by Tony Roberts
“What? How so?”
“She thinks by sealing this – alliance – with the Emperor, he’ll look more favourably on me. She’s using her body to promote me higher in his estimates.”
“Oh. She must love you, too.”
Thetos nodded, his eyes glistening. He looked away, unable to speak about it anymore. Teduskis stood up and patted the governor on the shoulder. “I’ll go check on the men’s billets. You need some time to yourself, old man. She’s a good woman, Thetos; one you won’t find very often. You’re a lucky man.”
The governor said nothing, and remained staring into space long after Teduskis had gone.
The next morning Astiras appeared, slowly walking into the room where Thetos had spent a restless night, snatching sleep here and there, but his mind was too much in turmoil to sleep for very long. He looked tired. Teduskis had got some sleep so looked better, and said nothing as the Emperor made his way to a spare chair and sat in it awkwardly.
“Get any sleep, sire?” Teduskis finally ventured.
“I must have,” Astiras said gruffly, “although I can’t remember a thing about it. I’ve got a head that is trying to burst apart. Did I take any alcohol last night?”
Teduskis looked at Thetos who showed no expression. “No, sire, unless Metila gave you some.”
Astiras grunted. “Not as I can recall. Where’s breakfast? I’m famished? I could eat an equine!”
Thetos stood up and called Metila. The woman came out of the room, dressed in her usual day outfit of a one-piece dress that reached to just above her knees, a fashion that no Kastanian woman would consider as being decent. She smiled and bowed to Astiras who locked eyes with her for a moment then she looked down. “You called? You want?” she asked Thetos.
“Yes, breakfast and hot drinks, you slut. Make it quick, too!”
Metila smiled and glided through the room, watched silently by the three men. After she’d gone out Teduskis turned to the governor. “Is she normally like this?”
Thetos nodded. “She’s a handful.”
“You can say that again! By the gods, she’d wear me out.”
“I can think of worse fates, Teduskis.” Thetos saw how Astiras was favouring not sitting back in the chair. “Sire, is there anything we can do to help your discomfort?”
“No!” Astiras snapped, then waved a hand to take away an offence in his tone. “Your woman has already treated me, and she assures me everything will be fine in a day or two. She knows her medicines.”
Teduskis locked looks with Thetos. Astiras clearly did know what had gone on in the night, but was faking not remembering. If that was how he wished to play it, so be it. Thetos cleared his throat. “Sire, you wished to employ the regulars on the campaign against the rebels in Kalkos?”
“Yes, both companies. Are they ready to be put under my command? I want to review them.”
Thetos bowed. “I alerted them when I got your message, sire. You wish me to come with you or remain here?”
“I wish you to remain here, and begin setting up a system of advance warnings to the east. Rumours are that Venn will be moving on Epros before long and if they do conquer that region, they’ll be on your borders.” Astiras winced as a throbbing pain went up his back. That she-canine had raked his flesh well and good. He’d been mortified when he’d woken up, finding his blood all over the sheets and in fact they had stuck to his back. It had been painful but he’d been damned if he’d shown her any of that as she peeled them from his back. He’d had one Bragalese woman in the past, a distant memory now but he recalled she’d had sex with him like some wild mating kroll. Bragalese women were famously passionate and Metila had been no different. No wonder they bred like rodents.
Metila had persuaded him not to worry and that his wounds would be cured in a few days. She’d quickly mixed up a paste with cold water and spread it on his scratches. He’d hissed a few times but Metila had carried on, chanting some obscure words as she did so. He wondered what they were, as it wasn’t the common Bragalese he’d learned over the years. He didn’t ask, not wishing really to delve into what would probably be an incomprehensible reply. The woman had been very submissive to him, prostrating herself before him again, and Astiras had snapped at her to stand. He noted how it had aroused her, talking to her in that manner, and guessed she preferred strength and domination to anything else. Very odd. But there again, who could understand the workings of another’s mind, especially if they were from a different culture?
He was worried Isbel would guess what the marks were, for they were copious and deep, but Metila assured him they would be nothing in seven days. She even offered to give him something to give him strength for the day, to which he’d barked back he was strong enough and didn’t need help from any witch. Metila had gasped and for a moment Astiras thought she was going to orgasm there and then. She hadn’t but Astiras guessed if he’d roared at her she would have. It was his position as Emperor that did it, he was certain. Why had she seduced him? Kudos at having the Emperor? A desire to experience the ultimate climax – passion plus power? Did she hope to gain favour with him? In any event Astiras had ordered her never to speak of their night together to anyone. She had agreed immediately.
He returned his thoughts to the present. “You may need to train up more men in future, Governor, as I doubt you’d be able to hold Makenia with what you have here, but at least your southern border is now secure. All I need to do is to wipe that scum out west of here and you won’t have to worry about that direction any more. No, I want you to prepare for the long term, for a possible invasion by Venn. That’s my task to you, Thetos. I trust you, and I have faith in you.”
Thetos smiled and bowed. “You know me, sire, I won’t let you down.”
Astiras grunted, then smiled. “And no mention of the night just gone, either of you, or I’ll come down on you like the heavens falling, got it?”
“No sire,” Teduskis said, but couldn’t resist one try. “But I must ask, was she as good as she seems?”
Astiras pulled a wry face. “Thetos here will tell you what she’s like, no doubt, when my back is turned. I’ll discuss it no more, got it?”
Teduskis bowed. He had a good idea. He had tried a Bragalese wench or two in his time, and they were like felines, all teeth and claws. Satisfying, yes, but it came with a price. How Thetos had the energy he didn’t know.
Metila brought breakfast for the four of them and she knelt at the feet of the Emperor the entire time, looking at him with adoration. Teduskis guessed if she’d been commanded to fly she would have done her best to obey. They made more plans to march the army out towards Kalkos on the morrow, after allowing the archers to recover fully. Astrias ordered scouts to ride west to see how far it was safe to march. The Emperor wanted to prepare a place to meet the rebels so he could work out the marching order so that when they arrived they could deploy into their battle order smoothly. So Teduskis did what he normally did, obey his master’s commands, making sure the captains knew their job and what was expected of them. The Hushirs went out westwards, happy to be riding into new territory, their stomachs full of Turslenkan stew and more than a few loins sated on the whores of the city.
The two companies of the imperial spearmen lined up across the city square where the Emperor inspected them. He spoke to them of their duty, their heritage, the need for them to show no mercy to the Duras traitors and those who chose to fight for them. There could be only one ruler, one lawmaker in Kastania, and that person was he. He impressed upon them that they were the backbone of his new Army of the East and that he was confident they would show him, and the rest of the Empire, that they were the true inheritors of the long glorious tradition of the armies of Kastania.
They then spent the next watch marching up and down, barked at by Teduskis, turning, reforming, lining up, and ultimately standing smartly to attention once more. Teduskis sipped on a glass of water. His throat was raw from yelling at the men but as far as he was concerned the Turslenk
an Regiment was up to the task. He nodded briefly to Astiras and stepped aside. The Emperor stood up tall on the central dais. “Men of Turslenka, we are pleased by your appearance and demonstration of discipline. You shall serve us well in the coming fight. You shall form up outside the city tomorrow morning at dawn for one final inspection. Dismissed!”
The men snapped smartly once, then broke up, chatting amongst themselves. The captains looked pleased, having impressed a man no less than the warrior Emperor Astiras Koros. Teduskis knew they would form the anvil of any battle, the reliable infantry who would stand against any infantry or cavalry charge. With the addition of the Bakran Archers, they also had missile protection. It would take a remarkable opponent to defeat them, and the feeling was that the Duras would be deficient in disciplined infantry.
As the display broke up, a rider came galloping into the city, breathless, his equine blowing hard and foaming at the mouth. The rider was a civilian, a young man barely out of his childhood. Two soldiers stepped across his path as he clattered onto the square and everyone turned to look at him in surprise. The man slid off the saddle and gesticulated urgently to the Emperor. Astiras waved him through and Teduskis stepped in front, waiting to receive the man. “Speak,” he said, “what is your business with the Emperor?”
The man was breathing hard, but bowed low. “Lord,” he panted, “the Duras rebels are marching towards Turslenka, burning farms and killing my people. They are three days march away.”
Astiras slapped his thigh in delight. “At last, the canine has emerged from his kennel! What route are they taking, boy?”
“Lord, they come along the main road, picking up food as they go. They number over six hundred – riders, spearmen and archers.”
“Do they, by the gods? Teduskis, arrange for this man to be fed, watered and paid for his news. We change our schedule. Get the men ready to march this afternoon, I want us to march before dark. The further we go now, the longer we can wait at the battlefield and recover. They won’t have the time to rest when they reach us. Send riders to order the Hushirs to harry them, but do not get involved in a fight! Bring them to Lorrus Ridge, we will meet them there!”
“Lorrus Ridge, aye sire,” Teduskis nodded.
The square exploded into action. Men shouted, ran and gathered equipment and supplies. They began trickling down the road towards the Kastan Gate where the army was forming up, ready to march.
Now they would meet the rebel army head on.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Argan lay in his bed, looking up at the ceiling. He felt so tired and achy. His headaches wouldn’t go away, nor would his nose bleeds. They were getting more and more frequent and he was fed up with them. It made him feel very tired and weak and he didn’t want to spend all his time in bed. He would be called a lazy soul, and he would also miss out on his studies which he knew he really needed to do if he was going to be a prince.
People had come to see him, Mr. Sen, Vosgaris, his mother, the apothecary, Amne and, even more exciting, Jorqel! He hadn’t recognised the bearded man who had come in with Amne the first time, but when he was told who he was he had been very excited. Jorqel had sat down and spoken to him kindly, and held his hand. Argan liked that. Jorqel was more like a kindly man than his older brother, and Argan felt odd about that. He didn’t feel like Jorqel was his brother, or half-brother, as his mother had said. That was a strange thing to call him. Why a half-brother? Which half? They had the same father so he was his brother as far as Argan was concerned.
No, Jorqel was a stranger, really, not someone he knew that well. Jorqel was kind and was gentle with him, and Argan decided he liked Jorqel, even if he couldn’t really remember him from the last time he’d seen him. He had been too young to remember. He thought his older brother looked tired and a little sad, and Amne told him later that Jorqel’s bride to be Sannia was missing and he was looking for her.
Argan had offered to help look for her, and Amne had smiled and stroked his hair, telling him it would be fine and Sannia would turn up sooner or later. In the meantime Argan was to rest as much as he could. Argan couldn’t do much else; he was so tired these days and poor old Skidus was getting more attention than normal. The toy never seemed to leave Argan’s side
The only one who didn’t visit him was Fantor-Face and that was fine by him. He had nothing to say to his younger brother, at least nothing polite or sensible. In fact, Argan couldn’t remember a time when they had spoken to each other without it being nasty or rude. Nobody else was horrible like Fantor-Face, so why was he like that? It seemed the younger prince was horrible to almost everyone. Nobody said nice things about him, and their faces changed whenever anyone did speak about him.
The biggest surprise though was Kerrin. Everyone knew that the empress Isbel did not look kindly on the young boy since she still blamed him for Argan’s fall, even when it was simply not true! No matter how many times Argan had told her, she would not listen or believe him, which was hurtful. Fantor-Face was the liar in the family; in fact he lied so much that nobody else needed to. So, he didn’t expect Kerrin to turn up, but Captain Vosgaris let him in with a wink and put his finger to his lips.
Kerrin had come in with the biggest smile on his face and sat on the bed. He even held Argan’s hand! They had to speak in low voices though because there were, so Vosgaris said, people in the palace who would tell her things. Who the tell-tales were he wouldn’t say, but he said it was best to speak quietly, and he would have to come fetch Kerrin in a short while because the apothecary was due to visit that afternoon and he might be someone who told the empress things.
“You look pale, ‘Gan,” Kerrin said after a moment. “Are you very sick?”
“I feel very tired, I really do,” Argan nodded. “It gets worse when I have these nosey bleeds.”
Kerrin looked in sympathy at his friend. “It’s a shame; they’ve started me on equines now, and you should be learning how to ride! It’s not fair, it really isn’t!”
Argan pouted. “I want to ride. These silly nosey bleeds are horrible and I don’t want them. Why can’t Fantor-Face have them?”
“Because he didn’t fall off a ladder.”
Argan groaned, partly to hide his dismay at the silly accident being mentioned again. “When I’m grown-up I’ll have all the ladders in the palace checked and mended so that it never happens again.”
“Your mother the Empress had already done that,” Kerrin said soberly. He felt guilty that it wasn’t him lying there unwell. If he had been first down the ladder then it would have been, but he’d allowed Argan to precede him out of deference to the fact Argan was a prince. “I don’t think she likes me much.”
“She’s a silly fuss,” Argan replied, hugging Skidus. “I don’t ever see her happy anymore. I don’t think she likes being Empress, do you?”
Kerrin shrugged. “I’m not allowed to see you, I know that much.”
“That’s silly,” Argan countered. “She’s never liked us being friends, has she? So what if she knew you were here then? Would you get told off?”
“I expect so, yes, and Captain Vosgaris. He let me in, you know.”
Argan grinned. “He’s really good, isn’t he? Mother doesn’t like him, either. I wonder if that’s because he likes me? Does she hate anyone who likes me?” Argan stopped and thought on that for a moment.
“Oh, I don’t think it’s that, ‘Gan,” Kerrin said, shaking his head, “she’s angry at most people around the palace. You should hear her shouting this morning! Oh it wasn’t good.”
“What at?”
“Somebody trod in equine poo and brought it into the palace. She was shouting enough for a soldier on parade! Hee hee,” and Kerrin covered up his mouth to block his giggles.
“Awww, that must have stank!” Argan said, smiling.
“Yeah, really ponged. Anyway, Captain Vosgaris has this new lady he’s got to look after and the Empress said she should clean it up and that led to an argument between her and the Captain.
”
“Really?” Argan looked surprised. “Vos’gis argued with mother?”
“Well, not so much argued, but said that it was the job of the cleaning staff and not a guest. Your mother went crazy, shouting at him and calling him all sorts of names, and said that the lady – aww what’s her name? – Alenna, yes that’s her name, Alenna, was fit only to clean up poo. The Captain said it was not right and then Prince Jorqel and Princess Amne turned up and agreed with the Captain! Your mother looked really angry and went off in a massive huff!”
“What is the matter with mother? She’s really not herself these days.” Argan shook his head slowly. “At least she’s stopped shouting at me these days.”
Vosgaris poked his head round the door. “Best you go now, young Kerrin, the apothecary will be here shortly and I don’t want an incident here, especially with the mood the Empress is in at the moment.”
Kerrin nodded and slid off the bed. “You get better and soon both of us will be riding equines together!” He waved and trotted obediently out of the room. Vosgaris winked at Argan and shut the door. Having overseen that piece of delicate manoeuvring, he considered the two guards on the door were sufficient for security purposes. He decided to go to see how Alenna was coping. She was just another responsibility he could do without, especially at the present time with the headache of making sure everything was right for the wedding.
He made his way along the corridor and almost collided with Amne and Jorqel who appeared round a corner suddenly, deep in conversation. Vosgaris apologised and stepped aside. Jorqel stopped and regarded him for a moment. “Captain, how are the preparations for my sister’s wedding coming along? Is everything under control?”
“Yes, your majesty. I must say, though, sire, that I am still not happy that you and the Princess here are unescorted. I would feel much more at ease if you permitted at least one of my men to accompany you round the palace.”
