Chapter XXI Progeny
XXI
Progeny
Silence reigned again in the great hall of Castle Crudele.
Ordinarily Agnes had an exceptional tolerance for it; she could endure lengths of unimpeded silence that others cringed and stammered to fill.
Yet now she found herself struck mute and dumb, and each moment dragged out endlessly, agonizingly.
Her mind produced only wordless sounds—a rushing, a churning, as if she had been thrust underwater during a sea squall.
“So you see,” Thrasamund said, “my son lives, as I have reported in my correspondence—if one can call such a wretched state life. He cannot speak or move his muscles of his own accord, but his wits are intact. I suppose I should thank you, for at least leaving him with that.” His gaze cut to Liuprand. “The Just, indeed.”
“I am most deeply sorry,” Liuprand said, though his voice was weak. “If I can offer anything that might ease this burden, my lord, please tell me and it will be yours.”
Thrasamund smiled thinly. “Were there anything that could change his circumstance now, I certainly would ask it of you—yet the Most Esteemed Surgeon himself cannot heal such wounds.”
Liuprand swallowed. His throat pulsed; Agnes read his anguish plainly. “Let me send more gold, at least. And I can furnish you with the most adept and experienced leeches; they will ensure he is always kept comfortable, within the limits of his condition.”
“I have leeches of my own, and you have sent gold enough already.”
Agnes had waited all this time; now was her chance to speak. She took one uncertain step forward, and then another, until she stood right beside Liuprand. She cleared her throat. With a tremulous breath, she said, “My lord, I have another remedy to propose.”
Thrasamund’s brow arched. “Lady, you have done enough. Your honor has been defended; my son has more than paid the price for his folly. What could you offer me now?”
“I offer just what your son asked for.” Agnes inclined her chin. “I will wed Lord Childeric. I will be his wife.”
There was no opportunity for silence to follow, no deadened air, for Liuprand let out a stammering noise of shock. Agnes kept her gaze straight ahead; she knew that if she glanced at him, she would lose all nerve and fall to weeping. She met Thrasamund’s eyes steadily.
He regarded her in turn with suspicion. “Forgive me if I am reticent to believe you make this offer in good faith and candor. You refused my son’s proposal once. Why would you accept now, when he is but a shell of himself?”
“Marriage need not be a match of love,” Agnes said, swallowing.
“But it is an arrangement that may benefit both sides. The Master of Blood was wed to Meriope for similar purpose. To restore concord, to make amends. Your son will have a wife of most noble pedigree, and through that, a line to the Crown. My spurning of Childeric set this woeful turn in motion. Allow me now to make it right.”
Thrasamund continued to stare at her intently for a moment, before looking to Liuprand. Something unreadable glimmered in his stare. “And what do you, my prince, think of the lady’s terms?”
Liuprand’s blue eyes were limpid yet impassive. Yet another moment passed before he said, “The lady is wise and sincere in all things. I can assure you that this offer has been made in good faith.”
“Hmm.” Thrasamund steepled his hands. “If this has the prince’s sanction…
but, Lady Agnes, you understand that this marriage will come with the same requirements as any other, despite the extraordinary circumstances.
I have no other son. Childeric remains my heir; even in this state, he will someday wear the title Master of Eyes.
And so it is necessary that he himself produce a male child that will continue our line. ”
Agnes dug a fingernail into her palm. “Yes, my lord,” she said softly. “I understand.”
“Well then,” Thrasamund said. He rolled his shoulders back and puffed out his chest, as a soldier to be fitted with his armor.
“This is a most unexpected offer, but I will consider your terms, lady. I cannot agree to such an arrangement hastily and without deliberation. I should ask the prince if he will allow my retinue to stay at Castle Crudele for several days, while I ponder this offer.”
Liuprand looked surprised at being addressed, blinking as if he had just been roused from slumber.
“Of course, my lord,” he said, in a stiff tone. “You will have lodging here for as long as it takes you to decide.”
Thrasamund turned to his men, mouth opening as he prepared to direct them; Childeric’s nurse dabbed again at the spittle dripping down his chin and stroked back the hair that had fallen over his forehead.
The tenderness of her touch made Agnes’s eyes sting, and reminded her that she had not yet fulfilled her purpose here.
Clearing her throat, she said, “Lord Thrasamund, there is one more thing…”
He froze at once, gaze narrowing. “Ah, I should have known that there would be further demands made of me. Your cleverness cannot be doubted, and neither can your artful wiles.”
“No,” Agnes said. “This is no attempt at trickery. It is only…a question.” She paused and allowed a moment for her chin to quiver, so that when she spoke her voice did not shake. “I mean to inquire about the well-being of the lady Meriope.”
Something in Thrasamund’s gaze now shifted—an emotion that Agnes could not discern; it was gone again quickly, like a silver fish briefly surfacing from the water before darting back down again. His lips flattened into a cold sort of smile, and he said, “My grandson is no brute.”
“I did not mean to imply such,” Agnes said hurriedly. “But for the sake of my cousin, her mother—I know she wishes to hear news of her daughter.”
Thrasamund’s smile gained a keener edge. There was another quicksilver flash in his eyes, only now Agnes recognized a bit of private amusement in it, one that made the hairs stiffen on her neck.
“The Lord Gamelyn would not be so cruel as to leave a parent in despair over the welfare of their child,” he said. “The princess is not ignorant of her daughter’s fate, I can assure you.”
Slowly, Agnes nodded. Yet still she felt a chill, and gooseflesh prickling the length of her arms. “Thank you, my lord,” she said. “That is all I wanted to know.”
“Then I should like to take my leave now.” He glanced pointedly at Liuprand. “I will reflect on today’s turns and give my answer soon.”
“Yes,” said Liuprand. His voice was vague now, his gaze unfixed.
To the Dolorous Guard, he said, “Go, all of you. Show Lord Thrasamund and his retainers to their chambers. Ensure they are comfortable; tell the kitchens to prepare food, should they want for it. Then close the barbican, and return with haste to your posts.”