"Or people will think I'm Lady Tiphaine's girlfriend?" Mathilda said dryly. "Or vice versa, accent on the vice."
Sandra gurgled laughter. Her face was still smooth in her fifties, and the wimple was kind to it, but that made the laughter lines stand out around her brown eyes. Mathilda joined in the chuckle; in fact, Tiphaine's lover was and had been for twelve years a miller's daughter from Barony d'Ath by the name of Delia. Who was in theory a lady in-waiting to the baroness and who'd been ennobled by an equally theoretical marriage to a knight who had no more interest in women than the current Grand Constable had in men. Her children had been the result of intervention by a pre-Change turkey baster. The two women were quite ridiculously devoted to each other and completely monogamous.
The cream of the jest was, of course, that Lady Delia de Stafford was delicately beautiful in an entirely femi nine way and a complete clotheshorse and never wore anything less than the height of fashion-female fash ion. Since she was cheerfully ready to lie truth out of Creation about it (being a secret witch, as well, and therefore not in awe of Christian sacraments), her naively sincere confessor was among the few at court who didn't at least unofficially know or guess. Tiphaine's own chaplain had been carefully chosen for complaisance, guaranteed by the files Sandra had on him.
I suppose that's sinful, what they do, Mathilda thought.
She certainly liked boys herself; she'd enjoyed kissing a couple, Odard and Rudi among them. But she was also fairly proud of the fact that she was still a virgin, and intended firmly to remain so until her wedding night. And she fully confessed everything she could think of in meticulous detail, tried her best to repent, and duti fully did every penance set. Sometimes the thought of her mother's files made her a little queasy; even more so the thought of reading and using them herself, even on priests. Better than chopping off heads or burning people at the stake, but…
A ruler has to kill sometimes, for the good of the realm and the people. Blackmail, that makes you feel… dirty. Mom has to live like the spider they call her, at the center of a web of paper and secrets.
"Rumors aren't a joke, though. They can hurt; they can kill," Sandra said. "As a ruler, you can protect someone like Tiphaine… which helps ensure they're loyal… but if people believed rumors like that about you, it could threaten your position. Which means threatening your life. Don't ever doubt that."
Mathilda nodded. And it's a sin even if it doesn't hurt anyone else. But it's not as bad as a lot of things some peo ple do, like bullying peasants or waging blood-feuds over some piece of nothing. We have to kill to live sometimes, but it's not something you should ever do lightly. Besides, I like Delia. It's lucky I don't have to confess other people's sins. Father Donnelly is sort of strict… I wonder why Mom picked him for me, and not someone she could control?
That reminded her of her worries. "Mother… I've been thinking."
"Something I heartily recommend," Sandra said, her eyes shrewd as always.
It was a bit daunting, sometimes, to realize that she was always thinking, and always had been. Even more daunting to think of living like that, never saying or doing anything without having a dozen possible consequences dart through your mind.
"Mother… when I'm Protector…" She'd come of age for that in five years; you had to be older than the heir to a lesser title. "Will I really be Protector?"
"Ah," Sandra said; she sounded satisfied somehow. "I was wondering when you'd ask that."
"Well, will I be? Like Father?"
Sandra smiled again. "There will never be another Norman Arminger," she said. "What you mean is-will you really hold the power, as I do?"
Mathilda nodded, and her mother went on: "That depends entirely on you, my dear. It won't be easy. Half the nobles will want to marry you, or have their sons marry you, and rule through you; and you must marry, and fairly soon-a ruler's first responsibility is to have an heir, to keep the peace after you're gone. It would really be best if you married and had a child before you come to the throne; a ruler should have an adult heir, and at least one spare, and it's better if they have an heir in turn before coming to the throne. Your father and I would have had more children, if we could have."
Unspoken was what would have happened if one of those had been a son. Mathilda went on: "But if I mar ried anyone here, or their heir, wouldn't that turn the others against me? As long as I'm single, I can sort of keep them guessing and trying to court my favor. The way Elizabeth did."
Sandra silently clapped her hands. "Bravo! But you don't want to die childless the way she did, do you, my dear?"
"Well… no. I want kids, someday. But not whole litters, like Victoria; just four, that would be perfect-two boys and two girls. A small family's better, I think… what's funny?"
"Nothing, my dear. Just reflecting on how perspectives change."
"Like you said, I can't not have any. I mean, we don't have a lot of relatives; nobody like James Stuart was to Elizabeth the First. It's my kid or they fight over the throne till the last one standing takes it. And they might rip the Protectorate apart doing it." She made a moue. "James wasn't any great prize, but he was better than a civil war."
"Smart Stuarts were few and far between," Sandra agreed. "Charles the Second, maybe, though he was lazy."
"And… there's Rudi. He wouldn't be, you know, here a lot; he'd never want to live here all year 'round. And the Mackenzies are definitely going to hail him Chief after his mother, now that the Assembly's made him her tanist. And the fighting men here all respect him. A lot. If it didn't turn everyone against me, those who were against me would really think three times about revolt-I could call on the Mackenzies for help. And I like him muchly, and God knows, he's cute as hell."
Sandra nodded. "You know his mother and I have talked about that. But it would be chancy. He's a witch; he'd never take the Faith even in form, and the Church isn't as much under our control as it was in your father's day. Plus there'd be the question of what religion your children followed-no witch could ever rule here, and no Christian in Dun Juniper. A lot of our believers and priests would be angry enough at a pagan consort. That could mean trouble; assassination attempts, say."
"If I died without an heir, who would succeed? The Grand Constable?"
Sandra looked at her and smiled again, this time slow and fond. "That's my girl! No, Tiphaine couldn't lead a big enough faction. It would be Conrad, probably. Though only after a fight. He doesn't actually want to be Lord Protector, but he'd take it rather than let some of the others in."
"And the Stavarovs and the Joneses and the others know that, and that helps keep me alive," Mathilda said.
"Bravo! And he does have an heir already-three-and very able lads they are, too, with very good matches already lined up. But your father built all this for you, my dear. You have a duty to his blood."
Mathilda nodded slowly. Her mother went on: "And some of the rest of the lords will try to rule through you whether you're single or not, and some will be ready to bring the whole Association down in wreck as they jockey for power, if they're not restrained… or occa sionally, killed. I'll advise you as long as I'm around, of course, but the decisions will be yours. You'll have Conrad and Tiphaine and a few others you can trust, but ultimately it's your wits that the realm will depend upon."
"I think… I think the common people will support me. And the town guilds. If I offered charters…"
Sandra nodded; Mathilda could see she was pleased.