Goddess (27 page)

‘Perhaps Master Luto would care to sip your wine first, Majesty?’ Herezah knew it was the
courteous offer to make, whether the Galinsean queen felt herself threatened or not.

‘That won’t be necessary,’ Angeline replied. She reached forward but surprised Herezah by picking up the goblet that Salmeo had placed before the Crown Valide. ‘This is a much better test,’ she said, smiling humourlessly before sipping. ‘Your turn, Valide. You may now drink from the other goblet.’

‘Pardon me, Crown Valide,’ Salmeo said softly in pidgin, one of the oldest languages of the realm and known only to the members of the harem.

‘Yes?’ Herezah said, her tone brittle, irritated to be interrupted by the eunuch at such a fragile moment.

‘One of the Elim has just gestured to me from the riverbank. It looks urgent. I’d better find out what it is. They wouldn’t interrupt us unless it was very important.’

She couldn’t see the Elim he spoke of, of course, but they were meant to be hidden, so she agreed. She couldn’t imagine what could force the Elim to butt into these delicate negotiations, though. Perhaps word from Boaz? ‘Hurry,’ she said, frowning.

‘Is something wrong?’ Angeline enquired.

‘Forgive us, Majesty. Salmeo speaks only the harem language,’ Herezah lied. ‘He has been called ashore. We believe it may be an urgent message from the Zar or perhaps your son. My apologies. As you can see, Salmeo is already
hurrying along the riverbank.’ Herezah was impressed as well as puzzled to see the speed at which Salmeo was moving his immense bulk away from them towards the palace.

‘Hmmm. And leaves you alone. Do you feel vulnerable, Crown Valide, or does this riverbank possess many dozens of eyes that make you feel safe?’

‘I’m sure neither of us came to this meeting today with anything other than peace on our minds, Highness. Whoever may be watching us will not risk that potential peace. I have no idea who may be hiding but like your people I imagine the palace has organised a close watch. I’m sure you expected as much?’

‘I’m sure I did,’ Angeline said, sipping her wine again. ‘This is an interesting wine, perhaps a little bitter in its aftertaste.’

‘Bitter?’ Herezah frowned. ‘It is my favourite,’ she added, a little surprised, and took a large sip. She recalled expressly asking Salmeo to water her drink and, if anything, her wine was especially luscious and rich, which meant even watered that the queen’s wine should be delicious. The Galinseans must drink pure syrup if Queen Angeline found the sweetness to be lacking.

‘Of no matter. It is nicely chilled and I am enjoying it on this warm day,’ the queen replied, sipping again.

‘Queen Angeline,’ Herezah began in earnest, placing her goblet back on the table between them,
‘may we discuss the Galinsean fleet’s presence so close to Percheron? It is our understanding that the fleet is here because you might have believed us insincere in our intention to send our own emissary as arranged.’

Angeline said nothing. She drained the contents of her goblet as though indifferent to anything the Crown Valide had said.

Nevertheless, Herezah took her silence to be an agreement. She continued, ‘I hope that Lazar’s letter to you explained the full extent of our trauma in the desert and why the journey to present ourselves had to be aborted? Not only was our entire Elim guard massacred but the Zaradine—the very emissary you awaited—was abducted by this madman.’ She noticed Angeline flinch and look away from her, which seemed odd. Herezah glanced briefly at Luto, who had not seemed to notice anything strange and, by contrast, was giving Herezah his full scrutiny. She refused to let it threaten her. ‘Zar Boaz is determined to co-operate with you in any way that he can. We are not a warlike people; we have no wish to engage in any conflict with our neighbours. With your son alive and clearly in Percheron because he chooses to be, Majesty, I’m charged by the Crown to ask you how we can appease any offence that might have been mistakenly given by Lazar’s manservant, Jumo. At the time he told you of Lazar’s death, Jumo was not fully informed of all the circumstances.

‘The secrecy surrounding Lazar’s survival of the poisoning was for his own protection and was masterminded by a priestess of Lyana’s sisterhood. She feared for his life, understandably, and took it upon herself to secrete him away on an island where she kept him until he healed—seemingly against his own knowledge for he was too frail, his mind too garbled by the poison to let anyone know that he lived. She saved his life, but her secrecy has endangered all of us. From the Zar down to the lowliest palace servant, Majesty, we all believed Lazar dead and grieved for him. I fully comprehend your wrath. As a parent, especially as a mother, I can understand your need to avenge what must have sounded like a senseless death. But now that we’ve…’ Herezah trailed off, shocked, as the queen suddenly began to moan, struggling for breath in great groaning gasps.

Luto was at her side in a blink. ‘Angeline!’ he cried. ‘What occurs, my love?’ The granite-like expression on his face was gone. Suddenly he was all tenderness and concern.

Herezah was shocked that the Galinsean guard spoke to his queen with such familiarity. She realised instantly that queen and servant were lovers; suddenly the lofty Angeline was not as superior as she behaved but prone to the same base instincts as any mere mortal. But there was no time to dwell on this. Herezah could see the queen was in desperate trouble. Angeline had begun grasping at the fabric of her robe in an
attempt to pull away her clothes, vainly believing it would create more air in her lungs. Her eyes stared wildly, bulging, begging her lover to help her.

‘What is happening?’ Herezah whispered, kneeling at the queen’s side opposite Luto and trying to calm Angeline. But to no avail. The queen began to thrash uncontrollably as her lips turned blue. Spittle escaped those lips and ran freely down her perfect chin. The once immaculate hair looked as though it belonged to a crazed woman, falling around her ears in wild, sweaty strands.

Herezah could see they were losing her. She must be choking but she had eaten nothing. In her helplessness Herezah stood up and screamed for the Elim. In seconds men came running from all directions, but by the time the first man had leapt aboard the barge, Herezah could see the light dying from those once intently grey eyes, now glassy with fright and bloodshot from her exertions.

Herezah noticed the white-knuckled grip of the queen’s manicured hand around Luto’s great fists and as a tear leaked from Angeline’s eyes—the only way, it seemed, that she could communicate a farewell to her beloved—she watched the fight for life go out of the woman. Angeline gave one last gasping spasm and died, her legs kicked out at an odd angle, her body slumped backwards, her sightless eyes staring upwards.

‘Zarab save us!’ Herezah exclaimed, distraught at what she’d witnessed.

Several frigid moments of silence ensued before Luto finally moved. He gravely unwrapped the queen’s fingers from his own and kissed her hand gently as he tenderly closed her eyes and placed her limp hand in her lap. Then he stood and faced the Crown Valide. ‘Calling on Zarab is pointless, woman. Your aimless god will not save you or your people from our wrath, slave,’ he said imperiously in Percherese.

Slave
? Herezah felt herself repeat it silently, mouthing the word as if testing it.

‘I would slay you here and now if you were worthy. But never let it be said that a Galinsean king cut down an unarmed woman, even a Percherese whore.’

‘King?’ Herezah stammered. ‘But—’ Her mind felt addled by all the shocks.

‘I am King Falza. I wish you and the slave son you bore, who dares to call himself royal, dead.’

A ringing sound was heard on the barge and along the riverbank as two dozen Elim drew their vicious, curved blades.

Herezah looked around wildly. This was not how it was supposed to go. This was not how her daydream had unfolded.

‘Wait!’ she commanded the Elim, turning in a full circle so all could hear her. ‘Stay your weapons.’ Herezah moved to face Luto again. ‘You are truly King Falza?’

‘Do you doubt it?’

‘I don’t understand.’

‘You don’t have to.’

‘She…Queen Angeline called you Luto.’

‘A private pet name.’

‘I need proof.’

‘You demand nothing of me, whore. That I grant you life to breathe before me is a wonder to me. You have slain my queen.’

‘I did no such thing!’ she whispered, terrified for her life now. ‘Why would I? What in Zarab’s name could I gain from it?’

‘Then why? How is she dead?’

Herezah held her face in her hands. ‘I don’t know, I don’t…Was she ailing?’

‘Did she look unwell to you?’

Herezah shook her head. ‘She looked magnificent; she looked to be in the very peak of health,’ she answered dolefully as her mind raced to arrive at some comprehension of what was unfolding here. ‘All she has drunk is some wine.’

‘You offered me a sip, slut! You tried to kill
me!’

Herezah believed she was addressing the much-feared King Falza of Galinsea. ‘King Falza, as far as I knew you were Luto, the faithful servant. I offered you a taste of the queen’s wine in the honest demonstration that I meant her no harm. I wanted to prove to her that we wished only to broker a peace. She ate nothing, drank only her wine…’ Again Herezah’s voice trailed off as she tried desperately to make sense of the situation. ‘King
Falza, if I wanted you dead I could order my Elim to despatch you right now. I could have done that to the queen at any time,’ she said, building her argument as she went along. The truth was, she didn’t believe the Elim had ever meant to show themselves, nor could she command them to kill.

‘You barely touched your wine. Did you even sip it?’

There was nothing for it. She grabbed her wine and inelegantly drank the contents of her goblet, the ruby liquid spilling down the side of her mouth and staining the cream silk of her gown. Herezah slammed the vessel down, not bothering to wipe her mouth. Her heart pounded as she frantically awaited any telltale signs of poisoning. ‘There, King Falza,’ she said, her chest heaving with the effort of controlling her fright. ‘Have you already forgotten that Queen Angeline chose the cup she drank from? She deliberately took my goblet and left hers for me to sip from.’ And as the words were spoken, realisation hit as hard as if someone had stepped up behind her and clubbed her with something hard and blunt.

The same dawning had hit Falza. He stared at her now, his eyes glittering with hatred. ‘It was meant for you, slave!’ he hissed. ‘Your own servant was trying to poison you! He didn’t imagine that my Angeline would be cunning enough to switch goblets.’

Herezah felt the blood drain from her face. Salmeo had meant to kill her! He had served her a
cup of poison and had been prepared to stand by and watch her die.

‘That’s why he ran away,’ she whispered. ‘There was no urgent message. He knew she was going to die.’ Herezah felt as though her head was going to explode with rage. Instead she took three steps to the side of the barge and hurled up the contents of what little was in her stomach, hot acid burning her throat, anchoring her into the reality of what had just taken place. She retched again but it was a dry heave and she used the sleeve of her gown to shakily dab at her mouth, uncaring of the mess on her silks. Straightening slowly, the silence around her deafening, Herezah turned to confront the sight of the queen’s body.

‘Lay her out,’ she whispered. The most senior Elim glanced at her, uncomprehending. ‘Lay her out, Zarab strike you! Don’t let her stiffen in that position,’ she shrieked as the the tears came. Not a trickle but a flood of despair and grief, years of anguish over her helplessness in the harem, her fear for Boaz, her intrigues to keep them both alive, to help them achieve her dream of Zar and Valide. Tears flowed for her hopeless obsession for Lazar, and over Ana, who had stolen both his heart and that of her son within a moon of meeting both, whilst she had struggled for years to win their respect. The tears ran in gasping, racking sobs for Queen Angeline, whom she had despised in just a few heartbeats of meeting her but who she realised was now going to bring the
realm of Percheron to its knees with her untimely death.

And behind it all, behind so much of her pain—no, all of it, for he had personally bought her from the market when she was just a few summers old and set her destiny as a whore slave—was Salmeo.

‘You really had nothing to do with this, did you?’

Herezah realised she was on her knees, next to the prone corpse of Queen Angeline, holding the dead woman’s hand. King Falza was now crouching beside her, speaking to her in a tone laced with new disbelief. She looked him directly in his green eyes and for one of the rare times of her life wanted to be entirely honest. She didn’t care what happened any more. Her life was now forfeit.

‘You had no idea about this,’ he added, searching her tear-stained face.

Herezah could only shake her head dumbly. ‘Kill me, Your Highness. Take one of these blades and strike me down. Pour all your rage into the blow, but use me. It is all I am good for now. Zar Boaz wanted only peace and I was arrogant enough to believe I could broker it for him, little realising the enemy was not the Galinseans but a snake in our own courtyard. I beg you to forgive the Percherese. They are innocent of spilling the queen’s blood.’

He stared deeply into her eyes and she hoped he read the honesty. She would not have been surprised had he stood, grasped a knife and smote
her down; she would have even begged the Elim to stay their own hands, to allow the king safe passage back to his ships after her death. Her death was the only idea she could throw at him to bargain for the security of Percheron.

‘Very noble, Crown Valide. However, I need you alive. I want you to tell my son—whom I suspect, from what you didn’t say, you hold close to your heart—that he and the rest of the royals and their entourage have three days to leave Percheron. You might like to let your Zarab-loving son know that he is probably better off in the desert if he values his head. Be warned, Herezah, my warships will take control of your harbour as the sun goes down in three days. And at sunrise on the fourth day I will enter Percheron and sack it. Anyone who defies me will die. Any royal or any noble or dignitary connected to the palace will die, come what may. I suggest they flee now with their lives and not much else. As to your people, I shall spare no man, woman or child who does not swear fealty to Galinsea. Percheron will be an annexe of our realm. And tell my son his mother’s body will be kept for him to pay his respects and that his king awaits him.’