Vengeance of Hope

by P J Berman

  ‘That’s it,’ Hoban said as if an idea had suddenly come to him. ‘We need not speak to the nobles themselves at first. We can gain plenty of information simply by speaking to the staff. I shall have my sources seek one or two out. Speaking of which, I have heard of a rather significant rumour. The Amulet of Hazgorata has been stolen.’

  ‘Why is that important? Did the Dowager Queen not take it with her when she travelled with the King?’ Zethun asked inquisitively.

  ‘The rumour suggests not,’ Hoban replied. ‘It probably isn’t true. Personally, if I were looking for it, I’d start by looking for Accutina. My sources say she keeps with tradition by keeping it in her quarters much of the time. Yet, clearly, an accusation has been made, suggesting theft.’

  ‘Who made the accusation?’ asked Zethun.

  ‘I don’t know the details of the rumour’s source,’ said Hoban. ‘But the Amulet must not get into the hands of a non-Bennvikan. If it does, then the people will believe that the thief, or at least their nation, will bring about Bennvika’s fall. If only to avert the threat of panic, investigating this rumour would give us a perfectly good reason to be conducting an investigation involving palace servants if anyone asks. The loss of such a jewel would be a great embarrassment to the crown, though it would be nothing less than earthly damnation for the one who stole it. Kings have feared it for centuries. You know the prophecy it carries. Mother of many, Mother of none; a Queen will fall and a Warrior will come. I’m told the King quoted it in the Congressate Hall. Apparently, he says that when she was yet a mortal woman, the Goddess Lomatteva predicted our current situation. He is using it to his own ends, to consolidate his power.’

  ‘I have no belief in the prophecy. But the idea of the people being manipulated by it in such a way is most disturbing,’ Zethun replied thoughtfully. ‘Wait a minute.’

  ‘What?’ Naivard asked.

  ‘I’ve heard that quote before many times,’ Zethun elaborated. ‘And I know that legend says that the Amulet of Hazgorata was once owned by Lomatteva, but I’ve never heard anyone say that she made the prediction herself. Yes, she never had earthly children, but the Amulet was supposedly given to her as a gift from Vitrinnolf on their wedding day when he was also yet mortal and they united the lands of Hazgorata and Kriganheim to bring about Bennvika’s birth. Those are the only parts that are known to be true. The rest is conjecture.’

  ‘So what’s your point?’ Naivard asked.

  ‘I don’t think the King’s interpretation of the prophecy stands up to scrutiny,’ Zethun said. ‘Firstly, he is a follower of Estarron. They don’t usually react that well to the idea of there being other Gods. I’d be very surprised if he even believes the prophecy himself. He’s just saying what he believes the people want to hear until such time as he no longer has to concern himself with that. Secondly, we all know how hard it is for many women to accept their fate if they can’t have children, especially when they are required to produce an heir, even if, like Lomatteva, they are famously a mother to their people. To me, calling her the ‘mother of many, mother of none’ is a bit insulting. Why would Vitrinnolf give a woman a gift with that inscription on it if it referred to her in a way that she may find repellent? Would you? I wouldn’t. At any rate, who’s to say that the prophecy wasn’t inscribed on the Amulet at some later point? She may fit the description, but I don’t believe it refers to her. It sounds to me like a prophecy that refers to characters who were yet to make their mark on history, but who are destined to do so in a significant way,’

  ‘Which, if true, makes me believe that it doesn’t refer to Princess Silrith or King Jostan either. The King’s entire explanation falls down,’ Hoban mused. ‘But that will not stop him trying to use it anyway and its theft, if indeed it has been stolen, suggests that somebody else is trying to do the same. The Hentani believe it is one of their people that it refers to. They will be encouraged by this development. Don’t forget, in the south, their religious ways are tolerated. Lord Yathrud even built a temple there to Lomatteva, saying that she and the tribal Goddess Bertakaevey are one and the same.’

  ‘An intuitive way of pacifying the conquered peoples,’ Naivard commented. ‘Makes me proud to be a Bennvikan.’

  ‘And a successful approach too, until now, at least,’ said Zethun. ‘Yet the fact remains that whilst our religions have aspects in common, they are, after all, still quite different. I believe that in some Hentani communities, the prophecy has a longer version, doesn’t it? Something about the warrior coming in a rain of fire, or words to that effect. Yes, that was it, Mother of many, Mother of none, a Queen will fall and a Warrior will come in a rain of fire and from the ashes of destruction, a daughter shall rise.’

  ‘There will always be some who try to make things sound even more dramatic,’ said Hoban. ‘Their version is heresy and should not be heeded. Only the pure, unembellished prophecy is genuine. Any extensions of it, or any mentions of a ‘Daughter of Ashes’, as they call this messiah they are waiting for, is total fantasy.’

  ‘Mother of many, Mother of none, a Queen will fall and a Warrior will come,’ Zethun said again in a pondering tone. ‘In either version, there is no clue as to the identity of the childless woman. Heresy or not, I have read that the Hentani believe that a childless woman and a warrior will rise from ash and fire to lead them to glory and in so doing the woman will become the ‘mother’ of her nation. They believe that the women with a sword shown on the Amulet is an image of the Daughter of Ashes, not of our Goddess Lomatteva and that the man beside her is the warrior, not Vitrinnolf.’

  Naivard nodded in acknowledgement, though Hoban did not.

  ‘So Jostan believes that he is the warrior,’ Zethun theorised. ‘That Silrith is the fallen Queen and he professes to believe that Lomatteva is the mother of many and the mother of none. Meanwhile, he may well be aware of the Hentani’s beliefs and probably wants to crush them for no reason other than that. He’ll want to stop them getting any ideas about Silrith being the Queen in the prophecy and therefore believing that their Daughter of Ashes and their warrior are about to come to them. Yet, somehow, again, I don’t believe that even the King believes his own interpretation of the prophecy.’

  ‘He doesn’t even believe in our Gods, as you said,’ Naivard interjected.

  ‘Yes. He has said that Bennvikan culture and religion will be unaffected by his rule,’ said Hoban. ‘But I’m not sure if anyone genuinely believes that. It’s always hard to tell when people are afraid to speak plainly.’

  ‘The King will do and say whatever suits him. He sounds like he is very good at manipulating people. But he cannot be allowed to carry on his rule in the way that he has started. A King is a man, not a God. If this nation is to have a King, then we need one who remembers that. But then we come to the prophecy. Sometimes prophecies are true, but at other times people make them look true. I shudder to think of the suffering the people of Bennvika will endure if he makes them believe his reign has been prophesied by the Gods. And once he tires of tolerating our religion…’

  He let the statement hang.

  ‘Gentleman, this man brings oppression and the threat of famine,’ Zethun said. ‘He may also have committed regicide to gain the throne, he appears to be manipulating a prophecy to his own ends and there is the fear of forced religious conversion in the near future. The people must be spared from living under the boot of such a man. With no other clear candidates to the throne, we have but one option. The republic must live, or Bennvika will die. We must find out all we can if we are to stand any chance against this King.’

  THE PREDDABURG CITADEL, RILDAYORDA, BASTALF, BENNVIKA

  The following evening, high up in the citadel, Silrith sat in her quarters. As befitted its current incumbent, it was a grand room. She’d never been obsessed with having the best of everything, but she knew that she would offend if she didn’t accept the hospitality she was offered. Anyway, she knew she’d be lying if she said she didn’t enjoy the comforts of her li
festyle, even though she did have a much greater idea of the plight of the poor than many of her peers did. Having said that, she knew she still had much to learn in that area.

  The room was rectangular in shape, with four windows across one of the longer sides that looked out over a splendid view of the sprawling city below, every inch of which was touched by lurid red, orange and pink as the sun set on the western horizon. Each window featured carved wooden dragons around the edges. Opposite the windows was the great oak door with its ornate lion head doorknob.

  Everything inside the room was designed for comfort. At one end of it, furthest from the door, was a huge mahogany four-poster bed, with fluffy white pillows and a warm red quilt. It was clearly intended for two people, but even when sleeping alone Silrith had been used to such luxuries as a Princess, so this sort of set up was in no way alien to her. She had spent much time here engrossed in the pages of Macciomakkia’s writings, soaking up as much of the great philosopher’s teachings as she could since Yathrud had gifted the book to her. The room was dotted with lit candles and also featured a number of comfortable chairs as well as wall paintings depicting various mythical subjects. There were also shelves filled with books and at the far end was a writing table, where Silrith herself could be found at this particular moment, hesitating before putting quill to parchment.

  However, this was no amateurish attempt at poetry this time, as had been the case on many occasions earlier in her life. This time was different. Knowing the gravity of her situation even with the help of Yathrud and the few Hentani and Etrovansian soldiers who swelled the ranks of her supporters, she knew she needed to find more allies, or defeat seemed almost certain.

  Currently, with the Divisios and Hentani combined, she had somewhere in the region of seven thousand soldiers, plus whatever numbers of militia could be raised from the city’s population. Even then, a total of ten or twelve thousand was surely the most they could hope for, whereas she felt sure that by the time Jostan found out that she was still a threat to him, he could outnumber her by as many as four or five to one and he would have most of the Divisios on his side, whereas she would rely largely on peasant militia and tribal warriors. She had to try to get another Bennvikan Governor on her side and that was when she’d had an idea. Maybe the knowledge that Yathrud had come to her aid would be enough to convince Oprion to turn against Jostan militarily as well.

  It was a long shot and a massive gamble, but she knew that if she could send a message by sea all the way north and round the coast of Bennvika to the province of Hazgorata, she might be able to avoid the letter being intercepted and stand some chance of winning an important ally. On the other hand, she knew that if Jostan was still unaware of her escape and this message fell into his hands, then her cover would be blown.

  The fact that Yathrud had received an order from Jostan to raise troops to support a campaign against the Hentani suggested that he didn’t know yet that she had evaded him. However just as soon as that thought came into her head, another voice deep in the back of her mind told her that this might be a trick to lull her into a false sense of security and that he was already marching south to deal with her, in which case she needed more allies as soon as possible. Either way, Jostan would soon realise that Yathrud would not be sending him any troops and it would be a matter of time before he started enquiring why. If it came to it, then with luck, Rildayorda may be able to withstand a siege, but as things stood, any further campaign would be out of the question.

  This was where Oprion could help, if he was willing, unlike earlier. His money could ensure that his army was loyal to the House of Aethelgard, rather than royalty. She had no choice but to give him a second chance, despite what had happened before. If he decided to take her side, he would bring with him a sizable force.

  Conferring with Yathrud and Shappa had seemed to bring up more questions than answers, so she consulted her book. Macciomakkia’s writings may have been over five hundred years old, but nonetheless, something in her words transcended through the centuries and spoke to Silrith and this helped her somewhat in making up her mind. After what seemed like an age of indecision, she had decided to take the risk. She began to write.

  My dear friend and noble Lord Oprion,

  I trust that the arrival of this letter serves as the most tangible proof possible that, contrary to what I’m sure you have been told, I am in fact alive, well and free from captivity. I am no longer held by the troops of the usurper Jostan Kazabrus and although I am currently unaware of whether or not he has learned of my escape, time is in short supply.

  I understand and forgive your reasons for not supporting me earlier, but now, as you are my oldest companion, I again beseech you; let us reignite the bond that we shared in more innocent times when we were but children and not let the events of the more recent past come between us. I realise the wounds that were caused still perforate severely, but I vow to salve them with the promise of a more enduring friendship and my eternal gratitude, were you to come to my aid in my time of need.

  I hope with all my heart that you still think of me with enough affection that you might support me in this cause and that the troubles of our jaded past might be forever forgotten amid the shining light of a more harmonious future. This nation will thrive only if the person who sits on its throne is there by right, not through murder and slander of the most despicable and traitorous kind.

  Your support will be the key to this conflict; something that will not go unrecognised, because history will judge you by your actions in response to this letter and therefore I urge you to do the right thing, not because it is easy, but because it is right.

  For reasons that I’m sure you will understand, I cannot tell you my current location until my messenger returns with your answer. Such times require careful discretion.

  With all the love and affection my heart can give,

  Silrith

  As she finished the letter, she quickly reviewed her work. Happy with what she had written, she rolled it up and melted the end of a stick of sealing wax over a candle. She then heated the seal slightly, then firmly pressed it against the wax to complete the job. She had of course deliberately chosen a plain seal, as hers was still somewhere in Kriganheim Palace and to use Yathrud’s would give away her location.

  She jumped slightly as there was a knock at the door. Quickly she put the letter away. It could be sent tomorrow.

  ‘Come in’ she said, brushing a lock of hair away from her face. Shappa opened the door, smiling.

  ‘They’re ready for you, my Lady.’

  Chapter 11

  Shappa led Silrith into the main courtyard where she had been greeted by Yathrud on her arrival. He announced her, causing the sudden, sharp creaking of chairs as everyone stood as a mark of respect. In the dusky evening firelight, she could see many people, mostly soldiers. She was pleased to see that the Hentani and the Etrovansians were both well represented among the more numerous Bennvikans. A large banqueting table had been set up opposite a raised stage, behind which a large fire burned and there were many smaller tables dotted about. To the side of the stage was a band, sporting a variety of Hentani instruments, from clap sticks to drums made of animal skin. A sense of anticipation hung over the crowd as they waited to see what was going to happen.

  Silrith and Shappa, of course, headed straight for the main table, where they were joined by Yathrud and Bezekarl, among others, such as Yathrud’s new wife, Kintressa. She was a haughty woman in her mid-thirties. Her attitude grated on Silrith, as she had discovered on her previous visit, but she had also noticed that Kintressa had been behaving in a reclusive manner recently, having claimed to be ill and unable to attend when Silrith was welcomed to the city by Yathrud, but she had made an appearance for this event.

  Yathrud had only married Kintressa six months earlier. Both Yathrud and King Lissoll had been distraught, as Silrith herself had been, when Monissaea had died in childbirth two years ago. Yet out of tragedy had been born a much-loved
blessing, Yathugarra. It had been a most unexpected pregnancy, given that Monissaea had been over forty. It had been hailed as a miracle, even, until Monissaea’s death. These days, Yathugarra was affectionately known as ‘Garra’ and at two, she was far too young to join in with the night’s festivities, but doubtlessly was inside with her nursemaids, bouncing and rolling around in her cot as they attempted the arduous task of getting her to sleep. How Silrith loved that little girl. What a thing it would be to have a child.

  ‘I assume those must be your Hentani dancers,’ Shappa inquired, nodding towards the two girls who had left the band and were now walking on to the stage.

  ‘Yes,’ Silrith replied. ‘I hope the soldiers like them. I’ve never seen Hentani dancing. I’m told it’s quite – intense’

  Shappa scoffed.

  ‘What?’ Silrith laughed. ‘I’m guessing you’ve seen it before then?’

  ‘I have, and intense is one way you could describe it.’

  Silrith laughed and gave him a look that said ‘Tell me more.’

  ‘You’ll see,’ Shappa said, reading her expression.

  As he said this Yathrud left the table and mounted the stage to address all those present.

  ‘Attention everyone, we are all here tonight at the invitation of our beloved Queen Silrith, the rightful ruler of Bennvika, with whose presence we are blessed, to welcome to this city our respected allies Chief Hojorak and Prince Kivojo of the Hentani and their many great warriors. I know that some of you here are familiar with me, but for those new arrivals who aren’t, my name is Lord Yathrud Alyredd, Governor of Bastalf. Also among our main table party tonight are my son, Bezekarl,’ Bezekarl stood, turned and bowed his head to the audience, then sat back down, ‘and Prince Shappa of Etrovansia.’ Shappa did the same.