Drakenfeld

by Mark Charan Newton

  The anticipation of the crowds was something to behold and I tried to explain to Leana their desire to see General Maxant. To these people, he was not merely just some politician – he was a war hero. They were all too rare these days, having largely been confined to stories. Not only that, but Maxant had travelled north to lands beyond the limits of their understanding. Mauland’s people were so far away they were almost like mythological beings. Maxant might as well have ridden his warhorse to another world entirely.

  The general had returned victorious, having secured the colder, northern frontiers, placated a savage culture and brought with him all sorts of treasures. Though the gods existed in the heavens, to the people of this neighbourhood General Maxant would be as close as they might get to seeing a god. And no doubt, in centuries to come, he would be deified and his name would be uttered with the likes of Trymus, Malax or Festonia, and become part of the city’s heritage.

  But to me he had now become a suspect in a murder investigation.

  We were standing only a dozen yards or so away, down one side of the courtyard, still on the temple steps, which offered a perfect view of the scene. I hoped we might be able to hear his every word. There were a good three thousand people within this courtyard now, leaning out from windows, huddling on balconies or sitting precariously on rooftops, all engaging in a lively, peaceful banter with one another. They lined the streets and alleyways beyond so that it was impossible to move around. Up on the steps, where Maxant would be appearing, a few of his soldiers were standing, wearing only the bold purple tunics of the military, but no armour. At least, these were the only soldiers wearing uniform – no doubt there were many more milling around the perimeter of the courtyard or within the gathered throng itself.

  We waited so long it was as though we would be here until nightfall, but presently the victorious general came out onto the platform, rising up above the masses with his arms out wide. A priest of Trymus stood behind him, bathing the general in incense. The noise became ferocious, as if a war had spilled into the courtyard.

  Maxant was clearly enjoying this position. Wearing the same purple tunic as his men – as if to signify that he did not consider himself superior – he accepted the applause he received before waving for silence.

  Flanked by soldiers, he addressed the crowd.

  ‘Citizens of Tryum!’ His voice was full of the command I expected from a man of his position. It must have carried the full length of the courtyard and a few streets beyond. ‘In the presence of Trymus, you bless me with your presence. You are the people who contribute to the structure of this city. You are as essential as the aqueducts or the grain supply. You make Tryum.’ A predictable roar went up and everyone applauded him. Flattery only enhanced his popularity. He held his hands aloft for silence once again. ‘But your neighbourhoods are in need of support. Your current representative, Gerrantus, has not served you well.’

  There was a scuffle within the crowd. A man was trying to shout something, his voice muffled, and soon he appeared to get dragged down to the ground.

  Maxant carried on regardless. ‘No. Gerrantus hasn’t served you well at all. He leaves dead bodies to rot on the side of the road. He lets pathetic thieves stalk the streets, destroying the lives of hard-working families by taking their valued possessions. There is too little order, but I can deliver military discipline and make your streets safe again. I have travelled far, with these men beside me.’ He gestured to his comrades. ‘And we have brought discipline and civilization to the wild places of the world. Gerrantus, they tell me, has barely walked beyond the city walls.’

  The crowd seemed to like that. Maxant gave a confident smile. Though his posture was formal, his manner was anything but – his composure was pitch-perfect for the occasion: proud and humble, jovial and serious. He continued for several more minutes listing his priorities for the district, which included greater access to grain, a minor relaxation of taxes and new units of the Civil Cohorts to be formed, all of which would receive the blessings of King Licintius. He listed his credentials: a man who was born not four streets away, who climbed the ranks of Detrata’s army, who through grit and steel led the finest warriors in the kingdom to regain the pride of the Detratan Empire. I never expected quite the cheer that the last point received. I did not realize just how much these people still longed to live in a conquering nation.

  ‘I will bring discipline and order and safety for the hardworking people of Tryum,’ he repeated. ‘All I ask of you is a show of hands come election day, on the morning after the next full moon. Come, friends, support me – and I will support all of you in return.’

  That was that. Maxant walked off the platform and out of sight, the priest and his soldiers following him. The masses were jubilant and optimistic.

  But it was the men who were not cheering, however, that caught my eye. I indicated a couple of large groups of them to Leana. Some I recognized from earlier, but others I took to be either supporters of Gerrantus, or merely hired thugs.

  ‘Things are about to get bloody,’ I said to Leana.

  ‘Shall we stay to watch?’

  ‘Yes, let’s hang back a little longer.’

  Now that people were beginning to move on, we stepped back a little deeper within the sanctuary of the crumbling temple. I spotted a member of the Civil Cohorts stood by idly a few yards away, clearly not aware of what was about to happen.

  ‘Be careful.’ Leana placed her hand on the hilt of her short sword.

  The crowds gradually dispersed, and the two groups of men became more defined. Once they did, the mood changed dramatically and the rest of the stragglers hurried their pace. There were about two dozen on one side, nearly all men, and twice as many on the other; each wore roughly similar clothing, grubby tunics of varying shades. The outnumbered set of men were physically superior to the others; I took these to be Maxant’s soldiers.

  Situations like this pained me. As a member of the Sun Chamber, all I could do was observe the confrontation and report it to the correct authority figure. I could not stop it without any soldiers to hand, and neither were we powerful enough to subdue it.

  Quite a few people were still lingering around the fringes of the courtyard, watching the spectacle from a street corner or from windows.

  Blades were drawn. Two leading figures stepped towards each other and spoke in the centre, the soldier standing a good head taller than the other. After a short while, it seemed to transform into a relatively calm debate.

  And then Maxant’s man slit the other’s throat so quickly, I barely saw it happen.

  The victim collapsed as the other men surged towards the soldiers, who proceeded to form a disciplined line.

  The melee was fast, violent and efficient; blood spouted in thick gouts as skin was ripped open. There were rapid punches and crippling kicks, but no sooner had it all started than the remaining attackers, or victims, fled.

  Standing with their weapons still poised, the remaining soldiers regarded the courtyard, which was so badly stained with blood. With a professional calm, they gathered up the corpses and dragged them to the perimeter of the yard, before proceeding to vanish down a side alley.

  ‘Is this how politics is done in Tryum?’ Leana remarked. ‘This is your version of democracy?’

  A Way to Make Money

  Another beautiful evening lay ahead. The sun was just passing beyond the rooftops and birds skittered about in the clear, purpling skies. Smoke drifted about on the breeze, having come from the stoves being fired up for the evening, which mixed with the scent of jasmine flowers from a nearby bush. After the excitement and emotional range of my day, there now seemed to be a wonderful stillness, and a sense of peace.

  I took another moment to look at the hand-drawn document acquired in Lacanta’s room. It was incredibly vague, so much so that I started to believe it could have been something else entirely – a sketch perhaps, or strange esoteric notes that had manifested in this way. The words were indecipherable, which
didn’t help, and there were various triangles scattered about. Maybe it was an encoded drawing from a lover?

  Bellona had prepared a nourishing meal of freshly caught fish covered in pepper, bread and vegetables from the market gardens of the city. She turned to leave us, but I nagged her incessantly until she sat down to dine with us. Reluctantly, and eventually with a heavy smile, Bellona agreed, but she would not touch a drop of wine no matter how watered down it was. She ate tentatively at first, with great pauses between mouthfuls, though with time she relaxed – and only then was I satisfied.

  ‘I’ve been thinking,’ I announced, after chewing on some bread. ‘I have a plan which solves three small problems, and I’d like your thoughts on the matter.’

  Leana’s glance was non-committal, but Bellona’s face seemed full of concern.

  ‘This house stands empty for much of the day and there are many rooms that simply aren’t being put to good use. Meanwhile, many people in this city can’t even afford to feed themselves. It simply doesn’t feel right to me. That’s one problem.’

  ‘You want to move house?’ Leana asked.

  ‘No,’ I replied. ‘Now, another issue I’m concerned with is our safety. Bellona, our work brings us into contact with very dubious characters indeed. You’ll know what it was like for my father of course.’

  She nodded, and though I waited for an answer none came.

  ‘The third issue is money,’ I said. ‘I know you don’t like to talk about my father’s money situation, Bellona, but the matter is resolved – have no fear of that. However, that has left me without much in the way of savings, and I don’t wish to get into the same situation.’

  Leana took a sip of water. ‘And your plan?’

  ‘I’d like to use some of these rooms as offices. I think this could become a station of the Civil Cohorts. Daytime offices for the most part – it is a private home, ultimately – but I’m sure we could have a nightwatchman too. Senator Veron gave me the idea, as he’s looking to improve things for the neighbourhood. He could transfer some of the money to me to cover the rent and so forth. In the meantime, it would mean all these rooms aren’t wasted, we’re protected, and we have a little extra income. The most important thing, though, is that the surrounding streets will be improved even further by the presence of a team that I can mentor, to some extent. What do you think?’

  Leana considered my words before declaring, ‘This is a good plan. Not that you need it, but it has my support.’

  ‘Good, and Bellona, you’ll be happy with more people about?’

  ‘Is it simply more stomachs to feed?’

  I laughed. ‘More or less, I guess. I’m not sure exactly. The place could get a bit messy with so many people about. I’ll be able to pay you more, of course. Say, another few pecullas a week? That’s on top of expenses for food. You’ll probably need to manage a bigger household budget, and if you need more help I’ll entrust you with finding whoever you’d like – a quick-running lad to go on errands perhaps. Also, I noticed you have good writing skills – should you need any additional tutoring in numeracy or other languages I’m sure that would be easy enough to arrange. You’ll be able to manage your own small empire before long.’

  She nodded eagerly, with wide eyes and a smile to match. ‘Thank you, sir. Your father paid for me to learn to a certain level, though I am not as fine with words as I would like.’

  ‘That’s settled then. I’ll speak to Senator Veron first thing in the morning.’

  After the meal and a wash in cold water, I reclined on a cushioned seat in the garden on my own, enjoying once again the scent of the flowers that opened themselves at night, whilst watching the ripples of the moon in the fountain. I wondered whether or not I used to do this ten years ago, and what I might have been thinking about at the time. My mind inevitably drifted to my work.

  It was reassuring to have a satisfying theory for the key in the lock, and that at last there was a new direction to explore. However, seeing Maxant’s men perform so ruthlessly in the courtyard made me realize that I could not simply blunder in and accuse him of being a part of something, without first having any hard evidence. All I had at the moment was the most likely occurrence. There were still many more facets of this mystery to work out.

  Tomorrow was the Blood Races. Senator Veron had sent a message for me saying that he would meet me in the morning and walk me to the Stadium of Lentus; I realized this would give me the perfect chance to speak to the other senators who were intimate with Lacanta. I would have to think of subtle ways to press them. Certainly, they would fear being quizzed by the Sun Chamber, but I wanted them to think they were not under suspicion so they opened up.

  There was a knock at the main door to the house. I rose from the garden and headed inside to the hallway, noting the moonlight through the roof. If the elections were to be held after a full moon, there were only ten or eleven days to go.

  Bellona had already opened the door, and she looked at me not quite knowing how to act next.

  Titiana stood in the doorway, in a soft gown, waiting with that same unreadable half-smile on her face.

  ‘It’s OK, Bellona. I know who this is.’

  I beckoned Titiana inside and took her hands in mine. Bellona muttered that she would prepare drinks, but I said it would be OK. ‘If our guest needs something, I’ll prepare it – I’m not completely useless in the kitchen. Anyway, please – have some rest.’

  Bellona shuffled away out of the hallway.

  ‘You came back,’ I whispered to Titiana.

  ‘Did you think I wouldn’t?’ she replied.

  ‘You’ve every right not to see me again.’

  She inclined her head ever so gently. ‘My head appears to have been overruled tonight.’

  I guided her into the garden, breathless with anticipation, and began hastily to light some of the lanterns.

  ‘Oh, what a lovely place.’ Titiana wandered around between the small, lush bushes and looked up at the sky. ‘I just about remember coming here all those years ago when your father was out of the city. We sat on that fountain together.’

  ‘You pushed me in it, if I remember correctly,’ I replied.

  Titiana beamed, as if all the years had fallen away. This was how I remembered her. Dark hair fell across her broad, tanned face, as she crouched down to regard the edge of the fountain pool. She ran her hand through the cold water with a child-like sense of wonder.

  ‘Part of my hatred for you,’ she began, ‘was merely envy. It doesn’t hurt to admit it now, but it didn’t seem right that you could retain all this wealth, this property, these luxurious pleasures – and all on your own, while I had fallen so far. I built up a resentment for that.’

  ‘I can understand,’ I replied. ‘Though it doesn’t help you at all, I do feel bad about all of this wealth, and I intend to put the property to good use.’ I quickly explained my plans for the cohort. ‘But for now, it is just myself, Bellona – who is a splendid cook – and Leana, my . . . I never know how to describe her. My assistant. My bodyguard, I suppose.’

  ‘You have a female bodyguard?’ Titiana glanced up at me, a look of surprise on her face.

  ‘You’re thinking that it seems rather effeminate of me, I know, or that there might be shared attractions between us.’

  Titiana turned her attention once again to the water.

  ‘That’s not the case. I like to think of us as siblings.’ I explained Leana’s background and how she’d helped me over the years, but it seemed impossible to sufficiently explain our bond, let alone telling her just how skilled Leana was in combat. ‘In all of my travels across Vispasia, a man has never yet bettered her in a fight. I would rather have someone with those odds on my side, than against me.’

  Titiana and I enjoyed another pleasant silence for a moment. Our sharing this space, simply being together, seemed enough to delight each of us.

  ‘Was it really ten years ago?’ Titiana asked. ‘How far our lives have grown in different d
irections.’

  ‘I know it sounds a ridiculous thing to say, but it doesn’t feel as though we’ve really been apart.’ I took a step closer and sat on the edge of the fountain. ‘We get on, more or less, precisely as we used to. And I still feel, more or less, precisely as I used to.’

  Titiana placed her hand on my leg as she slowly eased herself nearer to me. Both the unexpected and the desired happened: she placed her hand on my chest and moved in towards me, and all I could do was focus on her broad, sensual lips. Then I closed my eyes . . .

  And she pushed me backwards into the fountain.

  The cold shock of the water brought me back to my senses. Titiana laughed at me as I struggled to haul myself out, levering with my legs until I was back onto firm ground. I was soaked, my clothes sticking to my skin.

  ‘You deserved that,’ Titiana laughed, holding her hand to her mouth as if she had surprised herself. ‘After all you’ve done, allow me that.’

  Standing there, dripping with water, I drew her in close to me and she did not flinch at my wet clothing, or even tense up. She was still smiling as my hands grew accustomed to her figure, still smiling as our foreheads came together, remaining there for a moment longer.

  Titiana’s lips touched mine. With a lantern in one hand, and Titiana’s fingers in another, I led her back through the house and into my bedroom. I kicked the door closed, placed the lantern on a table.

  There, Titiana pulled up my wet shirt; she traced the lines of muscle on my body and noticed a few wounds of my own that would probably never fully heal.

  She turned and raised one knee up onto the bed, in silence.

  With her back to me, she unbuttoned her clothing and allowed it to slip slowly from her shoulder, down her back. Even in this light, the scar that had been wrought by the whip was painfully clear. She was waiting to see what I made of it; I closed my eyes for a moment and inhaled deeply, allowing the guilt to catch up with me. Kneeling beside her on the bed and, with my hands slipping around her front to her stomach, I began to kiss down the back of her neck, around her scar, confident that it wouldn’t hurt now. Not physically, at least.