Prince of Wrath (24 page)

He was worried Isbel would guess what the marks were, for they were copious and deep, but Metila assured him they would be nothing in seven days. She even offered to give him something to give him strength for the day, to which he’d barked back he was strong enough and didn’t need help from any witch. Metila had gasped and for a moment Astiras thought she was going to orgasm there and then. She hadn’t but Astiras guessed if he’d roared at her she would have. It was his position as Emperor that did it, he was certain. Why had she seduced him? Kudos at having the Emperor? A desire to experience the ultimate climax – passion plus power? Did she hope to gain favour with him? In any event Astiras had ordered her never to speak of their night together to anyone. She had agreed immediately.

He returned his thoughts to the present. “You may need to train up more men in future, Governor, as I doubt you’d be able to hold Makenia with what you have here, but at least your southern border is now secure. All I need to do is to wipe that scum out west of here and you won’t have to worry about that direction any more. No, I want you to prepare for the long term, for a possible invasion by Venn. That’s my task to you, Thetos. I trust you, and I have faith in you.”

Thetos smiled and bowed. “You know me, sire, I won’t let you down.”

Astiras grunted, then smiled. “And no mention of the night just gone, either of you, or I’ll come down on you like the heavens falling, got it?”

“No sire,” Teduskis said, but couldn’t resist one try. “But I must ask, was she as good as she seems?”

Astiras pulled a wry face. “Thetos here will tell you what she’s like, no doubt, when my back is turned. I’ll discuss it no more, got it?”

Teduskis bowed. He had a good idea. He had tried a Bragalese wench or two in his time, and they were like felines, all teeth and claws. Satisfying, yes, but it came with a price. How Thetos had the energy he didn’t know.

Metila brought breakfast for the four of them and she knelt at the feet of the Emperor the entire time, looking at him with adoration. Teduskis guessed if she’d been commanded to fly she would have done her best to obey. They made more plans to march the army out towards Kalkos on the morrow, after allowing the archers to recover fully. Astrias ordered scouts to ride west to see how far it was safe to march. The Emperor wanted to prepare a place to meet the rebels so he could work out the marching order so that when they arrived they could deploy into their battle order smoothly. So Teduskis did what he normally did, obey his master’s commands, making sure the captains knew their job and what was expected of them. The Hushirs went out westwards, happy to be riding into new territory, their stomachs full of Turslenkan stew and more than a few loins sated on the whores of the city.

The two companies of the imperial spearmen lined up across the city square where the Emperor inspected them. He spoke to them of their duty, their heritage, the need for them to show no mercy to the Duras traitors and those who chose to fight for them. There could be only one ruler, one lawmaker in Kastania, and that person was he. He impressed upon them that they were the backbone of his new Army of the East and that he was confident they would show him, and the rest of the Empire, that they were the true inheritors of the long glorious tradition of the armies of Kastania.

They then spent the next watch marching up and down, barked at by Teduskis, turning, reforming, lining up, and ultimately standing smartly to attention once more. Teduskis sipped on a glass of water. His throat was raw from yelling at the men but as far as he was concerned the Turslenkan Regiment was up to the task. He nodded briefly to Astiras and stepped aside. The Emperor stood up tall on the central dais. “Men of Turslenka, we are pleased by your appearance and demonstration of discipline. You shall serve us well in the coming fight. You shall form up outside the city tomorrow morning at dawn for one final inspection. Dismissed!”

The men snapped smartly once, then broke up, chatting amongst themselves. The captains looked pleased, having impressed a man no less than the warrior Emperor Astiras Koros. Teduskis knew they would form the anvil of any battle, the reliable infantry who would stand against any infantry or cavalry charge. With the addition of the Bakran Archers, they also had missile protection. It would take a remarkable opponent to defeat them, and the feeling was that the Duras would be deficient in disciplined infantry.

As the display broke up, a rider came galloping into the city, breathless, his equine blowing hard and foaming at the mouth. The rider was a civilian, a young man barely out of his childhood. Two soldiers stepped across his path as he clattered onto the square and everyone turned to look at him in surprise. The man slid off the saddle and gesticulated urgently to the Emperor. Astiras waved him through and Teduskis stepped in front, waiting to receive the man. “Speak,” he said, “what is your business with the Emperor?”

The man was breathing hard, but bowed low. “Lord,” he panted, “the Duras rebels are marching towards Turslenka, burning farms and killing my people. They are three days march away.”

Astiras slapped his thigh in delight. “At last, the canine has emerged from his kennel! What route are they taking, boy?”

“Lord, they come along the main road, picking up food as they go. They number over six hundred – riders, spearmen and archers.”

“Do they, by the gods? Teduskis, arrange for this man to be fed, watered and paid for his news. We change our schedule. Get the men ready to march this afternoon, I want us to march before dark. The further we go now, the longer we can wait at the battlefield and recover. They won’t have the time to rest when they reach us. Send riders to order the Hushirs to harry them, but do not get involved in a fight! Bring them to Lorrus Ridge, we will meet them there!”

“Lorrus Ridge, aye sire,” Teduskis nodded.

The square exploded into action. Men shouted, ran and gathered equipment and supplies. They began trickling down the road towards the Kastan Gate where the army was forming up, ready to march.

Now they would meet the rebel army head on.

Argan lay in his bed, looking up at the ceiling. He felt so tired and achy. His headaches wouldn’t go away, nor would his nose bleeds. They were getting more and more frequent and he was fed up with them. It made him feel very tired and weak and he didn’t want to spend all his time in bed. He would be called a lazy soul, and he would also miss out on his studies which he knew he really needed to do if he was going to be a prince.

People had come to see him, Mr. Sen, Vosgaris, his mother, the apothecary, Amne and, even more exciting, Jorqel! He hadn’t recognised the bearded man who had come in with Amne the first time, but when he was told who he was he had been very excited. Jorqel had sat down and spoken to him kindly, and held his hand. Argan liked that. Jorqel was more like a kindly man than his older brother, and Argan felt odd about that. He didn’t feel like Jorqel was his brother, or half-brother, as his mother had said. That was a strange thing to call him. Why a half-brother? Which half? They had the same father so he was his brother as far as Argan was concerned.

No, Jorqel was a stranger, really, not someone he knew that well. Jorqel was kind and was gentle with him, and Argan decided he liked Jorqel, even if he couldn’t really remember him from the last time he’d seen him. He had been too young to remember. He thought his older brother looked tired and a little sad, and Amne told him later that Jorqel’s bride to be Sannia was missing and he was looking for her.

Argan had offered to help look for her, and Amne had smiled and stroked his hair, telling him it would be fine and Sannia would turn up sooner or later. In the meantime Argan was to rest as much as he could. Argan couldn’t do much else; he was so tired these days and poor old Skidus was getting more attention than normal. The toy never seemed to leave Argan’s side

The only one who didn’t visit him was Fantor-Face and that was fine by him. He had nothing to say to his younger brother, at least nothing polite or sensible. In fact, Argan couldn’t remember a time when they had spoken to each other without it being nasty or rude. Nobody else was horrible like Fantor-Face, so why was he like that? It seemed the younger prince was horrible to almost everyone. Nobody said nice things about him, and their faces changed whenever anyone did speak about him.

The biggest surprise though was Kerrin. Everyone knew that the empress Isbel did not look kindly on the young boy since she still blamed him for Argan’s fall, even when it was simply not true! No matter how many times Argan had told her, she would not listen or believe him, which was hurtful. Fantor-Face was the liar in the family; in fact he lied so much that nobody else needed to. So, he didn’t expect Kerrin to turn up, but Captain Vosgaris let him in with a wink and put his finger to his lips.

Kerrin had come in with the biggest smile on his face and sat on the bed. He even held Argan’s hand! They had to speak in low voices though because there were, so Vosgaris said, people in the palace who would tell her things. Who the tell-tales were he wouldn’t say, but he said it was best to speak quietly, and he would have to come fetch Kerrin in a short while because the apothecary was due to visit that afternoon and he might be someone who told the empress things.

“You look pale, ‘Gan,” Kerrin said after a moment. “Are you very sick?”

“I feel very tired, I really do,” Argan nodded. “It gets worse when I have these nosey bleeds.”

Kerrin looked in sympathy at his friend. “It’s a shame; they’ve started me on equines now, and you should be learning how to ride! It’s not fair, it really isn’t!”

Argan pouted. “I want to ride. These silly nosey bleeds are horrible and I don’t want them. Why can’t Fantor-Face have them?”

“Because he didn’t fall off a ladder.”

Argan groaned, partly to hide his dismay at the silly accident being mentioned again. “When I’m grown-up I’ll have all the ladders in the palace checked and mended so that it never happens again.”

“Your mother the Empress had already done that,” Kerrin said soberly. He felt guilty that it wasn’t him lying there unwell. If he had been first down the ladder then it would have been, but he’d allowed Argan to precede him out of deference to the fact Argan was a prince. “I don’t think she likes me much.”

“She’s a silly fuss,” Argan replied, hugging Skidus. “I don’t ever see her happy anymore. I don’t think she likes being Empress, do you?”

Kerrin shrugged. “I’m not allowed to see you, I know that much.”

“That’s silly,” Argan countered. “She’s never liked us being friends, has she? So what if she knew you were here then? Would you get told off?”

“I expect so, yes, and Captain Vosgaris. He let me in, you know.”

Argan grinned. “He’s really good, isn’t he? Mother doesn’t like him, either. I wonder if that’s because he likes me? Does she hate anyone who likes me?” Argan stopped and thought on that for a moment.

“Oh, I don’t think it’s that, ‘Gan,” Kerrin said, shaking his head, “she’s angry at most people around the palace. You should hear her shouting this morning! Oh it wasn’t good.”

“What at?”

“Somebody trod in equine poo and brought it into the palace. She was shouting enough for a soldier on parade! Hee hee,” and Kerrin covered up his mouth to block his giggles.

“Awww, that must have stank!” Argan said, smiling.

“Yeah, really ponged. Anyway, Captain Vosgaris has this new lady he’s got to look after and the Empress said she should clean it up and that led to an argument between her and the Captain.”

“Really?” Argan looked surprised. “Vos’gis argued with mother?”

“Well, not so much argued, but said that it was the job of the cleaning staff and not a guest. Your mother went crazy, shouting at him and calling him all sorts of names, and said that the lady – aww what’s her name? – Alenna, yes that’s her name, Alenna, was fit only to clean up poo. The Captain said it was not right and then Prince Jorqel and Princess Amne turned up and agreed with the Captain! Your mother looked really angry and went off in a massive huff!”

“What is the matter with mother? She’s really not herself these days.” Argan shook his head slowly. “At least she’s stopped shouting at me these days.”

Vosgaris poked his head round the door. “Best you go now, young Kerrin, the apothecary will be here shortly and I don’t want an incident here, especially with the mood the Empress is in at the moment.”

Kerrin nodded and slid off the bed. “You get better and soon both of us will be riding equines together!” He waved and trotted obediently out of the room. Vosgaris winked at Argan and shut the door. Having overseen that piece of delicate manoeuvring, he considered the two guards on the door were sufficient for security purposes. He decided to go to see how Alenna was coping. She was just another responsibility he could do without, especially at the present time with the headache of making sure everything was right for the wedding.

He made his way along the corridor and almost collided with Amne and Jorqel who appeared round a corner suddenly, deep in conversation. Vosgaris apologised and stepped aside. Jorqel stopped and regarded him for a moment. “Captain, how are the preparations for my sister’s wedding coming along? Is everything under control?”

“Yes, your majesty. I must say, though, sire, that I am still not happy that you and the Princess here are unescorted. I would feel much more at ease if you permitted at least one of my men to accompany you round the palace.”

Jorqel smiled briefly, then resumed his usual no-nonsense expression. “Thank you Captain, for your concern, but I am perfectly happy to escort my sister around this palace, and I,” and he slapped his sword hanging in its scabbard by his side, “am more than prepared to deal with any situation that may arise. From what I have seen and experienced here so far, your security measures are enough. I do not wish to be smothered by too many guards, and it may well be that too many guards are counter-productive. You understand me, Captain?”

“Sire,” Vosgaris bowed low. Jorqel nodded curtly, then resumed his walk, Amne’s arm in his. Amne stole a quick look at Vosgaris and smiled, then she was all attentiveness to her older brother who was speaking of the Council session to be held that morning in the Map Chamber. Vosgaris waited till they turned once more out of sight before walking on towards Alenna’s chamber. As he went along the corridor that housed the bedrooms, the number of guards increased visibly. If anyone wished to enter any of the bedrooms they would have to battle through a large number of volgar-wielding soldiers.

Lalaas was in Amne’s chamber, the door open. Both Amne’s handmaidens, Selana and Kiri, were busy tidying up the day chamber. “Ho,” Vosgaris greeted his friend, “anything happened this morning?”

“Nothing much. Usual verbal sparring; I’m getting used to the Prince’s moods. Seems a serious fellow but he’s worried to the heavens underneath.”

“Yes, I can imagine. I hope he gets Sannia away from that rogue Soul. He must be itching to get back to the West and to deal with it.”

Lalaas nodded. “Has Lord Elas arrived yet? I hear he’s making his first attendance in the Council.”

Vosgaris tutted. “Is nothing secret around this damned place? Yes, he’s downstairs looking as if someone’s dropped a pile of dung underneath his nose.”

Lalaas chuckled. “I don’t envy Amne; she’s going to go mad with him as a husband.”

“Maybe Elas is the one to pity,” Vosgaris countered, a wicked smile on his face, “trying to contain that wild spirit. She’s got even more wicked with her words since Prince Jorqel turned up! You notice how close those two are?”

“Yes,” Lalaas nodded, “like two naughty children – reminds me of Argan and Kerrin. Poor Argan, he’s not going to be able to make the wedding, is he?”

Vosgaris shook his head. “It looks pretty bad for the young man. I’m so upset for him; the apothecary doesn’t hold out much hope for Argan’s future. It’ll be a tragedy if he dies.”

“Let’s pray to the gods he recovers.”

“Yes, I think that’s all that’s left for us now.” Vosgaris moved on, passed another six doors and arrived at one that had a single guard standing by it. Vosgaris nodded and the guard opened the door for him and Vosgaris passed into the chamber, the guard shutting the door behind him.

Like all the accommodation in the palace, it was a suite of three rooms. The day room which was the first chamber, then at the rear a door to the bedchamber and off to one side the bathroom. Alenna was seated in the day room, busy writing at a desk to the right, opposite the door to the bathroom. She stood up as Vosgaris entered the chamber and waited for him to speak.

“How are you this morning, Lady Alenna?”

Alenna smiled slightly. “I’m not a Lady anymore, Captain, remember the Empress’ command? I’m just plain Alenna now.” She sounded downcast, and looked it, too.

Vosgaris cleared his throat, not entirely sure as to what to say. “I’m sure she’ll reverse that decision in time, Alenna. So….. is everything here to your satisfaction?”

“Oh, yes, not bad for a prison,” she said dully. “At least I have decent food and a comfortable bed, and the prison warder is polite and presentable. I hear the dungeons here are somewhat barbaric.”

“Well, I’m glad we meet your approval,” Vosgaris said, wondering whether a bit of levity may help lift the woman’s mood. “Writing a diary?”

“What? Oh, yes. I’m so bored there’s not much else to do. I’m actually writing my life history to this point. Who knows, one day it may be a useful reference to the life of a disgraced noblewoman.”

“You make it sound really bad,” Vosgaris said, uncomfortable with the way the conversation was progressing, “you’re not being sent to the mines, and neither have you got a death sentence hanging over your head. In fact, of all your family, I think you’re the one who has come out the best of all.”

“Maybe so, Captain, but it doesn’t stop me wondering what is going to happen to my mother and father, or my brothers, and what will happen to me. I can’t see the Koros putting up with me here indefinitely. Once my family is – taken care of – what then for my own future?”

“I wouldn’t dwell too much on that, Alenna, I’ll see if I can provide you with a companion or some other distraction if you so wish.”

“You’re very kind…” she said, her voice catching, then she burst into tears, putting her hands to her face. Vosgaris, taken by surprise, stood there for a few moments, then, wondering whether he was doing the right thing, stepped forward and put his arms round her. Alenna clung to him, her fingers digging into his shirt and she sobbed into his chest, releasing all the pent-up emotions she’d endured over the recent past.

Vosgaris held her close, not doing anything else, for he really didn’t know what to do, and decided it was best not to say anything either. It seemed Alenna needed him there for the moment, for she was clinging to him for dear life, while she vented her feelings into his rapidly spreading wet patch on his shirt. He wondered whether he ought to quickly change before the Council meeting, but realised he didn’t really have the time to get to his quarters, select a decent shirt, change and then get to the chamber where the session was to meet. He would have to stand in the shadows and hope nobody noticed, especially the Empress!

Down in the Map Chamber the first of the Council attendees were already gathering. The Empress Isbel was seated in her usual chair, the one next to her which was normally her husband’s, was occupied by Jorqel, much to her disapproval. She had been about to chastise him but one look from him had aborted that in her throat. He didn’t look in the mood to compromise, and he appeared to be trying to take the chairman’s role, which was not his due. She would have to take control of proceedings as soon as possible. Another barrier to the way she wished to run the palace. Why was it all her family were doing their utmost to undermine her authority?