House of Lust (24 page)

“Oh, that’s Cleric Ganot, one of Burnas’ cronies,” Thetos muttered to Astiras.  “Quite outspoken.”

“That’s all I need.”  Astiras frowned.  He’d hoped with the arrest of the leaders of the conspiracy against him the previous night this sort of thing could have been avoided, but it seemed he’d been too late.

Cleric Ganot was white bearded and had a long hooked nose and a serious look to him.  He stood above the level of the crowd and raised both arms.  The crowd grew silent, anticipating some kind of oratory directed against the emperor.

Astiras turned to Thetos.  “So what can be done to silence that cleric?”

Thetos looked alarmed.  “Sire – you can’t be thinking of….”

“Oh no, Thetos, not that!  I mean a bribe – a sweetener.  He’s a priest; they normally can be bought off.”

“Weeeeell,” Thetos scratched his cheek with his claw.  “He would like a temple built – Turslenka has not had a new one for a long time and the ones we do have are in generally poor condition.  Funding dried up under the latter emperors as you know and from what I hear the temples were not well served by their own people.  It seemed avarice was endemic; everyone was busy filling their own pouches with coins at the time.”

“So I recall.  Very well, go fetch the man; I shall give him a temple.  I don’t want a riot here now!”

Thetos beckoned two of the captains to accompany him, and the militia opened the gates and pushed their way out, pressing the crowd back with their spears.  The people grumbled and the hubbub attracted Ganot’s attention before he had really got into his stride.  He frowned at the sight of the governor approaching.  What did the man want?  He normally refused to admit the existence of the temple!

Argan looked up at his father.  “Are you really going to give him a temple, father?”

“Yes, Argan.  Important rule to learn.  If you want to avoid a riot and civil strife, then you may well have to give in on a minor point to one of influence.  That priest may well have started trouble so it’s best to stop it before it begins.  He wants a temple, then I give it to him.”

“Why not give it to him before?”

Astiras chuckled.  “Why, then people would expect gifts all the time, and it would be far more expensive – and also you would not be able to bribe someone so easily.”

“Bribe?”

The emperor sighed.  “Bribery is not a good thing, but necessary – it means paying someone in money or a gift to make them like you or just to support you.  Everyone has a price, Argan, you just have to find out what it is.”

Argan frowned.  That was not something he was comfortable with.  He did not think that he could be bought for anything!  That was something for people who were not strong of heart or good.

His father saw his expression and clapped him on the shoulder.  “Yes, I can see you’re not happy with that, and that’s a good thing.  However, remember that there are many people here who can be bought with a gift, or money, or something, and these will normally be people who would oppose us.”  He broke off as Thetos and Ganot came through the gateway, the guards pushing the crowd back.  The mood was angry and Argan wondered whether they would listen to the emperor.

Kerrin stood one step down and Argan joined him.  “Frightening, isn’t it?” Kerrin said, his eyes roaming over the sea of heads.  “I’ve never seen anything like this!”

“We must not show we are scared, ‘Rin.  We are of the House of Koros, and are their rulers.  If we’re scared of them then they will not look at us with respect.”

Kerrin looked at his friend.  “But aren’t you scared?”

Argan nodded briefly.  “But I’m not allowed to be, don’t you see?  I’m a Prince of Koros.”

Kerrin looked back at the mob who were once again shouting out invectives against the emperor and the witch.  Cries of ‘burn her’ were beginning to echo around the square.  Argan’s lips tightened.  Nobody was going to hurt Metila as long as he had anything to do with it!  He turned and saw his father, the governor and the priest grouped together talking earnestly.  Whatever they were saying was masked by the noise washing over him from the crowd.

“C’mon, ‘Rin, the grown-ups aren’t doing anything about this mob!”

“What?  ‘Gan, are you mad?” Kerrin forgot to honour Argan with his title in his surprise as Argan went down the steps to the forecourt.  He stumbled after his friend, knowing he had to stay by his side, but terrified at getting closer to the mass of people.

A junior officer stepped forward, his face registering concern.  “Your highness – it’s too dangerous to go any further!”

Argan stopped the officer with an upraised hand.  “Please, I am to speak to the people.  They will not harm me.  Open the gates.  I order it.”

The officer looked up for help but nobody was taking notice.  With a trembling dread, he stepped back and nodded to the stone-faced guards.  Two of them reluctantly unlocked them and Argan strode past, his head high and back straight.  Kerrin followed close behind, trying not to wet himself.

The people directly outside the gates stopped shouting and stared in surprise at the sight of the two youngsters emerging.  Argan had his eyes firmly on the raised central stand in the middle of the square.  That was where he was going. 

Like a tide receding the people peeled back, transfixed by the sight of the two boys walking calmly and quietly through them.  As they passed, the crowd closed again so that the guards trying to follow were blocked and struggled to no avail.  Argan and Kerrin were on their own.

Argan was pleased to reach the steps that led up to the raised dais and turned to face the mass of faces staring up at him.  He raised both arms in the air, and the whole square fell silent.

Astiras stopped talking as something tugged at the corners of his mind.  The junior officer came racing up the steps and bowed fearfully.  “Sire – your son…..”

Astiras pushed him aside and stared in disbelief at the tableau before him.  “What the….” the last word was utterly unrepeatable.

Argan, meanwhile, had the people waiting to hear what he was about to say.  He knew he had to say something important and truthful.  “People of Turslenka,” he began, trying to project his voice as far as he could.  “I am Prince Argan of the House of Koros.”  Kerrin stood by his side looking for any sign of trouble.  He wished he had a sword, although what good that would do if they decided to rush them he had no idea.  “What you say has truth in it, yes my father has been with Metila.”

Heads nodded and a murmur rippled across the people.  The boy was speaking the truth, something they had not expected.

“My mother, the Empress Isbel, has been saddened by this, and I have seen how upset she has been.  And I, their son, have been very disappointed by what has happened.”  He turned from side to side to allow as many people to see and hear him.  “I know Metila, too, and know her as the woman who saved my life, for when I was last here I was close to death, and yet she saved my life.”

People passed the words on.  Some had known of it, others had not. 

“I do not approve of what they did, yet I can find it in my heart to forgive them.  My mother has forgiven my father, and my father has vowed to never do such a thing again for the hurt he has caused.  I can tell you all here today, that my father has not even set eyes on her since returning to this city on this visit.”

Astiras turned to his officers.  “For Kastan’s sake – get the troops to cut through the mob to reach my son!”

Thetos put out a restraining hand.  “Sire – the crowd are listening to him, not threatening him.  Using the troops now may cause them to panic and your son may be trampled in the stampede!”     

Astiras sucked his breath through his teeth.  The officers waited, the situation on a knife’s edge.  The emperor drew in a deep breath and moved down two of the steps and stopped.  “Very well – but if anything happens to Argan….”

Argan, meanwhile, was holding out his arms to the people.  “I have heard that the people of Turslenka are fair and just, and this is one reason why I and my family are happy for me to come here to live for the next few years.  I am honoured to be amongst people who have these traits that I admire.”

Smiles broke out over some faces.  A few scowled however, for they recognised he was flattering them.  They still wanted blood.  A few shouts went up trying to stop him but others around them hissed at them to shut up and listen to what the young prince was saying.

“If your hearts are full of forgiveness, you will do as I have and forgive these two people.  Metila is a healer, not a witch.  She works good for people, and she has given me life when I nearly lost it, and my father has been reminded just how important his family are.  Both have agreed not to let their weaknesses get the better of them again,” he had no idea if this was true, but it seemed the right thing to say.  “And he is also mindful of the people whom he rules.  He is visiting all the provinces and wishes to know them better.  He has trusted me to live amongst you good people of Turslenka, and I would be greatly honoured if I may, as my coat of arms, include the wheel of this fair city within it.”  He had just thought of this, as his particular coat of arms had yet to be finalised.

A roar went up from the crowd.  Astiras clutched the hilt of his sword and stepped down another step, but then watched in amazement as the voices began calling out in praise of Prince Argan Koros.

Argan beamed.  He had pleased the people, and stepped down to them, holding out his hands for the people to touch them.  Kerrin stumbled after him, overwhelmed.  What had ‘Gan done?  He’d never heard him speak like that before!  It was incredible!  The shouts for Prince Argan rolled over the people and they pressed forward to touch this absurdly young but well-speaking prince.

For a moment it looked like Argan was going to be crushed, but the men nearest him pushed back, shouting to give the prince room.  Argan stood in the square and turned full circle.  “People of Turslenka, I shall be here for some years, and you will have the chance to see me on many occasions.  I would be delighted to speak to any and all of you should the chance come.  But now I must return to my father who no doubt will admonish me for being so bold.”

A chuckle spread through the crowd.  He had a sense of humour, too.  That was good.  Too many rulers in the past had none at all, and even less inclination to see their people.  “All praise Prince Argan!” they chorused.

Argan slowly made his way through the cheering throng and reached the gates, passing through quickly and was allowed to climb to the waiting group of adults, all standing with their mouths open.  Argan noted that the junior officer’s mouth was open wider than the emperor’s which was surely bad manners.

“Father,” Argan bowed formally, feeling as though he was floating.

“Argan,” Astiras’ voice cracked.  “You – you –“ he shook his head.  “Could have got yourself killed there, you young fool!”

“Father, I was safe amongst those people.  They wanted to hear something good.”

Astiras rolled his eyes, but picked his son up and hugged him.  Cheers broke out from the soldiers and the crowd followed suit.  Argan was overjoyed; he had saved his father from the anger of the crowd, and stopped them from calling out for Metila to be burned.  He was put down again and Astiras looked at him, shaking his head in wonder.  “How did you do that?”

“Father, as you said to me just now – bribery.”

Astiras stared at his son for a moment, then broke out into laughter and slapped Argan heartily on the shoulder, almost knocking him off his feet.  Thetos nodded, looking at the young prince with approval.  Here was someone who was already showing signs of being a leader, and this could only be good for the future of Kastania.

Later that day, after Astiras and his entourage had bade them all farewell and ridden off accompanied not by jeers, but by cheers, Argan and Kerrin had sat down and reflected on the day’s events.  Metila had finally appeared, and sat next to Thetos on the other side of the table.  Mr. Sen and Panat Afos made up the group.

“It was a very brave but foolhardy thing for you to do, Prince Argan,” Thetos said, playing with the side of his mug.  “As your ward I cannot allow you to put yourself in such danger again.  Having said that,” he held up his hand to forestall any reply from Argan, “you did an amazing thing and I for one thank you.”

“I too,” Metila said in a husky, tired voice.  There were dark shadows under her eyes and she looked very thin indeed.  “I hear they wanted burn me.  Not good.”

“I promised them you and father would never be together again,” Argan said firmly.

Metila looked at Thetos and then placed her head against his shoulder.  She shut her eyes and smiled.

Thetos ran his one hand down her face and hair.  “I think that is all in the past; Metila will not do that with the emperor again.  She is a good woman, young Prince, do not judge her for the actions of a Bragalese woman sealing a contract.”

“I know Bragalese people, Governor,” Argan said, looking closely at Metila, “and as you know I have a personal servant of my own who is Bragalese.”

“Ah yes, of course, the girl Sasia.  Is she settling in fine?”

“It will take time; she is feeling lonely – she is away from her homeland and has no fellow servants as friends – yet.  I was wondering whether Metila here could make her feel more at home?  One Bragalese woman to another?”