by Tony Roberts
“You I know,” the empress addressed High Cleric Burnas. “We will talk later. But you I don’t,” she said to the tall thin man. “What is your name?”
“Pepil, your majesty, major domo of the palace. It is my job to ensure this place runs smoothly and all your needs are attended to.”
“Then attend to them, Pepil; start making sure this palace runs smoothly. You can’t do that standing here doing nothing.”
Pepil bowed low again and backed away, leaving High Cleric Burnas with the empress. He drew himself up fully and stared her in the eye. He was going to show her that he was no submissive servant. He was only the servant of the gods, and no emperor or empress would change that. Certainly those that had come and gone in the palace during his tenure as head of the Temple in the empire had acknowledged that, and this family would do the same. Or else, he mused, they would find themselves up to their necks in religious discord which was the last thing they wanted given the delicate situation with the empire.
No, he decided, looking at the empress, it would be they who served him, not the other way round.
“You have to plan the service to crown my husband as emperor, High Cleric?” she put to him.
“Indeed, your majesty,” he confirmed, a slight bow of the head was all he was prepared to make, and it could be interpreted as merely agreeing with the statement she’d made.
“Then I shouldn’t keep you any longer from that duty, High Cleric. We all need sleep before the event tomorrow.”
He smiled thinly. Such abrupt dismissal would not go unanswered in the fullness of time. As he turned to go, turning his back on her, a deliberate insult, Teduskis opened the door and almost bumped into him. He quickly began to apologise but halted halfway through as the priest’s look could have shrivelled him on the spot. The soldier stared at his back as he stalked away, then he turned in puzzlement to the empress. “What was the matter with him, ma’am?”
“I dismissed him. He didn’t take kindly to that. Is everything in order, Teduskis?”
“As much as it should be, ma’am. The imperial guard is barracked nicely; they like the quarters, they’re much better than they’re used to!”
“Good. Watch out for the palace guard commander, a man called Mercos.”
“Mercos?” Teduskis said sharply. “I know him – or rather, know of him. A slimy piece of work, shifts allegiances with the wind. Totally untrustworthy.”
The empress nodded. “So I thought, judging by his manner. He’s fetching Amne. Go see if you can find them both – I don’t want anything untoward happening.”
“Of course, ma’am,” Teduskis bowed and backed out of the chamber.
____
Amne was enjoying herself immensely. She’d asked one of the palace servants where her room was and had been pointed in the direction of a suite of rooms that she was told had been the empresses’ only the day before. The servant had clearly not known who she was and had then gone on her way without so much as a curtsey, but Amne was too excited to take her to task. Time for that another day.
In front of her was a treasure trove. More dresses and shoes than she’d ever seen before in her entire life! Beautiful clothes, softer and smoother than she’d ever imagined! Now she was a princess she’d dress in such clothing, and never again have to have the coarser, rougher material she was used to. The former empress’s clothes must be of wormspun, that magical stuff from far away that cost a fortune because of the distance and danger on the routes that were taken to bring it here to Kastan. Even further east they’d never seen wormspun. And the shoes – she knelt in front of the open wardrobe and ran her hands and fingers down the soft leather. Made so beautifully. The best artisans in all of Kastan must make these. She would demand to know who these people were and then employ them just for herself.
She would also have servants to attend her hair, her make-up, oh, everything! Would those dresses fit her? She had to know. Shrugging off her ankle length one-piece dress that hung from her shoulders, she stepped out of the dress and picked up the nearest one, hanging from the rail. It was short sleeved, ruffled at the shoulders, not such a wide neck as the current fashion, gathered in at the waist, so she may not need to wear a belt to accentuate her figure, and then fell in folds to the ground.
She ran her hand over the waist. How did they do that? She felt a bony material underneath the wormspun material. Ah, they must put something in underneath. She frowned. How to get in? She pulled it roughly away from the wardrobe and examined it impatiently all the way round. It would be almost impossible to get this on without help.
“You would have maidservants to help you with that,” a mocking voice surprised her. She spun round, eyes wide, so see a grinning man in the imperial colours of white and purple leaning against the door post.
“Who are you – and how dare you look upon me like this!” Amne clutched the dress to her front, aware that her body was revealed to him. Etiquette in the empire demanded a lady should not expose her legs above the ankle in public. Her long shapely legs were completely exposed, as were her stomach, arms and, in fact, everything except her hip and chest area. Her undergarments were all she had on. The man leered at her, appraising her twenty year old figure, admiring and appreciating her. She felt angry. “Speak!”
“The name’s Mercos, and I’m the palace guard captain. You must be the new princess, Amne. Pleased to meet you, ma’am. Very pleased, in fact.” He pushed himself away from the doorway and came into the richly carpeted chamber. Amne stood in the centre of the room, glaring at the man. “You shouldn’t be touching those,” he waggled a finger at her, then the dress she was clutching to her throat. “They were the former empress’s. They won’t fit you,” he commented, eyeing her figure again.
“Don’t look at me like that!” Amne spat. “I’ll have you whipped for you insolence, and thrown into the imperial dungeons!”
To her surprise, Mercos laughed. “Oh no, little Amne, not I. You see, I was the man who allowed your father and his supporters into the palace earlier this evening to depose the old emperor. Without me, princess, you wouldn’t be a princess or your father emperor. He owes me a huge favour, so your little squeals will make no impression on him.”
“You?”
“Yes, me. So you all owe me a favour. Including you, little Amne. I’d like to have some of that repaid right now, in fact,” Mercos ran his tongue over his lips. “I’d like to see what lies underneath all those clothes.”
“You – you beast!” Amne gasped. “I’ll scream!”
Mercos sniggered. “And have people run here to find you’re looting the empress’s clothes, and her not dead four hours? Oh, what a ghoul you are!”
“Dead?” Amne gasped. “How is she dead?”
“What do you think?” Mercos sneered. “Two emperors alive? Two empresses? Your father is a practical man. He’s had enough of the civil wars, as have most of us. To have two alive would ensure it continues. So you get rid of the others. Permanently. I agree with him. You think your father and mother can just step into the role with no harm to anyone else? No, others have to die. So, little one, are you going to slip those little pieces of clothing off, or am I going to rip them from your – lovely young firm body?”
Amne was now more than a little scared. Mercos was practically drooling and leaning over her. She shrank from his gaze, those hot lust-filled eyes that were raping her right there.
She was beginning to open her fingers, slowly, reluctantly, when suddenly another voice was there, one she was familiar with.
“Ah, there you are Princess. Your father wishes for your company in the audience chamber.”
Amne breathed out in relief and saw, over Mercos’ shoulder, Teduskis standing in the doorway. Mercos swung round, his face ugly. “Why don’t you go away and leave us to finish our business, whoever you are?”
Teduskis strode into the room, his hard face expressionless, but his eyes like flint. Amne had never seen him like this and was rooted to the spot. Be
fore she or Mercos could react, Teduskis’ right hand was swinging up in a fist and it crashed full into the face of the palace guard captain. Mercos’ head snapped back and he staggered a few steps before losing his balance and sat down hard on the carpet. He put his hand to his now bleeding lips and sat there, holding his face.
“Princess? Best get dressed quickly. I’ll watch this man while you do.” Teduskis turned his back on Amne and glared at the bleeding Mercos. “Try anything like that again, you weasel, and I’ll slice off what lies between your legs and feed it to you. I don’t care who or what you are. Understand?”
Mercos looked up at Teduskis with pure hatred.
Amne was shocked. Teduskis had always been courteous, funny, gentle. She’d never heard him speak like this to anyone before. Maybe father was right. Teduskis had been with father in the army and his reputation as a tough warrior had been surely a piece of fiction to tell to her and her two younger brothers. But maybe it had been fact. She’d never believed it before. But now? Maybe it was true. Hurriedly she slipped back into her normal dress and as she hooked it over her shoulders, vowed to herself to have dresses made for her that very sevenday. Already she felt shabby. As a princess, she ought to look her best. She looked down at Mercos, who was examining the blood on his hand with distaste. “If you ever speak to me like that again, I will tell my father, no matter how important you think you are to our family. Favours can be ignored, you know.”
Mercos growled, his already thickening lips making whatever word or words he wanted to say unintelligible. Teduskis glared at him one last time. “Palace guard, eh? Well go start guarding the palace. You didn’t do a decent job for the last emperor, did you? But I doubt you’ve ever actually had to do any proper guarding before; you’re just fit to parade around the imperial piss-pot. You’re not proper soldiers. Give me half a day on the parade ground with your pretty boys and they’ll be crying for their mammas.” With that he followed Amne out of the chamber, leaving a fuming Mercos to get back to his feet.
“We’ll see about that,” he muttered thickly, and stomped out of the chamber, heading for his quarters, his mind racing with thoughts of vengeance.
Back in the audience chamber, Astiras Koros had returned his two young sons to their mother and was once more waving to the crowd outside. Shouts of delight wafted through the curtains into the chamber, and the Empress sat on a couch with Argan who was rubbing his eyes. Rousa was once more fussing over Istan who had reverted back to his habitual crying. “Best get these two to bed,” the Empress said. “They’re tired, poor things. It’s been a little too much.”
“Where am I going to sleep?” Argan asked. He was very tired.
“Your new bed. Rousa, have you found where the sleeping chambers are?”
The nurse shook her head. “But there’s a whole company of servants hovering in the next chamber waiting to serve you.” Rousa smiled evilly. “They’re scared half to death you’re going to order their execution!”
“Now why would they think that?” the Empress asked. “Silly lot; let’s start organising them!”
As the woman and children left via an adjoining door to the next chamber, the door to the passageway opened and Amne came in, her face flushed. Teduskis followed her in, noting the arrangement of the room and the fact there were no guards. He tutted to himself. Things would have to change.
“Father?” Amne called out.
“Here,” Astiras replied, looking through the curtains. He saw his only daughter and smiled. Then he saw her look and switched to Teduskis. “What happened?”
“Mercos, that creature,” Teduskis said, then halted, waiting for Amne to say something, if she wished to.
“Well, Amne?” Astiras demanded.
“It’s nothing, father, really. Teduskis taught him a lesson in manners.”
Astiras looked at Teduskis who mimed a punch. The Emperor smiled slightly and nodded, then wagged a finger at his faithful retainer. “Go get yourself fed and to bed. Tomorrow we plan.”
“Your majesty.” Teduskis bowed, then left.
“Amne, are you going to tell me what Mercos did?” Astiras asked, guiding her out onto the balcony.
Amne went to say something, then gasped as the sight of thousands of people came into view, all holding torches or candles. Whatever she had been about to say was instantly forgotten as the spectacle took her breath away. Some recognised who she was, or who she probably was, and cheers floated up to her. Astiras grinned. “Wonderful, isn’t it? Wave to them, they’re expecting something like that.”
She did and applause could be heard. “They’re clapping me!”
“Of course. You’re a princess; you represent the future. They want a future. We must give them a future, Amne. They will be looking to us to provide them with hope that we will survive.”
“But surely we will, father!”
“Who would have thought ten years ago we would be in this position with enemies east and west, wild canines at our door? The door is rotten and crumbling. We must repair the damage and quickly. They want us to lead them out of this dark era. So many times others have stood where we are now, and promised much. They delivered nothing but disappointment and failure. We must not do the same, or I fear we will be the last to stand here as rulers of an empire.”
Amne didn’t know what to say. Normally her father kept his own counsel, but perhaps it was the emotion of the moment that opened him up to her. “Father – you will save the empire, won’t you?”
“Of course I will,” he smiled reassuringly. “With a little help from my family, of course. That includes you, Amne. We must appear united to everyone; we must work together towards the same end. You, my precious daughter, must marry a supporter of our family and produce strong sons to continue the work I am beginning.”
Amne said nothing; she was overwhelmed.
“Your brothers too, must work hard. They will need to be strong warriors, leaders of men, visionaries for the future. If we are to return to the glory days, then we will have to fight for it, and I fear as yet we are not ready for that. But we need to tell these people here that we are strong and united, and so I don’t want you or your brothers bringing this family into disgrace, you understand?”
“Yes, father,” Amne said dutifully. Was she going to be married off soon? Was this what it meant to be a princess? She was hoping to marry one of the number of sons of wealthy families who had already courted her. She hadn’t chosen which one as yet. But whoever it was, would be, like her, from a noble family, so she was sure her father would approve. But what had he just said? A supporter. Surely a noble too, for no commoner would be allowed to marry a princess! She would have to think on that some more, and maybe ask her mother.
The empress breezed back into the chamber. “That’s the two youngsters taken care of,” she said, joining the other two on the balcony. “They’re tucked into their beds. Each has a servant to make sure all is warm and comfortable and a chamber maid to clean out the rooms in the morning.”
“Isbel, that creature Mercos has been – making inappropriate moves towards Amne here.”
Empress Isbel frowned and looked at her daughter. “What happened?”
Amne sighed, and gave her mother the briefest of explanations, missing out what she thought her mother and father didn’t need to know. Isbel pursed her lips and looked at her husband. “Well, Astiras, what are you going to do about it? I’m not going to have someone here using inappropriate behaviour towards my daughter!”
“I’ll deal with it,” Astiras promised, waving again at the crowd. He was getting tired. It was well past the midnight watch. Time to retire to bed.
“Astiras, you are emperor now. Nothing can be denied you.”
“Isbel, I said I’d deal with it.” Her husband looked at her square in the face. “Tomorrow. Now, I need some sleep because there’s an awful lot of planning that needs to be done, and it needs to be done tomorrow morning. There’s no time to waste.”
Amne kept her
head bowed. She just wished they’d change the subject. They might find out about her rummaging through the dead empress’s clothes and that would be to her shame if that was discovered. She gave her excuses and left abruptly, saying she was tired.
Isbel watched her go, then touched her husband on the arm. “Astiras, I don’t want anything to upset our new home.”
The emperor took both her hands and looked her in the eyes. “You said I was emperor and that nothing could be denied me, yes?”
“Yes,” Isbel agreed.
“Then,” Astiras grabbed her suddenly, picked her up, and as she gasped in shock, swung her over his shoulder. “You will deny me nothing this night! To bed!”
“Put me down!” she exclaimed, kicking her legs futilely.
Astiras grunted, got used to her weight – he’d not picked her up in years – then strode purposefully to the door, clenching his stomach muscles. She was heavier than he remembered. Best not to mention that, he decided. “Deny me nothing, woman. I am emperor!” he hollered, his voice reverberating down the corridors as he strode towards the imperial bed chamber. Servants on duty stopped in amazement at the sight, and the empress’s legs flailing, her flesh on show. Hurriedly the servants looked away. Incredibly, she began giggling.
“I thought we needed sleep,” she said, breathlessly.
“Later, woman,” Astiras replied. “Now I’m on campaign. Prepare for conquest!”
Laughing, the two vanished into their chamber.
CHAPTER THREE
The next morning both emperor and empress looked in good spirits, albeit a little tired. Amne deliberately avoided looking at them; she was ashamed of their behaviour. She would request a chamber suite further away from them if this was how they were going to carry on. She could hardly sleep a wink. And at their age too! Argan and Istan were busy eating away, oblivious to everything except what was being presented on their plates. Amne couldn’t believe what was being offered; it was more than she had ever seen, and this was just breakfast!