Kushiel's Chosen - Jacqueline Carey [300]
"Terre d'Ange stands under the rule of Ysandre de la Courcel," was all I said.
"Truly, I hope so. I am weary of intrigue tearing my loyalties asunder." Severio took my hand, face somber. He had grown a great deal from the rough-tongued young nobleman I'd met at the Palace. "Phèdre, I do not know if events to come will make enemies or allies of us. If Ysandre falls ... I must stand with La Serenissima, and the city will follow where profit lies. Whosoever rules Terre d'Ange, trade must continue. But know that I will always think fondly of you, and I am sorry for what passed between us before."
"I owe you my life," I said to him. "For that, among other things, I will always be grateful, Prince Severio."
At that he smiled, a little bit. "You taught me to be proud of my D'Angeline heritage, Phèdre nó Delaunay, and to gaze at those parts of myself I despised without fear. It would not, I think, have been so ill a marriage." Bowing, Severio released my hand. "Luck to you, my lady," he said softly. "And warn your Queen not to look to the Doge over-long for support. Once she's left Serenissiman soil, Grandfather will wait to see how matters play out."
I'd never doubted it; but then, Severio was a slow learner in the family business of intrigue. I prayed he remained thus, for he was a better person for it. "Thank you, my lord, and Blessed Elua keep you in his regard."
This was my final farewell in the city of La Serenissima, for we departed the next day at dawn, escorted on the Doge's mighty ships to the D'Angeline encampment on the mainland. My heart swelled to see the bright silken tents with all their pennants fluttering, glossy-hided horses at pasture, hundreds of D'Angeline faces waiting expectantly!
So many ... and yet so few, when one reckoned the odds. The entourage of the progressus regalis numbered a mere seven hundred, of which nearly two hundred were household attendants, cooks, grooms, seamstresses, hairdressers, poets, musicians and the like. Two dozen noble peers, men and women alike, accompanied the Queen; the number set down in ritual centuries ago. Some had brought their families and men-at-arms. It made me nervous to see children in the entourage—for there were several—knowing the danger we were leaving behind, and the danger that lay ahead.
The progressus has never been intended as a show of D'Angeline force in Caerdicca Unitas; it is an act of respect and mutual trust. No monarch has undertaken it when the city-states were at war—which is one reason it had not been done in so long—and no monarch has undertaken it without being secure in the knowledge of D'Angeline loyalties being united behind them, promising dire retribution on any nation that dared threaten the progressus. Although there were valid political reasons behind it, most especially the need to rebuild the Caerdicci alliances whose absence was evinced during Selig's invasion, I do not think Ysandre would have done it if it had not been for the steady urgings of Benedicte de la Courcel.
The Queen's Guard—the Queen's Guard numbered only five hundred men. And one hundred of these would remain in La Serenissima to secure the Vicomte de Cherevin's stewardship of the Little Court.
If there was a good face one could put on it, it meant that we would be able to move swiftly, retracing a course across the Caerdicci peninsula strung with alliances solidified mere days and weeks before. Elua willing, they would provide us with aid in the matter of supplies and fresh horses.
Ysandre held a brief meeting with her Captain of the Guard and his four remaining lieutenants, her Bursar and the Master of Horse. Whatever transpired, it did not fare well—a tent affords poor insulation for voices raised in heated argument. I know that Ysandre left the meeting in considerable temper, a flush of color on her high cheekbones, and Amaury Trente