by Tony Roberts
“Oh?”
“Oh indeed!” Isbel said with some heat. “You had no idea she had no home of her own, did you? Do you in fact have any idea of the private life of our retainers? You were going to throw her out on the street alone and with no living! She would have had to beg in the streets!”
“Ah,” Astiras scratched his face thoughtfully. “It appears I was a touch hasty there.”
“A touch? That’s you all over, Astiras. Charging in like a male bovine in a pottery shed. Smash! Bang! Wallop! No thought of the damage you do. Ohh, sometimes I could scream.”
“One of my more attractive traits,” the emperor grinned.
“It’s not funny!” Isbel almost shrieked. “Put away that war head you’ve still got on and start being considerate, if you’re capable!”
“Apologies, ma’am,” Astiras saluted.
“One of these days I’m going to really lose my temper with you. I don’t care if you’re emperor of this nation; I’m going to put you in your place.”
Astiras spread his hands out wide. “Alright, alright. I’m sorry, Isbel. Arrange for Rousa to stay on in some capacity, but the boys have outgrown her. We’ll have to think of someone more suitable to guard and guide Istan from now on. I must say Argan’s growing up into a very polite and good looking young man. By the gods, hasn’t he shot up these past two years?”
“You really think so? I’ve had a few problems with him recently.” Isbel looked troubled. Now Astiras was here she felt self-conscious, as if she felt she was letting him down as the mother of his children. She admitted to herself his actions had stung her motherly pride. “I’m glad you approve of Argan.”
“You’ve done a wonderful job, Isbel,” Astiras said. He saw her expression. “I’m being serious. What with running the administration of the empire too in my absence. I’m very proud of you. It must have been tough.”
“You’ve no idea how tough it’s been, coping with the other nobles, and the merchants, the finances, the bickering, arguing, back stabbing. It’s like dealing with a whole bunch of children!”
“I can guess. I’m proud of you, really.”
Isbel looked at her husband for a moment, and he got out of the chair and embraced her. Something snapped inside her and she collapsed into his arms and broke down, sobbing uncontrollably. The effort of having to be strong, to hold together the empire against the competing factions while her husband was far away fighting a war, had finally become too much. Astiras coming home had been the catalyst that had done it; her self-reliance had relaxed now he was here, and she desperately needed him. Their disagreement that afternoon had used up the last of her mental reserves and now she surrendered her emotions to him.
Astiras held her close. While not fully understanding why she was crying her heart out into his chest, he knew she needed his physical assurance. It made him feel good. Even as Isbel wept out her feelings in a cathartic rush, Astiras smiled.
____
The Council meeting the next morning was much brisker than had been of late. Astiras held the chair and backed up Isbel’s policies. It was, as he had promised her the previous evening, important once again to show everyone that the Koros were speaking with one voice. Isbel sat next to Astiras silently, feeling more secure in her mind than she had for some time. All the unsettling feelings she’d had the previous day over the dismissal of Rousa had gone. Her man was supporting her publicly. It gave her an upwelling feeling of love for him.
“I don’t care that you’re unhappy about the lack of militia to patrol the roads throughout the empire, Panat,” Astiras snapped, glaring at the ex-general across the table. “The fact is that at present the treasury is unable to support the employment of the hundreds of men it would take. We’re having to divert funds to the infrastructure that has been allowed to rot for too long. In time, yes, we will rebuild the internal security of our precious empire, but we cannot both employ a large army and repair the roads, ports and buildings.”
“With due respect, sire,” Panat said, exercising great restraint, “you are a soldier, a military man. We of the military rejoiced when you took power. At last, so we thought, here is a man who’ll put the military back where it should be; our soldiers lack proper barracks, proper training facilities, proper equipment! Gods, we know how hard it is to get new weapons!”
“Don’t I know that, too,” Astiras agreed darkly, frowning severely. “But we’re having to face stark facts. One,” he tapped a forefinger, “my predecessor emptied the treasury and it wasn’t spent on public buildings, the roads or the army, that’s for certain. Two,” he added his middle finger alongside his forefinger, “the army – such as it is these days – needs to march from Kastan or Niake or Turslenka to any trouble spot fast, and it can’t do that along routes that are half obliterated or full of mud due to neglect! Three,” and he placed his ring finger alongside the other two, “we need more funds and fast. We can’t do that by recruiting more soldiers. They don’t raise funds, they drain them. So we need to spend what we have on facilities that could feasibly help in gaining us more money. That means markets, grain exchanges and bigger ports. And better roads,” he nodded to Isbel who was about to speak, knowing what she was going to add.
Isbel smiled and settled back into her chair. It was illuminating to her seeing her husband run the council meeting now she had had a year or more of doing it herself; the skill he showed in dominating the others was something to admire. She now knew just how hard it was.
“So, General,” Astiras said to Panat, still referring to his retired rank as a mark of respect and honour to the man who had spent the last few years not being able to do so, “I’m afraid the military has to step aside for the moment – but I promise it won’t once we get the chance to build up the treasury.”
“We have been told that before, sire,” Alvan Ecvar spoke.
“By deceitful and cowardly men, yes. But I’m not like them; as a soldier and moreover as a soldier currently fighting a war on all of our behalf, I know that the army needs funding. We will all benefit from the rebuilding of Bragal; there are trade goods Bragal has in abundance. Which of you here laments the drying up of the beautiful wood that comes from that province?”
Heads nodded all round the table. Bragal was well known for the hardwoods that went to make the top quality furniture in Kastania, and recently none of these goods had been available. Astiras grinned. “Imagine the orders that’ll come once the wood can once more be supplied to the traders here and in the other places of the empire? Hence, the need for a bigger market place here.”
“Your estates supplied much of the wood, sire,” Valsan Kelriun commented.
Isbel stiffened beside her husband. Astiras sensed it. “Counsel, if I understand your reasoning, you’re concerned we’ll keep much of the revenue thus raised? Well, I can assure all of you here we won’t steal the treasury blind. I’ll impose a total imperial control of all wood industry in Bragal at first, then look to sell concessions to enterprising merchants, but only on the understanding they sell to Kastanian buyers with a set maximum price.”
“If your estates are still there, sire,” Vosgaris said. “I understand from what people say much of Bragal has been burned and destroyed – by each side in the conflict.”
“If they have been burned then we’ll rebuild them. Using Bragalese wood and Bragalese labour,” Astiras smiled evilly. “I suspect there’ll be some – ah – prisoners taken from Zofela once my army takes it.”
There were chuckles from around the table. Vosgaris frowned and produced a sheet of parchment he’d been handed that morning by a messenger. “Sire, you may wish to see this. A messenger from Makenia handed it in to me just before I came to this meeting.”
Astiras clicked his fingers and held out his hand peremptorily. Vosgaris passed it along and Astiras read it, frowning. He bared his teeth. “So. The canine Nikos Duras has resurfaced.”
“Where, sire?” Panat leaned forward.
“Makenia. Close to the p
ort of Kalkos. He would appear to be raising a new army after I wiped his last one out. He’s promising all sorts of things to former soldiers who are out of a job should he become emperor.”
Those at the table looked at one another. Isbel clutched Astiras’ arm. He grinned at her and passed her the parchment. “Don’t worry unduly, Isbel. He’s gathering men and supplies. They won’t be ready to cause too much trouble until the new year and the spring. Winter’s on the way and nobody will be able to do that much when the snows come.”
“What’s he promising, sire?” Elethro asked. “Money?”
“Partly, yes. Probably his daughter, too.”
“Astiras!” Isbel said heavily.
“Sorry, that was uncalled for,” the emperor said. Then he smiled. “Have you seen her? I would have thought the soldiery had better taste.”
He got a kick under the table. Astiras’ smile got wider. Some of the men around the table sniggered. Panat then became serious once more. “Where is he getting this money from?”
Astiras shrugged. He looked along the line of faces to his left. “Frendicus – have your tax cohorts found anything that the Duras might have used?”
Frendicus shook his head. “They plead penury, sire. To be truthful, nothing has come to light from their estates that could be taxed that isn’t already.”
Elethro snorted. “They made enough money from the time one of their family was on the throne, and from the rule of your predecessor, sire.”
“So where has it gone, then?” Panat demanded.
“Good question. If we had the time and resources we’d descend upon them. However we haven’t,” Astiras pulled a face. “But I’d like to see this army he is putting together. I want to know if it’s big enough to march on Kastan or Turslenka. We need to warn Thetos Olskan. Vosgaris, arrange that, will you?”
“Sire,” Vosgaris bowed.
“Valsan,” Astiras turned to the diplomat, “I want you to travel to Turslenka to take stock of the city there and report back to me what you find. Is Olskan doing a decent job and the like. Now, on your way, divert your journey to the camp of Duras and speak to him. Ask for his demands. Make him think we’re prepared to listen to what he has to say. You’ll work out what to say, of course,” the emperor waved a hand in the air. “You’re better at the diplomatic speech than I.”
Isbel’s mouth twitched. Valsan bowed. “Sire, it shall be done. I shall depart tomorrow.”
“Good. Now, Elethro, you’ve given me this letter of introduction from one of your guild, a Piran Tukk.” He scanned a sheet of parchment before him. “He wishes to begin trading textiles from Kastan throughout the empire?”
“Indeed, sire. We need to restart the textile trade here. It withered during the rule of your predecessor and we’re all feeling the effects. Now, if a market is to be built here, the textile trade would have a perfect place to sell. After all, it’s something we’re well known for, aren’t we?”
Astiras nodded. “Even I know that. Agreed. I assume you have premises in mind?”
“The abandoned Fokis factory, sire.” The council chuckled.
CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
Evas Extonos stared for a long time out of his office window overlooking the paved square of Naike, watching the rain lance down. The townsfolk ran for shelter or cowered miserably under the awnings of their market stalls. Autumn was a time for rain in Bathenia, the clouds rushing in either from the Balq Sea to the south or the Aester Sea to the north east.
Evas sighed and turned away from the watery scene. He eased himself into his chair and gave the pile of documents and reports on his table a long look. The former High Priest Gaurel Burnas had raised the funds necessary to repair the main temple in the city and once again people were attending the ceremonies and praying to the gods to the priests’ satisfaction. Burnas had admonished Evas and the Koros once more for failing to provide the funding. Burnas had appealed to the people of Niake to donate the money and they had generously dug into their own pockets.
Now Burnas was once again issuing thundering denouncements from his altar. Nobody was safe from his criticisms and Evas was concerned that the general anti-Koros tone of his speeches would attract the wrong sort of attention from Kastan. Evas could really do without that sort of trouble, but he didn’t wish to act against the priests for fear the populace would turn on him again.
Demtro had become less visible since the Tybar agents had been exposed. The two Tybar priests agitating in Niake had been identified and arrested. It appeared that they had been behind the whole campaign to discredit the Kastanian gods, using bribery and corruption amongst the merchant and landlord classes to make the citizens bankrupt and homeless, then they would appeal to them to follow new gods and turn on the old ones who had clearly let them down. This had been the underlying reason why the temples had been targeted in the first place – burned by Tybar agents acting amongst the general rioting.
Since the breaking up of the Tybar cell, things had quietened down for a while, although periodic Tybar scares had surfaced from time to time. He had been unhappy about the diplomat Kijimur being allowed to pass through Bathenia, even if he had been escorted by a squad of Kastanian militia riders. That had caused another incident when they got close to the border. Kijimur had insisted the border was some distance further east than that claimed by Kastania, and the diplomat had been almost arrested in the argument. Finally the militia had let him go out of fear when Kijimur had insisted a Tybar army was not too far away and if they saw Kijimur being manhandled then an invasion would occur.
None of the riders had seen any Tybar soldiers but that didn’t mean they weren’t there. The terrain of the interior west of Niake was a series of gradually rising hills that eventually levelled out into a plateau, bordered by mountains. An army could hide anywhere there and spring an ambush on an unsuspecting victim. The riders were glad to return to Niake.
Evas was worried that an army was poised close to the border. He sent a report to Kastan and was awaiting a reply. In the meantime rumblings of an anti-Koros movement were gaining in frequency and volume. It seemed people were listening to the poisoned words of those who had been badly affected by the cutting off of bribe funds from the central treasury, and recruiting bandits, out of work soldiers and other men wishing to take up arms against the establishment for whatever reason they had.
Evas had sent warnings to both Kastan and Slenna. Word was that the leader of this rebellion was a former army officer by the name of Lombert Soul. He wasn’t a noble but was something of a brilliant tactician. He’d served in the army under the Fokis and clearly preferred their rule to that of the Koros. He was based somewhere along the borderlands of Lodria and Bathenia. Nobody was confirming anything at present but clearly something was amiss out in the countryside. Travellers were going missing and property was being burned, but not all in one place. Currently it was sporadic but if Lombert Soul gathered a big enough army he could march on either Niake or Slenna. The problem was the exact location of Soul’s base was unknown and if a force was sent from either Niake or Slenna then it would possibly leave that town or city open to attack. What was needed was more information. Evas thought about asking Demtro. It would be something he might like to undertake.
What was high on his priority was funding to enlarge the port of Aconia, a few miles east on coast of the Aester Sea. In order to handle more trade and larger ships and the ability to build bigger and better ships, the port had to be increased in size. Much of the construction workforce in the region was employed there, bringing timber and stone into the settlement and carrying out the work. The trouble was Evas had to send some of his soldiers there to make sure nothing happened to the workforce, and to stop them from stealing the materials. It went on and the army had arrested a few people, including a foreman. Since then most of the thefts had stopped but it still went on in a small way. It was irritating.
Evas examined the list of monies coming in and going out, and it didn’t tally. Somewhere som
e funds were being diverted. Exasperated he called in his financial advisor, a thin man with no humour and less imagination by the name of Jul Waskott. Waskott was in his early thirties, sharp-faced and had bad skin. It was the colour of faded parchment and had spots the size of pupils on his neck and throat. It was fascinating, in a grotesque way.
“Have you any idea where this money is going, Waskott?”
“Sorry, Governor,” Waskott shrugged. “We’ve checked and re-checked. It’s an irregular occurrence and as a result we can’t find who is behind it. Sometimes nothing happens and then suddenly it goes again, but from another budget.”
“What about the accountants? Surely someone there can find where it goes? Does it go after the money is deposited in the building here or when it goes to a particular accounting office?”
Weskott looked sharply at the governor. “Are you inferring one of my clerks is behind it?”
“Who else, Weskott? I want to know when the money goes astray.”
The financial advisor sighed. “I shall carry out another audit. I doubt it will reveal anything, just like the first two.”
He left, shaking his head sadly. Evas paused, uncertain, then, making a decision, grabbed his quill and a clean piece of parchment. He didn’t want to fall foul of the Koros by not keeping a tight financial ship, and although he would rather not ask the irreverent Demtro, there were times when one had to grasp the nettle, so to speak, and use what you had.
Demtro arrived the same afternoon, the request folded inside his jacket. “So, Governor,” he said cheerily, seating himself comfortably, “you have need of me?”
Evas briefly explained the situation. Demtro looked thoughtful. “So you have no idea who it is and why? How much is involved?”
Evas slid a sheet across to him and Demtro looked at it and whistled. “Wow, someone’s embezzling on a grand scale. How in the name of the gods has it gone undetected? Someone’s been very careless – or has been bought.”
