Golden Fool

Her glance was genuinely quizzical. Then, as if someone had poked her with a pin, she gave a small start, and, “Oh, you mean Lady Rosemary.”



“Yes, I do.”



“It has been so long . . . All of that was so very long ago, Fitz. You know, when I look at her, I do not even think of that. When Regal and his household returned here at the end of the Red Ship War, Rosemary was amongst the train. Her mother had died, and she had been . . . neglected. At first, I could not abide to have either her or Regal in my presence. But there were appearances to preserve, and his abject apologies and vows of loyalty to the unborn heir and me were . . . useful. It served to unite the Six Duchies, for with him he brought the nobility of Tilth and Farrow. And we needed that support, desperately. It would have been so easy for the Six Duchies to follow the Red Ship War with a civil strife. There are so many differences among the duchies. But Regal’s influence was enough to sway his nobles back to allegiance to me. Then Regal died, so strangely and so violently. It was unavoidable that there were mutterings that I had had him murdered in vengeance for old wrongs. Chade advised me strongly that I must make gestures amongst his nobles to bind them to me. So I did. I put Lady Patience in his place at Tradeford, for I felt I must have strong support there. But his other holdings I distributed judiciously amongst those that most needed quelling.”



“And Lord Bright’s reaction to that?” I asked. This was all news to me. Bright had been Regal’s heir, and was Duke of Farrow now. Much of what they had “distributed” was doubtless his hereditary wealth.



“I recompensed him in other ways. After his dismal performance at defending Buck and Buckkeep, he was on shaky standing. He could not protest strongly, for he had not inherited Regal’s influence with the nobles. Yet I strove to make him not only content with his lot, but a better ruler than he otherwise would have been. I saw to his schooling, in things other than fine wine and dress. Most of his years as Duke of Farrow have been spent right here in Buckkeep. Patience manages his Tradeford holdings for him, probably far better than he would have himself, for she has the common sense to appoint people who know what they are doing. And she sends reports to him monthly, far more detailed than he relishes, but I insist he go over them with one of my treasury men, not only to be sure he understands them, but also that he must profess he is satisfied with how they fare. And I think that now he genuinely is.”



“I suspect his duchess has something to do with that,” I hazarded.



Kettricken had the grace to flush slightly. “Chade thought he might be better content wedded. And it is time he got himself an heir. Left single, he was an invitation to discord at the court.”



“Who selected her?” I tried not to sound cold.



“Lord Chade suggested several young women of good family who had the . . . requisite qualities. After that, I saw that they were introduced. And that the families knew I would be pleased at the prospect of the Duke selecting one of their daughters. The competition spread rapidly amongst the chosen women. But Lord Bright selected his own bride from amongst them. I but saw that he had the opportunity to choose—”



“Someone who was tractable and not too ambitious. A daughter of someone loyal to the Queen.” I filled in the rest.



She met my eyes squarely. “Yes.” She caught a small breath. “Do you fault me, FitzChivalry? You, who were my first instructor in managing the intrigues of the court to my advantage?”



I smiled at her. “No. In truth, I am proud of you. And from the look on Lord Bright’s face at last night’s festivities, he is a man well satisfied with his lady.”



She gave a sigh, almost of relief. “Thank you. For I value your regard, FitzChivalry, as I ever have. I would not want to think I had shamed myself before you.”



“I doubt that you could,” I replied, truthfully as well as gallantly. Then, dragging the conversation back to my interest, “And Rosemary?”



“After Regal died, most of his hangers-on dispersed to their family holdings, and some to inspect new holdings I had given them. No one claimed Rosemary. Her father had died before she was born. Her mother had his title, Lady Celeffa of Firwood, but the title was little more than words. Firwood is a tiny holding, a beggar’s fiefdom. There is a manor house there, but I am told it has not been inhabited in some years. But for being in Prince Regal’s favor, Lady Celeffa would never have come to court at all.” She sighed. “So there was Rosemary, an orphan at eight, and not in favor with the Queen. I suspect you need little help to imagine how she was treated by the court.”