by Tony Roberts
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Vosgaris arrived breathlessly at the castle, leaping from his saddle and pounding up the stairs to the entryway. Hendros stayed in the courtyard to oversee the care of both equines, having ridden hard since they had met the messenger from Zofela who had brought the bad news.
“Where is she?” Vosgaris shouted, taking the last two steps in one huge bound. Guards all stared as he raced past, uncertain as to what to do.
Isbel heard him and came out of her room and held out a hand. “Vosgaris – I’m so sorry,” she said softly.
“Where is she, ma’am?” he said, his voice just under control. His hand clenched and unclenched. He was bathed in sweat and his eyes were wild. “My wife – I must see her!”
“In your room, Vosgaris – be warned….” she was about to say the sight was not pretty but he was already gone, leaving the empress to shake her head sadly alone.
He reached the door, guarded by two men. They stepped aside hurriedly and allowed their captain to wrench the door open and pass into the room. The still form of Alenna was lying, covered by a sheet, in the middle of the floor. With a sob he reached her, bent down and pulled the covering away from her face.
One look was enough. Death had begun to ravage her face. She would need to be buried very soon. He dropped the sheet and sat back, shaking. Alenna! He didn’t know what he ought to do. His mind was empty, yet whirling at the same time. His wife. Dead. Suddenly he snapped into action. He knew who had done it and why.
He strode out, his face a mask of hate. He went along the corridor to the administration rooms. Isbel was still in the passageway and saw the look on his face. “Vosgaris…..”
He wasn’t listening. He hardly paused in his stride as he barrelled into the day room used for the running of the province. Frendicus and Pepil looked up irritably at the intrusion. Vosgaris ignored the two as they were irrelevant. The other two, Fostan Anglis and Goltan Mirrodan, were at their seats going through paperwork.
“You bastard,” Vosgaris breathed, standing in the doorway. “You’ll die for this.”
“What is all this about?” Pepil demanded, taking two steps towards the fuming officer. “This is the administration office, not a barracks!”
“Shut up,” Vosgaris snapped and brushed past the outraged major domo. He stood over Mirrodan. “You murdered her, just because I refused to obey your family’s demands that I stop the investigations into blacking the emperor’s reputation.”
“You’re overwrought with grief,” Mirrodan said. “My commiserations.”
It wasn’t so much the words, but the smirk that came with it. Vosgaris saw red. He swung a fist and sent the biographer up and out of his chair, arcing through the air to land heavily on his back at the feet of a shocked Frendicus, who stepped back in alarm.
Vosgaris slowly walked over the upturned chair and closed in on the dazed biographer. “Now you filthy traitor, you’re going to die.” He pulled out his sword.
“Vosgaris!” Isbel shouted from the doorway. “Stop! I command you, as empress, to stop!”
Vosgaris clenched his teeth and turned to face the white-faced Isbel. “But ma’am, he is the one who has done all this, him and his unspeakable family. I have sworn witness statements.”
“I believe you, but I do not want my rooms turned into a charnel house. He will be dealt with properly, and I do not want the Taboz family plunged into a blood feud with the Mirrodan. Please, step aside.”
Vosgaris sobbed. “But he killed my wife! The blood feud already exists!”
Goltan chuckled at Vosgaris’ feet. “You clumsy fool. What proof do you have I actually put the poison in her food and drink? I may well have ordered an agent to do so, not wishing to carry out the act personally.” His voice was thick, his lips already swelling up and bloodied.
Vosgaris raised his sword high above the prone Goltan. Isbel stepped aside and waved the two guards with her to intervene. “Captain Taboz! Stand to attention!”
Vosgaris shook, his blade ready to plunge down onto the man at his feet. The guards took hold of his arms and pulled him back. Vosgaris struggled but the guards were too determined. He was turned round to face the empress. She put a hand out to his shoulder. “Hold, Vosgaris,” she said gently. “He won’t be going anywhere. Sheath your blade.”
The guard captain looked into her eyes, then crumpled. He broke down, dropping his sword with a clatter. Isbel took his head in her hands. “Go to a spare room on this corridor. Rest. Sleep. I will arrange for everything. Go,” she nodded to him.
Weeping, Vosgaris stumbled from the room, leaving Goltan to scramble to his feet. “That man should be thrown out of Zofela,” he slurred.
Isbel regarded him coldly. “You, Mirrodan, are to be sent to the dungeons. Your future will be determined shortly. You can be assured that you will never be permitted to hold any position anywhere in the empire ever again. Your family is finished. Your dirty little schemes have failed.”
“You don’t know who you’re dealing with,” Goltan tried to struggle out of the grip of the two guards but it was futile. “We Mirrodan have powerful friends on the Council.”
“I doubt that. The Duras? They’re finished.”
“The Duras still have influence, even if they are no longer permitted to sit on your precious councils. They will arrange for other Houses to condemn this act of barbarity.”
Isbel shook her head. “You have condemned your family to ignominious defeat; Alenna was the daughter of Lord Duras – you’ve murdered one of the Duras family.”
“What – you lie!”
“I can prove it. I shall arrange for whatever Duras still skulks in the empire to pick her up and have her buried wherever they wish. Once word gets out a Mirrodan killed her, I doubt you and your kin will enjoy many days alive. We will not lift a finger to stop them.”
Goltan swore. He tugged and writhed, but he was held fast. The guards dragged him away, leaving the room relatively calmer. Isbel waved to Lieutenant Bevil who had appeared to pick up the fallen furniture.
“Everyone return to your duties. This matter is ended.” She addressed Bevil next. “I want the Captain’s belongings brought up to his temporary quarters, and Alenna’s body to be moved to the temple here. Have her prepared for burial.”
“Ma’am.” Bevil left.
Isbel next spoke to Pepil. “Send notice to the Duras family – I don’t know how they are contactable but someone will know. They can pick Alenna’s body up from the temple here, under Truce. Sign it from me.”
Pepil bowed. Isbel left. She had to speak to Vosgaris. He was in one of the guest chambers three doors down. His sobs could be heard coming from the other side of the door. She knocked gently, waited, then slowly entered the room.
Vosgaris was face-down on the bed, shaking with grief. She sat next to him and stroked his hair. “I’m really so sorry, Vosgaris, it happened so quickly.”
He took a deep breath and half-turned. His face was red and puffy, and tears glistened down his cheeks. “I did love her,” he said in a choked voice. “But I-I let her down.” He wiped the tears from his face. “I had sex with Metila.”
Isbel closed her eyes. “Oh, Vosgaris.”
“I couldn’t help myself, and I hate myself for it!” He broke down again.
Isbel waited until he composed himself again. “What happened?”
Vosgaris told of the incidents in Turslenka. “I just couldn’t stop it – she had some hold over me. I was a man possessed….. and my poor Alenna was dying here!”
“Vosgaris,” Isbel held his hands. “It seems that witch can cast a spell to snare any man she chooses.” She thought of Astiras. “It probably was useless to try to prevent it. If she’s as adept as she seems, you had no chance of avoiding it. Don’t go blaming yourself; you did what you could do. Alenna was a good woman, and I only began to understand that the last few days. I should have made her more welcome, but my attitude towards the Duras blinded me. I have a huge apology to make to her – and now I
can never do that.”
“But you didn’t betray your marriage – I did! And you must hate me for doing so, since the emperor did exactly the same.”
Isbel sighed. “I think I have to forgive my husband – it may well be he stood as much chance as you did with Metila. If I forgive you, then I have to forgive Astiras.”
Vosgaris hung his head. Isbel stroked his hair. “You need rest, comfort, and recovery. I shall put a guard outside. Please come to dinner, even if you don’t feel like eating. I would hate the thought of you alone here, punishing yourself.”
“If you insist, ma’am,” he said dully.
“I do – but only because it will be better for you. Now, rest. I shall see you later. We will arrange for Alenna to be taken by the Duras to a family tomb. You will be permitted to accompany her if you wish.”
Vosgaris said nothing; he merely buried his face in the sheets and cried. Isbel stood for a moment, torn between her duties as empress, and a desire to comfort the stricken man. Finally she silently left, shutting the door slowly. “Nobody is to see the Captain,” she said to the guard. “Except on my express order.”
The guard bowed.
She returned to her office and found that Vosgaris’ report had been left on her desk. She took her time to read it, then summoned Lieutenant Bevil once more. Bevil looked harassed; Isbel was running him ragged on errands here and there.
“Sit down, Lieutenant,” she said absently, still reading the parchment. “It’s all here,” she said, not only to Bevil, but to Pepil who was standing attentively by her shoulder. “The Mirrodan’s rapid rise to power, using funds they gained by chance. Ambition, greed, it brought them to Turslenka. They broke into the wood merchant’s market and used their rough and underhand tactics to force rivals out.”
She put the document down and shook her head. “They saw us as an obstacle to their ambitions and teamed up with dissident Houses to undermine us. The other Houses – Duras and Fokis to name but two – were clever. They never actually took any action themselves, but paid the Mirrodan to do so. The Houses provided the money and information, the Mirrodan the muscle.”
“No clear connection to the other Houses, ma’am?” Fostan Anglis asked from his desk.
“No, Fostan, but I’m disappointed in your lack of detecting this. You should have, since this is in your area of responsibility. I may yet have to reconsider your position here.”
“Ma’am, I apologise – I shall not let you down again.”
Isbel eyed him sharply. Were the Anglis implicit in this scheme? There was no mention, but who knows how far the rot had set? She leaned back. Who, indeed, could she really trust? Vosgaris, but he was out of it for the moment. “Lieutenant – your investigations here have come up against a wall of silence, yes? So we do not know who Goltan Mirrodan’s accomplice or accomplices are – or were – here?”
“No, ma’am. I am sorry, but nobody is saying anything.”
“Then you must try to get the name or names out of Goltan Mirrodan.”
“Ma’am,” Fostan Anglis rose to his feet, a warning frown on his face. “He is a member of a House, yes a minor House to be sure, but one all the same. Torturing him is not going to go down well with the Council. You may end up being censured, ma’am.”
“So how else do you suggest we get that information from him? He is hardly likely to volunteer it, is he now?”
“Nonetheless, I must protest! Torturing one of the members of a House is forbidden by law unless the Council agrees it!”
Isbel glanced at Pepil. The major domo nodded slowly. “I’m afraid he is right, ma’am. The Council may rule against you.”
Isbel scowled. She couldn’t risk alienating the Council. It could feasibly cause a civil war. “Very well; Bevil, hold him until the Council’s decision.”
Fostan Anglis breathed out and sat down. “Thank you, ma’am. It shall be discussed at the next Council. So, the Mirrodan found out about the emperor’s indiscretion – but how?”
“Goltan Mirrodan did himself. Poor General Teduskis told him one day, the man was losing his mind and forgot he had been sworn to secrecy. It slipped out and Goltan sent the news to his father in Turslenka. That started a plan to discredit the Koros with the other Houses, and their allies helped by spreading the news to their agents in other places. It spread very quickly as a result. Then the emperor sent Captain Vosgaris down to Turslenka to find out who was spreading the gossip and whether the source had come from that city. He upset a few people and was assaulted for it but found out one of the men who did know and had him interrogated. It’s from him we know what we now know.”
“What were the Mirrodan after, ma’am?” Bevil asked. “What was their goal?”
“A higher place in the Council, of course. For doing the dirty work they expected to get support from their un-named allies on the Council, rising to a higher level of importance. A marriage or two, perhaps? Land? Trade concessions. The usual. Of course, their expertise in wood put them in conflict with us, as you all know we Koros have built our wealth on wood and timber. For the Mirrodan to grow we had to be destroyed.”
“Are they all under arrest, ma’am?” Fostan Anglis asked.
“The ones in Turslenka are, yes. Some elsewhere are not, and it’s hard to prove they are involved in this conspiracy, but the main branch is all under guard. We still do not know however who they used here as their agents, and they are still amongst us, almost certainly.”
“We shall not rest until they are found, ma’am,” Bevil responded.
“It may take some time, Lieutenant.”
____
For Amne the past few days had been extremely busy for her. The new accommodation for the expanding KIMM was accepted, with the provision that the soldiers themselves made the place habitable.
The men set about their task with enthusiasm. Their equines were looked after first, the stables made and waterproofed, painted and stocked with feed. Amne was deeply involved with organising this and all the other equipment and supplies necessary, even diverting building supplies earmarked for elsewhere to the project.
Elas let her have her way; he was relieved she was occupied fully with something he saw as worthwhile, rather than wasting her time frivolously. She sequestered an entire section of clerks to do the paperwork, liaising with the treasury officials to ensure funds were available.
Ultimately a hundred and sixty places were set aside for the new squadrons, beasts, men and support staff. A small office in the main council building was given to the latter, on the ground floor, and they would be responsible for the day to day running of the unit. Captain Telekan returned from his errand deep in the farmlands of Frasia, hot, sweaty, and pleased that new quarters were almost ready for him and his men.
Amne, though, was even more pleased. The thought of making love to her latest intimate excited her, and she hurriedly finished off a letter to the port manager, authorising the passage of timber to the new stables without the usual importation fees. The Koros did not need to pay themselves, after all. She made her way to the entrance hall. “Captain,” she hailed Lalaas, who had been listening to a street report from a militia patrol. He dismissed the three militiamen and came over, bowing as he reached her.
“Captain, I’m going to the new KIMM quarters to check on the rebuild. I don’t trust these contracted builders to do a proper job if my back is turned. I need an escort.”
Lalaas bowed again. “I’ll send two men immediately. Oh, I’ve just heard a rumour that there’s a group in the city asking for able-bodied men to join a secretive new organisation. I’ve had two separate reports now, so I’d be wary. Someone is making unauthorised recruiting, and I don’t yet know who.”
“I know you’ll get to the bottom of it, Lalaas,” she smiled. “Nobody can keep that sort of thing hidden for long.”
“Yes, ma’am,” he bowed once more and left. He felt Amne hadn’t really grasped the seriousness of the reports. Nothing for some time, then suddenly this. Recru
iting never went on for long; if people were going to join some force then they’d do it almost right away. He wondered who it was and what they were going to do. It seemed another small army was being gathered. He fretted at the slackness of the Koros regime – clearly they needed to put these young, fit unemployed men to work, or rival factions would continue to gather these very same people to their banners.
So far they’d managed to defeat their enemies but eventually someone would come along who was better than the Koros generals and then there’d be trouble.
Amne grew impatient, but then two men turned up and she waved them to follow her out. She crossed the square to the old Council building. It was only a short walk but killers could be waiting at any point. The passers-by bowed as she passed, flanked by the volgar-wielding guards, and she smiled and waved languidly to them. The Council building had shut gates and men on guard which was good.
She was allowed access and made her way to the stables, off to one side. The repairs had been made good and opposite them the old offices had been converted into barracks for the men. A group stood in the open air and Amne recognised Telekan, looking around at his new quarters with approval.
“Captain,” Amne greeted him. “Do you like your new barracks?”
“Indeed, your majesty,” he bowed, a smile on his face. “A lot of hard work has gone on during my absence.”
“You and your new squadrons will be based here from now on. I want to inspect the work done so that I can authorise payment to the contractors, or to demand corrections before I do so. Please show me round.” She turned to the two guards. “You may wait here. The KIMM will show you their canteen,” she looked hard at one of the junior officers who bowed hastily, and beckoned to the two guardsmen.
“Now, Fostan, I want to reacquaint myself with you,” she whispered to him as they made their way to the double door that led into the grand building.
Telekan nodded eagerly. The sight of Amne had got his blood racing and he desired to couple with her. He had been away too long. They entered a long, half-decorated passageway. Their shoes crunched on pieces of plasterwork and the sound echoed down the passageway. “This way,” she said breathlessly. “Nobody is working in that direction.”
