The Black Raven - Katharine Kerr [92]
“Truly?” Nevyn made a great effort and managed to look surprised.
“Truly. A sad sad thing! But here, I just had another thought. Once he gets rid of Braemys, the prince will have Cantrae to hand out for a prize. It’s not as rich as Cerrmor, but it’ll be a goodly sop nonetheless.”
“Just so.”
“One last thing.” Oggyn hesitated, staring down at the table. “What will our prince think of breaking precedents and precedence this way?”
“I think we’d best go ask him.”
Prince Maryn, it turned out, had already retired to his private chambers. Since Nevyn was one of the few men in the kingdom who could follow him there, he got a candle lantern and led the way, with a nervous Oggyn trailing behind him. Maryn greeted them both courteously and ushered them into his reception chamber, now free of most of the battered furniture. A low fire smoldered in the hearth, and candles blazed in their wall sconces.
“I was tired of the noise in the great hall,” Maryn said. “This business of not sleeping all night—it wears a man down.”
“My apologies, my liege,” Nevyn said, “if we woke you.”
“No such luck. Be seated, good councillors.”
Maryn flopped into a half-round chair and slouched down, crossing his long legs in front of him at the ankle. In the candlelight his skin looked as smooth as a child’s, and Nevyn found himself remembering that handsome little boy of years past, who had been so eager to be king.
“Oggyn?” Nevyn said. “I suggest you lay your findings before our prince.”
Oggyn explained, with much flapping of parchments, the poverty of Maryn’s new realm. Maryn listened intently, but his face was absolutely unreadable, and he said not a word, not even when Oggyn read off the dismal lists of burnt villages and unplowed fields. When Oggyn fell silent, Nevyn laid out their plan to grant Cerrmor a limited charter in return for revenues. He’d not quite finished when the prince interrupted.
“I can’t do that,” Maryn snapped. “What will happen when the hundred years are over and the town refuses to accept a gwerbret?”
“My liege!” Oggyn said. “None of us will be alive in a hundred years.”
“So?” Maryn got to his feet and began pacing back and forth by the fire. “That’s not the point. It’s the honor of the thing.”
Since the prince was standing, Nevyn and Oggyn had to stand as well. Oggyn laid his parchments down carefully on a table and tried again.
“My liege, do you disagree with my words about the state of affairs here in Dun Deverry?”
“Not at all,” Maryn said. “I meant to commend you on your hard work, in fact. There’s no doubt it’s worrisome, but by Great Bel himself, how can I release Cerrmor from the dues it owes its rightful lords?”
“Once you’re seated as king, my liege,” Nevyn said, “Cerrmor will have no rightful lord.”
“Oh come now!” Maryn stopped pacing and turned to face him. “Aren’t you the one who taught me how important order and the laws and honor and such are to the kingdom? There have always been gwerbretion in Cerrmor. That’s the way the gods and the laws both intend the city to be ruled. How can I take my place as high king if I overthrow those laws, even to—” Maryn hesitated for a long moment. “Even to save my rule?”
“There are times,” Nevyn said, “when a man must break the words of laws in order to honor their spirit. If the kingdom’s to have peace, there absolutely must be strong kings in Dun Deverry.”
“Well then! How can my vassals respect me if I’ve thrown Cerrmor to the common folk?”
At that point Nevyn realized that he would never change the prince’s mind, not if he argued the entire winter through. He glanced at Oggyn, standing head down and defeated nearby.
“Our liege has spoken,” Nevyn said. “Good Councillor, I think we’d best come up with some other remedy.”
“Just so.” Oggyn made the prince a low bow. “If Your Highness will excuse us?”
“Of course. And please understand that I appreciate your efforts on my behalf.”
“My prince?” Nevyn said. “A boon, if I may be so bold.”
“When couldn’t you ask me for anything?