The Commander of the Righteous received a summons to the Imperial Presence the evening of the day following her arrival. The lifeguard who brought the message told him the Empress expected him to dine with her. He should dress accordingly.
That meant a hurried bath and a change to his other clothes. He traveled light in the field, seldom dressing better than his soldiers.
He grumbled because this might cause a delay in leaving.
He was ready to go, having accomplished his mission.
The Empress had taken the quarters of the directors. Living rough. She did not mind, though she had only two distraught young women to manage her needs, leaving much to her lifeguards. Who, Hecht noted, went about their business grimly.
Protecting this impulsive Empress might be more difficult than had been protecting the Captain-General. Katrin had no real need to go dangerous places. She did not have to be difficult. But she did feel compelled to be her father’s daughter.
Katrin was not in a good mood. “Is that the best you have to wear? You look like one of your foot soldiers.”
“It is, I fear, Your Grace. I did not anticipate a need for anything better.”
Katrin dropped it. “This went well. What next?”
“Back to Hochwasser and Alten Weinberg. Then steady training and planning for next year. For now, we should send an advance party to the Holy Lands. What we know now isn’t much more than rumor.”
Katrin had established herself behind the bulwark of a large, rude table. She remained there, unmoving, occasional flickers of discomfort darkening her features. She was, for sure, not well.
One of her lifeguards brought a chair, placed it opposite her. She indicated that Hecht should sit.
She began to talk the business of crusade and empire but seemed vaguely distracted.
The first course arrived, something local that Hecht neither recognized nor appreciated. It was a dough ball filled with shredded meat, unfamiliar spices, and strange chopped vegetables. The Empress observed, “Their people weren’t big on luxuries. Especially food.”
Hecht caught a whiff of coffee. It made him sit up straight and look toward the doorway whence the server lifeguard had entered and departed.
Katrin managed a smile. “Some things are too marvelous to give up, however much I don’t mind living rough.”
The coffee arrived with what turned out to be both the main and final course, a roast slab of unidentifiable beast the attending lifeguard divided according to status rather than capacity.
Hecht tied in, ate slowly, talked planning, and hoped the disappearance of the lifeguards and the absence of courtiers did not foreshadow another difficult situation.
Katrin did get personal. And became personable. A little food, a little wine, doing wonders for her mood.
She quizzed him about his past and plans, about Anna Mozilla, the children, what he thought of Helspeth as a person and his feelings toward her. She knew an uncomfortable lot about Piper Hecht. As always, she came to the question that seemed to consume her: Had he and Helspeth yet been intimate?
“This is difficult, Your Grace. The answer is, no. We haven’t. Nor will ever be. Though I might find it difficult to keep my place if she insisted.” He might want to sell a dangerous lie later.
“Helspeth wouldn’t insist. Helspeth is dutiful to the needs of the Empire. But a well-timed nudge could tip her over with her heels in the air.”
Katrin was tormenting him. Trying to provoke him. Being jealous of Helspeth. Again. “I’m not comfortable discussing these things, Your Grace. My role is to help you liberate the Holy Lands.”
“As your Empress we’re free to interpret your duties as it please us, Commander of the Righteous.” Using an Imperial “we” for the first time in his experience. With a tremor in her voice.
Hecht was frightened now. He had a notion where Katrin was headed. He did not want to be there when she arrived. But he saw no way to escape.
Katrin said, “Have you heard rumors about my private court, Commander?” Voice more tremulous.
He could not deny that. “I have, Your Grace. Canards put about by your enemies, surely. All rulers suffer such things.”
“But you’re afraid there might be some truth there, aren’t you?”
“It isn’t my place to be concerned. My mission…”
“Those rumors might be true, Commander. I’ve become infatuated with human coupling. I’ve made some of my ladies mate with their lovers while I watch. Some find that exciting.”
Most, he suspected, had been humiliated. Their humiliation would be what Katrin fed the darkness within her.
“You don’t think well of me. For that. I don’t think well of myself. I did stop watching those who objected. I just wanted to satisfy my curiosity, anyway.”
Which left Hecht puzzled. And disinclined to believe her.
“Of course. I’m no virgin. Why should I be curious? Because Jaime is my only experience. Jaime was never the kind of lover my ladies whispered and giggled about when they thought I wasn’t listening. Jaime was a brute. He did nothing to make me want to be there while he spilled his seed. My agents found other women he used during his stay in Alten Weinberg. His ill usage wasn’t reserved for a disdained spouse.”
“Your Grace, I beg you. This isn’t something I need to hear.”
“But you do. Jaime of Castauriga is, was, the watershed event of your Empress’s life. Jaime of Castauriga created what you see: A woman sick in body and soul. A woman who can’t fulfill her foremost duty to the Empire. I can’t produce an heir.”
Hecht tried to be reassuring. He failed.
“Commander, I know there are diplomats out west trying to lure Jaime back. For my sake. For the sake of the succession. For the sake of their own ambitions. It doesn’t matter. He won’t come. The conflict between the Jaime I imagined and the Jaime of reality will shape me for as long as I go on. My problem at the moment is my terror, knowing I may not go on long.”
Hecht grew uncomfortable in a different way.
Had he misjudged? Was she just venting secret torments? Ridding her soul of things she could not share with anyone else because anyone else would use her revelations as political tools?
“Commander, I’m dying. Slowly, but definitely getting there.”
“Uh…”
“It isn’t just the poison. Though I’ll never fully recover from that.”
“But…”
“The second pregnancy. It did something to me. Sometimes I’m deathly sick. The physicians and healing brothers can’t figure it out. Can’t make it go away. I piss purple and turn blue. It brings on episodes of madness. I don’t know that while they’re happening. People tell me, afterward. When it’s sometimes too late to undo the damage.”
Hecht was becoming more comfortable in his discomfort. This was, indeed, just a guided tour of Katrin’s inner hell. “Not to insult you in any way. Have the healers considered exorcism?”
“I’m sure they’ve discussed it. They haven’t had the nerve to suggest it. Should I raise the matter myself?”
“That might ease their fears.”
“When we get back to Alten Weinberg, then. Meantime, I have a new assignment for you.” Katrin left her seat, moved to a shadowy corner where she fiddled briefly with a wall hanging. Her hands were shaking. “Help me with this, please.”
“All right.” He shoved his chair back, rose, went.
Katrin’s gown collapsed around her. There was nothing but pallid, lean woman underneath. She stepped out, spread the gown around, dropped to hands and knees atop it, lowered her forehead onto her folded hands.
“Your Grace!”
“You know what you have to do.”
“I can’t! It’s not…”
