latruria. “As long as there are only one or two knights against me, I can give them a very unpleasant surprise. I just hope I won’t have to sing.”
The chancellor laid another sheet of parchment in front of the king. “As you commanded, your Majesty-a summary of what we may expect to receive in the various taxes and levies, set against the monies we anticipate having to pay out in the next twelve-month.”
“Neatly done.” King Boncorro scanned the columns of figures. “Give the clerk an extra ducat’s pay-this was new to all of us, and he has invented a very good way to draw it up.” He laid the paper down with satisfaction. “It is well, Rebozo! For the third straight year our surplus shall increase-if we hold to this plan. The royal granaries shall be full, even the new score we are building. Famine shall not catch this country again.”
“No, your Majesty.” The chancellor didn’t sound all that happy about it. “Still, the surplus is due more to your own economies than to any increase in revenues. Surely you might now increase the taxes again!”
King Boncorro shook his head. “With taxes low, people spend more, thus giving work to others-who thereby gain money to pay their taxes. Merchants are using the money saved to set up new ventures, bringing me more tax money than they did five years ago, even though Grandfather demanded two parts in three, where I only demand one.” He nodded, pleased. “Yes, my conjecture is proved true-lower taxes yield higher revenues, though it did take some few years of tight living before the increase began to show. In fact, I see it is time for another experiment.”
Rebozo’s blood ran cold. “Majesty! Let us recover from your last! Whenever you say ‘experiment,’ I have premonitions of disaster!”
“This one is easily undone, if it fails,” Boncorro said, amused. “Have letters drafted to the noblemen who hold patents of monopoly on commerce in grain, timber, and wool. Tell them that hence-forth, any man who wishes may traffic in those commodities.”
“Majesty, no! They shall rebel, they shall bring armies!”
“I think not.” King Boncorro lounged back in his chair. “They may still be active in the trade themselves, of course-and having held the monopoly and the means of transporting the goods, they shall have a huge advantage over any who wish to enter the trade. But if they have been charging extortionate prices, they shall find they have no buyers.”
“Exactly, Majesty! Their fortunes shall evaporate!”
“They have fortunes enough to maintain them in luxury for the rest of their lives, Rebozo-aye, and their children’s lives, too. We speak of counts and dukes, after all, who have vast estates to maintain them. No, they shall not starve-but they shall have to strive if they wish to continue to dominate the commerce of the realm.”
“Majesty, how is this?” Rebozo cried, distressed. “A king should not concern himself with commerce, like a grubby tradesman!”
“Every subject must be my concern,” King Boncorro contradicted, “from those who grub in the dirt to those who command armies. The lifeblood of the land is trade, Rebozo. The peasants may raise the food for their noble masters, but it cannot feed the folk in the towns if it is not transported to them. The stomach may provide the nourishment, but it does no good if it is not carried to the limbs. If the kingdom is the body politic, the king may be its head, but the army and the artisans are its muscles, the peasants are its hands, and the merchants its blood. That blood has flowed but sluggishly under my father’s rule. I have freed it to flow more freely, and do so again now-and the result will be more nourishment for me.”
“An excellent analogy,” Rebozo said with irony, “but perhaps not accurate. Abolishing monopolies only means that the merchants shall have more nourishment, not you.”
“They shall pay their taxes if they wish to be let alone to trade. More well-to-do merchants will arise, even though they charge lower prices to the people who buy-for thereby, more people shall buy. More rich merchants means that there shall be more spending by merchants, which shall yield richer tradesmen and shall even allow some artists a living, and higher wages for peasants as more and more of them leave the land to become merchants or artisans. Thus shall there be more and more who pay taxes, and my revenues shall increase.”
“Well, you are a worker of magics.” Rebozo carefully did not say what kind-primarily because he wasn’t sure. “If you can make more money flow into your coffers by levying less, it is truly a wonder, and I must not argue with what I do not know. But how if the noblemen gather their armies and march against you, Sire?”
“Then,” Boncorro said, tense as a stretched cable, “I shall work some of those magics of which you have spoken.”
“You cannot slay a whole army by sorcery!”
“Be not so sure, Lord Chancellor,” the king said quietly. “However, slaying armies will not be needed-only slaying their masters.”
“You cannot slay dukes and counts out of hand!”
“Why not? My grandfather did. Then, like him, I can replace them with men of my own choosing.”
“Their sons shall bring those same armies back on the instant!”