Prince of Wrath (59 page)

Sasia was encouraged by his words. “She very precise. I not do things fast or right for her.”

“Ah, phooey! It’s my room and I say what’s right or not. Velka, this is Sasia, my room servant. Sasia, Lady Velka from Niake. She’s a friend.”

The two girls looked at each other, then Sasia bowed stiffly. It wasn’t a full acknowledgement but enough to denote her lower position. Velka cared little for that; she was gripping Argan’s hand tightly for comfort. She found it all quite unsettling. She thought she was going to have a quiet play time with the prince but the presence of the servant had unnerved her. She also spoke strangely and looked different from other girls she’d met.

Argan seemed to notice the atmosphere getting strained. “Let’s get some books out and look at them. C’mon, no more tidying up or bowing and rubbish – you are both my friends and we’re going to have a nice time looking at pictures of animals.”

Velka nodded. That sounded good. Sasia was intrigued – she had never seen any books with animals in before, so she watched as Argan grabbed a couple from his trunk and dropped them on the rug in the middle of the floor. He lay down and waved the two girls to lay down, one on either side of him. He flipped the first book open and an array of brightly coloured and well-drawn images greeted their eyes. Both girls were fascinated by them, and Argan explained what they were and what they did. The three became engrossed in the images and didn’t notice the passage of time until there came a knock on the door and it opened to reveal Isbel. She looked at them in shock. “Argan! Why are you showing that servant girl your book?”

Argan sprang up. Once again, judging by his mother’s tone, he had done something wrong, although he couldn’t see exactly what was wrong with looking at books. Behind him the two girls were scrambling to their feet, Velka coming alongside him and reaching for his hand, Sasia hastily putting the books away, then moving to the far side of the room as quietly as she could. “We were only looking at animals, mother. I was showing both Velka and Sasia what they were. I was teaching them…”

He got no further. “I shall speak to you further on this later, young man. Velka, your mother and father are going now so you should rejoin them in the big chamber. You, girl, I presume you have duties to attend to? Then get to them.”

Argan caught Sasia’s eye and looked sympathetically at her. Sasia fled out of the room. Isbel pursed her lips tightly and gestured for Argan to follow her back to the main imperial chamber, Velka still clutching Argan’s hand.

There was nothing said about the matter back in the room but Isbel motioned for Argan to remain there while the Varaz family said their goodbyes and left. Argan had a dread feeling in his stomach and it made him feel unwell. Another of mother’s tellings-off was coming; he hated them. Astiras had picked up that his wife wasn’t happy about something and waited by his desk for whatever it was.

Isbel returned and stood before Argan. “Well?”

Argan said nothing. What was there to say? He had no idea what he had done wrong.

“What has he done, dear?” Astiras spoke with an ill-concealed long-suffering tone.

“Don’t adopt that tone with me, Astiras Koros. Your son here has only stooped to entertain Bragalese servant girls.”

“Really?” Astiras straightened. His first thought was that’s my boy! He thought better of voicing that, however, as Argan was too young to understand that sort of thing and Isbel would be less than amused, to say the least. He decided to defend the visibly upset child, however. “And what is so awful about that, dear?”

“Don’t ‘dear’ me, Astiras Koros! He should not associate with servants – especially Bragalese servants! Familiarity does not do us any good at all.”

“Perhaps you should address the young man directly, Isbel, since he’s standing there looking as if he’s been accused of treason.”

Isbel sucked in her breath. She had to compose herself hurriedly, only just managing to stop herself venting forth a torrent of anger at her husband. “How can he possibly learn how to be a prince if you do not show him by leading by example? If you treat this sort of thing lightly, then he’ll go thinking it is fine to do it with everyone! Before we know it his room will be full of waifs and strays from the streets!”

“Argan,” Astiras addressed his son, who turned to look him straight in the face, “why did you have this servant girl in your room?”

“She was already there, father, when Velka and I arrived.”

Astiras switched his attention to Isbel. “Well, that’s cleared that up, dear; she was already there.”

Isbel fumed. “You know damned well that’s not all there is to it! I saw them all, lying side by side, like legumes in a pod!”

“Lying side by side? Where, and what doing?”

Argan looked up defiantly. “Reading my book! We were looking at animals, father. I cannot see what is wrong with that.”

“Do not defy me, Argan Koros,” Isbel said warningly.

“Alright, enough,” Astiras frowned at his wife. “I can’t see anything heinous in that – and so what if he’s trying to educate a Bragalese servant? They need it. Perhaps if they’re taught by our people, then maybe they won’t be so inclined to rebel.”

“What’s heinous, father?”

“Oh, bad, terrible. Another word for it.”

Argan nodded and looked at his mother. “I like Sasia, she’s a friend.”

“You cannot be friends with a servant. A Bragalese servant!”

“You didn’t want me to be friends with Kerrin, too, mother. Why don’t you like me making friends?”

Isbel opened her mouth, then shut it. Astiras sighed. “I don’t see what he’s done wrong, Isbel. As a dynasty, I don’t want to be remembered as an untouchable unreachable stand-offish House. I want the people to be able to see us as their leaders, their protectors, their guardians. We’ve had a terrible long horrible war with the Bragalese, and believe me I know more than anyone else just what it was like, and I would dearly love to bring these people to a union with Kastania. If we keep on treating them like animals then they will keep on behaving like them. We must show them that we are good people, people they can live with and share Bragal with. So if Argan here treats this – Sasia? – with kindness and respect, that’s one Bragalese who will not look upon us with hate and contempt. Imagine that repeated hundreds and thousands of times over.” Astiras sat heavily on the edge of his desk. “I tire of having to keep on watching our backs here. I want Bragal to be part of the heart of the empire. Maybe our son has shown us adults the way to do it? I don’t know.”

Argan looked at both his parents. It didn’t seem so bad now that his father was speaking up for him. He felt such happiness inside; he’d never really heard his father speak about him like that before. He hadn’t realised until now just how much he loved him.

Isbel was silent for a moment. “I – I’m afraid of Argan being hurt or… worse,” she whispered. “I’ve heard so many dreadful things that went on here in the rebellion. I’m surprised there are people left alive! And – and those people you’re keeping as slaves… doesn’t that go against what you’ve just said?”

Astiras pursed his lips thoughtfully. “Hmmm…. somewhat, yes. Oh alright, I know you and Amne are dead against slavery; that’s one thing you two can agree upon, and if it stops the two of you snarling at one another then I’ll keep every other blasted one a slave. I don’t want to show these damned rebels I’m weak; if I let them go then they’ll think I’ve gone soft and who knows another cursed uprising pops up. I’ll think on it.”

Isbel put her hand on Argan’s shoulder and smiled at him. “It’s alright Argan, you can be friends with Sasia – it was just that I thought she was going to hurt you.”

“She would not. She thinks I’m her master and has made a promise. What do you call it?”

“A vow?” Astiras offered.

“Yes! She made a vow to me.”

Astiras raised both eyebrows. “Well that is something! Isbel, I know these people and that’s as good as a blood oath. You’ll be happy to know that Sasia will protect our son to the death.”

Isbel stared with wide eyes. “Indeed? In that case – you have my blessing, Argan.”

Argan smiled. Astiras reached out and tousled his hair. “Nicely done, Argan. I’m proud of you.”

The boy smiled even wider, almost overcome with joy. “I love you father, and you too, mother.”

Isbel gasped in pleasure and threw her arms round him. Astiras looked at them both with arms folded. “And I love the pair of you. Now you get on with your day’s duties, Argan, a prince’s work is never done, you know, just like an emperor’s. But I don’t want you to ever think I haven’t got time to see you, clear?”

“No, father,” Argan said, and practically skipped out of the room. Isbel eyed her husband. “I think you’re going soft in your old age.”

“Bah, don’t you go saying that, Isbel Koros, or I’ll behead ten slaves just for the heck of it.”

“You don’t fool me for one moment; you’re just an old softie at heart. You’ve lost your bite.”

“Oh, I have, have I?” Astiras said ominously, and strode forward, grabbing a shocked Isbel. He pulled her over to his desk, the empress protesting and struggling, but Astiras had her caught tight. He bent her over the desk and hauled up her dress. Isbel shrieked and cried out for him to stop, but Astiras was having none of it. He bared her left buttock. “Lost my bite, mm?” and he leaned forward, avoiding her flailing legs, and sank his teeth into it.

Isbel yelled in surprise, pain, and somewhat disconcertingly to herself, a little pleasure. “you beast!”

“Oh yes, you’d better remember that,” and bit her again.

Outside the two guards on duty exchanged looks and rolled their eyes. It sounded as if the emperor was making free with the empress once more. “It’ll be a long duty,” one of them muttered.

“Yeah; he’s insatiable.”

“She’s a lucky one,” the first observed.

“So’s he,” the second one said. Both chuckled, their filthy laughs as quiet as they could manage.

Behind them the muffled sounds of pleasure continued unabated.

Amne returned to Kastan City, in some ways happy to be back but in others not. She hadn’t fully sated herself on Vosgaris and the young Fostan wasn’t really her type. Besides, she didn’t want to make herself too free with every young man she came across. She would have to deal with her frustrations better.

Elas was courteous on her arrival and quite solicitous. He inquired as to events in Zofela and what things were like there, and she spent a not too disagreeable afternoon speaking to her husband. She realised that he was a decent conversationalist, if a little stiff and formal. If she stopped antagonising him, then perhaps her mood might be better. It was just – oh she had to admit it to herself – his performance in bed that really irked her.

Elas had some really big news for her. He passed her Jorqel’s letter to her, unopened. “I must admit I know at least one of the items he’s written to you about, since it was also in a letter he sent me, but I shan’t spoil the surprise.”

Amne looked at him in surprise, then smiled, opening up the parchment. Elas decided that Amne could be very pleasant to look upon, but regrettably it hadn’t been too often that he could say that to himself. If only she were less frivolous and more dignified, then his marriage might be more tolerable.

Amne shrieked. “Sannia’s pregnant! Oh by the gods, that’s wonderful! Jorqel’s going to be a father! Oh, Jorqel….” She scanned the rest. It was mostly trivial stuff, clearly the letter had been prompted by the news of Sannia’s pregnancy. She put the letter down. “Thank you Elas.”

“For not telling you beforehand? I thought you would like to learn it from your own brother rather than myself.”

Amne put her head to one side and smiled again. “Elas – that was very good of you. Very kind, in fact. I have brought back a small item for you from Zofela, as a matter of fact.”

The prince looked intrigued. “Indeed? Where is it?”

“In our chamber. When you’re ready I’ll show you.”

Elas tapped his fingers on the desk top. He was supposed to see two merchants in a short while, but he had time, and from what Amne was saying, it would appear she wished for him to see it sooner rather than later. “I do have an appointment in a half watch’s time, but currently, I have nothing other than time to devote to my wife. Please lead on.”

Amne was surprised again. Had someone been talking to Elas about how to behave to women, or had someone slipped something into his herbal drink? Maybe the gods were influencing him? Not wishing to ruin the opportunity, she led him up to their chamber, not walking with her exaggerated swaying manner she did to tease other men, but much more formally. She was dressed in her riding outfit, that was true, but Elas had accepted that when she had arrived straight from the stables. She still smelt of the equines and of outdoor scents, as well as the leather.

In their chamber – or, rather, her chamber – Amne went to her personal belongings her maidservant had put there and rummaged through it. “I know how much you get frustrated at times when parchments and papers get knocked all over your desk.” She looked at Elas who was regarding her blankly. “Oh, don’t be so coy, Elas, I’ve heard you complaining and your clerks often remark on it. So, here is a special weight for you to place on your documents to stop them blowing away or being scattered.” She held up a carved stone weight, polished. She’d seen it in Zofela market when she had been looking for something to bring back for Lalaas, and had been feeling guilty that she hadn’t thought of Elas in the first instance.

Elas took it and studied it. It was smooth, except for the flat base. On one face was a small symbol of a three-barred character, the three bars pointing down. “What is this symbol?”

“I’m told that it’s the Bragalese word for strength. Vosh, as far as I’m able to pronounce it right.”

Elas looked at her, then smiled. “That is a very, very thoughtful gift. Thank you. I shall indeed utilise it and it will remind me of you when you are out on your ambassadorial visits.”

Elas smiling was like an eclipse, or so Amne decided. Once in a lifetime if one was lucky. He took hold of her and kissed her on the lips. He leaned back and looked at her closely. “Amne, I know we are not well matched.” He held up his free hand as she opened her mouth. “I do not understand you and you clearly do not understand me. That is regrettable, but I do not hate you. You must understand me when I say that. You are passionate, whereas I am not. Perhaps if I were, then we would enjoy each other’s company the better. I had hoped to change you but – well, I have been speaking to Lalaas during your absence and he has given me some interesting insights. I see now that my efforts to – force you into becoming someone of my choosing is selfish and unkind. Please do not think of me as such, for I certainly do not believe I am either of those. That alone made me think hard for it distressed me to think I could be considered one or both of those things. I am dedicated to the Koros family and to Kastania, and I shall work tirelessly to bringing both further glory and success. My one regret will be that we cannot be as each of us would so wish.”

Amne put her hands to her face. Tears began to flow from her eyes. “Oh, Elas…. I – I…”

Elas put his hand on her upper arm. “No, Amne, don’t say anything. In my own way I do love you, but your passion and moods are too much for me to control, and it would be wrong for me to do so. I do have feelings, but I show them in different ways. All I can say is that I shall try to be a good husband to you as best I can in my own way.”

“Elas…” Amne was weeping uncontrollably. She flung both arms round him and bawled her eyes out into his chest.

Elas looked taken aback, then slowly put his arms round her and held her, his expression one of utter confusion. His wife sobbed into his chest, and all he could see was a mass of bright yellow hair shaking from time to time. Finally she lifted her head, eyes red and watery, her nose as well. Elas fought the urge to recoil in disgust. He waited until she had applied her sleeve cloth to both, cleaning herself up somewhat. His chest was wet and he looked down at it with mild dismay.

“Ah,” Amne said through a tight throat and blocked nose. “You see what effect you have on women, Elas Pelgion?”

Elas frowned. “I do?”

“It was partly in jest, Elas,” Amne said, sniffing. That was better! Now she could breathe.

“Ah, humour. I do struggle with the concept.”

“I know. Be patient with me on that. We can make a go of our marriage, if we both show patience and understanding. I’m awful at patience.”

“And I presume it is in understanding I am lacking?”

Amne nodded, smiling. “If we can make one another happy, then that’s all we can ask for.”

“Yet you wept just now.”

“I was happy, Elas. So, so happy!”

“Hmm, yes, another issue with understanding, clearly.”

Amne chuckled. “I had best change out of these smelly clothes. I shall see you later, at dinner, yes?”

“Indeed. I have a tiresome meeting with two merchants shortly. We are going to complete the enlargement of Galan port in the near future and they want concessions already!”

“You’ll out negotiate them, Elas, I’m sure.”

Elas nodded. “Of course; thank you for your confidence, that shall fortify me, that and this weight. I shall use it at once. It will take pride of place on my worktop.” He bowed formally and left, leaving Amne wondering to herself about her husband. Perhaps the corpse was coming to life? What was it he had said? Lalaas had spoken to him. Perhaps that darling man was responsible for Elas warming to her! She had to find out.

“Kiri,” she turned to one of her two servants. “Go fetch Captain Lalaas and bring him here, at once. Selana, run a bath for me. I must change out of these things!” She strode into the bedroom and began peeling off her riding outfit. Selana busied herself in the bathroom while Kiri passed on Amne’s summons to one of the guards who rushed off to find Lalaas. Kiri came into the bedroom and saw Amne down to her undergarments.

“Ma’am, do you want Captain Lalaas to wait until you finish your bath?”

Amne threw Kiri her smelly clothes. “Oh of course not! He can come in. He’s seen me naked before; it’s alright, Kiri, don’t be scandalised – we’re like brother and sister, really.”

Kiri’s look said otherwise but she curtseyed, catching the undergarments as they were tossed in her direction. Amne commanded she take them to the palace wash room immediately. She had no idea when she would need them again, and good quality riding clothes were hard to find. Kiri opened the door and came face to face with Lalaas, wondering what in the name of Kastan the fuss was. “She’s in her bedroom, Captain,” Kiri said, a look of disapproval on her face. She left, leaving Lalaas to wander to the middle of the day room.

“Your highness, I’m here,” he called out towards the slightly open door to the bed chamber.

There came a rustling and Amne appeared moments later, a drying cloth draped around her, barely covering her charms. Her legs were bare up to an almost indecent level up her thighs. Lalaas rolled his eyes.

“What, Captain?” Amne asked, standing there, holding the cloth to her body. “Or would you prefer this?” and dropped it, revealing her totally naked figure to him.

“Oh Kastan!” Lalaas said, staring. He recalled himself and looked over her shoulder. “A bit forward for even you, Amne,” he said, a half smile on his lips.

Amne came over, dragging the cloth behind her on the floor. “You’ve seen me before – in Bragal – like this.”

“True,” Lalaas admitted and looked down at her. She was close enough now for only her head and chest to be visible unless he leaned back and looked down, which he wasn’t doing to do. “You summoned me?”

“Oh yes. Elas was really charming – for him – today. He said you had a word with him about treating me. What was it you told him?”

Lalaas shrugged. “I can’t rightly recall, Amne – it was a small chat about how he might stop you arguing with him. I think he was tired of the bickering. I must admit, I was getting a little concerned at the frequency and content.”

Amne smiled and circled the Captain, rubbing her body against his. Lalaas stood still, waiting till she returned to the front. Her breasts pressed against his chest. “I think you must have said the right thing, Lalaas. You’re a darling.”

“I like to be of help,” the captain said. “Anything to make life easier here. I must admit he would have a fit if he saw you like this in front of me, however.”

“But he’s not here, is he?” she said softly, pressing herself up against him. A waft of equine and sweat came to him. “Anyway, I’m having a bath. I have something for you before you go. It’s in that bag there,” she waved to a small leather object on a side table. “Go open it.”

Lalaas went over and looked inside the top. There was a small golden ring resting inside on a long chain. The ring was narrow and had one engraved symbol upon it. Lalaas squinted and angled the inside of the ring, finally making out a symbol that looked like a circle with a line across both top and bottom.

“It’s Bragalese,” Amne said from the bathroom doorway, leaning provocatively against it. “The symbol is Surrash, which I hope is the right pronounciation.”

“What does it mean?” Lalaas asked, looking up at her.

“Love,” Amne smiled, then went into the bathroom. “Let yourself out, Captain!”

Lalaas eyed the ring on the chain and smiled, nodding to himself. Typical Amne. He passed the chain round his neck and fastened it after a little difficulty, then slipped the ring down his tunic and adjusted the chain until it was comfortable against his skin, hidden from casual view. Patting the ring through his tunic, he left without a word.

___

The big event of the autumn was in Niake. Demtro and Clora were wed with much ceremony in the newly built temple in the city, an imposing stone construction on the junction of two well-used roads, rising up as high as any of the buildings in that part of the city. The roof was curved and the perpendicular walls were as high as two floors. The entrance was a large rectangular opening flanked by columns and reached by a flight of wide stone steps from pavement level.

Statues of the various gods lined the staircase and inside the chamber was half of the entire building, the roof supported by immense beams of wood resting on stone corbels that in turn were carved into stout circular columns rising up along the walls. The other half of the temple was given over to the priests and pilgrims accommodation, and to the stores that held the various vessels, incense, symbols, cloth and a myriad of other items the temple used.

Burnas held his second high profile marriage ceremony in a matter of one season. He was beginning to feel that once again he was getting due regard for his position and dedication to the gods. The only issue left in his mind was the running sore of his banishment from Kastan City. It irked him that he was not there and that the position of High Priest was still vacant. The temple lacked a coherent direction, and he had written to the emperor decrying this state of affairs. He doubted Astiras Koros would listen; he was not the type to go against one of his own edicts, even if he was proven wrong.

The reason for the interest was of course the presence of Sannia Koros, the probable future empress. She was now with child, a fact known to all, and she had been warmly greeted by the citizens and dignitaries of Niake, and feted with offers of dinners and meetings. The nobility jostled one another to get to the forefront and, in their minds, gain recognition and favours from one of the ruling House.