The Charnel Prince (36 page)

“I see,” Muriele said, stiffening. “You’re suggesting I allow a
Pax Sacer
.”

The praifec nodded. “As it was done then. His eminence the Fratrex Prismo could be persuaded to lend troops to secure the peace and allay suspicions that you are showing favoritism.”

“And yet fifty years later, Hansa conquered all of Crotheny, east and west.”

“True, but only after the
pax
was put aside.”

“So your suggestion is that I allow the occupation of this city by troops from Vitellia.”

“From z’Irbina,” Hespero corrected. “The most holy Fratrex Prismo’s own men. Only until the political situation here is peacefully resolved. It is the best way, Majesty. Hansa will never dare go against the Church. Peace will be preserved, countless lives saved.”

Muriele closed her eyes. It was tempting. If she gave control to the Church, she could rest. She could concentrate on protecting the children she had left.

“The Church hasn’t taken sides on the part of any country in three hundred years,” she said. “Why now?”

“Surely you understand, Majesty, that this goes well beyond determining who will sit the throne of Crotheny a year hence. A great evil has risen in the world, one we do not understand, but one which we cannot ignore.”

“You’ve read the latest reports from Duke Artwair, in the east? Half his men have been slain by what can only be described as hordes of naked madmen, by demons and monsters the likes of which the world has not seen since the Warlock Wars. Whole towns have been destroyed, and the east empties out. Eslen is near to bursting from the refugees, and we are still losing ground.”

“But it isn’t just on the frontiers—Broogh was in the heart of Newland, and destroyed by an unholy creature none of us suspected remained in the world. Now is the time for nations to unite, not for them to be divided. You must stand together against this dark rising of the tide, not fight amongst yourselves as it drowns you. That is what I am offering you—not merely the chance to save this earthly throne, but to make it possible for us all to combat the
real
foe—together.”

“Under the leadership of z’Irbina.”

Hespero fingered his beard. “The reason we do not take sides in the secular conflicts of nations, Majesty, is because we have a higher calling. Virgenya Dare cleansed our world of the first evil, of the Skasloi. And yet it seems that no matter how well and deeply evil is defeated, it always returns, in a different guise. It is the Church which took up Virgenya Dare’s mantle and her mission. When the Black Jester rose, it was through the leadership of the Church that he was thrown down in defeat.”

“Yes. And then the Church ruled most of the known world for six hundred years.”

“It was a golden age,” Hespero said, frowning at her tone. “The most perfect peace and prosperity Everon has ever known.”

“You wish a return to that?”

“We could do worse, but I am suggesting no such outcome. What I am saying is that we must be unified, and not through war or conquest. We need a cleansing, a
resacaratum
, that will prepare us for the great test to come. The
resacaratum
has already begun, Majesty, within the Church itself, but it must—it will—go further than that.”

“You’re asking me to let an army march through my gates and occupy my country without a fight.”

“By holy mandate, Majesty. To bring the peace and justice Crotheny so desperately needs.”

“What if I refuse?” Muriele asked.

Hespero’s face seemed to wither a little. “Then you deal us all a mortal blow,” he said. “But we
will
be unified—we will fight this evil somehow. I am suggesting the best course of action, but not the only one.”

“Suggest another,” she challenged.

He shook his head, and his eyes glinted strangely. “It should not come to that. Please, Majesty—will you at least consider my words?”

“Of course, Praifec,” she said. “They are wise words, and these are large matters, and I am tired. We will speak of this again soon. Be prepared to tell me in more specifics how your plan would be implemented.”

“I pray the saints send you their best judgment, Majesty.” He bowed and left, leaving Muriele with the distinct impression that she had been threatened.

Hespero seemed sincere, and he was correct—something terrible was happening in the world, and he probably knew more about it than she did. The Church’s intention might be entirely pure, and it was entirely possible that Hespero was right, that allowing sacred troops in her city would be the best for everyone.

But she saw what the praifec had carefully hinted at, as well. Whatever the Church’s ultimate motives and intentions, they needed a tool to accomplish them. A nation. If Crotheny would not be that nation, only Hansa remained.

She was still considering that when they brought in Alis Berrye, who was still wearing the dressing gown Muriele had last seen her in.

“Majesty,” the girl murmured, bowing. She stood uncomfortably as Muriele appraised her. She was a pretty thing—there was no way around that, even with the dark circles under her sapphire eyes and her curly hair in absolute disarray.

“She has been searched?” she asked the man-at-arms.

“Yes, Majesty. She has no weapons.”

“You searched her hair?”

“Ah—no, Majesty. But I shall.”

He proceeded to do just that. Berrye took it with a tiny smile on her face.

“Do I seem so dangerous to you, Majesty?” she asked.

Muriele didn’t answer, but nodded toward the man-at-arms. “Please leave us, sir,” she said.

When the door was closed behind him, Muriele settled into an armchair.

“Lady Berrye,” she said. “Much has happened in the past few bells. Doubtless you have heard some of the rumors.”

“Some, Majesty,” she allowed.

“Someone tried to kill me last night.”

“That’s terrible.”

“Thank you. I know you’ve never wished me anything but the best of health.”

Berrye looked puzzled. “I never have, Majesty. I have always admired you and wished you well.”

“Even when you were in bed with my husband?”

“Of course.”

“But it never occurred to you that it might bother me?”

Berrye shrugged. “That was a matter between you and His Majesty. If it bothered you, he was the one to tell. Unless I was the
only
one of his mistresses you took exception to.”

“You are too bold, perhaps,” Muriele said, “especially now, when you don’t enjoy his protection.”

“I have no one’s protection, Majesty,” Berrye said. “I am most acutely aware of that.”

Something was wrong here, Muriele realized. Wasn’t
anything
the way she thought it was?

“You
are
too bold,” she repeated. “Where is the simpering, nervous girl who used to cower when I entered the room?”

Again, Berrye smiled faintly. “She died with William.”

“You will refer to my late husband as his Majesty or as the king or not at all, Lady Berrye.”

“Very well,” she said easily.

“Enough of this,” Muriele said. “My time is precious. You wrote to me claiming that I was in danger. Within a few bells of that correspondence, there was an attempt on my life. If you want that head of yours to stay where it is, you’ll explain to me—this moment—precisely what you know.”

If Berrye was surprised that Muriele knew she had left the note, she didn’t show it. She stood straight, without any fidgeting, and met Muriele’s gaze squarely. “I will tell you everything I know, Majesty, but I believe my letter also mentioned my own need for protection.”

“At this moment, you need protection from me. And the only thing that will save you is the truth.”

Berrye acknowledged that with a small nod of her head.

“Do you know
why
His Majesty was on the headland of Aenah that day?” she asked Muriele.

“You’re going to tell me you know?”

“Prince Robert came to the king, in the Warhearth. He had been gone for some time, on a secret embassy to Saltmark. When he returned, he brought something with him—the severed finger of Princess Lesbeth.”

“Lesbeth.” Lesbeth was William’s younger sister, Robert’s twin. She had long been missing.

“Prince Robert claimed that Lesbeth’s betrothed—Cheiso of Safnia—had betrayed her into the hands of the Duke of Austrobaurg, who was holding her hostage.”

“For what ransom?”

“Saltmark, you remember, was pursuing a war against the Sorrow Isles. The ransom was that His Majesty arrange to secretly aid them in that war.”

Muriele crossed her arms. “The Sorrows are a Lierish protectorate and thus under our protection, as well. He could not do that.”

“His Majesty could and did,” Berrye said. “You must know how much he loved Lesbeth.”

“Everyone loved Lesbeth. But to aid our enemies in a war against our friends—William was rarely that poor in judgment.”

“Prince Robert pushed him into it—he was very convincing, especially since he had Lesbeth’s finger as proof. Ships from Crotheny, under assumed banners, attacked and sank twenty Sorrovian ships. His Majesty went to Aenah to collect the princess Lesbeth, and there he was betrayed.”

“By whom? Austrobaurg was killed, as well.” But a terrible sense was emerging, now. Perhaps the Lierish arrows that had slain her husband’s guard had not been artificially planted after all. Perhaps it really had been the retribution of some Lierish lord who knew what William had done.

And if that were true, did Fail de Liery know? Had this entire attempt on her life been designed to lead her directly into his hands?

“I have a guess as to who the betrayer was,” Berrye said, “but no certain proof.”

“Well?”

The girl paced a few steps, hands clasped behind her back. Then she turned to face Muriele again. “Did you know that Ambria Gramme had another lover?” she asked.

Muriele snorted. “Whom
didn’t
she spread her legs for—that’s the question.”

Berrye shook her head. “This was a very secret lover. A very important one.”

“Do not tire me, Lady Berrye. Who was he?”

A small look of triumph spread across Berrye’s face. “Prince Robert,” she said.

Muriele took a moment to absorb that fact. After the initial shock, she realized that it wasn’t really that surprising. Robert had always wanted what William possessed. He had even tried to seduce Muriele a time or two. “What of it?”

“Prince Robert convinced His Majesty to pay the ransom. Prince Robert set the time and the place for both His Majesty and Austrobaurg to meet. Only the prince knew all the details.”

“You believe Robert betrayed William to his death?”

“I believe it.”

“Despite the fact that Robert was also killed in the ambush?”

Berrye blinked. “Robert was never found, Majesty.”

“They only found part of William,” Muriele said. “He was thrown into the sea. Presumably Robert . . .” She trailed off. Why had she so easily assumed Robert was dead? Because everyone else had? “What has this to do with Gramme?” she demanded.

“I recently heard her speak of the prince as if she knew he was still alive. She intimated that she had seen him.”

“She said this to you?”

“No,” Berrye admitted, “but I heard it, nevertheless. And I think
she knows it.”

“You’ve made it your business to hear a great many things, it would seem,” Muriele noticed.

“Yes, Majesty, I have.”

“And
how
did you hear all of this?”

“I think you know, Majesty,” Berrye said, pushing her disorderly
curls away from her face, finally showing a bit of real nervousness. “The same way you knew who had left you the note.”

“So. William knew about the passages.”

To her surprise, Berrye laughed, a terse little giggle. “His Majesty? No, he knew nothing of them.”

Muriele frowned. “Then how did you—?” It hit her then. “You’re coven-trained.”

Berrye nodded infinitesimally.

Muriele sat back, trying to reform her picture of the girl, wondering if there was anything at all solid in her life.

“Did Erren know?” she asked, her voice sounding weak to her own ears.

“I do not think so, Majesty. We were not of the same order.”

A chill tightened Muriele’s spine. “There is only the order of Cer.” But Erren herself had voiced the opinion that there were other, illicit orders.

“There is another,” Berrye confirmed.

“And they sent you here.”

“Yes, Majesty. To keep my eyes and ears open, to stay near the king.”

Now it was Muriele’s turn to laugh, though somewhat bitterly. “That you did most admirably well. Aren’t you supposed to be celibate?”