She made a dismissive gesture, but Mathilda could see the corners of her mouth turn up in pleasure; she could also see half a dozen others in the big room noting the exchange as they milled around. The biggest knot was around Anthony Heasleroad, of course, the Bossman of Iowa-Governor and President Pro Tem, formally, but that was the word everyone used in ordinary speech. She could just hear him saying: ?… keep the great agricultural industry of Iowa in responsible, experienced hands for the common good of Farmer and Evacuee alike…?
His voice held the same booming sententiousness most barons at home would use when talking about mesne tithes and heraldry and the idleness of the peasants. Like Mathilda and Rudi he?d been born in the first Change Year, but he looked older to her. Part of that was the fact that he also looked like the statue of an athlete that had been covered in an inch of soft tallow and left in the hot sun until it began to sag a little.
Though I may be prejudiced, Mathilda thought. And he also looks like a man who trusts nobody, including the men who guard his sleep. They say Mom?s that way but she isn?t: she always said paranoia was as stupid as gullibility, and just as likely to kill you.
Kate was tall and willowy; her neck and fingers and piled dark hair sparkled with some truly impressive and not too gaudy jewelry, offset by the simply cut but obviously new blue silk of her knee-length dress. That had probably cost more. Jewelry could be salvaged, but silk had to be imported around the world over trade routes just beginning to function again.
And unlike her demented spouse, she seems amiable enough. Not the brightest candle in the chandelier, but good-hearted. ?Oh, it?s bad enough being married to the Governor, much less being a, um, Queen!? Kate said.?I swear, I didn?t expect everyone to be always asking for things before I married Tony! That was before his father died and he became Bossman, of course.? ?Ah, well, that is a drawback of being close to a sovereign,? Mathilda 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 High King over all the realms. And they most certainly would accept it if by my marrying that man they could have their own Lord Protector?s blood on the throne in another generation. ..
The thought passed through her mind in an instant, but her blood leapt at an image of Rudi beside her and a cheering host of Associates and Mackenzies, Bearkillers and Corvallans and manymore below crying him hail. Her heart beat even harder at the thought of him leading her to a bride?s bower. How Rudi would love that, and hate the idea of a crown! And how well he?d do at both…
But right now he?s over there in the wilderness and I?m a prisoner in everything but name, and likely to lose my head if my attention strays. Concentrate, woman!
Kate had sighed and nodded, looking around. ?There are always people who won?t live peacefully, like the Heuisinks. Why, why, when we have all this??
Candles burned on the tables whose snowy linen held the buffet; the aide brought them a second set of hand-sized plates, this time with garlicky meatballs on toothpicks and little skewers of hot spicy grilled chicken and tiny, tender vegetables. Some of the guests plowed stolidly through cold meats and breads and salads and dishes of spiced pickled fish or nibbled on candied fruits, while others punished the wet bar and grew red-faced and expansive or brooded in corners. ?It scares me sometimes,? the Bossman?s wife said softly. Then in an undertone, but fiercely:?And people are always flattering Anthony, and, and telling him anything he wants to hear. It?s like water dripping on iron!?
Mathilda turned away diplomatically, watching the crowd as Kate stammered and flushed and then cast her a grateful look for letting the matter drop. Younger men and women flirted; serious-looking ones in middle age stood in small circles, holding drinks and talking politics and business… or possibly just gossiping. A chamber group of musicians tootled away at something soothing in a corner, and the air smelled of fine food, wine, perfume, warm linen and wool, a little of sweat and perfume, and strongly of expensive beeswax candles.