Chapter Text
I sighed as I left Costis and Kamet’s home. I could hardly refuse the queen, of course, but I know my infirmity will be a considerable problem in this new role. Even a carriage ride is enough now to make me uncomfortable, and I have to walk with a stick these days. Hard to think there was a time when I could ride all day with barely more than ordinary stiffness. My reading of the history of the Erondites family and my consultations with Petrus had made me aware that this was a likely progression of the disease, but somehow it has crept up on me more, recently.
I remember discussing the possibility with Adestra, when we first talked of marriage, but old age seems so remote when you are young and in love. She laughed off the difficulties of my infirmity. After all, we said, there were so many ways to die – accident, sickness, childbirth, the fortunes of war. None of these had any true reality for us: we behaved as if we were immortal.
Our concern had been for the social difficulties we would face, which were much more immediate. Certainly patronoi and okloi could marry, but it was a rare occurrence among the barons and we knew we would be the subject of unpleasantness. Des’ family were shipowners, wealthier than most of the baronial families; surely they would be equally disapproving of their oldest daughter marrying the frog baron. In the event we were lucky: as it turned out they were more concerned for our wellbeing and the awkwardness we would face, and remained friendly.
In any case we didn’t care. We had our house near the palace, and the Erondites houses across Attolia, but we often ran away from our difficulties, travelling to Ferria, Epidi and the islands, and beyond. Our wealth meant we could travel in comfort and be protected by bodyguards, though that didn’t stop us having occasional adventures.
What wonderful, shining years.
I try to tell myself I’m not that old. Clearly the queen thinks I can be useful for a while, at least. She had liked Des. I told her that it was her encouragement to follow my heart when it came to marriage that had given me courage to propose, and she had laughed. The king, of course, had found it hilarious that after all my efforts to regularise the Erondites affairs I was willing to create a whole new scandal.
I can see my future now. Like Baron Orutus before me, I will have my rooms in the palace, from where I will control my network of spies and useful contacts. I will not be able to travel as Relius did, but I will be publicly accepted at court again - as if I cared. I have a certain amount of experience, having carried out a few commissions for Orutus over the years during my travels, and my financial expertise will be valuable. I told Orutus I could never order anyone tortured, and he nodded. “In recent years there’s been less need. I have done it. Sometimes it’s an ugly business we’re in. But usually a night or two down there in chains is enough to loosen tongues. I don’t let them clean the cells, and I have been known to order a half-bucket of pig’s blood to enhance the atmosphere.” I have told the queen I can’t go any further than that. I hope she believes me.
Of course I will continue to write my histories and correspond with scholars and mathematicians, though I can’t imagine returning to my music. And I will still have the ear of the queen.
I must try to be positive. I do still have a few friends in the palace. And it will be good to have Timris working with me. I miss my translator Borlas and his successor Martis, though I see them from time to time. I correspond frequently with Borlas, of course; he is house steward at my villa at Lateras now, having finally married and raised his family. And I have a good friend in Lorgos; he has been my senior steward since Orlaes’ retirement. Marita is a widow now; we lost Orlaes ten years ago.
I try not to think too much of all those who have gone ahead, but sometimes it is very hard.
Oh, Des.