The Ciphers of Muirwood (Covenant of Muirwood #2)(45)

How Maia wished her grandmother were there with them. The Aldermaston’s counselors were an able group, but the situation was so fraught with political peril that she herself was unsure of what to do.

“What answer did you give Chancellor Crabwell?” the Aldermaston’s wife asked.

Maia breathed in through her nose and glanced at Jon Tayt. She nodded to him.

Jon Tayt fidgeted in his seat. “She thanked him for his keen interest in her welfare and said she would mull over the matter with her counselors before responding. A good answer for a precarious situation. By Cheshu, he was like a spider seeking to wrap her up in webs.”

“His news must have been painful for you,” the Aldermaston said earnestly.

Maia had always been struck by the depths of the man’s compassion. He was about to be evicted from his stewardship as an Aldermaston, yet he showed greater concern for her than he did for himself.

“It was,” Maia said, glancing around the room again. “I still do not know what I should tell him, though.” The chancellor did not want to linger in the abbey and implicate himself further. He had retired to his room at the Pilgrim Inn and said he would await a message from her until morning before he departed back for Pent Tower.

The Aldermaston leaned back in his chair and the leather cushions creaked. He set one hand on his belly and the other on the desk. “That is the purpose of a Privy Council, my dear. I have found the practice to be most helpful. Before I seek to understand the Medium’s will, I seek the advice of others whose opinions I deeply respect. After I have listened to that counsel, I form my own opinion on the matter. Then I bring that opinion to the Medium for further direction. What would you ask of us?” His deep eyes were penetrating.

Maia bit her lip. “I admit I am tempted by the chancellor’s offer. It would seem to be within my best interest to accept an alliance with him and seek his help in restoring my rights through the law. If that were to happen, I might be able to help protect Muirwood and prevent the changes my father plans. However, the chancellor seems very motivated to preserve his own power. I may be lashing my destiny to a ship ready to sink.”

“Aye,” Jon Tayt said, nodding vigorously. “You are wise for one so young, lass.”

The Aldermaston held up his hand, silencing Jon Tayt. He took his wife’s hand in his and then turned to his steward. “Tomas? What do you think Maia should do?”

The steward smiled as if a silent joke had passed between them. His dimples appeared. “He always does this,” he said confidingly to Maia. “He seeks my input before sharing his own. I am more impulsive, I think, than the Aldermaston. He listens to me so as to know what not to do.” He chuckled softly. “Maia—let me just say that I regard you truly as if you were my own Family. I have watched you since your arrival at Muirwood. You give service to others with nary a concern for yourself. I think you would make an excellent queen, and I would support you with all my heart.” He smiled at her, trying to convey his sincerity. Then his look became more serious. “I would not trust Chancellor Crabwell with anything more important than cleaning dishes. He is plotting against his king. He is plotting against you as well. If you sail a ship by changing direction every time the wind blows a different way, you will not reach your destination. I think it would be very foolish to trust him.”

Maia stared at the steward, grateful for the counsel. “But what should I tell him, Tomas? There will be implications if I say something or not.”

“You are quite right,” he said, nodding. “I would thank him for his offer and remind him that it is your intent to pass the maston test at Muirwood Abbey, and you would like to keep your thoughts focused on that.” He held up his hands.

The Aldermaston nodded, then looked at Jon Tayt. “What do you say?”

Jon Tayt leaned forward, putting a meaty arm across his knee. “By Cheshu, you know I do not lack for opinions, Aldermaston. The man, quite simply, is a coward and a knave. He is riddled with fear—I could see it deep in his eyes.”

“You threatened to chop off his fingers,” the steward reminded him.

“Of course . . . and it was just that, a threat. I wanted to see how he would react. A man with power would have pulled his hand away or ordered his guards to kill me on the spot. When you kick a dog too oft, it barks at strangers and flinches from its master. Crabwell is a kicked pup. A drowning man thrashing in the waters, clutching at anything. If you want to save him, you must bash him up a bit first to calm him.” He lifted a finger and then pointed it at Maia. “He may also have been testing your loyalty to your father. Should you send a message to your father first, letting him know where you are? Your father may have sent him here to tempt you—to see where your loyalties be. Men like Crabwell lie as easily as they butter bread. He said what he wanted you to hear, not necessarily what he really felt. I advise you send word to your lord father and spoil his game.”

Tomas shook his head. “A steward . . . or a chancellor in this case . . . gets the king’s messages first. He will be sure to have controlled access to the king.”

“Why do you keep interrupting me?” Jon Tayt said, wrinkling his brow.

“I beg your pardon,” Tomas said, bowing his head.

“It is fit that we challenge all ideas,” the Aldermaston said. “Do not be offended. Intelligent men can disagree on the interpretation of the facts at hand. Continue, Master Evnissyen.”