Prince of Wrath (74 page)

The messenger was questioned further in the courtyard. Lord Duras had the man held securely so he couldn’t flee. “Now, peasant,” he growled into the man’s face, “how do we know you’re telling the truth? How do we know you’ve not been sent by that foul beast to spread disinformation?”

“Please, Lord, I’m speaking the truth! I saw them with my own eyes, coming down the ridge halfway to the Ashpen Farm. They are all mounted – they could be here this evening!”

Duras sneered in disbelief. “I will have you strung up if you lie.” He turned to one of his sons. “Go take the road towards the ridge. Take a group of men. If you see anything, ride back here at once.” He returned his attention to the held man. “You will be locked up in the dungeon. May the gods help you if you are found to be lying.” He dismissed the man with a flick of his fingers.

He next spoke to Nikos. “Have the pirate officers locked up too. I don’t want them leading yet another mutiny; once a turncoat, always one. The men are to be spread amongst the soldiers. Arm them; tell them if they refuse to fight they will be put to death very slowly and painfully.”

Nikos grinned and bounded off, eager to impose authority over the slack pirates. They were poor examples of fighting men; with their officers under lock and key the sailors would be much more easily controlled.

Finally Lord Duras spoke to his other son. “You are to ensure there are sufficient men on the walls. If necessary press-gang all able-bodied males of serving age from the town. Hang anyone who protests. From now on this town and island are under the rule of the Duras. Volkanos is no longer in command.”

The men nodded and went to their stations. Everyone was now on full alert, eyes looking out to spot the approach of the Koros. Lord Duras returned to the fort with a hand-picked squad of men, chosen because they were firstly not pirates, and secondly they had been personally picked out of the gutter by Duras himself, so they were loyal to him. He had made it clear to them that should he fall, then so would they, for they would be put right back where they came from. They may not be skilled swordsmen but they were men who cared little for the suffering of their fellow man.

Duras kicked the door open to Volkanos’ quarters. The pirate leader was slumped in his chair, an empty bottle in his dangling hand. “Get this porcine up,” Duras snapped. Two of his men took hold of Volkanos and pulled him to his feet. The pirate leader’s head lolled and his eyes gazed drunkenly at him. The smell of alcohol surrounded him like a halo. Duras grimaced and slapped the man roundly across the mouth. “Fool, disgrace! You will be sobered up, dressed for battle and sent out to fight the Koros.”

“He ain’t fit to fight, sor,” one of the henchmen drawled in the Romos accent.

“So? I care not for that. If he dies, so much the better. I’ll praise it as leading by example and executing anyone who does not follow his lead. Now get him washed, changed and sobered up.”

Two of his men remained standing inside the room, on guard. Duras examined the table and desks, throwing aside parchments in disgust. “I want the castellan and administrator sent here. Once this invasion is dealt with, we shall see about restoring some semblance of order here!”

One of the guards saluted and went to follow his master’s wishes. Duras sat in the chair and looked at the décor. Cheap, plain, unimaginative. The taste of a low born peasant, just as he suspected. No matter, all this would change now he was in command.

The castellan and administrator arrived, both looking apprehensive. Two of the pirate officers had been strung up in the harbourside for resisting arrest, while the rest had been herded into the dungeons. Duras intended putting them all to death once the invaders had been destroyed. “Now,” he stood, facing the two men. “All that has gone before is no longer the policy. I am now in control here and you will follow my commands, clear?”

“Sire,” both nodded, bowing.

“Good. Let me make myself clear; I do not tolerate dissent or defiance. I view both as treason and will hang anyone I find guilty. I give my command and you follow, without question. Learn that one lesson and you shall find I am a generous leader. I reward those who obey me. Now, I want a survey carried out of the town,” he pointed at the castellan. “I believe there are those dwelling here who have no job or function. Re-enrol them into the army or navy. Those who refuse to do so you are to hang on the roadside where they live. Those unfit to serve and who also do not work, kill anyway. I will not have useless mouths here.”

“Sire, the townsfolk may riot.” The castellan sweated nervously.

“Let them. If they do send in the army to crush it. They could do with practice. A few hundred deaths will put the rest in their place. I care not if they fear me, as long as they work or serve.” He looked at the administrator. “As for you, I want an inventory of the taxes and tithes collected throughout the island. I want a list of those villages, hamlets and farms that have refused to send in theirs.”

“Sire. What will you do to them?”

“Burn them to the ground – all the inhabitants are to be separated into three.”

“And-and what will they be, sire?”

“Men, women, children. The men are to be executed. The women, if young enough, are to be put into the brothels. Any too old are to be executed too. The boys are to be inducted into the army or navy as apprentices. The girls are to be put to work serving the households or fort as servants. We will become efficient and self-sufficient. There is far too much slackness and laxity here. Discipline is all but gone. I will not tolerate it!”

The administrator swallowed. “S-Sire, the people may revolt!”

“And the army will crush it. Execute enough and the rest will be cowed into obedience. Anyone not carrying out my wishes will be executed at once!”

One of the guards came in, dragging the girl who had been Volkanos’ whore. “Sire, what shall we do with this?”

Duras smiled. He dismissed the two men to their duties, then beckoned the guard to bring the girl to him. “Now, my pretty, you no longer serve that drunken disgrace Volkanos. You will serve me!” He ripped her dress off, slapped her hard across the face and threw her across the table. The remaining objects on it scattered, most falling to the floor. Duras took a rod from the wall and pushed her face down onto the table. “Now, you will learn to obey me without question.”

The room echoed to her screams of pain and terror.

Amne picked up Kola and glared at the nursemaid who had allowed the baby to bump herself on the leg of a chair. Kola cried and Amne held her child close to her, rubbing her head, which was what had struck the leg. “You must keep a closer watch on her, Hilke,” the princess admonished the woman. “Especially now she is trying to crawl! There, there,” she said to her daughter softly. “It’s alright. Mummy is here.”

Hilke, a middle-aged plain-looking woman with her hair tied back severely, stood up. “I am sorry, ma’am,” she said. “I’ll take more care of Princess Kola, I promise.”

“Well, you had better, or you’ll be out of a job. Here, the child has stopped crying.” Kola was passed back to Hilke who comforted the snuffling child, wiping her running nose with a cloth. “It’ll soon be feeding time,” Hilke commented.

“I shall be back later to check on her.” Amne wiped the damp spot on her tunic. She was shortly to go and see two minor nobles who were vying for favours. It was something Amne had insisted she do; Elas had expressed his doubts but Amne had argued she was fit enough and wanted to be away from the smelly nursery; she had become tired of changing cloths and coping with oozing orifices, as she put it. Motherhood was all very well, but there was only so much mess and vomit that one could cope with. Elas had been in full agreement with the hiring of Hilke and Amne, now free of breast feeding, felt free enough to resume her duties. Elas was best at the administrative functions; meeting people was not his strong point and Amne had persuaded him that this was what she was good at.

Lalaas stepped in line as Amne left the room. “All well, ma’am?” he inquired.

“Oh, yes. Just a bump. Children are like that, aren’t they? Sannia says the same about Merza. Still, I’d feel much happier if Hilke showed some competence. I don’t want to return to my daughter being bruised all over.”

“She’s adventurous, like her mother,” Lalaas commented.

Amne chuckled. “I hope she shows more sense!”

“Hmm,” Lalaas said. “I can forsee some – interesting – conversations between you and her when she gets older. If she has your temperament, then I will remain in the barracks.”

“Coward,” Amne smiled. “I’ll teach her the ways of respect. Now don’t look like that, Lalaas! Let us go see these people. I expect they want patronage.”

“That’s usually the way, ma’am. Best way of buying their loyalty, isn’t it?”

“Cynic. They might be loyal to us regardless.”

Lalaas smiled briefly, then led her down the stairs to one of the reception chambers. Guards bowed respectfully to Amne as she passed. Lalaas glanced at her as they reached the door to the chamber. She had become even more of a woman since the birth, so he thought. Becoming a mother had taken some of the edge to her temper away, and the atmosphere in the palace was slightly more relaxed.

“What?” Amne asked, catching his look.

“Just thinking you look particularly beautiful today,” he said, confident she wouldn’t be outraged by his daring.

She paused and gazed at him. “And I’m not usually?” she challenged, a twinkle in he eye.

“More so than normal, ma’am. I was thinking motherhood agrees with you.”

“Oh, flattery from you? Well, the day promises much, in that case. Thank you, Lalaas. What about Elas?”

Lalaas looked about and lowered his voice. “No change.”

“I thought not. He’s still an insufferable bore, and has the charm and personality of a corpse.” She sighed. “I so wish he could show me some interest.”

“You get enough from the young officers, ma’am.”

“Shhh! You know I only go there for relief!”

Lalaas nodded. As security chief he had to make sure Amne’s nightly indiscretions were kept from Elas. Lalaas reported to the Prince that Amne was not, as far as he knew, liaising with anyone. A lie, but Lalaas was realistic enough to know what Elas didn’t know couldn’t hurt him. He had no chance of stopping Amne from doing what she wanted, so he had arranged to make things easier by acting as a go-between for the young men of the KIMM, men who had been told to keep their mouths shut or end up hanging from the noose in the courtyard. Lalaas so far had arranged for Amne to see two of them, but he was becoming aware she had her eyes on a new potential conquest. Her appetite had got worse since Kola had been born. However, it may be that part of her new happier attitude was down to getting satisfaction from the young officers.

Lalaas hoped that Elas didn’t find out. Luckily he was too busy buried head deep in ledgers and correspondence. He opened the door and looked in. Two people were standing by the fireplace, looking at a large tapestry depicting a battle that the empire had been victorious in a number of centuries ago. With them were a guard and the new Major Domo, a thin man with a pair of hooded eyes who went by the name of Masar, a man who had been selected from the existing group of paper shufflers who had been left behind. So far he had proved to be effective at his job, if somewhat distant and vaguely disapproving of everything around him.

Lalaas announced the arrival of the princess and the men came together and bowed as one. Lalaas took his post inside the door and dismissed the guard to his post outside the room. He then took on a disinterested air, peering at the windows.

Amne advanced to the two minor nobles, smiling. “Ah, Dragan Purfin and Kontas Dekan, so delighted to make your acquaintances,” she offered her hand. Both men bowed again and in turn, kissed the back of it.

Dragan was a well-built, serious looking man with dark hair and a smooth complexion. His brown eyes surveyed her without a hint of pleasure or displeasure. Amne guessed he was late twenties and looked fit and athletic. An interesting man. Kontas was much older, white-haired, possessed a rugged face and a thickening around his waist that spoke of good food and even better wine.

“Please be seated,” Amne swept her hand at two empty chairs facing the one she was preparing to sit in herself. Masar stood close to her side with a wax slate and stylus at the ready. For quick notes in Kastanian shorthand, nothing could be better.

The two men took their seats and looked at her. Dragan the more visibly relaxed while Kontas appeared slightly nervous.

“So what is it I can do for you?”

Dragan cleared his throat. “If I may begin,” he glanced briefly at his colleague who inclined his head. “I am honoured to be here and to have met you, your highness. The reason I am here is to plead for the returning of some privileges my family enjoyed in the time of the previous emperors. Our estates in Frasia were once much greater, but I’m sad to say my father foolishly sided with the Fokis and their sponsored emperor, and lost much of his land when your family ascended the throne.”

Amne acknowledged the facts. She had been prepped by Masar briefly on the respective families’ histories. “And in return for these grants, what is it that the House of Purfin can give to Kastania?”

“Our loyalty,” Dragan smiled, spreading his arms wide.

“Nothing more? Loyalty is to be expected, not something to be honoured as if it were a special act.”

“Ma’am, many Houses show loyalty, yet most are not rewarded while others are, for no apparent reason. To my eyes, at least.”

Amne coolly appraised the man. She tossed her blonde curls – she preferred them to straight hair and had her stylist curl them even more every morning – and turned her attention to the older man. “And is the reason why you are here the same, Kontas?”

“Oh, no, your highness,” Kontas said in a gravelly voice. “I am asking that my grandson, Nikos, a bright young lad of fourteen, be allowed to enter the service of the Temple here. We – my family and I, that is – would be very happy if he were allowed to be taken in and trained up to be a priest to serve the gods and Kastania.”

“I cannot see why not, Kontas. I shall have a word with the priests here and I’m sure it is something we can arrange. I understand that your House owns tracts of land in Makenia bordering the Aester Sea, and that as a result you have sea harvesting rights?”

“Yes ma’am. I can send the best catches to the palace here if you so wish for a nominal cost.”

Amne smiled. “I think that would be a very satisfactory arrangement.” She looked up at Masar. “Arrange it, and make sure the priests accept Nikos Dekan into the Temple to train up as a priest.”

“Ma’am,” the major domo sniffed, clearly showing his disapproval of such a blatant act of favouritism.

“So, Dragan,” she turned back to the younger man. “Your family owns land that is arable, so I am led to believe. Very fertile land, which means plenty of produce. The markets of Kastan City would be a perfect place to sell such, don’t you agree?”

Dragan made a non-committal gesture. “Should we regain our lost estates then perhaps that may come to fruition – excuse my pun,” he added with a brief smile.

Amne bowed her head slightly. “You seem to think that your estates will be returned to the Purfin family on a non-committed promise. I can assure you this will not be the case. Without any firm commitment from your House I cannot possibly see how I can persuade Prince Elas or the emperor to return lands confiscated from the Purfin dynasty through their backing of false emperors and traitors.” She leaned back and coolly appraised the nobleman. “I believe you and your House will have to reconsider your vague conditions and bring me something more specific and of value to Kastania.”

Dragan scowled for a moment, then nodded slowly. “I might be able to come back with something your highness may find suitable,” he winked at her, unseen by the others.

Amne raised an eyebrow, then smiled briefly. “I shall be interested to hear of this new proposal. You shall remain behind in the palace.” She stood and the others did likewise. “Thank you for your submissions. The House of Dekan will hear from us shortly.” She made her way to Lalaas and the captain opened the door, allowing her to leave the room before he followed close behind. The major domo then took over, explaining to the two as to what was to happen next.

Dragan Purfin was shown to a guest room and he threw himself onto the comfortable bed, liking the feel of it. He was ambitious, determined to bring his family back to a prominent position it had enjoyed under the Fokis. The recent death of his father had propelled him to the top and he was aching to use his pent-up frustrations and energy to the benefit of his House.

A short while later a smartly-dressed woman knocked on his door and entered, summoning him to an audience with the princess once more. Dragan followed, passing through long corridors with marble and stone busts of past people of note, and legendary figures. Tapestries adorned the walls and everywhere stood reminders of Kastania’s glorious past. He smiled sardonically. Kastania had that, but not a glorious present, and an uncertain future. Unlike the Fokis or Duras, he was not one who favoured the success of foreign powers – he wished to drive them back from former imperial lands like the Koros, but he would do that as emperor himself.

Amne awaited him in a small chamber off to one side of the main corridor. A bedroom lay beyond a half-open door, he could see. The door closed behind him and they were alone. Smiling, he advanced on her, took hold of her by the shoulders, and was kissing her ardently. Amne flung her arms round him and kissed back hungrily, pressing her body against his, thrilled by the muscular firmness of him. Dragan evidently kept himself fit.

He used his hands to roam her vibrant body, feeling each contour. This was a woman in the full glory of her physical beauty. Not one piece of unwanted fat was found anywhere. Nice hips, firm, full. Her tongue was driving him mad. He pulled away with some effort and peered at her. “You’re not one to hold back, are you, ma’am?”

“Shut up and make love to me, Purfin.”

He chuckled and picked her up. She was heavier than he expected and held his breath, centering his attention on his stomach muscles. Best not to say such to her or it would kill the moment. He carried her into the bedroom and dropped her onto the bed, falling onto her before she could move. Pinning her to the bed, he began kissing her down her throat. Amne moaned in pleasure. Now he started sliding his hands over her breasts, feeling their roundness and size. Nice, very nice. No wonder people talked of her beauty.

Amne hissed and took hold of his tunic and began frantically unbuttoning it. Her face was red and beginning to sweat. She was working herself up into a passion and wanted this man. Now.

Dragan helped her, revealing his torso to her in no time. He was proud of his physique which had taken some tough work to tone up, but he practiced hard with a particularly heavy two-handed sword, and chopped wood to work off some energy on his estates. It had resulted in a muscular body which he knew thrilled women – he had a string of lovers which he usually seduced once then discarded. He got bored easily. The thrill was the seduction and once achieved, most women lost their allure to him. One or two were worth a second or third go, but he’d never stayed with one for long.

He was now at an age where he ought to take a wife, especially now he was head of the family, but he wanted a little more fun before turning his attention to the boredom of marriage. He had no interest in staying faithful, and knew Amne was that sort, too. Rumours often had at their heart a truth. As soon as he had winked at her and she had reacted in the way he’d hoped for, he knew she would be his latest conquest. In her case, he was prepared to keep the affair going for his and his House’s benefit. Who knows what favours could be showered onto him for being the princess’s lover? Perhaps one day he could take Elas’s place? Disposing him in single combat and as a prize, taking his widow? The thought appealed to him even as he tugged her under garments off.