The Folding Knife (47 page)

As so often recently, he looked for inspiration in a map, and duly found it. There was an island, Voroe, some twenty miles down the coast from Leir. Basso had heard of it, vaguely; something or other came from there (he couldn't remember what offhand), but it could have been on the Moon for all he knew or cared. But Voroe turned out to be another leftover scrap of the Empire; at least, nobody had bothered to conquer it when the Imperial forces withdrew, and so it didn't belong to anybody else (the idea that it might belong to itself was not the sort of thing that occurred to diplomats and formulators of high strategy). According to the reference he found in the
Complete Description of the World
, the lamentably fallible standard text on faraway places, it had one city, also called Voroe, about the size of an Auxentine market town, and half a dozen vaguely defined villages. Its sole export (Basso remembered as soon as he read it) was oyster shells, of the rare and precious variety that, when ground into powder, could be used as purple dye.

"But why?" Aelius objected.

Basso counted off the reasons on his fingers. "To get them out of Leir, before they trash the place," he said. "To secure Voroe as a base of operations; we can stockpile supplies there, rather than hauling them direct from the City. To give the Hus people to rob who don't matter to anybody but themselves."

"It's Imperial territory," Aelius objected.

"I was coming to that," Basso said. "One finger left, see? To find out if the Empire's looking in this direction these days. As you know, I believe it may well be, but it'd be nice to have it confirmed one way or another."

"Fine," Aelius said. "Leave them in Leir. We know that's Imperial."

Basso shook his head. "If we leave them there causing trouble, after we've been politely asked to get them out, that'd be a hostile act, which could be held against us later on when the Empire's looking to pick a fight. If we send them to Voroe and the Empire objects, we can say we're terribly sorry, we didn't realise the island was still part of the Empire, and of course we'll remove our forces--by the time the messengers have shuttled back and forth we'll be ready to ship them to Mavortis in any case. If that happens, we'll ask the Empire for permission to have a base on Voroe; they'll say yes because we were good about withdrawing our forces. Or, if we don't get a protest from the Imperials, we'll know they're still too busy cutting each other's throats to give a damn about the West."

Basso wrote a formal apology to the mayor of Leir, and the Hus went to Voroe, where they sacked the town, raided the villages and robbed a Sclerian merchant fleet who'd come to collect a shipment of oyster shell. Not a word from the Empire. Basso set up a trading company to collect, process and market purple dye; its product was good-quality and considerably cheaper than the imported Sclerian equivalent, and proved extremely popular. The Hus, once they'd slaughtered every living creature on Voroe (apart from Basso's men, who they knew were off-limits), started to complain about being bored. Since they were on an island and had no ships, Basso ignored them.

Reluctantly, the city prefect gave orders for Basso to be informed. It was the middle of the night. Fortunately, he was still awake, as anybody who'd known him would have realised.

His sons, the prefect's men informed him, were in the central Guard station, in the cells. The prefect deeply regretted that this had proved necessary. However, given the gravity of the charges, he had no choice. He assumed that Basso would want to come over straight away.

Basso thanked the prefect's men politely, and said it could wait till morning. Then he sent for Cinio, Sentio and the Secretary of the Interior, a new appointee by the name of Furio.

"Basically it's up to you," Furio said. He was a young man, chosen mainly for his energy and appetite for administrative trivia; short, thin, pale-eyed, with unusually large feet. "If you give me a direct order, I can have them out of there and the charges torn up in half an hour. If you want my opinion, politically, I think you can get away with it. As far as I can tell at this stage, the girls are nobody special; your people can make it sound like they're just a couple of tarts, and things got a bit out of hand. Then I assume you'll bury it with war news."

"Or," Basso said.

Furio frowned. "Or," he said, "they'll be remanded in custody while the complaint is processed, and within three days they'll appear in front of the investigating magistrate. I can make sure he knows the score. We'll have to make him a judge, but that's easy enough."

Basso shook his head. "That'd be begging the Optimates to make him a better offer," he said. "I have a deep-rooted objection to giving hostages."

"Well," Furio said; he sounded slightly bewildered. "If the complaint goes in front of an impartial magistrate, on what we know at the moment there's a case to answer, and it'll go to trial. By that point, your best bet would be to choose a good jury." He shrugged. "I suppose a straight acquittal would be better than anything that could be interpreted as the case being dropped through undue influence. But there'd be a risk of something going wrong, and then you'd have to arrange for them to be let off on appeal. Apart from anything else, there's the matter of timescale. Under due process, it could drag on for the best part of a year; and they'd be in jail all that time, remember. Bail's never given in rape cases, without conspicuous leaning on the magistrate."

"I suppose they did do it," Basso said.

Cinio interrupted. "That's hardly the point."

"True." Basso sighed. "For two pins I'd leave them there," he said. "Of all the bloody stupid inconsiderate things to do, just when I'm about to embark on a substantial war and the Opposition can't touch me."

"That's not a serious suggestion, is it?" Sentio said nervously. "I'd hate to have to put a positive angle on the First Citizen's sons being tried for rape."

Basso frowned. "I don't know," he said. "You couldn't do much better for proof of integrity. What about all the old stories about great statesmen of the past, who executed their own sons for treason?"

Sentio decided not to answer. Cinio said: "People like integrity, but they don't much like heartless bastards. At best, I think it'd be neutral."

"Rape's different," Basso said. "Very emotive. Treason you could smooth over as an irreconcilable clash of principle, which doesn't sound at all bad if you pitch it right. Rape's just nasty. I have to admit," he went on, "I'm disappointed in them, if it's true. Sort of thing my late brother-in-law might have done. Right now, I'm inclined to let it go to trial." He frowned. "I've always had an unpleasant suspicion that the twins took after their mother in some respects." He scratched his head, looked down at his hands. "All right," he said. "You three go home, and please bear in mind that you were never here. I'll let you know what I decide."

He didn't have long to wait.

"This is splendid," he said. "All those years when we never saw each other, and now two visits in as many months."

His sister gave him a patient look. "I'm glad you can still make jokes, Basso. I'd have thought that after this latest business, you might have lost your sense of humour."

"Please sit down," he said. "Can I get you anything?"

She remained standing. Naturally, the opposite of what he said. If only it was that simple. "I've been expecting something like this, of course."

"Really? It came as a complete surprise to me."

"What, that your sons take after their father? Hardly surprising."

Basso nodded slowly. "That thought has occurred to me a few times over the last two days," he said. "You see, I've often wondered who the twins' father really was. I suppose this could be taken as circumstantial evidence."

She gave him a cold stare. "If you try and hush this up," she said, "I'll make sure you don't get away with it."

"Really?" He smiled encouragingly. "How?"

"Rape is an offence against the majesty of the Invincible Sun," she said. "I'm sure the Patriarch could be persuaded to take up the issue, if you try and use your influence to get the charges dropped."

Basso nodded. "I don't think the Patriarch is going to be in any kind of a hurry to pick a fight with me," he said. "I know he's anxious to secure his place in history, but I doubt he'll want to be remembered as the first Patriarch to be executed for conspiracy to murder the First Citizen."

She was perfectly still and silent for several seconds. Then she said: "If you have some sort of hold over the Patriarch, I can have him replaced."

Basso's eyes opened a little bit wider. "Is that right?"

"Oh yes." But, he thought, she always sounds so confident; maybe she could, at that. "Please don't think you can blackmail your way out of this. I intend to see that justice is done."

Basso smiled faintly. "Has it occurred to you that the twins might be innocent?"

"It wasn't their guilt that I had in mind."

"No, I don't suppose it was." Basso frowned. "And if it does go to trial," he said. "I assume you'll try and use the priesthood to manipulate the outcome."

"I feel sorry for you," she said. "You honestly believe that everybody's mind works like yours. As I said just now, I will spare no effort to see that justice is done, by whatever means necessary." She was holding a tiny lace handkerchief in her left hand, he noticed, as though it was some kind of weapon. "I hope you understand that I'm serious about this. I don't make idle threats."

"I never said you did," Basso replied evenly. "Though you could do with reading a good book on tactics. Why warn me in advance of what you've got in mind? If you think I'm going to get the charges dropped, why not let me do it and then come after me with all the priests you can muster? Vestigial sense of fair play, maybe?"

He thought he knew all her expressions, but this one was new. It was disgust, contempt and just a little pity. "You call it fair play. I prefer the word justice. I don't want to catch you out, Basso. I want you, just for once in your worthless life, to watch something coming and not to be able to do anything about it. I want you to realise you're not in control. I think that'd be fair, don't you?"

Basso shrugged. "Only the other day, you just wanted me dead."

"I still do," she said, and left the room.

He couldn't put it off any longer, so he went to see the twins.

They weren't in the general cells. Instead, the guard captain had put them in the tower overlooking the back courtyard. Two hundred years ago, when the building was the headquarters of the Imperial garrison, the tower had been the garrison commander's private quarters. There were worse places.

"Well?" Basso said.

"I swear to you, we didn't do it," Festo said. Basso tried to remember the last time he'd spoken to him--before the Cazar recruits had arrived, but exactly when he couldn't call to mind. "It's got to be some sort of horrible mistake. Honestly."

Basso looked at Pio, but just saw fear. "Please don't lie to me," he said coldly. "You're very bad at it, you always have been. I used to think that was a good thing about you. Now I'm more inclined to think it's because you can't do anything right."

Pio said, "We didn't mean it to happen."

"Really." Basso couldn't be bothered to look at him. "You'll excuse my ignorance, but I didn't think rape was something that happens by accident. I don't want to know," he said, as Festo tried to say something. "I'm really not interested in the details. I wouldn't have thought my opinion of you could get any lower than it is right now, but maybe you two could manage it."

Pio was sitting on the floor, even though there was a perfectly good chair. But he'd always sat on the floor, Basso remembered, like a dog who's not allowed on the furniture. "What's going to happen?" he asked.

Basso looked at a place on the wall exactly between them. "There'll be a hearing before the magistrate," he said. "If he finds there's a case to answer, you'll go to trial."

It wasn't the answer they'd been expecting. "Surely there's something--" Festo started to say.

"Sorry," Basso cut him off. "I'm afraid I owe you both an apology. If I was just a businessman, I could probably bribe you out of this mess. In my position, however, that luxury is denied to me. If I tried anything like that, my enemies would be down on me like a ton of bricks, and you'd almost certainly be convicted, even with the best lawyers in the City. I'm afraid that because of who I am, you're going to have to stay put and see it through. Any fooling around will just make things worse for you."

For a moment he felt sorry for them; but then, there had been times when he'd felt sorry for rats, when the stable hands blocked up all the holes but one and poured in boiling water. "So that's it, then," Festo said, and it was the first time Basso had heard anything like anger in his son's voice. "They'll put us on trial, and--"

"Shut up," Basso said, "you're upsetting your brother. Nobody's going to hang you."

Probably true, he reflected, on the way back to the House. Two overprivileged young men, drunk, and a barmaid. They think she's just playing hard to get. No real malice in them, gentlemen of the jury; just profound stupidity, thoughtlessness, worthlessness--if those were hanging offences, gentlemen, the City would be pretty empty. There were two alternative punishments for rape, both designed to make sure the offender never did it again. No great loss, Basso couldn't help thinking. After all, some of his best friends were eunuchs.