The Conqueror

by Louis Shalako

  It was best not to get one’s hopes up. The auctioneer held up a wooden hammer and the spectators lining the ring fell silent.

  “Lot number seventeen. Lowren. He is a barbarian prince, age about thirty. Weight, well over two hundred, height, six-foot and a half, ah, more or less. Experience leading men in battle and governing a small, proud and nomadic people…pure in spirit and simple of mind…”

  Hoots and catcalls, ribald laughter echoed round the chamber as Lowren was led out.

  They had a couple of much bigger men on him this time, saw Nyron. While the prince or king of the Lemni was hardly placid and could probably fling them around like dogs, he was in control of himself and still maintaining his dignity. His jaws were tightly clenched and muscles bulged at the corners. Something dangerous glinted from his eyes.

  “So what do you think?” Nyron had to get to his duties, and he was a few minutes late already.

  “Magnificent!” Taez closed his mouth firmly.

  He gave Nyron a look.

  “All right, then. I must be off! Once more unto the breach, dear friends—although I seem to be more book-keeper than soldier these days.”

  “Ten gold pieces.”

  Taez’s mouth opened and he leaned forward, trying to locate the bidder. Wordlessly, Nyron turned and made his way through the crowd, all mouths open and all eyes on the spectacle before them.

  More laughs went through the hall as the auctioneer flushed.

  “Reserve bid is set at one hundred gold pieces.”

  They should know that already, gossip being what it was. The troopers had been around to half the taverns in town last night, and there was only so much to talk about. Even so, a long groan went through the assembly. Unless the reserve bid was pulled, there weren’t that many folks around there who stood even the slightest chance of getting Lowren. As to how desirable a prize he was, that would soon be revealed.

  The auctioneer raised his hammer.

  “Bidding begins at one hundred—”

  “Done!”

  Without bothering to look, Taez raised his own paddle, stained purple and gold to represent the Crown in all of its glory.

  There was a big numeral, ‘one,’ painted on it in white. Registered bidders received a numbered paddle, on a first-come-first-serve basis. In heated sales contests, all the rules and all the protocols went out the window, fairly quickly at times. The Queen’s numbered paddle was always reserved for her or her representative, a tradition going back as far as anyone could remember.

  “One-ten.” The buzz of talk in the building went on unabated and the buyers had to shout loudly and clearly.

  A murmur of interest went through the mob. The noise swelled as the press of humanity recalled the rumors and the reputation of their Queen. The Queen’s Chamberlain was a familiar figure.

  Anybody that didn’t know him or hadn’t seen him on his official business about the town and surrounding countryside would quickly have any blanks in their knowledge filled in by their neighbors.

  Every eye in the house was upon Taez, but this was no time to think about that. Surely this one deserved a better fate than walking around in endless circles, turning a water-screw or whatever a more regular fate held in store. As to whether or how he might be controlled in his new duties, that wasn’t his department. He was sure it could be done of course.

  Taez heard a call, one he didn’t quite catch, but the roar that accompanied it told him all he needed to know.

  “One-thirty.” He sounded cool, confident, and very determined.

  “One-forty.”

  This time he heard it properly. Knowing better even as he did it, he leaned forward, looking to his left, and tried to locate the gentleman. It was hard enough in this crowd. All eyes were on someone over there somewhere. He caught a glimpse of the tip of a paddle.

  A non-descript individual leaned out, met his eye, politely tugged on the brim of his low cap and then turned back to the auctioneer.

  “Going once…”

  Taez met those eyes. The auctioneer could only hold off so long.

  “Going twice…”

  Shit, that was a lot of money—it wasn’t his either, but Taez had his instincts. And those instincts were telling him to buy.

  The hammer was about to fall on Lowren.

  “One-seventy-five.”

  There was absolute silence, until the gentleman over there took one last look at the item on display, shrugged his shoulders and turned away. He melted back into the crowd, apparently uninterested in the more usual household or agricultural servants.

  The auctioneer grinned and nodded.

  “Going, going…gone.”

  Taez sagged a little on hearing it. The crowd rumbled and this was no time for second thoughts.

  “Sold, for one-seventy-five!” The voice rang out, clear and jubilant.

  Knowing Taez well enough, he went through the contract and disclaimers in a quick breath and then it was on to Lot Eighteen. This was a matching pair of fairly healthy-looking, not exactly young women with experience in textiles and dye-works. They both still had a lot of their teeth, had no dependent children and might very well be suitable as domestic servants, agricultural specialists, or for work in the hospitality industry.

  While he was there, Taez also bought one or two new staff members for the household. He had a certain leeway in his budget and the people were needed here and there. Making his way to the holding area, he made arrangements for them to be brought up to the castle. Arrangements for Lowren took some thought, but they did have all those dungeons after all.

  The smiles and giggles from those all around him could be borne. He was sort of wondering, kind of late as it was, but hopefully Queen Eleanora would be pleased with her latest acquisition.

  If nothing else, they could always put Lowren in the ring and let him fight it out with other condemned prisoners. He had a sneaking suspicion that other bidder might have been a fight promoter or something like that.

  The possibility that he was a shill, merely there to drive up the bidding had also crossed Taez’s mind.

  ***

  Taez was very conscious of the speed with which the average secret evaporated in any small community, which was just what any properly-constituted household was. He presented the Barbarian King Lowren, as he was billing him, just after the main course at dinner.

  This was a long, drawn-out affair. If things went his way, it would be the highlight of the night. No one around Taez shared his tension and the time dragged interminably until the desserts had been served. Servers were going around freshening the wine glasses.

  It was now or never.

  Taez turned and found the eye of his assistant, hovering in a side entryway. He gave a wave and the man nodded, turning behind him to give the signal.

  When the prisoner was led out, it took a minute or two before people caught sight of him being led forwards and to catch on to what it might mean.

  A hush fell over the assembly as Taez stood to address the Queen and the handlers pulled Lowren out front and centre.

  Flanked as she was by guests of honor, interrupted in the act of sending choice tidbits, the first slice of something to Loshon, Ambassador of the Heloi, her mouth opened even as the light smattering of applause died away and the people waited for her reaction. The foreigners, at least, looked pleased and they muttered amongst themselves. Unfortunately for Taez, their opinion, while possibly helpful, wasn’t the one that really mattered.

  At first, it did not seem good, and Taez’s heart sank, as did that of his friend Nyron, attending all official state functions as per standing orders in his role as an officer and a gentleman. His table was on the far side, at the kitchen end of the Great Hall, but there were half-empty tables as well and he saw it without heads and bodies in the way.

  A small gasp had escaped Eleanora, and her hand flew up to her mouth. The hand came down, ever so slowly.

  “Majesty. We have a surprise guest attending this evening’s cele
bration. I give you—literally, in this case, Lowren, King of the Lemni.”

  The handlers gave the chains a shake to emphasize the point and Lowren glowered left and right.

  There was a hush and Taez thought he was going to die of the suspense.

  She smiled, ever so sweetly, that pale oval face turning from Lowren, looking angry and resentful and no doubt wondering what they were saying about him and what his fate might ultimately be.

  “What? For me?” Her eyes slid back to the tall stranger, shackled, chained and collared like any common criminal.

  It really was a most extraordinary sight.

  Her ladies-in-waiting, the most prominent seated not far along the head table, gave a collective gasp as if of one mind. All eyes turned to Taez, and more than one heart fluttered in sympathetic tremors. He’d taken a fearful risk, and some of them could see that.

  His heart sank further still, and Taez wondered if this was the blunder that would send him to he stocks—or the frontier, or maybe even the gallows. The chopping block, he thought.

  “No, really, Taez—you shouldn’t have.”

  “Yes, my Queen—” How his knees knocked when he spoke those words. “It’s just that as soon as I saw him—and I thought, what if some other noble citizen should take him before you even had a chance…to see him?”

  He stopped right there.

  The Queen regarded Taez, eyes narrowed. The Queen was a beautiful woman in profane terms. She was, within a heartbeat, at her most forbidding, and yet that countenance could also hide her true feelings.

  “I cannot think, Majesty, of any other sovereign, anywhere in the known world, who has anything remotely comparable in their own collection.” His only safety lay in buttering it on as thickly as he dared.

  She swung around to look at the big barbarian again.

  “He’s going to look wonderful standing guard beside your throne, and providing his neck as a footstool when you mount, or a bench, possibly…one for your favorite dwarf to sit upon…”

  Titters and giggles broke out all around and the man under scrutiny darkened, ears burning at the humiliating sound of their laughter. His chin came down and he watched her closely. The handlers braced themselves.

  Lowren stood very still, staring into her eyes. She found herself torn.

  A barbarian king. Here. Now.

  A strange toxin of emotion went through her. It could happen to any one of us, she thought.

  Eleanora was aware of the man, very much so.

  He was like a cobra, coiled to spring at anything that moved, and yet he had a brain, he knew what would become of him if he made the least threat.

  She stared into those eyes for a long moment.

  “Perhaps one of our more deserving—or perhaps one of the more honorable ladies-in-waiting will require a husband. Your Majesty could simply have him sent back to his own people as the best possible gift of state: the restitution of their beloved king.”

  There were precedents for that last option, and he had to think of her dignity in front of all these people.

  The Queen took a long, hard look at Taez. Foreign policy was not his arena and he’d best tread lightly there, but displaced barbarian kings had it notoriously tough. Most were executed on the battlefield. Some lived their lives in exile, captive in another sovereign’s court, hidden in castles or dungeons and never seeing the light of day. At the first sign of trouble, they were quickly put to death on any mere suspicion. To escape was almost worse. Their brothers, sons or nephews, having succeeded to the throne, were rarely so eager to give it up—and yet the people (and all of the world was people) saw it as a peace offering, a gift of what was thought irreplaceable. It was good foreign relations and even better foreign policy. That’s not to say Taez had any ambitions in that regard, because he didn’t—it was just an opportunity he could not overlook to please Eleanora. It was what he had been retained to do, after all.

  “Well. Thank you for this, Taez.”

  The talk was that Lowren’s people had been quite fond of him, he explained, voice lower now but still strong and clearly heard in all corners of the great room. His audience listened with rapt attention. This prize, whatever she did with it, would reflect great glory on her crown and her kingdom.

  Eleanora surprised him, which she had done once or twice in the past.

  “Good. Excellent.” Those expressionless eyes stared right through Taez, and he trembled for his head in that moment. “Send him up to my bedchamber immediately after dinner.”

  The roar of laughter that rang forth upon this remark was both gratifying and terrifying to Taez.

  He had taken a terrible risk, and the results were so uncertain—so nebulous, that he wondered at his own, sheer, unmitigated gall.

  Quite frankly, he wondered just how stupid a man could be. He had taken an insane risk, when he thought about it.

  And yet it was true, too—far better to buy the slave, return him to his people, and let him sow discontent and confusion among his own loyal followers. Taez had a hundred thoughts on that score, if only he had a brief moment to explain. It’s not like he didn’t have a story to cover his backside. The thing was to get a chance to explain, sometimes.

  With a wave of her wrist, she had the prisoner taken away. With a look at Taez, he had been admonished, chastened, and promised some sort of great reward, all in one and the same moment. If she was pleased, that was—and as for all of that sort of thing, they would not know before the morrow.

  Eleanora, two husbands and a half a dozen lovers later, was said to be notoriously fickle, and yet Taez was pretty sure he wasn’t the only one who had discerned the fine hand of policy in there somewhere. People would and did talk, after all. There was pressure to marry, produce heirs, her life was complicated enough as Taez was discovering.

  With his own face and neck burning from the unaccustomed risk and its companion, cold, naked fear, Taez settled back into his own place and prayed that she would not look this way again.

  And yet if she did, he had better be able to meet those eyes with the proper grace and poise.

  Chapter Three

  With foreign dignitaries in attendance, Eleanora had little choice but to be gracious and attentive at dinner. To eat too often in one’s private quarters invited speculation as to your health and your lack of love for your subjects. It did not pay to be seen as cold and indifferent, or even just unfriendly. To be a sovereign and a private citizen was a contradiction in terms. Surrounded by courtiers and her ladies, it could be amusing enough at times, and a dead bore at others. A person had to eat after all, but heavy was the head that wore the crown.

  Surrounded by her ladies, and with all of the tables cleared, after a time she signaled that the serious entertainment could begin, and the hogsheads were rolled in to general acclaim. Pleading fatigue, she took her leave of the ambassadors, legates and attentive nobles.

  One last look was enough to convince her.

  Dancers skipped in, launched themselves into the air, and tumbled in time to the music coming from a corner where the royal band was ensconced. The guests would quickly forget they were in her house, which was a fine thing.

  It was the essence of hospitality.

  Eleanora took a moment to herself as she always did at this time, and paid a short visit to her private chapel, with only the Priest Dervent and her cousin Theodelinda in attendance. After a short prayer to Neptune, Father of the Seas and patron of her kingdom, she retired to her private toilet chamber, where she made her private ablutions. Getting out of the stiff and formal robes of state into something a little more comfortable was blessed relief. The simple garment laid out for her varied only slightly from the everyday wear of her maidens and other noble women.

  As Queen, one made use of finger-bowl and face towel as appropriate, but cleanliness was next to Godliness some said. If nothing else it was a private act and a private moment where none could make demands upon her limited time.

  It was a habit and one she
found some small comfort in. It was a very human thing. It was humbling. A sovereign needed reminding that all men were flesh and blood and had much more in common besides that.

  Taez and the barbarian prince preyed on her mind. His analysis of policy was good, but she had never thought of him in terms of ministerial status. He ran his department well enough and hadn’t exhibited any real signs of great ambition previously. To read too much into it might be unwise.

  He saw a chance to please me, and he took it. Surely he was aware of the risks and had confidence in his sovereign. Either that, or Taez takes me for an awful fool. There was a third possibility, that Taez was a fool. There was always that.

  What the people thought of their king or queen was vital. Public opinion could be a real killer.

  A glance in the mirror revealed that Eleanora was alone. This didn’t happen often enough in her peculiar little world. Everyone was always so eager to please, and hanging on her every word, constantly flattering her, and earnestly trying to analyze every little nuance of her language and her posture. Any little shift in her expression was enough to send a shock wave through an assembly.

  Gods, how she was so terribly tired of it all. The one thing she could never do was to escape.

  Such thoughts merely endangered her and all of her people.

  She lifted the bolt and stepped into the short, arched hallway that led to her outer bedchamber.

  If it was suspiciously quiet in there, in spite of two dozen or more young and high-spirited maidens and all of their natural buoyancy, at first she just plain missed it.

  Her head was just so far away these days.

  ***

  The first thing that caught her attention was Theodelinda, up on tiptoes on the other side of a sea of heads, waving madly, and then Eleanora remembered.

  The chattering bodies parted and she was confronted by the towering barbarian, facing away from her and restrained by his handlers. It went very quiet, with stifled coughs and giggles.

  The handlers bowed their heads, bending their knees slightly.