‘You could add that the person who wants me dead is the woman I love above all else in this world.’
‘I take it back,’ said Druss. ‘Tell me more of your wisdom, laddie. I find it strangely appealing.’
Jianna had been ten years old when first she stumbled on the passageway that led beneath the royal palace. It had been an accidental discovery. She had been playing in her father’s apartments while he had been away with the army putting down a rebellion. Her mother had sent servants looking for her, to scold her for some infraction, and Jianna had run into the huge and luxurious bedroom seeking a hiding place. She had sought to conceal herself behind a heavy silk curtain set against the north wall, but when she tugged on it she found that it would not move. A tiny section of it, at floor level, had become wedged in the walnut panelling of the wall behind. The ten-year-old princess found this perplexing. Gently she eased it out, and stepped behind the curtain. The two servants sent to fetch her to her mother soon gave up the search. Jianna heard them move away. Once alone she drew back the curtain and examined the panelling.
It was ornately carved, and embellished with gold leaf. Above her head a golden adornment had been set into the wood. It was a lion’s head, the mouth open and snarling. On both sides of the head were golden candle holders. Jianna moved back into the room and hauled a chair to the panelling. Standing upon it she studied the lion’s head. Suddenly the chair shifted. As she fell the princess grabbed the nearest candle holder. It twisted under her grip. Letting go, she fell to the floor. A cold draught of air flowed across her. The panelling had opened. Beyond was a shadowed chamber. Clambering to her feet she stepped inside. It was no more than five feet deep, ending in a barred iron door. Sliding back the bar, she pushed open the door. Beyond it was a dark tunnel. At ten the princess was too fearful to enter this frightening place. Barring the door once more she returned to the apartment, drew the panelling shut, and pushed the candle holder back into its place, relocking the entrance.
During the following year she thought about the secret passageway often, and chided herself for her childish fears. One hot afternoon, as her servants dozed in the afternoon sunshine, she crept away, back to the royal apartment. Taller now, she could — standing on tiptoe — reach the candle holder and twist it. The panel eased open. Taking a lighted lantern she stepped into the chamber beyond, examining the wall on the other side of the lion ornament. Here there was a simple lever. Pushing shut the panelling she tugged on the lever. A click sounded. The panelling was now firmly shut.
Moving to the iron door, she opened it and stepped out into the passageway. It was cool here, and a flow of air made the lantern flame flicker. Feeling her way carefully ahead she came to a set of steps leading down. The walls glistened with damp, and a rat scurried across her foot.
She almost dropped the lantern.
Jianna felt her heart beat faster as fears began to swamp her mind.
What if hundreds of rats attacked her? No-one would hear her screams, and, worse yet, her body would never be found. She faltered, and considered going back. But she did not. Instead she recalled the instruction of the swordmaster Malanek: ‘Fear is like a guard dog. It warns you when danger threatens. But if you run from all your fears the guard dog becomes a savage wolf, and will pursue you, snapping at your heels. Fear, if unopposed by courage, eats away at the heart. Once you run you will never stop.’
The tunnel seemed to go on for ever. Jianna began to worry that her lantern would splutter out, leaving her in darkness. Eventually though she came to another barred door. The bar had been recently greased, and slid open easily. Opening the door just an inch she saw beyond it an iron ladder set into a rock wall. Chequered light patterned the rocks. Pulling the door fully open, she looked up. A metal grille blocked the shaft some twenty feet above. The shaft continued down beyond the doorway, and she could not see the bottom, though she could hear running water. Leaving the lantern burning in the doorway Jianna climbed the ladder. The grille at the top was too heavy for her to move, but glancing through it she could see the tops of trees, and hear the fountains of the royal park.
The tunnel, she now knew, was an escape route from the palace.
Retracing her steps Jianna made the long journey back to the apartments, re-barring the doors as she went. Her curiosity satisfied, she did not travel that way again until the second year of her triumphant return to the capital. Her face stripped of the paint of nobility, her clothes ordinary, she sometimes escaped to walk the sunlit streets, or shop in the markets alongside ordinary citizens. She would eat in taverns, and listen to the conversations. Had either Askelus or Malanek known of these trips they would have become apoplectic with rage and frustration. Yet it was on adventures like this that Jianna learned what the populace truly thought of her government of their lives. It did not matter to her that she was now known among the nobility as the Witch Queen. To the common people she was a figure of awe, respected and feared. Not loved, though, as Malanek believed. In taverns and eating houses people spoke of her courage, her shrewdness, her battle skills. There was considerably more debate about her ruthlessness.
Crimes were now punished severely; thieves had three fingers of their left hand cut away for a first offence. A second offence led to death by beheading. Killers were taken back to the scenes of their crimes and executed there. Embezzlers and fraudsters were stripped of all assets. In the first year of her reign more than eight hundred people had been put to death in the capital alone. Askelus was not in favour of such extreme practices, even though the numbers of reported crimes plummeted.
Jianna listened to his arguments about the need for a compassionate society, about understanding the complexities of the causes of crime.
Jianna had been dismissive of his reasoning.
‘A man breaks into a house, and kills the owner to steal a few valuables.
How many people are affected? The owner may.be dead, but he might have a wife and children. He will certainly have relatives, neighbours and friends. His relatives have neighbours and friends. Perhaps a hundred people in all. Like a rock hitting the surface of a still lake the ripples of this crime spread out. People become worried about their own homes and their own lives. When then the murderer is dragged back to the house and killed there people relax. Justice has been done.’
‘And what if the wrong man has been killed for the crime?’
‘It makes no difference, Askelus. A crime has been punished. A hundred people are satisfied that society will avenge crime.’
‘Does the man unjustly killed not have family and friends and neighbours, Majesty?’
‘And that is the curse of intelligence, Askelus. Intelligent people always seek to see the other side of the problem. They look for cause and effect, balance and harmony. They focus on the poor man who steals a loaf of bread to feed his family. Oh woe, they cry, that we live in a society where a man can be reduced to such a state. Let us therefore give free food to all, so that no-one will ever steal bread again.’
‘I do not see a problem with that, Majesty. There is food enough.’
‘There is now, Askelus. But travel a little further down this road and what do you see? Men and women who no longer have to work for food.
They breed and they multiply, producing more and more people who do not have to work for food. Where do they then live, these people who do not work? Ah, then we give them free houses perhaps, and horses so that they may travel. What of clothes to wear? How can they afford them, these people who do not work? And who pays for this road to madness, Askelus?’
He had not been convinced and had spoken of building more schools, and the training of the poor to give them new skills. This idea did have appeal. Jianna’s new empire would need more skilled men and women. So she had allocated funds from the treasury for the creation of more schools and teachers, and even the building of a university. Askelus had been delighted.
As time passed Jianna continued to use the secret passageway, travelling more and more
through the city. Shopkeepers and tavern owners came to know her, and she built a new identity. She was Sashan, the wife of a travelling merchant. She even bought a cheap silver wedding band, which she wore on her right wrist. This kept most of the single men from bothering her as she moved through the city. The ones untroubled by the band she sent on their way with harsh words and a flash of her eyes.
An area a mile south of the palace became a favourite haunt for her.
There was a square here, and a marketplace. Women would often gather round the well at the centre of the square. There were benches and seats and the women would chat to one another about life and love and the raising of children. It was rare that politics entered the discussion. Even so Jianna found sitting among them hugely enjoyable.
It was there that she met Samias, the wife of a local builder. Often she would have three young children with her, and would watch them run around the square, peeping at items on the stalls. They would squabble good-naturedly, or play. Samias would open her bag and remove parcels of food, and the children would sit by her feet, munching on pies, or cake, or fruit. Samias was a tall woman, heavy around the hips. She constantly smiled as she watched her children. Only on the days when she was alone did her smile fade, and then Jianna saw the sadness in her eyes.
They spoke often. Mostly Jianna listened. Samias was contentedly married. Her husband was ‘a good man, sound and caring’ and her children were a constant delight. ‘Life is good, so I mustn’t complain,’ she said one day.
‘Why do you talk of complaining?’
Samias seemed surprised. ‘Did I? Oh, it’s just a phrase.’
‘You love your husband?’
‘Of course. What a silly question. Wonderful man. Very good with the children. What about your man? Is he kind?’
‘He’s pleasant enough,’ said Jianna, suddenly unwilling to create more lies.
‘That’s good. I expect you miss him when he’s away. Travelling merchant, isn’t he?’
‘Yes. I don’t love him, though.’
‘Oh, you shouldn’t say that. Best to try to love him. Makes life more bearable if you can convince yourself.’
‘The man I truly loved went away,’ Jianna found herself saying. ‘I wanted him more than anyone else I have ever met. He is in my mind constantly.’
‘Ah, we all have someone like that,’ said Samias. ‘What was he like?’
‘Handsome, with eyes of sapphire blue.’
‘Why did he go away?’
‘I wouldn’t marry him. I had other plans. We travelled together once, through a forest. Looking back I think it was the happiest time of my life. I can remember every day.’ Jianna laughed. ‘We were hungry and we came across a rabbit with its leg caught in a trapper’s noose. He went to it and knelt beside it. The little thing was trembling, so he stroked it. Then he carefully cut the noose. I looked at him and said: "Well, are you going to kill it and cook it?" He picked the rabbit up and stroked it again. "It has such beautiful eyes," he said, then put the rabbit down and walked away from it.’
‘Soft-hearted then? Some men are.’
‘In some ways he was. In others he was ruthless. We were attacked in the woods.’ Jianna fell silent. ‘Ah well, long ago now,’ she said at last, realizing she was coming too close to the truth.
‘Who attacked you?’
‘Robbers,’ said Jianna swiftly.
‘How awful!’ said Samias. ‘What happened? Did your lover fight them off?’
‘Yes, he fought. He was a fine fighter. I must go now. My… husband will be waiting for me.’ Jianna rose from her seat.
‘Try not to dwell upon the past, dear,’ said Samias. ‘We can’t change it, you know. We can only live with what we have now. Once I loved a man with all my heart. He was the sun and moon of all my desires. He was a soldier of the King. You know, the old King, Bokram. He was sent out into the forest of Delian after a murderer. We were due to be wed within the month. He was killed there. And that was it for me. My life all but ended.’
‘I am so sorry,’ said Jianna, surprised that she meant it.
‘A long time ago now, Sashan. And my husband is a good man. Oh, yes.
Very kind.’
‘Did they catch the murderer?’
‘No. He was an awful man. He murdered the people who raised him after his father died. Cut them up, he did. Tortured them. Can you believe that? Then he fled the city with a young whore. My Jeranon and a group of soldiers almost caught them. That’s what I was told. There was a fight and Jeranon was killed. Some others too. And the evil pair escaped. They were never found.’
Jianna felt a sudden chill touch her heart. ‘Did he have a name, this murderer?’
‘Aye. His name was Skilgannon. I never heard the whore’s name.’
Samias shrugged. ‘The Source will punish them, though. If there is any justice.’
‘Perhaps the Source already has,’ said Jianna.
As Jianna made her way back to the royal park she thought of how Askelus would have enjoyed listening to her conversation with Samias.
Never before had Jianna considered the lives of those soldiers who had almost trapped her in the forest of Delian. They had just been men with swords, ordered to capture her. She tried to remember their faces, but only one came to mind, a bearded man with florid features and savage eyes. He had wanted to rape her, but was overruled by the others.
Skilgannon and she had parted an hour earlier, after harsh words. It was difficult now to recall exactly what the argument had been about.
Once they left the city, and were travelling together, they seemed to grate on each other. Looking back with the full wisdom of her twenty-five years Jianna could see now that the tension was sexual. She had longed to be intimate with the young warrior. She smiled. Abstinence had never been agreeable to her. It was much the same for Skilgannon. So they bickered and argued. Finally, two days after escaping the city, they had agreed to separate, Jianna striking out north towards a tribal settlement where she believed she would be safe.
An hour later she had been surrounded, and chased down by soldiers.
Fleet of foot, she had almost escaped them. She had been scrambling up a steep slope when she grabbed hold of a jutting tree root for purchase. The root snapped off, and she tumbled back down the muddy slope. They grabbed her then.
‘Got to be her,’ said the soldier with the florid face. ‘Look at her.’
Grabbing her by the neck he dragged her head down, and ran his hand over her shorn hair. ‘See, there’s still traces of the blond dye.’
‘What’s your name, girl?’ asked another man. Jianna couldn’t remember his face now, except that he was thin. She didn’t answer him.
There were five soldiers in the group and they gathered round her.
‘What did she do?’ someone asked.
‘Who cares?’ answered the florid man. ‘Boranius said she was important. That’s all that matters. Beautiful legs and arse, hasn’t she?’ he continued, running a calloused hand over her thighs. ‘Reckon we ought to sample this one.’
‘No, we don’t,’ said someone else. Jianna wondered now if this was the young man Samias had spoken of. ‘We just take her back.’
‘I am the Princess Jianna,’ she said. ‘The tyrant wants me dead. He has already killed my mother and father. Take me north and I shall see you rewarded.’
‘Oh, yes, you look like a princess, right enough,’ said Florid Face. ‘Stupid bitch! You need a better story than that.’
‘It is the truth. Why do you think you were sent out? What whore would be worth that trouble? I’ll wager you are not the only troops out here.’
‘Suppose she’s right?’ said someone else.
‘What if she is?’ demanded Florid Face. ‘Nothing to do with us. There’s a new king now. New kings always kill their rivals. And how would she reward us, eh? There’s nowhere safe for her. The only reward she can offer is between her legs. And we can have that now. I never drilled a princess before. Thin
k it’s any different?’
‘You’ll never know,’ came the voice of Skilgannon. Jianna still remembered the leap in her heart. It was not because she thought she was rescued. In that instant she believed them both to be ruined. It was merely the sound of his voice, and the knowledge he had come back for her.
The soldiers turned to see the young man. He was standing some ten feet from them. In his right hand he held a short, stabbing sword, in his left a wickedly sharp hunting knife. Sunlight gleamed upon the blades.
‘Would you look at that?’ said Florid Face contemptuously. ‘Be careful with those blades, boy. You might cut yourself.’
‘Let her go or die,’ said Skilgannon calmly. ‘There are no other choices.’
‘Will someone take those swords away from him?’ said Florid Face. ‘He is beginning to annoy me.’
Two men drew their sabres and advanced on Skilgannon. He stood very still for a moment, and when he moved the effect was startling. One man fell back, his throat gouting blood. The second cried out as the hunting knife plunged into his chest, spearing his heart. Before the other soldiers could react he leapt forward, the shortsword cleaving into the belly of another soldier, even as the man struggled to draw his sabre. Jianna’s hand reached out, pulling a knife from a scabbard at Florid Face’s side. He was too surprised at the sudden violence to notice. He was even more surprised when the blade lanced into his chest just below the sternum. It went deep. He gave a groan and, releasing Jianna, staggered back. The fifth soldier ran for his life. Florid Face clumsily dragged his sabre from its scabbard, and tried to attack Skilgannon. But his legs buckled and he fell to his knees, blood pumping from his chest. Weakly he lashed out with his sabre, but Skilgannon stepped back from the swing.
‘Time to go,’ he told Jianna. She looked into his face. His sapphire eyes were cold, like ice crystals. She shivered.
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