“But where does this intrigue lead?” asked Rodvard.
“Could not your Blue Star give you a clue?” said Mathurin. They sat on a
green bank behind the hall of conference, many-colored tulips waving in
the light breeze about them, and Rodvard carefully tore one of the long
leaves to ribbons as he answered:
“No. There may have been something about Aggermans in it, but he was not
thinking of his central purpose at all, only about how it would be a
nasty joke and a revenge. What—” (it was behind his lips to ask what he
should do lest he lose the power of the Blue Star, but in midflight he
changed) “—what have you done toward saving Baron Brunivar? Will there
be a rising?”
(There was a quick note of suspicion and surprise in the eyes that
lifted to meet his.) “Nothing for now, but to let Remigorius, and
through him the High Center, know what’s in prospect. There’s no
accusation as matters stand; it will gain us nothing merely to put out
the story that the court plots against him. . . . Yet I do not
understand why he has failed to fly when it’s as clear as summer light
that Florestan means the worse toward him.”
“What I do not understand,” said Rodvard, “is why the High Center has
failed to make more preparation. It will be too late when Brunivar’s
been placed in a dungeon, under guard and accusation with a shar of
soldiers around him.”
“It would never pass . . .” Mathurin’s voice trailed off; he
contemplated the lawns, brow deep, and Rodvard could not see his
thought. “I can understand the High Center.”
“What would never pass? You are more mysterious than the Count, friend
Mathurin, with your hints here and there.”
The servitor turned on him eyes of angry candor. “Rodvard Yes-and-No, my
friend, Cleudi is right in calling you more of a moralist than a
churchman is. By what right do you question me so? Do you think I am of
the High Center? Yet I will show you some of the considerations. It will
never pass that the Chancellor should execute Brunivar and then have it
proved that this fate came on him for some private reason. And now that
you whip me to it, I will say as well that it will never pass that
Brunivar should not be executed while we cry shame. We need a general
rising, not a rescue that will drive many of us abroad. People will not
leave their lives to fight until there is something in those lives that
may not be sustained.”
(Conscience again.) Rodvard set his mouth. “If you wish the reign of
justice for others, it seems to me that you must give it yourself,
Mathurin, and I see no justice in watching a good man condemned to death
when he might be saved. I heard the Baron speak out in conference, and
he may yet win something there. But even fled to Tritulacca, or to
Mayern and Prince Pavinius, he would still be worth more than with his
throat cut.”
The serving man stood up. “I’ll not chop logic against you; only say,
beware. For you are a member under orders; your own will or moral has
nothing to do with the acts of the High Center. Brunivar is nothing to
us; down with him, he is a part of the dead past which is all rotten at
the heart, and of which we must rid ourselves for the living future. I
will see you later, friend Bergelin.”