Empire of Avarice

by Tony Roberts

  Two ships were moored to the biggest dock; single-masted vessels with sleek lines and neat decks. Clearly these were not trading vessels. What was more surprising was that the two ships were flying the imperial flag. Gavan led the others slowly up to the side of the first ship and looked up at the stern. The gangplank was down and sailors were busy loading supplies. Standing by the nearest warehouse were a group of men armed with bows and swords. They had on their chests the long bar and twin circles of the Kastanian Empire.

  “Hello up there,” Gavan hollered, controlling his steed. The beast wasn’t entirely happy to be where it was. The sea gave off a strange smell it wasn’t used to and the other odours of spice, tar, rotting fish and ropes made it skittish. “What ship are you and where from?”

  A man with a barrel chest leaned over the side. He had a neatly clipped black beard. “Halloo down there! I see you’re of the imperial army! Well met. I am Admiral Drakan, imperial navy, bound for Kastan, recently out of Zipria. I hear there’s a new emperor!”

  “Yes! I am with his son, the Prince Jorqel. We are besieging Slenna. What is your business here?”

  Admiral Drakan put a finger to the side of his nose. “I shall inform you of that over a mid-afternoon drink. Care to come aboard?”

  Gavan grinned. That sounded good. He dismounted, handed his reins to his subordinate and advised him to watch while he was aboard, then climbed the gangplank and met the admiral on the main deck. Drakan was a big, cheery fellow with a ruddy complexion. Sea life obviously agreed with him. Gavan was led through a door at the rear of the deck and into a cabin that was comfortably decorated.

  “We got a message to pick up a man off the coast of Makania from a fishing vessel three days ago while we were on our way to the capital.” Drakan pulled the cork on a wide green coloured bottle and tipped an amber liquid into two cups. He sat behind a desk and waved Gavan into a second that was off to one side of the cabin. “It seems the fishing vessel had been ordered by the palace to find us. Well, very unusual indeed, but the letter they passed to me was sealed the correct way and had the right heading and so on.” Drakan quaffed a mouthful of the alcohol. “Ahh, great stuff. So, we diverted east to the Makanian coast at a place we’d been asked to reach, and this man hails us and rows out to my ship. Very secretive and furtive, gives me yet another document giving him authority over me, signed by the palace in the name of Emperor Astiras Koros. Well, ‘who?’ I ask. ‘The new emperor, Admiral’, says he. ‘I know of no new emperor’ I say. ‘Do you believe these documents?’ says he.” Drakan throws his arms up in the air. “He tells me to drop him off the Slennan coast and then proceed here to take supplies on and hold the port until someone like you arrives.”

  Gavan shrugged. “I know of no orders, but we’ve not had a communication from Kastan for some time. Where did this man go?”

  “He slipped overboard and swam to the shore. After that – I know not. We sailed onto this port and informed these people they were once more serving the empire. We did have trouble from one or two but after hanging them from the mast – you can see them on the other ship if you like – the rest quickly submitted.”

  “Funny, that,” Gavan commented with a straight face. “Slenna isn’t giving up; they’re going to hold out for as long as they can.”

  Drakan pulled a face. “And you’ll wait outside until they give in? What about rushing the gates or breaking in the walls?”

  Gavan shook his head. “The forces in Slenna are unknown and until we find out, we won’t do anything. The walls looked too sturdy to smash and we don’t have any siege equipment.”

  “Ah well, rather you than me. We’re off to Kastan on the morning tide and are to find out our position under the new regime. Tell me, what’s the new emperor like?”

  And the two military men turned to gossip.

  ____

  Gaurel Burnas was surprised to be released from prison. He fully expected to be executed for defying the new emperor, and he went with the guards with a sense of trepidation out of the garrison building and along the street to the palace. Of course, it was at night, so that nobody would see him. He was admitted via the servant’s entrance and escorted up into the palace proper.

  Endless corridors and guards were passed, until he was shown into a room with a number of chairs, a table and rich velvet curtains. Candles flickered from the table and wall brackets and standing awaiting his entry was Emperor Astiras with two others. One he recognised, the other he did not. “Sire,” he bowed to the emperor. “Pepil,” he acknowledged the major domo.

  “This is Demtro Kalfas, a merchant,” Astiras introduced the third man. “Please, be seated.”

  All sat and Gaurel, still wearing the clothes he’d had whilst in prison, felt shabby and uncomfortable, which was probably a design on the emperor’s part, he mused. Still, he would endure what was to come his way; the gods moved in mysterious ways and directed people to do the most unexpected things at times.

  “I have work for you, High Priest,” Astiras began. “Clearly your continued presence in Kastan is not acceptable, given your outburst towards me recently, but I am prepared to lift the sentence of imprisonment on you provided you agree to what I am about to say.”

  The High Priest waited calmly. But inside his heart was beating fast. He may be fortified by his faith, but he was just as mortal as the next man and he dearly wanted to avoid imprisonment.

  “It is this,” Astiras continued. “The Council has decided you have a mission to perform; that is to restore the faith and morale of the people in Niake. As you know, recent unrest caused the accidental destruction of most of the temples in the city. It is desired that you, as High Priest, travel to Niake and help rebuild these temples, and to restore faith in the gods amongst the people, which has been slipping of late. Is this agreed?”

  “Am I to remain in Niake, your majesty?”

  “Yes, or in the province of Bathenia. But you will never return to Kastan in your lifetime.”

  Gaurel bowed. He felt a sense of loss. Kastan was the capital, the spiritual head of the gods. “And who is going to be High Priest?”

  “You will remain High Priest, but your new headquarters will be Niake.”

  Gaurel looked confused. “But there must be a High Priest in Kastan, sire!”

  “That is not your concern. Your concern is to restore the temples in Niake. If you don’t feel this is something you can do, then I’ll find another, and return you to prison where you will rot for the rest of your life. Take it or leave it, priest.” Astiras was curt.

  Gaurel drew in a deep breath. “I shall of course take the offer. The people should not live without the gods to direct their lives and to guide them in times of trouble – and we all have our share of troubles at present, do we not?”

  Astiras smiled thinly. “You will travel by ship across to Bathenia with Demtro here. He is to report to the governor of Niake on arrival as he is to set up a textile export and import business there under licence from me. He will also supply you with textiles to furnish your temples when the time comes for a reduced cost. I wish for the temples to flourish as much as you do. We face external threat from both east and west, and our gods must have their champions here to fight for their cause.”

  “All the more reason to have a High Priest here in Kastan,” Gaurel insisted, waving his hands before him in emphasis. “The gods must know we are their loyal followers or we may be deserted – with catastrophic consequences!”

  “I am confident, High Priest, that the gods know. Tales of forced conversions to the heretical beliefs of the east come to me daily. People of the lands lost to us need our return, and that is my sacred task. Our future is endangered not just by political means, but also by spiritual. To that end, Niake’s need is greater than Kastan’s at this moment. You are to go and do your work there. That is my command.”

  Gaurel trembled in frustration. “Only the gods may command me, sire.”

  “Then ask them to stop me throwing you back i
n that pit from whence you’ve been plucked,” Astiras growled, his eyes boring into the priest’s.

  Gaurel held his look for a moment, then slumped back into his chair and nodded weakly. Astiras smiled in triumph and turned to Pepil. “Issue a notice to be posted around the empire that High Priest Gaurel is on a sacred mission to Niake.”

  The major domo bowed.

  “Now, Demtro, your licence means that you have exclusive use of the textiles in Niake only. You are to deal with us through the governor there. He will be informed of this arrangement. If you do a deal with the Fokis family I shall revoke your licence immediately, you understand?”

  “Yes, sire,” the lean, long-haired man acknowledged. He wore richly coloured thickly woven clothing that told of money. “I shall set up a new business and contact those whom I deal in my other enterprises. With luck, we should be in business within the year.”

  “Good. This meeting is therefore at an end. Good luck, gentlemen,” Astiras said and strode swiftly out of the room.

  Pepil puffed out his cheeks. “I can tell you, Gaurel, you nearly undid all the hard work Frendicus and I have put in these past few sevendays there.”

  “Why? He’s wrong!”

  “It doesn’t matter if he’s wrong or not,” Pepil snapped irritably. “Can’t you understand he’s the emperor and will not be pushed around by anyone? He’s not a puppet like the previous ruler. You must learn to deal with him, and that means in an entirely different manner than before. If you want to keep your head then keep your counsel!”

  Gaurel snorted. “You seem to have jumped into his court, Pepil. It’s you who’s the puppet!”

  “If you think that, then you’re as stupid as you’ve been behaving recently. I survive, and if that means agreeing with him then that’s what it takes. But if you think I’m his man, then you are very much mistaken!”

  Gaurel snorted, clearly unconvinced. “So if there was a plot to murder him and replace him with someone more – malleable – would you support it?”

  Pepil looked sideways at Demtro. “Is that a wise thing to be discussing, Gaurel?”

  The merchant laughed easily. “Oh, please, don’t worry about me – I’m off. I’ll meet you, High Priest, in the entrance hall downstairs.” He left, chuckling.

  “Well, major domo?” Gaurel sneered, “are you the emperor’s lap canine or a man of courage and strength?”

  “I’m nobody’s lap canine, especially yours! You have the brains of a beast of burden and the subtlety of a cheap street trollop. If I decide to join any plot it will be on my terms and with whom I decide is fit to sit on the throne, not someone who will bow to every half-witted request by self-serving cretins. And believe me, Gaurel, I’ve seen more than my fair share of those here in recent years!”

  Gaurel stood up. “Then do not come to me asking for assistance in time to come. I intend returning to Kastan as High Priest, and when I do, I shall preach to the people that all traitors be purged from the palace, including those who do not support me. Good evening.”

  Pepil was left alone in the room with his thoughts, chewing on his lower lip.

  Demtro was waiting patiently for Gaurel in the entrance hall, idly studying the artwork hanging on the walls, when Isbel came up to him. Demtros bowed and kissed her proffered hand. “Ma’am,” he said solemnly.

  “Well?” she asked softly.

  “Gaurel is untrustworthy; Pepil a fence-sitting opportunist.”

  “Thank you, Demtro. Enjoy your business in Niake.”

  The merchant smiled and bowed again. The empress glided off along one of the richly decorated corridors, her rear view admired by the merchant. Gaurel came down the stairs and saw his look. “Shame on you, merchant,” he admonished the younger man, “that is the empress, and not for the likes of you.”

  “That does not stop the desire, priest.” He saw Gaurel’s expression. “Worry not, I have no wish to take the short walk to the executioner’s axe. I shall satisfy my desires on the younger ladies of Niake.”

  “Of that I have no doubt,” Gaurel said with distaste. “When do we leave?”

  “Shortly. We should wait here for our escort to the coast. I understand there are trading ships waiting there.”

  “And our luggage?”

  “Already aboard, High Priest.”

  Gaurel gave Demtro a long look. “Someone was very confident I would accept the task!”

  “You had no choice, as I see it. I’m told you have a set of decent clothes amongst your baggage. Something more suitable to your dignity?”

  “Hold your tongue, coin-counter! Show more respect to me or I shall denounce you to the worshippers, and believe me, that can make life very uncomfortable for you! Do not cross the gods.”

  Demtro smiled again. “Fear not, High Priest; I respect the gods and frequently pray to them. I would not wish to anger them.”

  “Then remember that, merchant.”

  Demtro smiled again, then turned away from the priest. It was going to be a long journey to Niake.

  ____

  Isbel joined her husband in their sleeping chamber. The maidservants had finished changing her attire and now she was ready for bed. Astiras was already there, waiting patiently. The door was shut and the guards outside. Here, at least, they could leave the madness of the outside world behind. “Is everything in place, dear?” he asked.

  “Of course,” Isbel said, pulling aside the bed sheets and slipping into bed. “Demtro will be a valuable ally to us.”

  “As long as he remembers who helped him get off his back and up into business,” Astiras said.

  “He will. I think he fancies me,” she added gaily.

  “He better not!” Astiras growled, staring hard at her.

  “Oh, jealous! Don’t be so touchy, silly!”

  “If he tries…”

  “And do you think he’d be so stupid? Men are men; most will do anything for a woman if she plays up to him.”

  “And have you been playing up to that counter of beads?”

  “What if I have?” Isbel said, tossing her hair and shaking it loose so it hung down her shoulders. “It got us the information we needed.”

  “Which is?”

  “Gaurel will plot no matter what and Pepil’s loyalty goes only as far as we remain unchallenged.”

  Astiras’ face darkened. “I ought to eviscerate that oily pimp.”

  “Language. At least we know not to rely on Pepil if things get tough. And Demtro will spy on Gaurel in Niake.”

  “I still don’t like the fact you played up to him.”

  “Oh for goodness’ sake, Astiras, a little wiggle here and a smile there does no harm. I’m an empress and out of bounds. The only man who can touch me is you.”

  “I’d better be! And don’t go putting those ideas into Amne’s mind; I don’t much fancy the idea of her draping herself all over some Mazag barbarian to get us a trade agreement or alliance.”

  “What if that’s the only way she can get a deal with them, dear husband?”

  “No way! I’d rather go to war than have my daughter turn herself into a courtesan.”

  Isbel decided to change the subject. “This governor of Niake – Evas…?”

  “Extonos.”

  “Yes, Evas Extonos. Will he co-operate in keeping Gaurel under control?”

  “He’s a good man. I know him. We met a few years ago after Imakum fell. He was concerned Niake would be next at that time, if I recall rightly. We got talking about a few things and have kept in touch, on and off, since then.”

  “So what exactly is he like?”

  Astiras puffed out his cheeks and thought for a moment. “Your age, or thereabouts; a loyal man to the empire. Bit of a bureaucrat – buries himself in accounts and paperwork a fair bit. Pretty smart and knows how to command troops. My height, dark hair, moustache – a bit unfashionable, that – no fool, that’s for sure. What else would you like to know about him?”

  “Why would he be loyal to us and not some
one else?”

  “We’re friends and we both agree on what the empire needs. Neither of us liked the past few emperors and he always said if I became emperor he’d back me. And from what I’ve heard coming from Niake, he has.”

  Isbel looked thoughtful. “But we’ve had nothing in writing or anyone coming from Niake to pass on his words. What have you heard?”

  “Traders’ talk, street gossip from travellers. I have ears in the street, Isbel; any emperor worth his place knows that he has to have those. And besides, Jorqel was in Bathenia when I took power and Evas knew he’d been first on the hit list if he had opposed me.”

  “But now Jorqel is in Lodria he hasn’t got that threat.”

  “True, but Evas is a good man. He’ll back us. I’ve sent a messenger on ahead to inform him what’s going on with Gaurel and Demtro. He’ll write back.”

  Another thing was worrying Isbel. The still undetected threat from the thieves’ guild. She asked her husband if anything had been heard about it, either in Kastan or from Lodria. Astiras shook his head. As far as he knew, nothing had been heard or seen.

  Nothing, that is, that anyone was sure of.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  Teduskis stood in the middle of the parade ground in the garrison quarters and watched critically as the new army went through their paces. A company of spearmen were marching up and down in unison, learning to march in line and to turn swiftly, their four ranks switching direction so that the rear rank suddenly became the front and vice versa. It hadn’t been easy to learn and many a time the new recruits had collided, got their weapons entangled or one or two unfortunates had fallen over, much to the merriment of their colleagues and to the disgust of Teduskis.

  Lounging against the walls and out of the open windows were those of the second company. They were yet to go about the drill and were shouting words of encouragement or jeering as they saw fit. Teduskis shook his head. These were in no way imperial spearman standard. Militiamen certainly, and they would have to remember that. Useful to a point, they had their limitations. Armour was in short supply and they were having to make do with padded jackets or, if they were lucky, leather vestments. Each had a dagger and a spear the height of a man. To protect them they carried a wooden shield roughly shaped like an upside down triangle, tapering to a rounded point down by the ankles.