That morning, though, there were no young men in Loc Grim. Young men wouldn’t have had any reason to be in Loc Grim. Stern, austere aristocrats, knights and courtiers were filling the palace’s enormous throne room, every one of them dressed in ceremonial courtly black, enlivened only by white ruffs and cuffs. The men were accompanied by a small number of equally stern, austere ladies, whom custom permitted to brighten the black of their costume with a little modest jewellery. They all pretended to be dignified, stern and austere. But they were all extremely excited.
‘They say she’s ugly. Skinny and ugly.’
‘But she allegedly has royal blood.’
‘Illegitimate?’
‘Not a bit of it. Legitimate.’
‘Will she ascend to the throne?’
‘Should the imperator so decide . . .’
‘By thunder, just look at Ardal aep Dahy and Count de Wett . . . Look at their faces; as though they’d drunk vinegar . . .’
‘Be quiet, Your Excellency . . . Do their expressions surprise you? If the rumours are true, Emhyr will be giving the ancient houses a slap in the face. He will humiliate them—’
‘The rumours won’t be true. The imperator won’t wed that foundling! He couldn’t possibly . . .’
‘Emhyr will do whatever he wants. Heed your words, Your Excellency. Be careful of what you say. There have been people who said Emhyr couldn’t do this or that. And they all ended up on the scaffold.’
‘They say he has already signed a decree concerning an endowment for her. Three hundred marks annually, can you imagine?’
‘And the title of princess. Have any of you seen her yet?’
‘She was placed under the care of Countess Liddertal on her arrival and her house was cordoned off by the guard.’
‘They have entrusted her to the countess, in order that she may instil some idea of manners in the little chit. They say your princess behaves like a farm girl . . .’
‘What’s so strange about that? She comes from the north, from barbaric Cintra—’
‘Which makes the rumours about a marriage to Emhyr all the more unlikely. No, no, it’s utterly beyond the pale. The imperator is to marry de Wett’s youngest daughter, as planned. He will not marry that usurper!’
‘It is high time he finally married somebody. For the sake of the dynasty . . . It is high time we had a little archduke . . .’
‘Then let him be wed, but not to that stray!’
‘Quiet, don’t gush. I give you my word, noble lords, that that marriage will not happen. What purpose could such a match serve?’
‘It’s politics, Countess. We are waging a war. That bond would have political and strategic significance . . . The dynasty of which the princess is a member has legal titles and confirmed feudatory rights to the lands on the Lower Yarra. Were she to become the imperator’s spouse . . . Ha, it would be an excellent move. Just look over there, at King Esterad’s envoys; how they whisper . . .’
‘So you support this outlandish relationship, Duke? Or you’ve simply been counselling Emhyr, is that it?’
‘It’s my business, Margrave, what I do or don’t support. And I would advise you not to question the imperator’s decisions.’
‘Has he already made his decision then?’
‘I doubt it.’
‘You are in error then, to doubt it.’
‘What do you mean by that, madam?’
‘Emhyr has sent Baroness Tarnhann away from the court. He has ordered her to return to her husband.’
‘He’s broken off with Dervla Tryffin Broinne? It cannot be! Dervla has been his favourite for three years . . .’
‘Now she has been expelled from the court.’
‘It’s true. They say the golden-haired Dervla kicked up an awful fuss. Four royal guardsmen had to manhandle her into the carriage . . .’
‘Her husband will be overjoyed . . .’
‘I doubt that.’
‘By the Great Sun! Emhyr has broken off with Dervla? He’s broken off with her for that foundling? For that savage from the North?’
‘Quiet . . . Quiet, for heaven’s sake!’
‘Who supports this? Which faction supports this?’
‘Be quiet, I said. They’re looking at us—’
‘That wench – I mean princess – is said to be ugly . . . When the imperator sees her . . .’
‘Are you trying to say he hasn’t seen her yet?’
‘He hasn’t had time. He only returned from Darn Ruach an hour ago.’
‘Emhyr never had a liking for ugly women. Aine Dermott, Clara aep Gwydolyn Gor . . . And Dervla Tryffin Broinne was a true beauty.’