Drakenfeld

by Mark Charan Newton

  I made sure my brooch of office was on full display as Veron made his announcement.

  ‘Senator Malvus,’ he declared, louder than was required, ‘I wish to introduce to you officer Lucan Drakenfeld of the Sun Chamber in Tryum. He wants to have a word with you concerning the murder of Lacanta.’

  Malvus’ countenance soon cooled. He examined us, the small party who had come to ruin his morning. I gestured for us to step to one side. ‘Please, we can do this in the sanctuary below if you’d prefer.’

  ‘As you wish, Drakenfeld,’ he growled.

  Veron took a gentle bow with his arm out wide, indicating the path for Malvus to walk. The senator strode back the way we had come while Veron merely stood there smiling. ‘Enjoy, Drakenfeld.’

  Nucien Malvus

  In the dark, relative calm beneath the stadium, I stood a better chance of hearing what Nucien Malvus had to say about himself. On the way to the venue Veron told me what he knew of the man. Before our conversation, I already knew that Malvus was the youngest in the Senate, and only because of a quirk of law and good timing, and in no small part because of his fabulous wealth. As a result of this he often went about with the air of untouchability, Veron explained, which in turn inspired the man’s attempts to steer various factions of the Senate according to his whims. Though I trusted Veron on some issues, I didn’t when it came to rivalries in the Senate. There would be another side to Malvus’ story, no doubt.

  We walked along the neat rows of stalls, which weren’t as busy now that people were filling the stadium proper. Leana stepped vigilantly behind us, ensuring we would not be disturbed.

  ‘I was wondering when you’d come to find me,’ Malvus murmured. For a supposedly arrogant man, he had become very humble in his composure.

  ‘What makes you say that?’ I asked.

  ‘Come on – Lacanta is dead, so who would be the likely killers? Usually lovers and those closely associated with her – we are the ones dragged up before the courts, paraded about in public to have our innermost secrets aired. It’s good sport for many, I’m sure – there’s much pleasure to be had in watching successful people suffer.’

  ‘You seem rather experienced in such matters,’ I observed.

  ‘I have some legal training,’ he replied, ‘though nothing of the calibre of the Sun Chamber.’ There was a note of admiration in his voice.

  ‘The truth remains that anyone could still be responsible for Lacanta’s murder,’ I said. ‘It’s only been a few days and the case grows increasingly complex, so I am ruling out no one.’

  ‘If you care to share, what have you found out so far?’ he asked.

  ‘Your name in a book that belonged to Lacanta, for one thing.’ I smiled at his curiosity: senators, everywhere, were after information.

  Malvus didn’t flinch or seem remotely surprised at my statement. ‘The two of us were close – this much is probably known by several senators. I gave her the book – something she might appreciate, as she liked to read.’ His words came slowly and with great consideration. ‘She was ever-eager to expand her knowledge of the arts.’

  I recalled there were texts other than a book of plays. ‘Tell me upfront, to save us both a lot of hassle: were you and Lacanta lovers?’

  ‘I suppose that depends on what you mean by love.’ He laughed, but it was a sad noise devoid of his previous self-assurance. ‘If you mean, did we share a bed? Then no, we did not. Lacanta was enticing. She was flirtatious, even, but she was always chaste – something I respected greatly. For better or worse, such qualities are to be valued in people of Tryum. She once kissed me, though – softly, briefly, on the lips, and I valued that even more.’

  I frowned. ‘I need you to be clear with me about this. You’re telling me your relationship together was not of a sexual nature?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Did you ever try to engage in sex?’

  ‘I would have liked to,’ he replied. ‘There’s no harm in that is there? I wasn’t exactly going to push my luck on the matter and actually ask her, what with her brother being king – I value my neck too much. So I waited for Lacanta. I made my intentions obvious. I tried to seduce her with as many lovely words as I could possibly manage, but I would have been waiting a long time.’

  ‘People have told me she was very forthcoming when it came to such matters.’

  ‘People say a lot of things,’ he snapped. ‘You’d do well not to listen to people.’

  ‘That would make my job difficult,’ I replied. ‘Were you the only man or woman competing for her attentions?’

  ‘Probably not, but that doesn’t mean she bedded everyone, does it?’ he grunted. ‘And even if she did, would that cast her in a bad light?’

  ‘I’m not here to judge her lifestyle, I can assure you. I’d like to set her soul to rest quickly, so help me out: were you alone in seeking her affections?’

  Malvus inclined his head. It was incredible how his demeanour could alter from one of extreme arrogance to something far more humble and considerate within a few sentences. ‘No. There were others on the scene. I don’t know if they were chosen by her for more intimate purposes, but what does it matter now?’

  ‘It could matter a great deal,’ I said. ‘Were you there, that night, at Optryx?’

  ‘I was, yes, very briefly towards the end. I couldn’t stand to be there for the first few hours, not with Maxant posturing about all over the place.’

  ‘I’ve heard descriptions of Lacanta seducing people in public. Is that really why you didn’t want to be there?’

  ‘Do you think I would enjoy the night if she did? Exactly. But it was one of those nights where it was important to be seen. A man of your status must know what it’s like.’

  ‘I do, yes. But whoever killed Lacanta certainly seemed to select a very public day for the occasion – almost as if the murderer intended the death to be witnessed by so many people, wouldn’t you say?’

  ‘I don’t know because I’m not a murderer, Drakenfeld. Does it matter what they intended? Lacanta is dead. Gone. Contactable only through my prayers and offerings, and even then I’ll receive nothing in the way of reply.’

  ‘She may hear your prayers, though.’

  ‘I doubt my faith in Trymus on occasion. The number of hours I’ve spent on my knees before one of his statues is great, but what good has it done me? I paid for astrologers and the city’s finest soothsayers to help me speak with gods or to gain the hand of Lacanta, but it’s been of little use.’

  ‘Do you believe in such things?’

  ‘Ordinarily, I would not. The gods are like parents to us, nurturing, to be respected – we bring them into our households to improve our behaviour. But on occasion one’s mind needs more to cope with it all. I don’t think it’s a bad thing to admit that.’

  A boy ran in front of us carrying a headless dove by its feet, leaving a trail of blood; he called for his father to make an offering to Trymus before the races began, and his father happily indulged his son’s eagerness.

  Smiling, I turned back to Malvus. ‘You inscribed a book of Locottus’ plays to her. I could never get to grips with his style personally. Did you enjoy the theatre together?’

  Malvus seemed less hostile to this question. ‘Yes – she loved his plays dearly. She enjoyed the theatre every bit as much as her brother did.’

  ‘Did she associate with actors in her personal time . . . Outside of Regallum?’

  He cast me a sly glance, uncertain how to continue.

  ‘I’ve heard of her brother’s admiration for the company of actors,’ I said, not even knowing for certain whether it was true, but it was worth a go.

  ‘I don’t know how you found out, but no, she did not do that herself. I didn’t even know Licintius behaved like that until, once, I discovered Lacanta covering up for his disappearance. It is something that would be frowned upon by many in the Senate, though I rather like the idea of a king cavorting with actors down-city. Licintius is a humble and good man, deep
down. The theatre was an escape for both of them from the pressures of office. Besides, actors are rightly feared by senators.’

  ‘How so?’

  ‘They can control the emotions of a crowd. That’s something to create envy in any politician. Now, please, are there any further questions? I would like to be back before the races commence.’

  ‘Indeed, you’re free to return whenever you want,’ I said. ‘We’re just . . . having a conversation.’

  ‘I’m sorry if I’ve been short with you. This has not been easy for me. I loved her, in my own way, but I’m not able to mourn publicly. I must deal with matters with a stone heart.’

  ‘I understand.’

  Nucien Malvus walked back towards the noise and light. At least now I knew Clydia, the young actress, had not been lying about the king. It meant she might also have been telling the truth about Drullus, too.

  ‘Lucan.’ Leana stepped alongside me. ‘Do not turn around. We have people following us. We should get back up to Senator Veron.’

  ‘OK,’ I said and headed towards the outside. ‘Who’s following?’

  ‘These men seem of more skill than before. Turning, watching, turning again, standing by stalls also. They are moving to keep pace, then stopping suddenly.’

  ‘What do they look like?’

  ‘Heavy. Possibly ex-soldiers. Clean uniform and they can afford good boots. They are much more professional than the previous types. I cannot be sure, but I would not be surprised if they are hiding weapons.’

  ‘Do you think they could be Maxant’s men?’

  ‘I do not recognize any of them from the incident in the courtyard,’ Leana said.

  ‘Well, we have new friends, in that case,’ I declared.

  We took our position alongside Veron, who was only briefly interested in how things had gone with Malvus because down below some sort of ceremony was starting.

  In long white robes, dozens of priests and priestesses of Trymus formed an avenue, which extended from a small gateway just out of sight from where we were standing, right down by the track.

  The tone of the crowd had changed to something significantly more solemn, most people barely uttering a word.

  Between the priests and priestesses, a line of figures emerged in a profoundly slow march. King Licintius led the procession; those behind him were carrying on their shoulders a platform, and on that lay the body of Lacanta, wrapped in a crimson sheet, her face painted red, her oiled hair dangling down over the edges. A priest swung an incense burner beside her body and there were dancers in blood-coloured gowns dancing around her, twirling little arcs of cloth through the air as they spun their arms.

  Following this came General Maxant and his soldiers, who took the same measured paces in a column four men wide. The soldiers took a different direction at the end of the avenue of priests and priestesses, and headed towards the centre of the track.

  A low-level murmur rippled around the stadium as the people looked on. Lacanta’s body was placed on the ground while the dancers frolicked around it, making beautiful shapes with their bodies, and the king stood by watching their rituals. Soldiers packed themselves in, hundreds of troops who had served Maxant and brought glory on the city. But this was not the glory they expected; this was very much about mourning Lacanta’s death.

  People among the crowd were sobbing, one woman nearby wailing out loud. Even the senators seemed to be stifling tears. Lacanta had clearly meant a lot to these people and I vowed once again, under the gaze of Trymus, that I would help her soul to rest easily.

  I sympathized greatly with King Licintius. I knew what it was like to mourn a loved one; it must have been far more difficult to grieve in front of tens of thousands of people. And from what I had so far gathered, he was losing a great confidante as well as a sister. Despite a good proportion of the city mourning here alongside him, he must have felt very lonely indeed.

  She’ll Ride

  After the ceremony, Lacanta’s body was removed from the stadium. I remembered the king saying to me that there would be a private ceremony for her, so presumably that would not happen until later. Licintius was sitting nearby, only twenty feet away beyond the senators, in an enclosed booth lined with bright yellow cloth. Attendants stood around him, hesitant and nervous. Beside him, having brought new lands to Vispasia, the glorious General Maxant sat stern-faced, absorbing the attentions with a cool, impassive demeanour.

  The noise had returned to the same ferocious timbre of before. Criers, who walked the rim of the dust track with all the swagger of prostitutes, announced the races. While the build-up continued, I contemplated the rest of the senators. Veron told me there would be a small interval between races and the day’s events would continue until sunset. Five more senators from his list were present today, and there was plenty of time to question them, so we nestled right in their midst, as I was eager not to be regarded as an outside threat.

  The first race began. Fourteen figures on horseback rode out into the stadium to deafening cheers. Coloured banners were waved more wildly than before; they corresponded to the coloured vests the riders wore above their breastplates. The riders did not just wear vests, however – they carried weapons, spears mainly, but a few with swords or maces. Each wore a helmet, but apart from that, there seemed little in the way of protection. This was their moment of glory and, no doubt, a moment of dread too. They each seemed to handle it in different ways, some waving, some beating the metal of their armour with the flat of their swords, others quietly absorbing the scene.

  ‘Why are there no archers among them?’ Leana asked me.

  ‘Look carefully and you’ll see there are no stirrups,’ I said. ‘At these speeds, archers tend to fall off quickly and end up trampled into the dust. You’ll notice there’s little armour, too, because it weighs too much. These fellows need to get around as quickly as possible.’

  Leana said too loudly, ‘Seems easy. You said these races were the toughest sport going.’

  ‘Your servant,’ a senator called deridingly, ‘speaks bravely – from this distance.’ A ripple of laughter spread around us.

  ‘She’s not my servant,’ I replied, then turned back to her. ‘The event can be rather nasty once it gets going.’

  ‘Spirits save me, we did far more than this in Atrewen games as girls and boys,’ she said with exasperation. ‘We had to jump obstacles as well.’ Again she spoke forcefully.

  I chuckled awkwardly, not wanting to create a scene. The looks we received from the others were unfavourable at best. Insults were muttered about the ‘dark foreigner’ and my temper began to flare.

  Veron calmed me down, and we discussed the rules of engagement: how the riders could do whatever they wanted, throw what they wanted, hit with anything; but they had to be quick, and weigh up the amount of attacks they made against their overall speed. The only rules were not to cause harm intentionally to the horses: those riders who did found themselves disqualified and paraded at the end for the crowd to jeer and hurl whatever they could at them.

  The riders didn’t so much line up as group together and then they started the race, thundering around the figure-of-eight in a cloud of dust. One rider received a spear to the ribs and, whether or not it drew blood, he fell off his horse and he was out of the race. The dust cloud arced along the other side of the stadium, well beyond the thick wooden poles and back around. Ahead of it came the charge of the horsemen, riding close together, throwing their weapons this way and that, with the more nimble and skilful riders out in front, away from the fray.

  There were two riders, one in a red vest, the other in a blue, edging ahead of the pack, but as if to impress the king himself, right in front of us a rider in yellow threw a dagger at the red leader, striking his thigh; they both tumbled to the ground on the corner, both falling under the feet of the horses, to cheers and jeers from the various factions in the crowd.

  The noise seemed to precede the riders around the stadium like a tidal roar. Dust drifted into th
e bold blue sky. The two fallen riders lay completely still in the bloodied dirt while a team of helpers came to clean up the mess.

  Leana muttered, perhaps louder than she realized, ‘Spirits save me, they’re terrible riders. Bad fighters also.’

  ‘You should keep your voice low,’ I hissed. ‘This is a noble sport in Tryum.’

  ‘Drakenfeld,’ someone said, ‘this outsider seems to think she could do better.’

  ‘I could!’ Leana shouted back.

  ‘Don’t react to their taunts,’ I said. ‘Don’t show that their words have any effect. They’re baiting us.’

  ‘Nonsense,’ Veron interrupted with a grin. ‘Leana, if you honestly think you can do better, you’re more than welcome to try.’

  ‘Tell me which way I must go, and the next time you see me will be there, in the field,’ she declared, glaring at the senators behind. ‘I have done more dangerous things in Atrewe as a child.’

  A lot of the others were laughing at us, and let their disgust of Leana be known to all.

  ‘It’ll be a disgrace, but I’m happy to watch that happen to an outsider.’

  ‘The woman will not even finish, let alone come in the top three.’

  ‘I bet she buggers him at night.’

  ‘They probably don’t have horses where she comes from.’

  I tried to maintain a cool and professional manner, half wishing Leana could smack one or two of them around the head.

  Leana touched my arm, and leaned in closely. ‘I would like to do this. If you will permit it.’

  ‘You honestly don’t need my permission.’

  ‘But I want you to understand.’

  ‘Understand what?’

  ‘These people walk in small circles. Unlike those down-city, they have maybe never met anyone from Atrewe. I want them to know that Atrewens are every bit as good as the best Tryum can produce.’

  ‘What happens if you end up injured or killed?’