caution disguised by sophistry. There is another kind, unadorned, that tells us that too much emphasis on the merchant’s needs creates a nation both morally and physically weak, a prey to stronger nations.”
“So would many of our Stoics agree, in this land,” she said. “But the world should support all manner of philosophies, I think, and it should be the duty of the righteous to protect the weak while encouraging the strong.” She hardly knew what she said, for the words were almost rote, diplomatic habit; yet Oubacha Khan, though he responded in similar terms, found them significant.
“For there is considerable strength in apparent weakness,” she continued, casting another glance towards the Tilt, where two new knights now fought. “Of course, the Tatar people are famous for their subtlety, and must know that.”
Oubacha Khan said: “That belief can become dangerous to the one who holds it. Strength can melt away without his realising.”
“Unless he is reminded always of the necessity for maintaining his strength, my lord.” She smiled, rising to watch as the knights levelled their lances and, mantling streaming, went upon one another at full gallop. There came a crash, a cheer, as both knights broke their spears but retained their seats, returning to their positions for fresh weapons. “If I, for instance, should grow weak, you, as a friend, would be ready to remind me, I am sure.”
“Indeed, Your Majesty.” Oubacha Khan had enjoyed the exchange much more than had the Queen. He understood her to mean that Tatary’s gathering of arms along Arabia’s borders would act as a signal for Albion to grow alert. And he was satisfied, for this was what he expected of diplomacy.
“My Lord of Kansas!” The Queen greeted the bronzed, long face with genuine pleasure. “You have not yet returned to your Virginian estates?”
“Soon, Your Majesty. There is a great deal to keep me here. And I would not miss the Tilt.” The soft-spoken noble smiled, bowing to kiss her gloved hand. He was clad in doublet and puffed hose of varying yellows, with a short purple cape upon his shoulder, a broad-brimmed, befeathered hat upon his head, and this he removed as he bent.
She teased him. “You are most gaudily dressed, for a Stoic, my lord.”
“I am dressed, today, for a Queen,” he said.
“You become a perfect courtier, my lord.” As Oubacha Khan politely departed, she patted the couch to bring Lord Kansas down beside her.
He grinned, complying. “In honesty, madam, I feel like a stuffed pumpkin.”
She was comically grave. “You look very handsome, my lord. Do you enjoy the Tilt?”
“I do.”
“You do not take part?”
“No, madam. I’ve little experience at formal arms and I haven’t the retainers sufficient to support me. Not here.”
“You brought a very small household, so I heard.”
“It’s my habit, madam, for often I travel only in the company of soldiers, as you know.”
“You have tilts in Virginia. I have read of them.”
“Elaborate ones, Your Majesty.”
“But, as a Stoic, you deplore the pomp, eh?”
“I accept its necessity, madam. Here, at any rate. I share with the Countess of Scaith'-it was evident that he regretted his lack of tact, but he continued almost without pause-“a preference for simpler methods of maintaining the State’s dignity. But they will come, in time, I think. Old memories must be crushed beneath a weight of gallantry.”
“I shared that belief, also,” said the Queen. “I envy you your pastoral Virginian life. Is it peaceful, in Kansas, my lord?”
“Too peaceful for a man of my kind, sometimes, madam. You know the Virginian temperament, by and large, I suppose. We enjoy the land. We are secure. At peace with our fellow nations and, now, with Albion.”
“The rebellions were small enough.”
“And not against the Realm, only its representative.” He made it clear he referred to Hern.
“Yes.” Gloriana rubbed an eye and dipped her chin into her ruff. “But if there were war? Would the Virginian nobles pledge support to us?”
Lord Kansas was surprised. “War?”
She put fingers upon his forearm. “There are no wars starting today, my lord. Not, at least, that we know of. I merely asked a speculative question.”
“Virginia would come to war. Reluctantly. But she would come.”
“It is as I thought.”
“This Perrott business, madam. Surely it has not reached such proportions…?”
“It has reached nowhere, my lord. Save that the Perrotts are justly angered at the slaying of their sister and the disappearance of their father. But they will cool.”
“There are none at the Tilt.”
“You have noticed?” She admitted a weary smile. “Aye. They stay away this year. The Perrotts and their kinsmen. Who can blame them? But they will, I assure you, come round.”
“I hope so, madam. Sir Amadis. His wife was a Perrott, eh?”
“Recalled to home. Sir Amadis had leave to go with her, but declined. They are separated. It will not last. Sir Lepsius Lee has gone to Kent with his wife, taking his retainers from the Court.”
“You are not hurt by such disloyalty, madam?”
“We are the Realm, my lord, and thus have no human feelings.” Her expression hooded, she looked again towards the tournament. She kept her hand on his arm. “Your direct farmer’s ways are refreshing to us, Lord Kansas, but not always suited to Court life.”
He chuckled. “You’ll forgive me?”
“You charm us, as always, my lord.”
Lord Montfallcon approached with narrowed eyes. “My Lord of Kansas?”
Kansas rose and Kansas bowed. “Your grace.”
At that moment Queen Gloriana understood her Lord Chancellor: he saw the Virginian noble as a possible suitor. Did he approve? And did Kansas pay court to her? She wondered. She looked at one and then the other. She waved a fan against her cheek.
“You have grown to love our Court, apparently,” said Lord Montfallcon.
“As I love the whole island.” Kansas hesitated. He seemed reluctant to speak further, perhaps because he feared Montfallcon’s oversensitive interpretation.
The grey lord moved in black robes slowly towards the Queen, almost as if he menaced her, and Lord Kansas began to raise his hand, by impulse, perhaps to stop him. Then he dropped the hand to the pommel of his dress dagger.
“Madam,” said Lord Montfallcon, hardly conscious of these gestures, “the ambassador from Cathay would speak with you.”
“Let him approach, my lord.” Gloriana smiled farewell to Kansas and returned to Duty.
And Duty she did, throughout the week, as the sun grew hotter and hotter, the crowd more boisterous, the Chivalric contests more glamorous, with silk, steel and water, dust and haze combining to create a scene which came, daily, to resemble a dream. She attended banquets and enchanted everyone. She bestowed honours, accepted gifts, gave out praise to all, while the general opinion was that this was the finest of Summer Festivals, that it would never be equalled in perfection and merriment. Not a knight, nor yeoman, nor ambassador, nor lady, nor dignitary, nor merchant, but left the Queen’s presence with joyful heart and hopeful step. And if the Queen had come to rely a little more each day upon her paint pots to maintain her bloom, none made adverse comment upon the fact, or even saw, as silent Sir Thomasin Ffynne or aching Ingleborough saw, how pale she became.
And Lord Montfallcon, moving amongst the guests, amplifying and sustaining the Queen’s good work, refused to see, or to listen to Tom Ffynne or Lisuarte Ingleborough when they mentioned it to him. He had become almost hearty towards his potential enemies, to his many acquaintances, but grew colder towards his friends.
Meanwhile, Sir Amadis Cornfield attended only those ceremonies at which he must be missed, while speeding often to the old East Wing; and Doctor Dee, absent-minded but amiable, came forth from his lodgings only rarely,
