“It will be different with Theo and me,” she said aloud. “Theo knows Illiberis is mine, that nothing matters to me more than my home. He will respect my decisions, and my ruling of it.”
“I am sure he will.” Dahiya turned a knowing smile to her. “Although I don’t recall asking that question.”
Lælia tightened her mouth and turned away, unwilling to let Dahiya see how much the conversation had unsettled her. “I meant to answer your earlier question, when you asked why we do not throw Illiberis into this war. Just as you do for Altava, I know that Theo and Yosef fight for Spania, for the future of our nation, not just for that of Illiberis. I know this is what my grandfather fights for. It is why he does not allow his ‘petty revenge’ to govern his decisions.”
“And you, Lælia? Do you, also, put the future of your nation above Illiberis?”
In her mind Lælia saw the high peaks of the mountains that surrounded Illiberis. She smelled the figs, dusty with summer heat, and the heady scent of citrus. She saw the foals she and Theo had caught at birth, running high on the grassy plateaus in the early-morning light, the rush of mountain water fresh on the air.
She felt the dark caves and the wisdom held there, the old ways of water and stone and women.
“Illiberis is mine,” she said fiercely. “It is my blood and my soul, what I am and what my daughters will one day inherit. Nothing can ever alter that.”
“Ah.” Dahiya was no longer smiling. “Then you do not fight the same war as your grandfather, or your betrothed, Lælia. You fight for your land, for your heart.” She struck her chest, as Lælia had seen her do when she spoke of Altava with her men. “I believe in the dream of a nation, just as your men do. In the end, though, it is the sands for which I fight. They own me as I do them. I will die on them if I must. The desert belongs to me as I belong to it.” They crested a rise and the ochre mountains disappeared, giving way to a wide, featureless bowl beneath. “Your grandfather, Theo, Yosef – they fight for Spania, for the concept of a nation and what it stands for. But if you belong to Illiberis in the way you say you do, then your war is not for Spania, Lælia.” The darkness in the eyes she turned to Lælia made the other shiver. “It is for Illiberis – and it is a war that belongs to you alone.”
They rode in silence for a time, Dahiya’s words turning over in Lælia’s mind, worrying at her like loose threads on a loom. Dahiya, too, was withdrawn for a time. As they rode through the valley, she finally spoke. “You said your family fight against the King of Spania because they understand the Arabic threat, and the king does not.”
Lælia nodded. “Laurentius understood it, when he returned from fighting for the emperor against the Arabs. He, in turn, convinced my grandfather. Now that I have been here, I feel sure that Yosef, and Theo, too, must also have realised it. Why else would they have carried on against such daunting odds? Theo could have come home. There would have been no shame in it. But he did not. I thought, at first, it was out of loyalty to Yosef that he stayed. But now that I am here” – she shook her head, taking in the vast, rippling sands and the tired, scarred men who still laughed as they trained with grim determination – “I know it is more than that. I know that Theo and Yosef fight for Spania, for the future of our nation.”
“This Giscila.” Dahiya’s face was grave. “Do you think he is loyal to the king and his bastard son? To Spania?”
“I know nothing of Giscila at all.” Lælia’s voice was harsh, even to her own ears. “Oppa, though, is a different matter.” She frowned. “He is many things, most of them dark. He is not, however, lacking sense. If Theo and Yosef – and I – perceive the Arabic threat, then surely Oppa does too.” She looked at Dahiya. “I’ve been thinking on it since news came that Oppa had left Spania again,” she said. “Oppa is the bastard son of the king. Here, that is perhaps not so important.”
She coloured faintly, not wanting to allude too obviously to the fact that Dahiya’s own sons were widely considered to be the bastard sons of the Greek commander, Apsimar. Dahiya’s faint smile said she knew exactly what Lælia was thinking, but the older woman said nothing, just waited for her to continue.
“In Spania,” Lælia went on hastily, “Oppa’s illegitimacy means he will never rule. Egica has his own, legitimate son, Wittiza. Even though our law states a king must be elected by the council, when the council is chosen by the king, such things are already certain. It is rumoured that Egica plans to name his son as co-ruler as soon as the boy can stand above his hip. Oppa might rise in the Church or become a powerful lord – but he will not rule.”
“You think that perhaps he has ambitions beyond what his father plans.”
“I think he is the most ambitious man I know.” Lælia looked squarely at Dahiya. “Perhaps he has decided there is another way to take power. One not allied to his father.”
“Do you think he would have shared this plan with Giscila?”
“Oppa is suspicious,” Lælia said slowly, remembering the black eyes and hard, shuttered face. “He trusts nobody – not really. Whatever use he would have for Giscila, it would be to serve his own ends.”
“I know a little of this Giscila.” Dahiya’s mouth curled in contempt. “He is a man without honour, one for whom only coin is king. I can believe he wishes to return to Spania – but not to serve, or save, his country. Rather for his own redemption, to see his pride assuaged, and to receive the riches he believes he deserves, to assume the position he feels was taken from him. When I met him years ago, he told me he was ‘brother to a king’. I have never forgotten those words. No man of true worth would ever claim honour by association.” She looked soberly at Lælia. “Giscila, too, trusts nobody. I think we must tread very warily whilst he is close.”
Lælia thought of Oppa, edging ever closer to Theo and Yosef.
“Theo has been far from Spania for a long time,” she said quietly. “And nothing unites men more than a common enemy. I hope he is not seduced by Oppa’s lies.”
“Theo knows Oppa better than you ever will,” Dahiya said bluntly. “He bears the scars of Oppa’s hatred, and he will all his days. I do not believe him so easily fooled – and nor should you.” She looked closely at Lælia. “‘Seduced’ is an odd word. Is it only Oppa’s lies you fear have entranced your lover?”
Lælia coloured. “He is not my lover. We are betrothed. Not married.”
Dahiya raised her eyebrows. “It would be better, I think, if you had lain together.”
Once, her words would have shocked Lælia. Now, however, remembering the dreams of Theo, the shadow form that turned away from her, angry and somehow shielded, a woman standing between them, her mouth tightened.
“Yes,” she said shortly. “I think it would have been better, too.”
Dahiya glanced sideways at her, then drew their camels to a halt. The wind had begun to pick up. The valley had widened into a large, featureless plain upon which Lælia could no longer discern any visible landmark. Dahiya muttered something and Lælia’s camel dropped down to couch on the ground. “Dismount,” Dahiya ordered.
Lælia obeyed. Then she stared in surprise as Dahiya murmured a command and the camel rose again. The older woman looked at Lælia over the folds of her turban, her eyes dark and distant. “Now,” she said, “I will leave you.”
“Here?” Lælia looked at her in astonishment. The wind was growing, and even the few paces between Dahiya and herself were becoming blurred. “Am I to find my way back to the adwwar?”
“No.” Dahiya’s face was disappearing, but her voice was still clear. “It is always easy to find what is familiar. I don’t want you to find your way home, Lælia. I want you to track the camels and me. You will find me eventually, and you will have your camel with you when you do.”
“But you have my camel,” Lælia said, squinting into the sand gloom.
“Do I?” Dahiya’s mocking laugh drifted through the sands. “Perhaps. I definitely have your cat.”
“Jadis!” Lælia spun around, searchin
g for her golden shadow.
Her cat, though, was gone.
The wind grew, sand obscured the sun, and Lælia was alone in the desert.
19
Theo
February, AD 691
Sebastopolis, Anatolia
Elauissa Sebaste, Cilicia, Turkey
Theo had found himself uncharacteristically withdrawn since leaving Boric’s body to rot beneath a thin layer of rocks on the mountainside. His reticence had been hardly noted amidst the constant movement of collecting taxes and safely bearing them to the treasury in Sebastopolis, all the while fighting constant raids by those intent on stealing the coin they were charged with.
Money and blood. It seemed, to Theo, that this was all Sebastopolis was about. After the long months training beneath Apsimar’s dynamic, single-minded focus, the drudge and rude bureaucracy of Leontios’s army was depressing and somehow rotten at the core. Theo could smell the corruption from miles away, in the rubbish that burned on the edge of town and in the thin, starving women who camped at the outer perimeter, clutching their tunics and offering their dirty, ravaged flesh in exchange for a few coins.
Beneath his cool surface, Theo felt the emotions within him like the famous fire mountains of Greece, ready to erupt without warning. His disturbed dreams of Lælia left him frustrated with desire. His disgust at the manner of war they waged left him ashamed. And the death of good men such as Boric made anger surge through him in a red tide. He kept the volatility locked behind a disciplined, terse silence that occasionally escaped in an uncharacteristically sharp rejoinder. He snapped at Silas’s efforts to cut through his mood, and he barely smiled at Leofric’s bawdy humour which, anyway, had been notably muted in recent times. Leofric had spent more time in the Slavic camp recently, and Theo suspected he suffered some internal conflicts as a result.
One evening when they finished at the docks, Theo shook off Silas’s offer of company as he watched Leofric walk away in the company of some of his Slavic friends. He turned from the watchful concern in Silas’s eyes and stalked alone through the narrow alleyways. He knew where he was going, and he did not want company.
Athanais had established herself in a small, well-situated house far enough away from the agora that a measure of peace could be found. The interior was clean and welcoming, with frankincense rising from a brazier in the corner and tasteful hangings on the walls. The men who came here could afford more than a rough tumble – and they valued the more sophisticated company offered by Athanais’s stable.
Elpis was employed by Athanais as a server. Theo knew the Persian woman did not like young girls to do anything other than serve as background colour. It was one of the things he liked about the whore keeper, as she laughingly referred to herself, and he was grateful that she cared so for Elpis and her sister, Pelagia.
The latter ran to him when he entered, leaping into his embrace and lightening Theo’s heart. He rubbed his hand through her hair and grinned at her. “What mischief today, then, child?” he said, reaching into his pocket.
“What did you bring me?” she demanded, the bright blue eyes glittering despite the dim light, her white-blonde hair almost as brilliant as his own.
“This.” Theo handed her a rock. It was white quartz, run through with a rare streak of fool’s gold, beautiful but of no real value. He had taken it from the cliffside where Boric now lay, and his smile faded as he looked at it.
Pelagia turned it over in her hand, delighted. Then she saw the expression on Theo’s face, and her excitement dimmed, replaced by a look of understanding and a wisdom too old for her years. She reached out, cupping Theo’s face with her own hand. “Did people die?” she asked quietly.
Theo nodded and found that his voice had deserted him temporarily. His arms tightened involuntarily on the little body, and Pelagia hugged his neck with her thin arms. For a long moment they stayed like that, the young, scarred soldier and the tiny child; then she patted him on the head with one small hand and pinched his ear. “Devil!” Theo swung her down, grinning, and she poked her tongue out at him, racing through the door just as her sister appeared.
“Theo,” said Elpis softly, his name a caress on her lips. Theo felt his heart pause momentarily. Elpis was clad in a thin gown cut in a low V to show the curve of her breasts in the Grecian style, her arms bare beneath the clasps that held the fabric at each shoulder. The material was gathered at her sternum and fell in a sheer skirt through which the ripe curves of her body were clearly delineated.
She leaned over him to pour wine, and Theo inhaled a delicate floral scent, mingled with a slight musk that made his senses reel. He caught her hand as she moved the jug, and she let him hold it, her eyes downturned and her breasts rising and falling rapidly against the material. Theo tried not to stare at them. “Are you happy?” he asked her in a low voice. “Are you safe?”
“Yes.” She peeked through her lashes at him, soft curls falling enchantingly about her face. “I know you asked Athanais to take us,” she said haltingly. “We owe you everything. Your men keep this tavern safe, and us with it.”
“Good.” His hand tightened on hers, and she stepped a little closer so she stood between his knees. Theo felt his whole body tighten at her nearness.
“You have fought hard,” she said softly. “Let me help you forget, for a time.” Her hand rested in his hair. Theo ached to pull her closer, onto his leg, and take the soft lips that pouted so invitingly, but even the thought of it felt like a crevasse from which he would never again climb out.
“I cannot,” he said roughly, putting her aside. Undeterred, she cupped his jaw with one hand, her eyes knowing. “Elpis,” he said roughly, when a cool voice interrupted them.
“You are being asked for in the other room, Elpis, and I would speak to our guest alone, aziz-am. Go, now.” Casting him a last, regretful look, Elpis bit her lip in a way that made Theo clench his thighs hard together beneath his tunic and swallow a large mouthful of wine, his eyes following the sway of her hips as she glided from the room.
“I have told you before,” said Athanais drily. “Pay your coin for the girl or leave her be. Your self-denial is more potent than bedding her could ever be.”
“Are my men taking care of you?” Theo hid his discomfort with an abrupt tone, gulping more wine to mask the flush on his face. He had ordered some of their newest recruits to keep a close eye on Athanais’s tavern. She had taken into her protection a number of the youngest, most vulnerable children who haunted the port town, and Theo had no intention of allowing them to fall into the hands of Athanais’s biggest competitor: Oppa.
“Have you seen… him?” Theo raised his eyes to her face, which darkened when he asked the question. Athanais sat at the table beside him, pouring herself a small cup of wine and sipping it thoughtfully.
“Oppa’s friendship with Leontios has gone beyond horses,” she said, watching him.
“You have seen him, then.” Theo frowned, all thought of Elpis fleeing his mind. Athanais nodded.
“Oppa keeps a brothel beyond the village, close to the Slavic camp, tailored to their tastes.” Theo knew of it. Oppa’s brothel was famous throughout the settlement, known for its coarse company and cheap whores. Theo knew many of his peers frequented it, though he forbade his own men to do so. “It is not the only one he owns.” Athanais watched him. “Oppa is keeping his other, more exotic offerings for a different house, one not so easily found, nor entered. Here it is that he entertains Leontios, away from interested Slavic eyes and the censure of his own men.”
Theo’s lip curled. “Leontios shares Oppa’s sick proclivities?”
“No.” Athanais shook her head. “Perhaps he is knowing of the children held there – I suspect so. But it is not this, I am thinking, that is the appeal. It is the luxury and privacy, and the lure of being cosseted in the manner to which our strategos believes he should be accustomed.”
“Leontios is ambitious,” said Theo, watching her.
“Just so.”
&
nbsp; “Ambition is dangerous.”
She smiled. “Ambition is weakness.”
“So,” said Theo, “you are watching our friend, then?”
“Of course.”
Behind Athanais, Elpis crossed the room. As her eyes met Theo’s, she flushed and bit her lip. Theo felt his body tense again, and he forced his eyes not to fall to where her gown dipped between her breasts. He wondered, not for the first time, why he tortured himself by coming here. He found Elpis’s proximity an unsettling, delicious torment. Yet he could no sooner stay away than he could imagine simply paying his coin and taking a woman, as did Silas and Leofric. As they were undoubtedly doing right now, as they did every time their band returned from the increasingly violent forays into the mountains.
“It is time you took a woman, Theo,” Athanais murmured, watching him with a faint smile. “Do not allow your own desires to become your weakness.”
Theo stood up, his body hot and restless, his mind in turmoil. “Do not cease watching Oppa,” he said abruptly. “The man means harm to more than just me – believe it.”
“Sometimes the dangers we face,” said Athanais softly, “are not those we see, but those we don’t wish to.”
“Enough.” Theo cast Elpis a final look. Throwing a coin on the table, he turned without bidding her farewell. Crossing the room with hard, uneven strides, he thrust the door aside with a violence that nearly took it from its hinges and strode into the night, craving dreams of Lælia as much as he dreaded them.
20
Oppa
February, AD 691
Sebastopolis, Anatolia
Elauissa Sebaste, Cilicia, Turkey
The King's Coin: Ambition is the only faith (Visigoths of Spain Book 2) Page 17
