II
Outside the hall it was a shock to come into bright flowers and green. The sun was just plunging down behind the low green hills westward, the birds singing sleep-songs and everything in perfect peace, not a leaf in movement. Tuolén the butler tapped Rodvard on the shoulder and when they were together in his cabinet, brought forth a bottle of Kjermanash ceriso, held it up to contemplate the ruby glow against the falling light and poured into goblets of crystal.
“You found it diverting, Ser Bergelin? His Grace is very astute.”
Rodvard, sipping, perceived that a reply was asked. “Did he convince them, then?”
“Where were your eyes? Ah, over your papers. But surely you saw enough to know that conviction was beyond His Grace’s purpose? The lords episcopal will never be convinced; the lords militant are convinced already. Did you watch Brunivar when Cleudi accused him of being a follower of Pavinius, whether as Prince or Prophet?”
“No, I was writing.”
“It would have been worth your trouble. There was that something like a golden flash which always comes when a man discovers that what he has said in innocency may be taken as the product of a guilty mind.”
“Guilty?” Rodvard’s surprise broke through the guard he had set on his thought. “I am new to this Blue Star, but saw no guilt, only an honest man who would help others.”
The butler’s permanent smile came up out of his crystal. “Honest? Honest? I imagine Brunivar may answer to that. A tradesman’s quality at best; I look for it in dealers who furnish the court with pork. But in high policy, that type will hardly gain one more than a length of cold ground—which it will now do for Brunivar.”
Rodvard looked down. “Then—then His Grace was playing a game with Brunivar, to—”
“To make this public confession that he is either an Amorosian or a follower of the Prince. As you clearly discovered. The episcopals can never let that fall. They can no more have a man of such opinions as regent-apparent than they could have Pavinius for king. So now there will be an accusation and a trial and Brunivar walking the walk to meet the throat-cutter on the scaffold, for I doubt they can afford banishment. Not while Her Majesty insists on carrying through the old King’s will that makes Brunivar regent-apparent for his honesty if the throne falls vacant. But mark the astuteness of His Grace, who at the same time destroys the popular party by taking off its best leader. But I do not think more will be until after the spring festival, since to condemn Brunivar now would give him the cancellation of punishments which the festival entails.”
He gave a grunting laugh, drained his ceriso, refilled his own goblet and brought Rodvard’s up to the brim, while the latter’s thoughts whirled wildly, to cover which he asked; “The short man, always smiling, though he spoke so sourly, was the Duke of Aggermans?”
“Yes. One to watch. I have caught him thinking of schemes by which he may one day reach the Chancellor’s seat. That is why he opposes Cleudi. . . . Ser, why are you so deep in turmoil of mind?”
“I—I suppose it must have something to do with Baron Brunivar,” said Rodvard (not daring to try to conceal). “I have always heard him well spoke of as a man who thinks of the benefit of others than himself.”
The steady smile became a chuckle. “So he does. These are the most dangerous kind in politic. The next step beyond thinking on the good of others is deciding what that good will be. A privilege reserved to God. But is not His Grace astute?”
“Yet it seems to me shocking that a man who has done no wrong—”
“Ah, I see where you lead. Ser Bergelin, wrong is not in acts alone, or else every soldier would be a criminal, but in the thoughts with which they are done.” He tapped the jacket just over his heart, where the Blue Star would hang, and for the first time the smile left his face. “When you have borne one of these baubles as long as I, you will learn something—namely, that few of us are different from the rest. I saw a man in a dungeon once, a murderer, whose thoughts were better than those of the deacon who gave him consolation. To my mind, that is. You or another might take those same thoughts for hideous. Take now your Baron Brunivar, who seems so lofty to you because on one range of topic his desires chime with your own. Yet you are not his identical; watch him, I say, and you will find his gold more than half brass in another light. Wrong? Right? I do not know what value they have to one who wears the Blue Star.”