Drakenfeld

by Mark Charan Newton

  The first Drakenfeld to be buried here was my grandfather, who was the first senator to gain his position based on his exploits as a general in the military, rather than because his fortune was large enough to bribe the right people to prove he was a citizen of good standing. I never knew whether or not he approved of his son, my father, joining the Sun Chamber – the subject wasn’t one that was raised all that much. He built up his wealth yet remained true to his mild-natured and humble roots: this small, domed mausoleum contained just four pillars no taller than me, and a relief of Polla. The elaborate structures either side featured intricate facades and bold architectural statements.

  Nearby a few people walked with offerings in their hands through a ruined colonnade, and a family was dining at the foot of one nearby structure, chatting merrily in the sun.

  ‘What an incredible place.’ Titiana gestured to the row upon row of fascinating monuments surrounding us, each one unique in some way. ‘This really is a whole other city just for the dead. They say on auspicious nights that such places become alive with ghosts, and figures of bone lose themselves in the surrounding hills.’

  ‘That’s why we make sure to keep the mausoleums locked,’ I said and smiled. ‘I can’t be doing with dead relatives hassling me in my sleep.’

  ‘I’m serious,’ Titiana said, with the wonder of a much younger woman. ‘All stories have their roots in truth. Besides, I’ve used such tales more than once to make the children behave and go to bed on time.’

  We dismounted from the mare and for a moment simply ambled along the path in separate directions, each in our own world of awe and respect. Titiana seemed happy enough so I wandered among the stones noting the family names and trying to recall their position in the city.

  Suddenly a figure caught my eye walking among the structures, and following me. He – at least, it was dressed in the clothing of a man – wore a tattered and ripped cloak, but otherwise his tunic seemed fine, if a little colourless. He looked at me, wide holes in place of his eyes; and no sooner had that thought registered, than he turned to flee through a wide avenue of mausoleums. I moved quickly to catch up with him, but could no longer see him.

  Senator Divran told me to walk among the tombs and a small part of me wondered if the figure had been her creation. Shaking my head, I retraced my steps – I knew better than to believe in such fantasies.

  Titiana was waiting by the mare, but didn’t seem interested in where I’d been – she was too entranced by my family’s mausoleum. I reached into my bag for the urn carrying my father’s ashes, and passed it to Titiana momentarily, before pulling out a heavy key. After unlocking the iron gate, which had rusted somewhat, we stepped into the dark sanctuary of the mausoleum.

  I left the key in the lock, out of the way.

  After the brightness of the daylight it was difficult to see the details at first, and there was a prevalent musty odour. Beneath our feet was a yellow mosaic floor featuring the two-headed falcon. Alongside it was the icon of the cross of the founding gods, representing where both Trymus and Festonia marked on the ground the very position where Tryum would be built. I searched around for the right spot, slid back a stone cover and placed my father’s ashes down alongside my mother’s.

  ‘You rarely spoke of your mother,’ Titiana said.

  ‘I hardly knew her, if I’m honest,’ I replied. ‘She died when I was no more than five summers old. I know far too little about her, because my father didn’t often mention her name. An aunt once told me that it was because he never really let her go after she died. I have memories of her, though, glimpses that come back to me now and then.’

  ‘What was her name?’

  ‘Mawya. She came from the deserts – from Locco. People often told me she possessed such beauty that passers-by would stop her in the street to tell her so. I think people’s memories can be kinder than the reality, but I’m reassured she was kind and gentle-natured, and always thought the best of people no matter how they treated others. I vaguely remembered her singing songs of the desert to me but . . . well, after that my upbringing was with my brother and my father.’

  ‘That would explain your inability to talk plainly with women,’ Titiana joked, and I was glad of her lightening the mood. ‘Will you be buried here one day? That must be a sobering thought.’

  ‘So long as there is someone here to remember to bury me – and someone who can be bothered to bring my ashes all the way up that hill, then yes.’ Solemnly, I drew back the heavy stone lid and set it in place with a clunk.

  We stepped outside into the daylight once again. With my mind somewhat exhausted by now, I lay down in the long grass with a sigh, regarded the pearlescent blue sky and enjoyed the warmth. The leaves and branches of a nearby tree stirred in the soothing breeze. Titiana lay down next to me, resting her head against my shoulder, her sweet floral fragrance drifting over me.

  I wanted never to rise from that spot.

  When the sun reached its zenith I felt it was time to return to Tryum. I decided to take one last look at the mausoleum to preserve the image in my mind, as I did not know when I would return, but then realized the key was still in the lock with the metal gate closed. It hadn’t locked – of course it wouldn’t, because the key had not been turned – but for a moment it looked as if the ghost of my ancestors had placed the key there.

  Placed the key.

  Of course.

  A Bloody Business

  We strolled down the gentle slope towards the horse. The city stood before us and, from here, we could clearly see the clash of architecture of new and old, the harsh contrast between itself and the farmland surrounding it; and the river that stretched out towards the sea a mile or so beyond. On a day like today, I wished to immerse myself within that deep blue liquid.

  ‘How is your investigation going?’ Titiana asked.

  ‘I’m afraid I’m not able to talk much about it,’ I replied.

  ‘I see. Lucan Drakenfeld, keeper of state secrets.’ Titiana laughed warmly.

  ‘No,’ I said, ‘it’s more for your own protection. The fewer people who know about my life, the fewer lives are in danger. I wouldn’t want you to lose any sleep because of something I said.’

  ‘I’m not afraid.’ Titiana linked her arm through mine, and I missed a breath feeling her skin brush against my wrist. ‘Besides, the whole city is talking about it. Rumours in the markets suggest all sorts of fanciful possibilities. I’ve heard priests say that the spirits of former Detratan emperors were responsible because they disapprove of the newer royals.’

  ‘I would have trouble arresting a ghost.’ I gave her a very limited account of what I’d seen so far – enough to satisfy her curiosity, I hoped, but nothing that would be the seed of gossip. The last thing I wanted was for rumour to spread in one quarter of the city, attracting the king’s interest. I knew how fragile his mind was over this situation, and I was reluctant for him to send his soldiers chasing gossip.

  ‘That wasn’t so hard, was it?’ Titiana said.

  I contemplated the view once again before glancing at Titiana, beguiling Titiana. Words could not express all my hopes and frustrations right then. I had of course lain with other partners in the past, but either because my life was one continuous journey or I could not let go of the past, none of them really compared to her – or at least my memories of her.

  ‘Where do we go from here?’ I asked. ‘I want to see you again, but you’re married. That said, you’re certainly someone who seems to care less about being seen with me today than she did last night. Does this mean I am forgiven?’

  ‘You apologized to me for what you did,’ she replied eventually. ‘That was something you were too proud to do the first time around.’

  Titiana pulled back on my arm as I was about to step up onto the horse. Her eyes seemed even more enchanting in the light of the midday sun. I felt an awkwardness develop between us.

  ‘You’re married,’ I said. ‘It’s as simple as that. I get it. You have a re
putation to protect, as do I.’

  ‘It doesn’t matter. I wear a wedding bracelet and nothing more.’ She faced away from me now, and towards the city. ‘I barely see him. I barely see anyone but my family. They say if you’re a rich woman you can rise to the Senate these days. Well, not from where I am you can’t. A woman’s place lower down the city is confined to her husband’s shadow.’

  ‘It doesn’t have to be like that.’ I longed to tell her of what it was like for women in places like Locco, where men and women shared the responsibilities of raising a family, lest it bring shame on him; even Dalta, where women ruled the nation, not just the home. Not everywhere was reluctant in leaving behind the ghost and structures of its empire. ‘Titiana, right now I can promise little more than I did all those years ago. At least, not until the Lacanta murder is solved. After that, who knows? I have money now and no parents to dictate my actions.’

  ‘Will you ever find the killer though?’ Titiana brushed her hand along the side of my head and I held her wrist in place, hoping she would never let go of me. ‘The way you speak about it, you might as well be looking for a ghost.’

  ‘Perhaps I am.’

  Her lips rushed to mine and I felt the surge of intensity in my chest. For that endless moment, on that hillside with the dead looking on behind us, nothing seemed to matter. The years fell away and it seemed as if I was enjoying the carefree times of my youth – no pressures, no concerns, just the present moment.

  My hands moved down to her waist and I pulled her against me. Meanwhile the breeze came in tenderly from the sea, bringing with it the invigorating scents of the landscape.

  We rode back in a comforting silence, Titiana in front of me, my arms around her waist. Occasionally I would kiss the back of her neck and she would tilt her head forward to permit me access.

  Her tunic was of an impressive quality and I wondered if she had brought out one of her better garments today. Sometimes one could read too much into what a potential lover might wear, constantly divining for truth in the slightest of details.

  She said that she wanted to make her own way back, alone, to her neighbourhood, so I left her just inside Vellyum, on one of the better streets. I asked where she lived but she wouldn’t tell me ‘in case I turned up drunk one night pining for her company’. She was smiling, but it was clear that I was not to go with her, and I thanked her for coming with me this morning.

  She disappeared through the hectic lanes before I even had the opportunity to ask when we could meet again. I imagined – and hoped – that she would find me soon enough.

  The final stretch of the journey, to return the horse and reclaim my deposit, was spent in melancholic thought. Titiana’s departure had left me feeling rather isolated and I quietly prayed to Polla that my goddess might spare some of her light for me.

  Leana was standing in the shadow of a Temple of Festonia, a block-like building quite unlike the other temples in the city, and one that was in much need of renovation. The two-headed goddess had lost one of her arms, though I assumed the statue’s angry expression was carved before someone broke it off. It seemed a shame to treat the gods with so little respect, but that was the least of the district’s problems: a couple of crippled old women limped by, while skinny, almost-naked men prostrated themselves before tavern owners or merchants for coin – the men of business standing over them were the new gods in this district.

  ‘How did it go?’ Leana asked, still examining the people milling about the courtyard.

  ‘I’ve put my father to rest now,’ I replied. ‘Anyway, what have you seen today?’

  Leana walked me around the area in which General Maxant would be making his declaration to the neighbourhood about his intention to go into the Senate on their behalf, all the time explaining what she had seen.

  ‘He is to make his speech from a balcony behind the local Temple of Trymus.’

  ‘So Maxant moves to prove his loyalty to the city’s founding gods,’ I suggested. ‘A safe tactic.’

  ‘You can see the recent graffiti on these walls,’ Leana continued. ‘There are political slogans about his conquests and his suitability for the role. Look carefully around the paint; there is writing that is insulting to other men.’ She showed me one example, which suggested, in rather more crude terms, that a man called Gerrantus liked to commit sexual acts with animals. ‘Gerrantus is the senator of this contested neighbourhood. More over here, also.’

  Leana showed me several other pieces of graffiti along these lines, and some with the curious allegation that Gerrantus was responsible for killing Lacanta by summoning evil spirits.

  ‘I’d have to check, but I don’t recall his name being present on the list that night,’ I replied. ‘He’s certainly not on the one Veron gave me, of those who were close to Lacanta.’

  ‘It would not be the first lie on these walls,’ Leana said. ‘More.’

  We walked behind buildings, away from the main traffic of the city, towards a cluster of men who were loitering beside a pastry stall, eating and generally laughing and joking in an easygoing mood. They were dressed in the kind of everyday clothing that people wore around these parts, grubby tunics, ripped trousers and sandals.

  ‘What are we looking at?’ I asked.

  Leana moved me to a position alongside a rusted brazier. She kept her back to them while I faced them. ‘Pretend we are friends or lovers, smile at me, and keep watching.’

  I glanced up every few moments, until another man came along, dressed the same: they stood taller as he walked up to them, and they exchanged nods before he marched on.

  ‘Maxant’s veterans?’ I whispered.

  ‘Yes,’ Leana replied. ‘I only noticed them when I saw the same group of men walk by the same point three times.’

  ‘They’re patrolling the place to make sure any rivals are kept at bay. I suppose they’d have every interest in their general making it into the Senate, where he could start granting them all sorts of pensions or extra land. Maxant is no fool.’

  We strode back towards where the full spectacle was building up, and kept ourselves in the shade of the ruined temple to observe the event.

  Large whitewashed buildings, their facades blighted with age, loomed up either side of us, three storeys high. An old woman was hanging her washing from out of a top-floor balcony that seemed so precarious it might collapse at any moment. A huge vulture flew over the courtyard in the direction of the coast, each wing longer than I was tall.

  I thought about how Maxant was making a calculated move towards establishing his political career. Once no one was within listening distance, I discussed the matter casually with Leana, suggesting that I might trust him even less than other senators.

  ‘Why?’ she asked.

  ‘The key.’

  ‘The key to the Temple of Trymus?’

  ‘Yes,’ I replied. ‘The realization only came to me earlier today. I have a hunch, but it is no more, that whoever entered that room first was the person who put the key in the lock on the inside of the door. We have always been led to believe that the door was locked from the inside, making it impossible for anyone to either enter or escape that room. But what if the key had been put in there deliberately after the door had been barged open? Whoever had the confidence to do such a thing must have known, beforehand, they’d be among the first to enter the room that night. And no one else but our beloved, celebratory general could have possessed such a confidence – because he was destined to open it for his own ceremony. He knew precisely when it would open and precisely when everyone would see Lacanta. Seeing all his operations here highlight that he is a superb tactician both on and off the battlefield. I’m sure he could have managed a simple key trick.’

  ‘But Lacanta and Maxant were both seen by many people just before the body was found. Maxant especially was the focus of attention that night.’

  ‘I didn’t say that he killed her,’ I replied, ‘merely that he was the first to gain entrance to the temple – and knowi
ngly threw people off the scent. The rest remains a mystery, though if his men are this organized . . .’ I paused. ‘It all must have happened so quickly. The planning would have to have been so thorough, precise to the last heartbeat.’

  ‘Could he risk sharing such a matter with his soldiers?’ Leana asked. ‘If they battered the door down with him, they may know more.’

  ‘If such a pact was ever revealed, that they killed a royal, it would mean the end for Maxant – so he may not have wanted others knowing. He may have worked alone. But say he did put the key in the lock – he would also have to be very confident that his soldiers would be distracted by the blood-soaked body of the dead royal . . .’

  ‘Why would he kill her?’

  ‘I don’t think he’d really want to kill Lacanta and not even our glorious general, fresh from the field of slaughter, would be swift enough to be the cause of her death that night. But look at what he might achieve as a result.’ I gestured to the gathering throng below us, all of them waiting to hear what Maxant was about to say, many of them desperately eager to catch a glimpse of a man whose achievements would mark him out for legend. ‘Senator Veron suggested that with Lacanta out of the way, Licintius may need to rely on Maxant’s popularity. He implied nothing, of course, but it’s possible that Maxant felt Lacanta was in the way of his senatorial career. Not just that, but Maxant was after land for his veterans. Think of his extra power if he had strong influence in the Senate – think what he could achieve. Come to think of it, if other senators had dreams of Empire, then they’d certainly get behind him.’

  ‘An unlikely conclusion,’ Leana said.

  ‘It is, and I don’t fully believe in it myself, but the man we’re about to watch possesses a far more cunning streak than I’ve previously realized.’