Ilario, the Stone Golem (49 page)

touching on the truth.

‘I hope you’re getting somewhere in there,’ Tottola grumbled. ‘St

Gaius himself would be bored with this!’

Somewhat out of temper myself, I shook my head. ‘They might just as

well have sent us back to the ship. If things don’t change, I’ll put a dress

on and have a fit of female hysterics!’

That left the German brothers chuckling.

When Rekhmire’ and the King began to circle the discussion of royal

and clerical legalities for the third time, I gave in to temptation and

pulled a folded sheet of paper out of my leather purse. Smoothing it out

on my thigh, I began partial studies with a nub of chalk. The woollen

hose were warm for summer, and the mail – where the links sucked on to

my torso – breath-snatchingly hot. My knight’s training is long enough

243

ago that I had forgotten the breathlessness of wearing any armour in hot

weather.

The interwoven strands of linen and reed that made up Rekhmire’’s

headband provided an interesting challenge to draw. I added the curve of

his brow-ridge under it, the kohl-marked line of upper and lower eyelid;

sketched the shape of his mouth . . .

Is Rekhmire’ waiting until the King has talked himself dry before he

introduces some idea of his own? Or have they already talked that

through, and is he at a loss?

Talk dragged on for another quarter-hour by the King’s water clock. I

switched to drawing Rodrigo’s hands.

The King’s voice broke in on my thoughts. ‘Well, it is a curious

idea . . . ’

Glancing up, I found myself the focus of looks from King Rodrigo and

the Egyptian.

My hands were out of sight under the table. Or I hoped so. No matter

how well-drawn, a study of a man’s hands is unlikely to be well received

as the reason why I have no idea what has been suggested.

King Rodrigo lifted his chin from his fist and eased back in the oak

chair. He looked at me speculatively. ‘Would you consider it?’

I shot a glance which the book-buyer seemed accurately to read as

Help!
The envoy of the Pharaoh-Queen stretched his leg out under the oak table, flinching barely perceptibly. ‘Perhaps I could explain to you in

more detail, Ilario?’

There was an odd glint in his dark eyes.
Yes:
I
know:
I
should
have
drawn
less,
and
paid
more
attention!
But between the crucial decisions here, which may affect all my life, and Honorius in prison in another part

of the palace, is it any wonder I desire only to lose myself in contour and

value?

Rekhmire’s large hand gestured towards the window. ‘Let us agree

that Admiral Zheng He’s appearance at Taraco
begins
to be a cause for

the recall of Lord Videric, but is not sufficient cause.’

The Egyptian switched his gaze to me.

‘Last year’s scandal that deposed Videric from his position of first

minister was an accusation of attempted murder. That he sent his wife,

in fact, to murder you – you until then not known to be Videric and

Rosamunda’s child. And Carthage took this attempted killing badly.’

Rekhmire’ kept a perfectly even expression during his last words.

Had I been closer, I would have kicked his ankle under the table,

injured knee or not.

‘
And?
’ I prompted, robbed of anxiety by minor irritation. Which, I realised, is likely his design.

‘And . . . ’ Rekhmire’ glanced at Rodrigo. ‘His Majesty agrees that if

the scandal was between Videric and you – then any cure for that scandal

must also be between Videric and you.’

244

Did this arise out of your discussion? I wondered. Some moment I was

lost in drawing? Or is this something you concocted aboard ship, and

failed to tell me?

I found myself chilled, despite the sun in the room.

‘It must be assumed that you and Aldra Videric are father and child.’

Rekhmire’ directed his dark gaze at me, like a shock of cold water.

‘Obviously this would involve some degree of untruth.’

‘You mean I have to lie.’

I had not expected to hear myself sound so bitter. This can’t be

unexpected, after all.

Rekhmire’ spoke with the greatest apparent innocence. ‘Call it

diplomacy.’

The humour – which I doubted any man might read there except for

me – faded from the Egyptian’s eyes as I failed to respond.

‘Continue,’ King Rodrigo murmured.

‘If it were publicly supposed that there had been a
mistake
.’

Rekhmire’ emphasised the final word softly.

‘If it were discovered that Carthage had been in error, and Lord

Videric is
not
responsible for attempted murder. Then that discovery – in

addition to negotiating friendly relations with Zheng He – might suffice

as a pretext for reappointing him as Taraco’s First Minister.’

King Rodrigo grunted. I know that rumble of old. ‘Don’t try my

patience.’ I slid the paper in my lap well out of sight.

I asked, ‘How would this happen?’

Rekhmire’’s eyes sought the King’s, with a brief look at me that might

have been apology. ‘I had thought – some kind of public ceremony of

reconciliation?’

I tasted the word in my mind.
Reconciliation
.

Reconciliation between me and Aldra Videric.

Pah!

The book-buyer continued. ‘If Lord Videric and Aldro Rosamunda

are greeted, on their return to Taraco, with every mark of friendship

from their son-daughter Ilario . . . Majesty, might not your court assume

the King-Caliph and Carthage’s Lord-Amirs
must
be in error?’

Rodrigo Sanguerra blinked like one of the lizards that haunt ancient

stone ruins. ‘It would need to appear more than friendship.’

Rekhmire’ rested his hands on the table before him, fingertips pressed

together. I recognised his stance when closing a deal with some scroll-

owner.
Yes,
he
thought
this
through
on
Zheng
He’s
ship—

Delicately, the Alexandrine spy suggested, ‘Some formal ceremony,

perhaps?’

The King nodded, thoughtfully. ‘Some ceremony. Some formal

reconciliation . . . In the cathedral, perhaps? Archbishop Cunigast could

oversee it. Enough pageantry, enough piety, and a show of pardon . . .

Yes!’ Energised, Rodrigo Sanguerra sat upright in his chair. ‘Yes: if only

245

because my people greatly
desire
a reason to think that the King-Caliph was mistaken, and should therefore have kept his nose out of our

business!’

I saw the shape of it in my mind. Lie and pretend. I braced myself and

spoke. ‘Your Majesty, yes. Provisionally, I would agree to that.’

Rodrigo snapped his fingers.

Servants entered the room, pouring wine and water again for the three

of us. The glasses they brought were delicate blue, with double helixes of

red and yellow glass in the stem.

Kek
and
Keket
and
Rekhmire’’s
Holy
Eight!
Put my father in prison, and then confiscate his export glass!

Light glimmered from my Venetian glass to the tabletop, casting

twisted ellipses of light. I lifted it, tilting it in an ironic toast to King Rodrigo. He returned the gesture, his expression closed.

The empty spaces of the cathedral in Taraco have always impressed

me. Any noise louder than a whisper echoes from the inside of the vast

dome, ivory in colour, featureless as an egg; stark in contrast to the gold,

ruby, emerald, and sapphire work encrusting the altars and chapels

below. Full of the court and citizens of Taraco, a stunning spectacle; the

midday sun falling clear down onto the main altar below.

I thought of standing there. Of Videric’s face. Of Rosamunda.

‘Wait—’

Rekhmire’ and the King were talking: I broke into their relaxed speech

more harshly than I meant.

‘Your Majesty, I’m sorry. I apologise, but I’ve just thought – “a show

of pardon”, you said? Would you formally
forgive
Aldra Videric? How can you, if it’s Carthage that’s supposed to have made the error? What

would you be forgiving him for—’

I broke off. King Rodrigo’s stolid dark gaze transfixed me.

The shaking of my hand sent reflections of light across the inlaid

geometric wood patterns.

Further down the table, Rekhmire’ spoke in a smooth apologetic tenor.

‘Ilario, you haven’t thought through the implications.’

It was difficult to get words out. ‘I haven’t?’

‘His Majesty is suggesting a family reconciliation, to lead to a political

reconciliation. But, yes, you’re right: Lord Videric can’t be pardoned if

he’s not the one at fault.’

The glass was hard as stone under my fingertips.

Rekhmire’’s voice came again. ‘Ilario, it won’t be Lord Videric who

must publicly apologise.’

Bright concentric circles rippled on the surface of my wine.

‘Apologise?’

Rodrigo Sanguerra waved a hand at Rekhmire’, his velvet sleeve

pulling back to show white linen, and curling black hairs at his wrist.

‘Listen to the Alexandrine envoy, Ilario.’

246

You
freed
me!

Both of you.

I shifted my gaze from the King to Rekhmire’.

The Egyptian interlaced his fingers, where his hands rested on the

table. ‘His Majesty needs to make the reputation of Lord Videric

spotless. Lord Videric can’t appear to have anything to do with a

murder. Not if he’s to return as First Minister.’

Rodrigo’s gaze weighed me. ‘Therefore, Ilario, it was not an attempted

murder.’

I remember, less than a year ago, taking my first manumission papers

from that creased hand. He unlocked the collar from my neck with his

own fingers.

And this is the man who has worked twenty-five years in harness, if

not in collar, with Videric. And whose own reputation, at the moment, is

therefore suspect.

Rekhmire’ spoke again. ‘Ilario, it would be you. If the attempted

murder is redefined as a mistake, then you would have to speak publicly.

You would need to apologise to Lord Videric, because you allowed the

Lord-Amir in Carthage to reach a wrong conclusion. And it won’t be

difficult to have it credited – men are usefully prone to believing slaves

are foolish.’

I
will
not
disgrace
myself
by
throwing
this
wine
in
the
Egyptian’s
face.

Rekhmire’’s wide shoulders lifted in a minute shrug. ‘You might say,

for example, that you were attacked by criminals in Carthage. You were

rescued by the Lady Rosamunda. Judge Hanno Agastes wrongly mistook

her rescue for an attack. And you . . . were too afraid of punishment,

when Carthage mistook her actions, to speak up and tell the truth. But

now—’

Sharp pain shot through my hand.

Fine curved splinters of glass stood out of my skin.

I opened my palm, not yet wincing at the hot fire of the cuts. Only the

stem of the glass was whole. Wine puddled on the table, spattered

surprisingly far.

The King silently signalled for his servants to clear the mess.

I felt as if my neck creaked stiffly as I looked up at Rekhmire’. ‘You’ve

thought this through.’

And
said
no
word
to
me.

Rekhmire’’s fingers slid apart from each other: his large hands made

fists. He met my gaze fearlessly. ‘Yes, I’ve thought! You need to

apologise, Ilario—’

‘
I
did nothing wrong!’

‘Apologise for not speaking up when Carthage drew an erroneous

conclusion, thus causing the downfall of your father Lord Videric.’

The Egyptian’s gaze was implacable, and Rodrigo Sanguerra sat back,

letting him speak.

247

‘You would beg Lord Videric’s pardon for being coward enough not

to speak at the time. And for being timid enough to run from Carthage

afterwards, and not come back to Taraco to set matters right until now.’

Rekhmire’’s round chin came up: he stared at me challengingly.

I picked the larger of the glass splinters from my palm. None had gone

deep enough to scar, but there was a surprising quantity of blood.