House of Lust (44 page)

“Even so, an emperor’s command is law and you should learn to obey it.”

Amne smiled and popped a piece of bread into her mouth and chewed slowly.  Astiras shifted in his seat and cleared his throat.  His daughter was looking as if she was going to defy him again, and this would not do.  He would no longer allow his family to dictate to him as they had in the past.  His headache that he tended to have more often these days was back, and getting worse.  He took a draught from his goblet.

“You are my daughter and subject to my laws and therefore you will learn to obey me.”

“Not if they go against my family, father.”

Astiras’ face turned red.  Isbel looked warningly at Amne, but the blonde-haired princess was not about to be intimidated.

“There are two ways in ruling, father; you can dictate thousands of laws to people, crushing them with petty rules that stifle them, or you can rule benignly, only passing those laws that are there to protect your people.  Besides, I do not see any point in you interfering in the affairs of my girls.  You hardly have taken any notice of them since they’ve been here, apart from when we arrived.  Mother has, and as you know she and I are hardly on talking terms.”  She looked at Isbel and her eye away from Astiras closed in a slow wink.

The empress looked away, but her left arm was out straight, behind Kola, and Amne’s fingers lightly brushed the empress’s.

“Will you treat my third child the same, father?  Not even acknowledging it?”

“Third child?”

Amne patted her stomach.  Istan looked at her and pulled a face.  Another rival?  This was getting too much.  “Mother took the trouble to ask,” Amne was saying, “you didn’t seem interested.”

Astiras gave his daughter the benefit of an icy glare.  “You’re presuming too much, Amne.  You will have to show me more respect than you are doing this evening.  I’m tired of your attitude.”

“Yes, father, the child is due around the turn of the year,” Amne said loudly.  She looked away from him and helped a struggling Stana with some of her soup.  Isbel put her napkin to her mouth, as much to hide the amusement than anything else.  The others at the table were staring transfixed at the disrespect being shown their lord and master.

“Amne, you and I will have to have a serious talk.  Enough of this.”

“I’m quite prepared to have a serious talk now.  Take, for example, the gross unfairness of the dismissal of Vosgaris.  A man who has served you faithfully these past ten years and then, thanks to the wicked lies of a man more interested in furthering favours from you than serving the empire, you banish him to Niake!”

“Amne, I’m warning you,” Astiras got to his feet.

“Well go on.  What can you do?  Banish me?  To where?  Where I go, Elas follows.  You’ve already lost the support of Vosgaris and his family; you’ll do the same with the Pelgions who are, I may add, fairly influential.  Who, then, will you have left?  Mother?  You’ve made her life a misery, something which only I should be able to be allowed to do.”  She looked at Isbel who put the napkin even more firmly against her lips.  This time it was to stop a burst of laughter from forcing its way past them.

Amne waved Astiras’ wagging finger aside.  “Oh stop being a bully, father.  You’re not talking to some poor frightened officer or courtier who owe their position to you and dare not speak out lest they lose their job, or even worse, their life.  I understand Pepil is no more – no great loss but did you have to execute him?  The man was almost at retirement age.  No, you’re talking to your only daughter, who can, if you’re not careful, bring you down.  You think I’m making an idle boast?  Well then go ahead and treat me like you’ve treated everyone else around you.  You’ve lost the support of the Council, by the way.  Can you count the figures?  Let me help you.  There’s thirty votes on the Council.”

“I’m well aware of that, Amne!  Stop treating me like a child!”

“Well stop behaving like Istan, then,” Amne said.

“What?” Istan burst out.  “What do you mean?”

“You normally behave this badly, little brother, have you been giving father lessons?”

“Amne, you’ve gone too far!  Get out of my sight!” Astiras leaned on the table.  Both Kola and Stana stopped eating and clutched their mother for support.

“Now you’re frightening my children, shame on you.  What sort of example is that to set?  Yes, the Council.  You had the Taboz and Pelgion votes but the Taboz have gone and I would pull the Pelgion away from you if you do anything to me.  That makes it fifteen against you and fifteen for you.”

“So I have the deciding vote and what I say still goes.  You’re a fool, Amne.”

Amne smiled and slowly shook her head.  “Uh-uh, and what of Argan?  He has the Varaz vote in his pocket.  Argan loves his mother, poor misguided boy,” she added, winking again at Isbel, “and for what you’ve done to her, that vote will go against you, too.  Sixteen to fourteen.  You’re sunk, father.  Think you can turn on your own family?  Think we can loyally serve a tyrant?  Think again, Astiras Koros.  I’d rather have Jorqel voted in and you banished if you’re going to continue biting us like some rabid canine.  We deserve better than someone acting like Istan.”

“You stop talking about me like that, you horrible woman!” Istan was on his feet, spitting his words in fury.

“Shame you’re growing up – you’re going to turn into another Astiras.”  Amne got to her feet.  “I’ve seen – and heard – enough.  I do not want my girls in your company, father, nor that of your identical twin, your youngest son.  Both of you are a disgrace to the Koros family.  You snarl and whine about my behaviour, and of mother’s, yet you and Istan display the worst aspect of anyone in a high position, and it’ll be one that will bring you down before long.  You have eroded your support, and now it’s in the balance.  Go ahead and throw your weight around.  Strike me if you dare – what sort of man beats his daughter pregnant with his grand child?  You’re a poor example of a man.  Good evening.”

She ushered her two daughters out, followed by her maidservants.  The rest of the table sat still in shocked silence.

“Well, father, are you going to let her speak to you like that?” Istan demanded, furious.  “How can you let a woman talk to you like that?  She should have her tongue torn out at least!”

“Shut up, Istan,” Isbel said.

“I will not!” Istan countered hotly.  “You’re just a woman; no woman will ever tell me what to do!”

“Go to your room,” Isbel said quietly.  “You are out of order.  I am your mother, not some servant.”

Istan whirled to face Astiras.  “Well?  Do something, you fool!”

Astiras swung his hand and caught Istan full on the face with his palm, knocking the boy off his feet, sending him crashing over his chair to lie on the stone flagged floor, clutching his stinging jaw.  The emperor emitted a deep growl of fury, slowly rising out of his throat until it became a high-pitched scream, then he brought both fists down on the table, causing it to shake.  “GET OUT, ALL OF YOU!” he roared.  He stood there, shaking.

The servants fled, followed by Frendicus and the others, save Istan, now sitting up trying not to cry with the pain, and Isbel, who sat there quietly, shocked.

Gradually Astiras became aware that the two were still in the room.  He was breathing raggedly, harshly, sweat bathing his face.  “If you do not get out now I shall throw you out.”

“Enjoy your moment, Astiras,” Isbel said evenly.  Amne had shown her the way.  “I believe your family have had enough of your behaviour.  I do not believe you are in full control of your mind.  Something is wrong with you – you’re acting in a very odd way and I think either you’re losing your mind, or something is causing you to act like this.”  She switched her attention to Istan who had stumbled to his feet.  “As for you, I want words right now, in front of him,” she nodded at her husband who was sucking in lungfuls of air.

“What is it?” Istan slurred, truculently.

“Why did you put that letter under my door, telling me about your father’s affair with Metila?”

“Who said I did that?”

“Pepil, under torture.  He wasn’t lying,” Isbel said, keeping a wary watch on Astiras who was looking around the room, his eyes wide and unseeing.  “So you did it.  Why?”

“I didn’t.  It was Pepil.  He was stupid.”

“Oh?  So you knew about it?  So why didn’t you tell your father or me?”

Istan gave his mother a nasty look and said nothing.  Astiras bared his teeth.  “Evil plotters, you’re after my throne… you won’t have it, I tell you!”

Isbel got out of her chair.  She moved around the end furthest away from Astiras.  “I said, you tell me why you did it, Istan.  Or shall I guess?  You wanted your father and me to break up?  You took the letter from Pepil, or the Mirrodan, and slid it under my door.  Why are you trying to do this?”

Istan’s shook his head vehemently.  He looked at Astiras.  The emperor hissed and thumped the table.  “You’re all after me, you’re all against me!”

Isbel grabbed Istan by the arm.  “Get out of here now – your father is losing his mind!”  She was becoming worried about what her husband was capable of doing.  “Guards!”

The door opened, and she was relieved to see the others crowded in the corridor.  Two guards came in and hesitated, unsure as to how to handle the situation. 

Isbel pulled her unwilling son towards the door but he resisted.  Even now with his father a few paces away raging to himself, he fought anyone trying to make him do something.  He couldn’t help himself, it was an automatic reflex.  He had no idea whether it was for his own good or not, he just took the opposite path just because he could.  “Istan – come on!” Isbel urged, this time with fear in her voice, for Astiras was coming round the table, a knife in his hand.

“I’ll deal with this defiance right now!” he declared, his eyes wild and his mouth working furiously.

“Captain Bevil!” Isbel shouted.  “The emperor has lost his mind!  I order you to have the emperor restrained – now!”

Bevil looked from one Koros to the other.  The two guards had turned their heads to await the order.  Bevil nodded and waved at the guards to protect the trapped empress and prince.

Istan screamed, the knife from his father was raised high above him and the expression on Astiras’ face sent water through his bowels.  Istan’s legs gave out and he fell onto his behind, arms covering his head.  Isbel was dragged down, trying to hold onto her son.  Her neck was exposed to her husband and he aimed to plunge the blade down onto it.

Two pairs of armoured arms grabbed him and wrestled for the knife.  Astiras roared in fury.  “Traitors!  You will all die!”  He fought to break through to Isbel who by now had dragged a screaming Istan out of the way and was halfway to the door.  Meri and Frendicus came in to help.

Isbel straightened in gratitude and saw Astiras being forced over onto the table, the knife still in his fist but going nowhere.  She knew she had to take over now.  “Captain, have the emperor restrained securely.  Frendicus, go fetch the apothecary.  Ambassador, please guide my son into the corridor, my thanks to you, by the way.”

Meri nodded, his dark eyes full of worry.  The room reverberated to repeated swearing and outbursts from the emperor as he was pinned to the table and disarmed.  She gave the knot of struggling men a wide berth and went to his seat.  His goblet was still there upright and half full.  She lifted it and sniffed.  Pulling a face, she set it back down and waited.  More guards came in, some with rope, and the incoherent emperor was bound and gagged and fixed to the stoutest chair at that end of the chamber.

The apothecary came in, his face reflecting dismay and anxiety.  “Your majesty?” he enquired to Isbel.

“Sedate him.  Then, I want you to give the contents of this goblet a full and complete examination.  Let me know of your findings the moment you discover what is in it.”

“Ma’am,” he bowed and then opened his bag and fumbled for a bottle.  It contained a strong sedative, and he merely needed to apply it to a cloth and hold it over the recipient’s mouth and nose.  Once breathed in the victim fell into a sleep, drugged by the fumes of the distillation.  It was used all over the empire and in other places such as Talia.

Isbel beckoned one of the sweating guards.  “Stand here,” she ordered, “and let nobody – and I mean nobody – except the apothecary there, come anywhere near.  Chase them off and if they ignore you, then use your sword with my full authority.”

“Ma’am,” the guard snapped to attention.

“You two, outside and let nobody in except the apothecary and the Captain here.”  Two more guards saluted and went outside, barring the way in.  Isbel went out and located a shaking Istan, sitting against the opposite wall.  Meri was standing by his side.  Isbel went up to him.  “Thank you again, Ambassador.  I shall speak with you on the morrow of this.  I’ll take over with my son now.”

Meri bowed low and backed away.  The others in the corridor were encouraged to move off.  Isbel helped Istan to stand, and he didn’t resist.  He was shaking violently.  She gently guided him to his room and lay him down on his bed.

“Istan, I shall stay with you tonight if you so wish.”

Istan nodded.  The vision of the sharp knife plunging towards him terrified the boy.  He clutched his mother and Isbel held him close to herself, wondering whether on the following day he would revert back to his normal self.  The thought depressed her further.