"Is it because I'm a man?" Pip asked miserably.

Bernard had come back to the party, and eventually found Pip hiding away, huddled in the little alcove where they had met after Pip's performance as Raven LaMidnight.

"No, Pip. Royals can marry their own sex if they choose, like anyone else," Bernard assured him. He tightened the arm he had around Pip, and kissed the top of his head. "My ancestor, King Ugbert the Fretful, married Halfham of Hernedean, said to have been the handsomest earl in three kingdoms."

"Did they live happily after ever?" Pip asked wistfully.

"Well, not really, because they both died of the plague two years later," Bernard said. "But that won't happen to us."

"I can't give you an heir," Pip said.

"That's the great thing about Father marrying Dorothea. With any luck, I'll have younger siblings who can take the throne if I happen to pop off," Bernard said encouragingly.

"Can Dorothea still have children?" Pip asked dubiously.

"Of course she can, my silly little titmouse. She's only ten years older than me," Bernard said. "And before you ask, yes, Father is still capable of becoming a father again. Men of his age do it all the time."

"And what happens if they don't have any children?" Pip said, as if determined to be pessimistic.

"Well, it will prove you don't need to produce offspring to marry a king," said Bernard cheerfully. "And Alice will probably have children. I could name one of my nephews or nieces as my heir."

"Really?" said Pip, beginning to look hopeful. "You can do that?"

"Easily," said Bernard. "They'd probably have to be brought up in Lindensea though, so they can become familiar with the language and culture, and be accepted by the people."

"I wouldn't mind bringing up Alice's son or daughter," Pip said, a different way of becoming a family opening itself up to him.

"Good. So you see, it's not a problem at all," Bernard said.

"What is the problem, then?"

Bernard shifted about uncomfortably. "It's going to sound rather awful, I expect," he said slowly, "but according to law, a royal cannot marry a commoner. If they don't marry another royal, they at least have to marry someone of noble blood."

"And I'm too common," Pip said bitterly. "It sounds nice in the old tales, but nobody really wants a prince to marry a serving boy."

"You're not a servant any more, and you never should have been," said Bernard bracingly. "Come on, we've got to have an interview with Father together. This probably won't be much fun."

**********************

Bernard was right. It wasn't much fun.

"Come in and sit down. Both of you," the king ordered, without any opening pleasantries.

Pip and Bernard sat down on the green brocade sofa next to his desk that he pointed to.

"He sounds awfully cross," Pip said in an audible whisper to Bernard.

King Peter's brows knit together fiercely. "Is it any wonder?" he demanded. "Dorothea and I didn't get to enjoy two minutes of celebrating our betrothal before it was interrupted by your childish stunt, Bernard."

"You've already raked me over the coals, Father, and I've said sorry for it again and again," Bernard replied.

"You've apologised to me," King Peter said. "I hope you will also apologise to Dorothea for taking the attention away from her during the announcement. After all she's been through in the past year, I thought you might be more sensitive to her feelings, Bernard."

"I will apologise to her," Bernard said. "I said I would."

"What I still don't understand, Bernard, is why you chose to challenge me like that," King Peter said. "Asking for permission to marry before the whole court, knowing full well the gossip and scandal that would come of it. Why not come to me for a private discussion, so we could decide how to proceed together?"

Pip's stomach hurt. The king hadn't looked at him once, and he was making it sound as if Pip was nothing but a problem that needed to be dealt with behind closed doors.

"I'm sorry, sir," Pip said tremulously (he thought he'd better drop the first name basis), "but I didn't know anything about this."

"Yes, I take full responsibility," Bernard said immediately. "I didn't tell Pip what I was planning to do."

"Well, that was pretty obvious," said King Peter, giving Pip a wry smile. "If you could have seen your face - you looked more stunned than anyone, Pip. And of course it's all your responsibility, Bernard. You put Pip in a very embarrassing position."

"I'm sorry I didn't come to you in private Father," Bernard said, "but I wasn't sure that you'd listen to me or take me seriously."

"I'm disappointed to discover how little faith you have in me, as a father, and as your monarch," King Peter said sombrely. "Perhaps we could talk about this together now – all of us." He looked at Pip as he said the last part.

Bernard took a deep breath. "Pip and I are in love."

"Yes, I'd rather managed to get that far," King Peter said. "You may take me for an addled old man, wandering the palace in a decrepit delirium, but I can assure you I know when people are in love."

"Oh. Well, I want to marry Pip, and be with the person I love," Bernard said.

"Mm. Bernard has told you about the ... difficulties that royals sometimes have in regards to choosing a marriage partner?" King Peter asked Pip, looking at him closely.

Pip flushed. "Yes. You think I'm not posh enough for him."

"Posh? What does that mean?" the king asked with a frown. "I can't keep up with all this modern lingo."

"It means that I'm not of noble blood," Pip said. "I'm too common to marry Bernard."

"We don't know that yet," King Peter said.

"Honestly, Father. Isn't this all antiquated nonsense?" Bernard broke in. "Why are we still following these outdated laws? You're the king – you could change the law so that Pip and I might marry."

"I'm a king, not a dictator," King Peter replied. "I can't change the legal system or royal tradition overnight. There's all sorts of parliamentary procedures to follow, and it could take years. That's if it was agreed that the law needed to be changed. You know these things, Bernard."

"Then let's start at once, if it's going to take years," Bernard said in a determined voice. "Let me speak to parliament, and put my case forward."

"That may not be necessary," King Peter said. "I've made an appointment for Pip to see Dr Browning, the Astrologer Royal and Court Genealogist, tomorrow morning. Dr Browning is highly educated, a Grantbridge scholar, and has access to all the archival records of Lindensea. I would like Dr Browning to thoroughly investigate your lineage, Pip."

**********************

Pip didn't hold out much hope for the appointment, as he barely knew anything to tell Dr Browning, but Bernard kept hugging and kissing him, telling him they would be together no matter what happened. They said goodnight, but Pip didn't sleep very well.

When Mr Lundy came in with his early cup of hot tea and crisp toast, ready to run his bath, he took one look at Pip, and said, "If you don't mind me saying so, sir, you don't seem quite yourself this morning."

Pip tried to wave him away and eat his toast, but Mr Lundy was not to be waved so easily.

"I take it sir, that you're anxious about what Dr Browning will say about your pedigree," Mr Lundy suggested. "That you're worried you won't be able to marry Prince Bernard."

"How do you know about that?" Pip asked, through bites of toast.

"Servants gossip, as you well know, sir," Mr Lundy said with a faint smile. "But I think you have every reason to remain hopeful, sir. I can tell good quality, in a suit, or a hairbrush, or a person, and my nose tells me you're a person of quality, sir."

Pip thanked him mournfully, while Mr Lundy ran his bath and filled it with scented bubble bath. He laid out clothes for Pip that he thought would be appropriate. A charcoal grey suit with a crisp white shirt and a pale grey tie. Black shoes, no heel, and dove grey silk socks.

"Neat and professional, sir," he commented. "Yet humble and retiring, too. No paint today, and your hair brushed neatly, nothing else. There must be no pretence about you, sir. Nothing to draw the eye."

As he brushed Pip's black hair until it was smooth, he went on, "Just tell Dr Browning everything you know, sir. Don't invent anything to cover a gap in your knowledge, or try to sound grander than you are. On the other hand, sir, don't make yourself sound less grand than you are. Be straight with the good doctor. It's the best way, sir."

"My father always said that a gentleman should be truthful," Pip remarked.

"Hmph," said Mr Lundy, who had heard all about Pip's father, and secretly thought he sounded like the worst kind of cad. "Well, even a broken timepiece is correct twice a day, sir."

It was the most Mr Lundy had ever said, and Pip was grateful for his calm, sensible advice. After breakfast, Pip was able to go to Dr Browning when he was called, feeling as if he was going for a job interview – which in a very real sense, he was. 

Granny Bennett had said to never go for a job when you were hungry and desperate. Well, he'd had a good breakfast, so he wasn't hungry, and must try not to seem desperate, as if he'd pine away if he couldn't be with Bernard.

**********************

Pip had been curious as to what the Astrologer Royal and Court Genealogist would be like. He pictured someone a bit like the wizards in the books he'd read as a child – a long white beard, bushy eyebrows, and a great midnight blue cloak covered in stars. Then again, Dr Browning was a scholar who did research all day. Might they seem more like a dusty old professor, perhaps even a bit eccentric?

The chambers in the north tower were plain and austere, with a lot of oak panelling on the walls, rows upon rows of pigeonholes filled with documents, and a telescope at the window. Dr Browning's large desk had a brass orrery on it for astrological calculations, a pile of leather-bound volumes, and a neat stack of papers.

"Good morning, Mr Lenoir," Dr Browning said briskly, holding out her hand to shake. "Please, sit down and let's see what we can find out together."

Dr Browning had iron-grey hair pulled into a severe bun, wore a neat black skirt and jacket, and put on a pair of spectacles in order to read. Her expression was serious, her manner dry; there was a searing brilliance to her eyes and a firm set to her mouth that said she would brook none but plain speaking and proven facts.

Pip told Dr Browning what little he knew. His parents had been Robin D'Arcy Lenoir, and Evelina Linnet Lenoir. His grandfather had been Peregrine Lenoir, the lord of Cronkshaw Manor in the hill district of the Southlands.

He was sorry he didn't know any more, but his parents had died when he was only a little boy, and they had never talked about family or relatives with him. He understood that they were all dead, as there had been nobody to take him in after his parents passed away except the old woman who cooked and cleaned for them.

Dr Browning listened intently, and wrote everything down in copious notes which Pip thought looked like magical runes, but were actually shorthand. She asked many questions, some of which Pip did not grasp the relevance, and took down his birth date in order to draw up his astrology chart.

After more than an hour and a half of speaking together, Dr Browning said she would endeavour to research his origins as far as she could. Perhaps there was something in Pip's face that touched her, because she pointed out that there were twenty noble houses in Lindensea alone, and the chances of Pip being related to one were really quite good.

"Is there anything else you'd like to ask me, Mr Lenoir?"

Pip hesitated, then said, "My guardian, Granny Bennett, told me that I was born under the twin stars of double fortune, The Watchman and The Maiden. She said that as long as I kept myself for my true love, I would have luck on my side, but if I even kissed someone who wasn't my true love, I would have nothing but misfortune for the rest of my days."

Dr Browning raised her eyebrows. "And your question?"

"Well, I wondered ... you know a lot about astrology, and I wondered if ... if that sounded right to you. Do I really have extra good luck or bad luck from my stars, and can you tell me if Prince Bernard is my true love?"

"Was your guardian a trained astrologer?" Dr Browning asked coolly.

"No, she was a trained pastry cook," Pip said with a shake of his head. "But my godfather told me she was a witch."

"Ah. Witches have a system of star-gazing that is quite different to the method I use," Dr Browning said thoughtfully. "I only read the stars as they pertain to the rulers and kingdom of Lindensea, and look for portents of catastrophe that might befall us, or signs that point to success for our nation. It is my job to study the planets in order to advise the monarch how best to rule the kingdom, and protect their people from harm."

"So was Granny Bennett wrong in what she said?"

"That I cannot say," Dr Browning said slowly, "but if I have learned one thing in my long lifetime of study, it is to never discount the knowledge of another if you do not have the understanding to counter it. Your guardian's way of looking at the stars is not my way, but that does not make it wrong. I am sorry I cannot be of more assistance to you in this regard, Mr Lenoir."