The weather was a little damp, which made things cooler in his armour, thank the gods, but the crowds didn’t seem to mind in the least, the numbers even larger than Arman remembered from two years ago, the last time he’d been in Utuk for the event. He greeted Blikus and then inspected his troops, receiving their salute before he led them towards the parade route. After that, he wouldn’t need to engage his brain again for some time. Blikus was equally bored as they made their slow way along the avenue, past the cheering crowds. “One of these years, they’ll come up with a new idea that doesn’t involve us,” he said out the side of his rigidly smiling mouth as they rode along.
“Never—the army’s the best show they’ve got, unless you want to flood the avenue and ask Ard Peku to sail a ship of the line down it.”
Blikus snorted in amusement. “I dare you to put it to Kita, I really do, Arman.”
“Not on your life, my lord. She’d take me up on it, and I’d have to arrange the troops to clean fish heads off the street for a year.”
“Almost certainly. I see the hostages are here as planned.”
Arman had already noticed dark-haired heads here and there. “Yes, they’ve been looking forward to it. I hope it’s good for their morale.”
“Their morale be damned, I just wish Darshek would hurry up and come to its senses. The people must be eating their boots by now.”
“One can only hope, my lord.” Arman scanned the crowd for Kei. With his height he should be easy to spot, but Arman would understand it if the man had no wish to see the Prijian military on display. Other than being able to meet, there really wasn’t any reason for the hostages to watch this parade. Arman wouldn’t want to, in their place. But in their place, he doubted he would behave as amiably as Kei had, or Jena. He would make a damn poor hostage.
They’d nearly reached the end of the route, and Arman was sure Kei had decided to miss the parade, until he spotted a tall figure waving discreetly at him. He couldn’t help a grin as he nodded at the small group, which he saw included three other Darshianese. Kei had found his friends. Good. Arman wanted him to enjoy this day. He’d had such a damn bad time of it to now, and Kei deserved better. Far better.
They were turning, and Arman lost sight of his friend. He now had to concentrate a little more guiding his animal and his troops into the narrow corridor leading to the ceremonial arches at the end of the square. One hour down, two to go, and then he could be free to call on Karus and enjoy a rare free day.
His troops stood at rest in the square. Arman saluted Her Serenity and then rode out again behind Blikus. They had privileged places reserved for them up on the balconies along with the senators where they could listen to the long boring speeches in a little comfort. Out of the public gaze, he and Blikus dismounted, handing their reins over to waiting soldiers. “My Lord Commander? Sei General Arman?”
Arman took off his helmet—he couldn’t see the speaker clearly in the shadows. “What is it, lieutenant?”
“An urgent message, Sei general. You need to come.”
Arman raised an eyebrow at Blikus, who said, “Lead the way, lieutenant.”
They were taken to Blikus’s offices, where he was handed a note. He waved Arman down to sit as he read. Arman watched his commander’s face grow grimmer, until at last he put the paper down on his desk with a sigh. “Bad news, my lord?”
“Yes. One of our troops in north Darshian has been killed. One of the ones stationed at the villages—at Vinri.”
Arman stared in surprise. “What? After all this time? Do we know what happened?”
“Senator Mekus just quotes the report—look, here.” He passed the paper to Arman who read it but gained little more from it than what Blikus had said. “You know what this means, Arman.”
The hostages. “Surely not, my lord. Not until we know the full story.”
But Blikus shook his head. “Her Serenity’s already given the order. Mekus has already started rounding them up using the palace guard—he doesn’t want to wait since they’re all here today.”
“But there’s no hurry, is there? My Lord, this will do no good and cause unrest.”
“Be that as it may, the terms of surrender were clear and the people of Vinri have chosen to ignore it. The hostages are only here to ensure the good behaviour of their villages—they have no other use to us.”
Arman struggled to find something—anything,—that would delay this decision, so unnecessarily rushed, and entirely unwise. “But my lord...on Her Serenity’s birthday?”
Blikus only shrugged. “They mean nothing to her, I imagine. Mekus is dealing with it. We don’t need to be directly involved—I suggest you ask Captain Peyo to work to Mekus’s orders.”
“Yes, my lord,” Arman said through gritted teeth. “Where are they being taken?”
“To the blue reception hall. Damn stupid people, these north Darshianese—why risk ten of your own for a single one of ours?”
“Indeed, that’s what I’d like to know. I would still counsel a delay, my lord, until we do.”
“It’s out of my hands, Arman. Please see to her orders and get it over with.”
~~~~~~~~
Kei was having a hard time maintaining any semblance of calmness. Not only was he battered by the fears and anxieties of his fellow hostages as they huddled together in the hall under guard, he was also desperately trying to work out what was happening. One minute he was watching Arman in the parade with Jena, Peit, Myri and Urki, and then next they were surrounded by guards who hustled them through the gawking crowds at sword point. No one would tell them what was going on—he didn’t even know if any of the soldiers forcing them along spoke any Darshianese, and his attempts to ask them in Prijian were ignored.
They had been taken in the hall he remembered from his first day in Utuk, where twenty or so of the other hostages were waiting, obviously terrified and no more aware of what was happening than Kei was. Over the next hour or so, the other hostages were also brought in. Their guards kept a close watch on them, but didn’t try to stop them interacting, so Kei spoke to as many as he could, not only to see if anyone knew what was going on, but also because he had an uneasy feeling this might be their last chance to do so. Most of them looked well enough, some looked depressed and rather tired, but didn’t want to talk about what had been going on. From what he gathered, most of them were being used as domestic servants, but he couldn’t see signs of serious abuse. That was one small mercy at least.
He made his way back to the group of people he’d come in with. Urki and Myri clung to Peit, their terror obvious. Jena was silent, grim-faced. Kei returned to her side, unable to offer any comfort or information. Had the siege ended? That seemed to be the only thing that might require them all being together like this.
Quite suddenly, without any fanfare or announcement, there was an inrush of heavily armoured soldiers who took up positions in front of them and facing them, forming an impenetrable barrier between the hostages and the rest of the room. Shortly after that, Senator Mekus came in and snapped out an order for the hostages to form in village groups, the clan head’s children at the head of the lines. As soon as that was done, still more troops came in and stood among the hostages—by then there had to be two hundred soldiers in the room. What in hells do they imagine we can do to them?
“The hostages from Vinri, step forward,” Mekus ordered. The ten men and women were dragged out past the barrier of soldiers to stand in behind of Mekus. Immediately, two soldiers apiece came to stand next to each of them, holding their arms in a tight grip. Myri was one of them, searching out Kei with terrified eyes as she stood dwarfed by the soldiers. “People of Vinri, your clansmen have murdered a Prijian soldier. Under the terms of surrender signed by your clan head, your lives are therefore forfeit.”
No. They couldn’t.... “No!” Kei yelled, as the other hostages screamed and cried out. “No, you can’t, they haven’t done anything!”
“Silence!” Mekus yelled, but despite his comma
nds, and the efforts of the troops to stop them surging forward, the Darshianese would not be silenced. Kei was sick with horror and the emotions being forced on him. He felt the terrors of the Vinri hostages most of all, like a choking knot in his gut that made it hard to even breathe for the pain of it, like he needed to vomit to expel it.
The soldiers guarding them were finally forced to gag many of them, including Kei, by holding their hands over their mouths, forcing them to their knees. Even then, Kei and the others continued to scream their anger from behind the gagging hands and to struggle futilely, but the relative order brought by the use of such force was all Mekus was apparently waiting for. Without any further announcement, he made a signal and a soldier came up behind each of the Vinri hostages. He nodded—and with a short stabbing motion, as one man, the soldiers thrust their swords into the hearts of their prisoners.
Kei screamed in pain—he’d felt that moment of hopelessness, the last terror, and then...the spark of life snuffed out, as if his own heart had stopped. He struggled as tears poured down his face, trying to get to the dead, trying to escape the agony. Wave after wave of sorrow and terror and anger and pain hit him from dozens of agonised Darshianese. “No...gods, please, no,” he whispered, voice still muffled by the hand clamped over his face. He fought to get to his feet, wanting to get away from people and what they were forcing on him, surprising his captors by his hysterical strength so much that he briefly broke their hold on him. But before he could get an inch forward, he was clubbed down, and between the blow and the pain of so many emotions crushing him, he lost his senses, seeing the floor rising, but never reaching it.
~~~~~~~~
From the gallery above the hall, unseen by the people below, Arman had watched the entire disturbance and the execution with a rising sense of disgust and dismay. What possible good would this do? The villagers at Vinri had not been deterred by one set of hostages being taken from doing what they had, why should these deaths and another group being taken, offer any more guarantee? All this would do would be to cause unrest and rebellion where there had been peaceful co-operation. Mekus was a cruel idiot. He could have prevented this, but hadn’t lifted a finger to stop it.
There was still an unholy mess in the hall with soldiers forcing the struggling, weeping hostages back from the corpses left where they’d fallen. He saw Mekus speak briefly to Peyo and then sweep out of the room, clearly no longer interested in the matter. “Ask Captain Peyo to attend me here,” he told his lieutenant. “Make sure none of the hostages leave before I give the order.”
“Yes, Sei general.”
Arman tried to find Kei in the melee, but there were so many struggling men and women, so many soldiers, he couldn’t catch sight of him at all. The man would be distraught. How Arman would ever make this right for him? He probably couldn’t. It was both a political mistake and a personal tragedy. If he had foreseen this day, he would not have taken such a savage delight in reading the terms of surrender out to the villagers as he had done, all those months ago in Darshian. He’d never expected the clause to be invoked. He’d never imagined it would really be needed.
But the thing was done, and it looked like Mekus was leaving the army to clean up the mess he’d made, literally and metaphorically. His captain came up onto the gallery and saluted. “Did the senator order anything regarding the hostages, or the bodies?”
“No, Sei general. Only that we should ensure the celebrations are not marred.”
Then why in hells be in such a rush to murder the poor sods? “Very well. Keep the hostages here for a couple of hours until they calm down, and then have them taken back to their houses in small groups—no mass departure, and tell their masters to keep them under curfew for the next two days, unless by my order or that of Her Serenity.”
“Yes, Sei general. And the corpses?”
Arman had only the haziest knowledge of Darshianese funeral rites, but they could hardly be taken back to the villages, and to have them buried in the south might cause trouble. “Have them taken out of the hall and kept somewhere. Treat them respectfully, Captain. I’ll make enquiries about the proper disposition.” He looked down again at the hostages. “That big fellow, from Rutej, I think, he seems less overwrought. Send him to my office. And Peyo, have the men treat the hostages with a little consideration—we don’t want a revolt on our hands. There’s no need to provoke them more than they have been.”
Peyo was a little surprised but made no comment on the order. “No, Sei general.”
“Have that hostage sent to my office. There are two others—my servant, Kei of Albon, and Jena of Rutej. I’ll see to their return myself.”
“Yes, Sei general,” Peyo said, snapping a salute and leaving.
Things were quietening a little, but the sound of weeping was louder than ever. He thought he could see Jena at last, and it looked as if she was cradling Kei. Gods...Karus would be hurt by this too. Arman couldn’t see a single benefit from this act today, and cursed Senator Mekus and all his kind. This was no way to win a war.
~~~~~~~~
Gonji, as the man was called, from Rutej, had been a good choice. He was calm, although grim, and answered Arman’s questions respectfully. Darshianese burial rites were simple, apparently, and needed no priest to officiate. Nor was it particularly important the hostages be buried on Darshianese soil. “Their spirits have already been freed, my lord,” he explained with weary patience.
“You understand I can’t allow a mass funeral. It would cause a disturbance.”
“Yes, my lord.”
“Would it be sufficient for you and perhaps one other to attend the burial?”
“Whatever you direct, my lord.”
Arman sighed in exasperation. “I’m asking you this honestly, man. I won’t punish you for your answer.”
“No, my lord. I answered honestly. Your offer is sufficient. Thank you.” The man hesitated. “My lord—more will be taken from Vinri?”
“Yes, of course. You know the terms of surrender.”
“Yes, my lord. Is that all?”
“Yes—wait...Gonji, you must make your fellows understand any rebellion will end in the same way. If anyone attacks a Prijian citizen, or absconds, all of his village will pay.” He held the man’s gaze, willing him to take that message into his heart.
“We all know that, my lord. None of us want to bring the wrath of the Prij down on anyone else. I really don’t know why Ai-Vinri did this. It’s incomprehensible.”
“As it is to me, but the reports are unambiguous.” But suspiciously lacking in detail. “You’re dismissed.”
The man bowed and left. Arman rubbed his forehead. Such dignity made him feel ashamed to be Prijian today—and then he realised how ironic such an idea was. Loke, my friend, are you laughing at me now? You should be. But he was glad Loke hadn’t had to see the executions.
He called his lieutenant in and told him to bring Kei and Jena to him, and then wrote a note to Mekus informing him of the arrangements for the burials he planned and the curfew he had imposed, trying to keep the annoyance and disgust he felt out of his written words. That was the problem with mixed civilian and army control over a situation—too many loose ends, and a clumsy approach which served no one well. As Mekus was in control of the matter, he should have been the one to deal with the corpses and any potential problems caused by the executions. But as was typical of the man, he only wanted to be the one shouting orders and pushing people around. Arman almost wished his father had been in charge of the hostages—for all his many faults, Senator Armis was meticulous, and would be disgusted by the sloppy handling of this. But then, being Arman’s father....
No, perhaps better it was Mekus, after all.
A knock on the door and he called for them to enter. Kei and Jena were brought in under close guard. Jena was distressed and tearful. Kei was barely conscious, and unable to stand without the support of the guards. “Put him in a chair,” Arman snapped, “and send for a medic.”
“My lord, he needs no medic—”
Arman snarled at Jena to shut up, so she did.
Kei was helped to a chair where he lolled helplessly. Arman grasped his chin to see if there was any injury to explain his state—he had a bruise on his forehead. “Was he struck?”
“Yes, my lord,” she said quietly, “but not dangerously. He’s just overwhelmed.”
“‘Just’ seems to be understating it,” he said angrily. He sent the guards out of the room, and then crouched down. “Kei? Wake up.” Kei winced and curled in on himself, but didn’t answer. “Has this happened before?”
“Yes, my lord. He’s...sensitive...to the strong emotions of others.” Her look was stony. “It’s hardly surprising he felt distress today.”
Arman wasn’t going to waste time debating the issue with her. “In that cabinet there are glasses and a carafe. Bring him some water.”
As she moved to the cabinet, an army medic was admitted to the office. Arman directed him to examine Kei, and then stood, arms folded as he waited for the diagnosis, trying not to look as worried as he felt.
The medic peered into Kei’s face, checked his eyes and his pulse and then straightened. “A faint, Sei general. Dazed a little from the blow, but other than that, all he needs is rest and quiet. I could have him taken to the infirmary if you wish.”
“No, I’ll attend to the matter. Dismissed.”
Jena brought the water over and handed it to Arman. “I could have told you what he needed, but of course, we Darshianese are just animals to you, aren’t we? To be ignored and derided, and then slaughtered without conscience—”
Kei's Gift Page 24
