House of Lust (37 page)

More Mazag soldiers, this time on foot, tramped past.  Many of these had been part of the army that had helped to defeat the Venn outside Zofela a few years back, so this was not something unknown to them.

One of Vosgaris’ aides had a small Kastanian flag on a pole which fluttered spasmodically.  The main part of the army carried on marching, as per their orders, then moved off the road to form up alongside it.

Finally the richer, more flamboyant flags approached, denoting the general.  Vosgaris prepared himself, Astiras’ imperial document in one hand.  General Vanist, tall, hard-faced and with a cruel mouth, rode over to where the three-man delegation stood.  “Captain Vosgaris?” he asked.

Vosgaris saluted and stepped forward, offering the sealed scroll.  Vanist clicked his fingers and another man dismounted, dark complexioned, thickset, and with a craggy face.  This man took the scroll, briefly examined it and handed it to Vanist.  The general broke the seal and unrolled it.  It was written in proper Mazag, that of the court in Akinkum, the Mazag capital.  It was not provincial or spoken Mazag, but for official purposes his nation still insisted on using the form of their language now mostly forgotten.  Archaic, useless.  He understood it, naturally, and nodded in satisfaction.

“The General thanks you,” the other man said in accented Kastanian.  “You will attach yourself to his court and ride with him on inspection of the army.”

Vosgaris bowed.  They got their equines and rode with the command group to where the seven hundred men of the army were now arrayed.  Spearmen, archers, cavalry.  Nothing unusual in that.  Mazag loved cavalry, and were more inclined to use missile troops than other nations.  The spearmen were the protection, keeping enemies off the archers and providing a secure haven for the cavalry.

“Good men, yes, Captain?” Vanist’s words were translated by the other Mazag officer.

“Indeed.  They look tough and professional.  A credit to you, General.”

Vanist grunted in amusement.  Kastanian flattery was like anal wind; a pain until it had come out, then it was a relief having gone.  “We shall meet the Venn head-on and send those unspeakable scum back to their hideaways in the cess-pits of their homeland.  They want Valchia?  They will end up losing Kral.”

Vosgaris wondered about that.  What would Mazag’s attitude be once Venn were kicked out of Kral?  Mazag would then dominate the region.  There was gold, iron and timber in abundance there.  Enough to finance a war.  Another one.  Kastania did not have any known gold mines any more.  “Zilcia may not allow that to happen, General.”

“Pah!  Web-footed idiots from a backwards armpit of the world.  They would not dare venture so far from their homeland.”

Vosgaris decided against arguing.  Zilcian knights were feared and were acknowledged as being amongst the best.  Luckily there were not many of them.

The inspection completed, they resumed their march north-eastwards.  As night fell a camp was struck and they tethered their equines in a makeshift manner, tied to a line stretched between two trees, and tents sprang up all round.  Vosgaris and his two assistants were invited to General Vanist’s tent for an evening meal.

Also present were the general’s senior officers, translator, and two others who looked like courtiers.  Vosgaris sat in between Vanist and the translator who he learned was called Captain Lakush.  “Tell me, Captain, is the Kastanian Empire still in a bad military state?  I would have thought your emperor would have resources enough by now to fight an invader on his own soil.”

Vosgaris pondered on the right response.  He was supposed to be on an advisory role, and Astiras wanted him to report on the Mazag capabilities to fight and wage war.  “The emperor has the Army of the East in Zofela but is concerned that Venn may invade either from Epros or lower Kral, and if his forces are in the field in southern Bragal it may leave us open to invasion elsewhere.  The last time Venn moved they sent two armies into action, if you remember, General.”

“We have many armies prepared for both defensive and offensive actions, Captain.  I understand there are only three armies capable of defending what you have and nothing more.”

“Which is why we are grateful for our alliance with Mazag.”

Vanist picked up a large drinking cup brimming with a deep red vinefruit.  One of Mazag’s legendary full-bodied ones, no doubt, Vosgaris mused.  The general quaffed a large portion, wiped his coarse beard, belched, then thumped the cup down on the table.  “Mazag is also pleased with allying to a weaker state.  We know that once the offensive is taken by ourselves you will not object to us conquering those whining excuses for men.”

Vosgaris smiled.  He’d been warned about the Mazag tendency to insult.  It was their way of probing for weaknesses and sensitive points.  “The valorous Mazag armies should find those of Venn easily beatable, as it was outside the walls of Zofela.”

The Mazag delegation nodded on hearing the translation from Lakush.  One of the senior officers begged for permission to speak which Vanist permitted with a lazy flick of his finger.  “Captain, is it true that Kastania is developing your own mounted archer units?  We hear rumours, but have had nothing confirmed.”

“It is true,” Vosgaris admitted.  “We saw how effective your Hushirs were and thought we ought to imitate the masters.”

The Mazag officers muttered amongst themselves.  Vanist smiled widely.  “Your emperor did not treat our Hushirs kindly, from what I was told.  You allowed them to suffer heavy casualties?”

“Only because they were reckless and impetuous, General.  I understand they charged the enemy unsupported and without orders.  I wasn’t there but I have seen the report.”

“No doubt embellished by whoever wrote the report,” Vanist said, an edge in his voice.  “Have you read your side’s report of the Battle of Zofela?  Does it say the Kastanians won the battle?  Or does it say Mazag won the battle?”

Vosgaris saw all eyes had turned to him.  “The report states the
allied
forces triumphed over those of Venn, General.”

Vanist chuckled, clearly not satisfied.  “I trust that you will write an honest report on the battle to come?  I wish to have a copy, of course, because my sovereign will demand one.  You will, of course, emphasise my part in our victory.”

There was a heavy silence, laden with menace.  Vosgaris bowed once.  “General, I would not consider any alternative.”

Vanist laughed again, this time much more pleasurably.  He thumped the table hard.  “Then I propose a toast!”  All cups were grabbed, much of their contents slopping onto the wet surface of the table.  “To victory! 
Shukh!
” he bellowed, raising his cup to the sky. 

“Shukh!” the others echoed, and Vosgaris and his two aides followed suit.  Shukh – victory.

The days that followed saw the army march through valleys and along roads and small tracks.  They avoided Zofela, passing to the south of the fortress, and they encamped finally at Kamalak.  There were more Kastanian troops here, guarding the supplies that had been stockpiled.  This immediately posed a problem.  Vosgaris was peremptorily summoned to General Vanist’s tent.

“You sent for me, sir?”

Vanist scowled and waved at Lakush.  The translator nodded out of the tent flap towards the distant figures of the Kastanian militiamen.  “Are those people necessary?  The General here views them as prison warders, keeping us hemmed into this small encampment.  That is not the action of allies.”

Vosgaris surveyed the distant soldiers, then turned to the general.  Behind him the other senior officers crowded, their demeanour not exactly friendly.  “General, sir, those men are there for two specific reasons.”

Lakush translated, awaited Vanist’s snapped response, then spoke.  “Which are?”

“Firstly, to protect your supplies from the villagers – the temptation may well be for them to, ah, sample some of them?  The emperor is anxious that you and your army be well provisioned and that nobody, not even the emperor’s subjects, may deny you what is here for you to have.  Secondly, they are here to make sure none of the villagers visit this camp.”

Vanist grunted.  He growled a response.  “What dangers would a bunch of peasants pose to my men?  If your emperor is worried about these villagers, then move them or wipe them out.  Or, if he does not have the troops to do that, ask us and we will be too happy to oblige.”

Vosgaris shook his head.  “Not necessary, General.  These villagers – two of the settlements are Bragalese and one Kastanian – have been here for centuries and they would not move.  As we will be here for a short time only, once we are gone everything will return to normal.  The main reason the emperor wants to keep the Bragalese away is their women.  Presumably you have heard of their – sexual proclivities?”

Vanist turned and looked at his fellow officers.  All chuckled.  Clearly they did.   He spoke again.  “What is wrong with that?  My men deserve a little – ah – relief from the boredom of campaigning.”

“Indeed, but the Bragalese men would not like that.  You would find yourself under siege before long, and the emperor’s militiamen would not be able to keep them away from your men.”

“Hah!  We would destroy them – do not fear about our ability on that account!”

“General, perhaps you could keep them at bay, but you would not be able to move through Bragal without harassment, or with supplies.  You would be isolated and eventually you would have to move back to Mazag territory.  You would also not be able to fight the Venn on Bragalese soil without having to watch your flanks or backs.  We fought a long war against these people and it took years of bitter and brutal fighting to bring Bragal back under control.  Even now, the frontier zone with the Ister River is not fully under the emperor’s influence.”

Vanist waved a dismissive hand.  “Mazag would crush any insurrection within a year.  However, I have my orders which are to ensure the Venn army is stopped before it gets to Mazag territory.  I shall follow those.  Just make sure those militiamen do not interfere with my army in any way.  Clear?”

“Perfectly, General.”

“Or else those Kastanian troops will be humiliated.”

Vosgaris bowed and backed out.  He puffed out his cheeks.  The Mazag were not going to take kindly to the emperor’s corralling of them one little bit.  His job was going to be very difficult indeed.  He would send another letter to Zofela informing him of the situation, and for an update on the known movements of the Venn army in Kral.  If they managed to get an idea of what direction the Venn would be moving in, then the sooner Vanist’s army would be able to intercept them.

Astiras received the letter two days later.  He read it intently, then turned to Isbel, sitting across the room busy collating the latest treasury figures from a recovered Frendicus.  She noticeably kept the taxman close to her these days, and ignored or avoided the major domo as much as she could.  “Captain Vosgaris says the Mazag resent the policing of their army and he wants an update on the Venn army’s disposition.”

Isbel looked up sharply.  “Is everything alright with him?”

“Of course, why shouldn’t it be?  He’s got a job to do and if I thought he wasn’t capable, I’d’ve not sent him.”

“Could I see?”

“What for?  It’s nothing to do with you.”

Frendicus looked up at the tone in Astiras’ voice.  Isbel looked away.  Astiras was barely civil to her.  He was enjoying getting back at her for the time she had done the same to him after the affair with Metila had become known to her.  She deliberately did not look at Pepil; the smirk on his face would be too intolerable.

Astiras gave the letter another examination.  “Pepil, I want you to send a reply immediately.  ‘Keep Mazag troops out of my villages.  Failure to do so your responsibility.  Venn army still in Kral, no sign of moving as yet.  Will advise the moment I hear.  Astiras, and so on and such like.’  Got that?”

“Sire,” Pepil bowed and made his way to his scribing desk. 

Isbel handed Frendicus the sheet of figures he had given her.  “That seems in order, Frendicus.  Go prepare the imperial accounts.”

“Ma’am.” 

As Frendicus vanished, Isbel stood up.  The sooner she was away from the two men who turned her stomach, the better.  “I’m feeling a little unwell.  I shall go lie down in my chamber,” she said.

Astiras looked at her sharply.  “Have the tax and treasury figures balanced?”

“Yes, I would not have finished unless I was satisfied they did.  Frendicus is going to get them written up officially.”

As Isbel reached the door Astiras snapped at her to stop.  “And what are the figures?”

“Ask Frendicus, or wait until he sends them to you.  I doubt they’ll change in the couple of watches that will take.”  With that she turned her back on him and left.  She reached her chambers and sank onto her bed.  To be truthful, she did have an aching neck and forehead, but that was down to stress and a growing urge to scream.  Astiras was simply not letting her out of his sight these days.

Today was not going to be an exception.  The emperor burst in, standing by the doorway to the bedroom.  He dismissed the handmaidens and slammed the door shut and strode over to her.  “What is wrong with you?  I do not like the tone in your voice.”

“You think I like yours?  Go away, Astiras, I’m not in the mood to deal with your childish behaviour.”