by Tony Roberts
“I wondered about that,” Meldres Angian commented, the head of the Angian family. “It was blamed on a careless use of torchlight.”
“That was the rumour we wished to circulate. The end result is that the thieves guild has ceased to exist in Kastan, and a really thorough interrogation was carried out on the survivors. Finally it was revealed that certain payments had been made to the guild headquarters to buy off a guard named Harran and to smuggle in a reptile to do the wicked deed. No records exist of course of this transaction.”
“Therefore there is no proof,” Ebril Kanzet said.
“Apart from signed confessions, no,” Isbel smiled again. “We have the names of those responsible.”
“And who are these, pray tell?” Cledin asked, an edge to his voice.
“All in good time, Fokis, all in good time. What has also come to light is the name of the person to succeed my husband as emperor. But of course being the untrustworthy traitors you plotters are, it has also been found that a second plot exists to quickly replace that man with another the moment the Koros have been eliminated. It would appear, gentlemen, that there is no honour amongst traitors.”
“You lie!” Cledin stood up angrily, his face red with fury. “This is absolute nonsense, designed to create dissention amongst us all!”
“Shut up, Fokis you damned fool!” Thesan Lazisk snapped, “she’s clearly got no idea of anything and you’ve just opened your mouth too far!”
Cledin stared at his fellow noble, then whirled in fury on the empress who was smiling in triumph. “You whore! I’ll have you beheaded and your head mounted on the city gates for this!”
The other nobles broke out into loud exclamations. Isbel pointed at Cledin. “You condemn yourself, Fokis. You will be executed for treason. Vosgaris.”
Vosgaris smiled and advanced on Cledin, who kicked his chair out of the way and hauled out his sword. The nobles had been permitted to bring their swords into the meeting as usual, as a mark of respect and trust from the ruling family, as had been for centuries. Clearly it had been a risk but Isbel hadn’t wanted to alert them that anything like this was in the offing.
“Lackey,” the Fokis family man snarled, “I’ll chop you to pieces, whelp! Your family are nothing but arse kissers!”
Vosgaris stood facing Cledin, both hands on the hilt of his sword. Around the room, members of the Palace Guard were coming to life, wielding their volgars. “Remain where you are,” Vosgaris spoke to them, “this one’s mine!”
“Well?” Cledin swung his head and addressed the other nobles who were still sat as if carved from stone, “are you going to act like men or are your words of solidarity nothing but empty promises?”
“You’re a dolt, Fokis,” Thesan growled, “and if you think you can implicate all of us in your evil scheme you’ll be disappointed.”
“Who wants the Fokis lands?” Isbel asked suddenly. “They’re all forfeit.”
Hands shot up and nearly every noble there stood and yelled ‘aye’. Isbel chuckled. “It seems, Fokis, your comrades and allies have deserted you.”
“Fools!” Cledin screamed in fury, “you’ll all be destroyed by the Koros! Act now, kill them all!”
Nobody moved. Vosgaris stepped closer. “Now, you traitor, defend yourself before I cleave you in two.”
With a deep guttural roar of frustration and rage, Cledin swung into the attack, swinging his sword two-handed, pounding down at Vosgaris who blocked above his head, then to his left at neck height. Vosgaris had to retreat under the vicious slashing, but blocked each time, using the skills taught him as he had been growing up by his now dead tutor. Cledin was older but not an old man, and had plenty of energy, but his anger blunted his skill and he left too many openings in his desperation to kill the man.
Vosgaris waited, sweating with the effort of keeping his adversary’s attacks from breaking through, and switched his weight from one foot to the other, moving side to side and back and forth, watching how Cledin attacked. Finally, with three items of furnishing in the room broken or chipped and more being threatened, Vosgaris felt confident enough in bettering the man.
Suddenly he transferred his weight to his right foot and swung back at Cledin, his blade a blur. Cledin had just completed an almighty swipe and the blade had executed a full circle, ending up above the Fokis clan member’s left ear. Vosgaris, with a smaller distance to cover, cut across the chest, knowing Cledin’s weight was already on his back foot, so he couldn’t step back any further without falling over.
Cledin cried out in terror, knowing he couldn’t get his sword down in time. The blade cut through his rich jacket and shirt, biting deep into his ribs and crushing two back on themselves. The blade kept on travelling, puncturing his heart and then began to exit as Cledin’s body was sent spinning under the force of the blow. Vosgaris executed the circle and stood there, watching as his opponent dropped his sword, his face screwed up in agony, clutching his chest.
The dull metallic sound of the sword striking the rug rang through the chamber, and Fokis sank to his knees, then crashed face down and lay still. Vosgaris stood above him, staring down at the body. “My family’s honour is intact,” he said tonelessly. “We are not arse-kissers, Fokis.”
Isbel stood up and moved down the table on the opposite side to that of the dead Cledin Fokis. She stopped by Ebril Kanzet. “Ebril, you were put forward as the new emperor to succeed my husband. Do I understand you still wish for this to be so?”
Ebril coloured and looked up at the serious face of the empress. He was also aware of two Palace Guardsmen standing behind her, their volgars in the ‘attack’ position. “Your majesty….”
“And you or your family was behind the attempt to burn down the city hall. Do you wish for me to make this piece of news public?”
“Ah-uh-no, ma’am.” Ebril looked helplessly at the other members of the nobility.
Isbel leaned closer to him, her feminine figure a little too close to the nobleman for his comfort. She smiled at him. “I would so dearly love to award you some Fokis land, but not if you insist on being a candidate for the throne. I would have to add Kanzet land to the auction here that’s going to take place shortly. Would you rather serve me as a loyal member of my nobility?” She pressed her bosom ever so slightly against his arm.
“Shit,” Ebril muttered, his face as red as the blood seeping from Cledin’s corpse. The expressions on the faces of Thesan Lazisk, Meldres Angian, Vitlis Duras, Guttan Palanges and the others present were comical. Damn this she-canine! He thought furiously. She had him by the balls and he knew it. His family’s future was in the balance. The Fokis looked doomed, and their lands were already being eyed up by the other families present. Damned if the Kanzet were going to miss out on that!
“Ma’am,” he said, taking a deep breath, “the Kanzet only wish to serve the empire faithfully. I would be – grateful – if the city hall incident not be disclosed.”
“So will you here and now, of your own free will, declare both verbally and in writing, in front of the nobility of Kastania, that you have no interest in the throne?”
He pulled a face, but nodded curtly. The other nobles looked at him with contempt. He was in essence denying himself or his descendants a right to the imperial title. Just then the door opened and a bruised and bloodied figure was marched in by two men, holding his arms tight to prevent him from falling over. It was Geris Fokis.
Isbel nodded. “Here is the man who signed that confession. Do you, Geris, swear that what you said matches with the signed confession on the table here?”
Geris was pushed forward and made to look at one of the sheets of paper. He read for a moment, then nodded. “I do,” he slurred, his mouth swollen.
Isbel turned to the seated men. “Does anyone challenge this?”
There were no voices of dissent. Isbel waved Geris out, and he was roughly forced to leave, the two guards taking to their duties rather enthusiastically. The empress clicked her fingers and Pepil steppe
d forward, a declaration already written up for Ebril to sign. He was extremely reluctant, but finally signed, his signature scribbled furiously and angrily.
Pepil looked smug as he took the sheet back. He would arrange for his scribes to copy it and send it to every province of the empire before the morning. Isbel returned to her seat, deliberately swaying her hips. She was in control of the meeting now and these scheming, manipulating men were dancing to her tune. She quite enjoyed the feeling. “Now,” she said calmly, her heart beating fast inside her ribs by contrast, “I understand that you all have been inconvenienced by the new taxation levied against your estates.” She raised a hand to forestall the inevitable protests that were about to begin. The men who had begun to stand stopped and slowly sat down again. “Vosgaris, get him out of here!” he waved at the corpse of Cledin Fokis. “And get someone to clean up the mess.”
“Ma’am,” Vosgaris bowed and waved at two of his guards who placed their volgars against the wall and set to the job of removing the corpse.
Isbel waited until the door had closed again. “The empire has need of funds as you can understand, and our reduced size means these funds are that much harder to find. Should we regain those areas lost recently, then the potential tax revenues are many times greater.” She remembered the very same words spoken by Frendicus a few days ago in a meeting with him, and the taxman, standing quietly in an alcove off to one side, glanced at her and his lips twisted briefly. Isbel stole a quick look at him and smiled. She went on. “It is unreasonable to ask the poor to find these funds necessary to repair the roads, to repair the public buildings, to provide wages to pay for town watches at night so our citizens can walk them in safety, to pay for a standing army necessary to keep our lands safe from foreign aggressors, of which there are more than enough, and to pay for an efficient civil service. Need I carry on with a list of things? So inevitably it falls to those with the wealth to provide us with those funds.”
The men looked restless. They were itching to argue against being taxed. Isbel waved her hands in their direction in a placatory manner. “Frendicus and his taxmen have been ruthless, I know, and he followed our orders to the letter. We needed an injection of funds to revive the treasury, and thanks to his and his men’s efforts, we now have enough to last the coming year.”
“So are we to be robbed again or will you call off your canines?” Meldres Angian asked, his face stern.
Isbel tutted and waved a finger at him. “Frendicus is not a canine; he’s a very conscientious man who takes his job seriously. We have decided to levy a tax this year of one tenth on your estates. Thanks to Frendicus’ office, we know what the extent of your estates are and their value.”
“One tenth?” Vitlis Duras asked in surprise. They had all been forced to part with one fifth the past year. “In times gone past, before we revolted against the regime at that time, we were forced to pay one quarter. One tenth? How can you run the empire on that?”
There was a rumble of agreement.
“Gentlemen, one tenth is more than we were getting when we came to power.” They all fell silent, chastised. Isbel smiled to rob her words of any offence. “We are at a point where we can start anew. The Koros have cut back the civil service, the army is extremely small and we ourselves are not taking funds from the treasury. We are relying on the income from our own estates. Additionally, we will be seeking to exact one tenth from the temples. No doubt the High Priest in Niake may protest, but if you have to pay, then it’s only reasonable to expect the temples to do the same; do you not agree?”
They nodded and grumbles with ‘aye’s’. Isbel was pleased with the way things were going. “To reward you for your support, you will all receive Fokis land. We won’t completely take everything, and they will be left with their family home and lands around Slenna, but all their holdings elsewhere will be sold off to you. Frendicus here has divided those lands up into equal portions, determined by their taxable value.”
“That must have taken some time to do,” Ebril Kanzet observed. He’d calmed down sufficiently to be able to contribute to the discussion.
“Indeed; we knew of the Fokis’ treachery for a while. There are twenty-three parcels of land and the first eighteen are up for grabs to the highest bidder. Of course, the winner will have to be aware that the land is taxable, but Frendicus has worked out the values and what is their taxable worth. You will be presented with an official grant of right over the land so you can show the various foremen that you are the new owners.”
“And the other five parcels of land?” Thesan Lazisk asked. “Who is going to get that?”
“The empire.”
“Not the Koros?” Thesan asked again, a slight mocking tone in his voice.
“No, not the Koros,” Isbel replied softly, but with a hint of rebuke. “We will not be rapacious while we are on the throne.” She held Thesan’s stare until he looked away. “We have a duty to the people of this empire. We wish to restore Kastania to its former glory. It will be difficult, and our enemies are many. We can do without any internal squabbling that only serves to sap our resources and energy. We need you all to do your bit. You are to assist us in patrolling your own lands and alerting us to any rebellious actions, invasions, incursions, lawlessness and so on. We will set up in each province a militia to attend any such problem and to supplement the army in facing an invasion should any come.”
“But the army is busy in Bragal and Lodria,” Guttan Palanges pointed out. “And this militia will take time to recruit and train up!”
“Agreed, Guttan,” Isbel nodded. “So until this is done, we will rely on you to provide the men to patrol the roads of Kastania, in regions where you have holdings and property.”
“And who is going to pay for this?” Thesan asked loudly.
“You are,” Isbel said and waited for the expected response.
It came. There was an outbreak of protest. Men argued amongst themselves, pointing fingers and waving towards the empress.
Isbel waited a few moments, then rapped on the table, getting their attention. “You are being taxed far below the level you are used to. And you will have greater lands to gain income from after this council meeting. Far be it from me to tell you how to administer your lands, but I would have thought you all would be able to spare a few coins to pay for mercenaries to make sure your own lands don’t fall foul of bandits and invaders.”
“We have groups that do that already,” Ebril pointed out. “To patrol the roads would need many more men.”
“Not that many, and only this year until we start to train people.” Isbel pointed to the map that dominated the room. “Once my husband has subdued Bragal, those lands there formerly owned by you good people will be returned to you.”
“But they will be devastated, and that will cost money to make good!” Meldres argued.
“That is your own affair, not ours,” Isbel said, “and the Koros have plenty of land there, as you all know, so we know all too well what will be required to make those lands good. Prince Jorqel is in Lodria and that province will be returned to the empire in due course, and those of you with lands there will have them returned too. You see, gentlemen, we are working hard for your benefit as well as for others in Kastania.”
The two families with most land in Lodria, the Kibatos and the Nicate, had their representatives in attendance and they bowed solemnly to the empress.
Isbel looked at them all. “Only with one mind and plan can we successfully face the difficulties ahead. Our neighbours are looking at what they believe is a corpse, ready for feasting on. We will show them that we still have life and are prepared to fight to the death. The Koros do not intend to be remembered as the dynasty that saw the end of Kastania. We trust that your support will be unwavering and complete.”
Some grumbled while others nodded. Isbel didn’t believe that she would gain their trust completely that day, but she had managed to halt the move to oust her and her family and that to her was a major victory. In
one fell swoop their main enemy, the Fokis, had been defeated and the unity of the other nobles, never a sure thing at any time, had been broken. She wasn’t naïve enough to think that this was the end of it, and no doubt someone would make a move some time in the future, but for now the nobility had been cowed.
The auction would also be an interesting exercise in seeing just how much money the nobility had to throw around. It was certain they hadn’t declared everything or had allowed everything of value to be seen by Frendicus and his clerks. Isbel was beginning to enjoy being empress.
____
Slowly the mud spattered army approached Zofela from the north-west. The land dropped down into a basin of cultivated land, served by a single reasonably sized watercourse, and there on a bend in the river stood the capital of Bragal. It was surrounded by a neat wooden wall and reinforced by towers at regular intervals, and within this irregularly shaped surround stood the buildings of Zofela, dominated by the rectangular wooden keep of the fort in the centre, stood upon a high earthen mound.
Smoke spiralled lazily up from the chimneys of the wooden huts and houses, and livestock was being herded into the town from the surrounding farmland. Armed men could be seen patrolling the parapet inside the wall, and even at the distance the army was, they could hear the bells of alarm sounding. The Bragalese had been preparing the place for a siege for some time, for the land around was stripped of any construction, where before, Astiras knew, farmhouses and other single dwelling buildings had stood. Now all were gone, as were the trees and fences that had stood there.
For a distance of perhaps half a league, everything had been ripped up and only the bare earth remained. It was a shocking sight, and one that filled the men of the Kastanian army with dismay. There would be nothing for them to shelter behind, nothing for them to feed on. The emperor sat in his saddle thinking deeply for a few moments, then with a deep sigh, waved the men to continue. The single dirt road they were marching along provided the only firm ground around. The rains of early spring had turned the ground to either side into a sodden glutinous mess, and it was very difficult to dry off. Time for that once a camp was set up.
