The Born Queen - J. Gregory Keyes [53]
“It’s done, Majesty,” the Sefry replied.
John Waite, of course, was already waiting in the Hall of Doves when Anne arrived there. Plump, balding, pleasant of expression, John had been her father’s valet. He’d been imprisoned and apparently forgotten by Robert, which was a better fate than most of the late king’s staff had received.
“Majesty,” he said, bowing as she entered the room.
“Hello, John,” she replied.
“I understand you wanted to speak with me, Majesty.”
She nodded. “Yes, John. I was going to wait until everyone was here, but we may have something of a delay while they’re all found.” She took a seat in what once had been her father’s armchair, a straight-backed affair with arms carved to resemble feathered pinions. Made of white ash, it fit well in the white marble and abundant light of the Hall of Doves.
“My father trusted you more than anyone, John, and I know the two of you were close.”
“That’s very kind of you to say, Your Majesty. I miss your father a great deal.”
“I do, too,” she said. “I wish he were in this chair right now, not me. But it is me, as that’s how it is.”
“It’s what your father wanted.”
Anne almost laughed. “I’m sure he imagined Fastia here, not me. No one imagined it would be me here, I’m sure. Was I horrible to you, John?”
He smiled indulgently. “Just a bit of a prankster,” he said. “But I always knew you had a good heart.”
“I was horrible,” Anne contradicted. “And I may be horrible yet; I’m still learning. But I hope you will consider being gardoald and keybearer of the house Dare.”
The old man’s eyes widened. “Majesty—I—I haven’t the blood for that position.”
“You will when I create you lord,” she replied.
John reddened. “Your Highness, I’ve no idea what to say.”
“Say yes. You won’t thrust a knife in my back, John. I need men like that.”
He bowed deeply. “I would be most honored,” he replied.
“Good. We’ll discuss particulars later, but the first thing I’d like you to do is see to finding me some ladies-in-waiting and a female head of staff. Someone absolutely trustworthy, you understand? Someone whom I don’t have to worry about and who will not bother me much.”
John bowed again, but when he straightened, he had a puzzled expression. “Your young maid, Austra. I should consider her for head of staff.”
“No, I have other plans for her.”
His eyebrows shot up in surprise, but he nodded. “As you wish.”
“Thank you, John. Please arrange for some wine to be brought and then rejoin me here. As my gardoald, these discussions will concern you.”
“Yes, Majesty.”
She heard footsteps approaching and looked up in time to see Artwair come in.
“Well, Cousin,” she said. “Here I am, just as you wished.”
“I am pleased,” he said. “We need our empress here, Anne.”
“I’m here,” she replied. “When the others arrive, we’ll discuss those matters you deem most urgent.”
“Who else is coming?”
“John will be back. I’m making him gardoald.”
“That’s not a bad choice,” Artwair said. “You’ll have to title him.”
“I know. Can you think of a good one?”
Artwair frowned. “Haul Atref, I should think. One of Robert’s puppets slaughtered the former Lord Haul and all his kin. The castle is garrisoned but masterless.”
“Then I shall create him Lord Haul,” Anne said.
“Well, here’s my grandniece, back from her adventures,” a lowtimbred voice said.
“Grannuncle Fail,” Anne said, allowing him to gather her in a hug. “I trust all went well at Copenwis.”
“As well as it could. I still don’t like it, but I imagine they’re in Hansa by now.”
“Mother will be fine,” Anne said. She heard more footsteps and saw that the others had arrived.
“My lords,” she said. “Let’s begin, shall we? Tell me what I need to know. Duke of Haundwarpen, you first.”
Artwair drew himself up and clasped his wooden hand with his living one. “Hansa continues to occupy Copenwis, and they are massing ships there and in Saltmark. My guess is that they will disembark ground forces for a march on Eslen and send their navy against