by Tony Roberts
Vosgaris was having trouble breathing properly. Amne was too close, and her femininity almost overpowering him. She was impossibly beautiful. A scheming woman, yes, but beautiful. Maybe that was one of the attractions about her. She was dangerous. Doubly so. It was almost like an aphrodisiac. He nodded, sweating despite the coldness of the winter’s day.
Amne smiled sweetly, something that meant quite the opposite, as both knew. “Then you shall do your utmost to keep those – rumours – quiet. You shall also tell me who exactly tries to spread them. I shall keep Lalaas under control. You can be assured of that, Captain. Do we understand each other? Keep me sweet, and by the gods I’ll be sweet to you.”
“Y-yes, ma’am.” Vosgaris looked over her blonde head. He had to keep his mind on other things. She was far more dangerous than he could have guessed. What had made her this way had definitely happened on her journey to Bragal and Valchia. She certainly hadn’t been anything like this before. He wasn’t sure if he preferred the old Amne or this new, more exciting but dangerous version.
“You’re a very young, strong and handsome man, Vosgaris Taboz. I might even have been happy to marry you, had your family been more powerful. Think about that, Vosgaris. Be nice to me, and I’ll be nice to you. And stay away from my mother.”
Then she was gone, leaving Vosgaris groaning to himself quietly in his room. He sank into his chair and put his head in his hands. How in all the gods could two powerful women equally appeal to him at the same time?
Amne swept up to her chambers. Lalaas was standing outside, his face reflecting disapproval. Amne caught his look. “What?”
Lalaas glanced up and down the silent and empty corridor. “What exactly am I doing here, ma’am? If I’m not to be your bodyguard, I see no point in me being here. I’m not happy with that captain’s attitude, and this place has a terribly suffocating atmosphere. Half the people here don’t want me around, and the other half couldn’t seem to care less.”
“I want you here, Lalaas,” Amne said assertively. “And my opinion counts more than all the others put together.”
“Even that of the empress? I think she has greater powers than you, ma’am.”
“Phoeey. She’s got far too much to worry about than to be fussing over one man. Anyway, she’s agreed you can stay, so have no fears about her. As for Captain Vosgaris, I’ve spoken to him and he’s going to leave you alone. I’ve taken care of everything.” She opened the door into her chamber. Both Kiri and Selana were there, waiting. Lalaas hesitated at the doorway. “Oh, stop hanging about like a herd beast. Come on in!” Amne waved him in.
“Should I be here?” Lalaas said, but came in nonetheless, shutting the door.
“Kiri and Selana are here. They are my chaperones to make sure you don’t lose control of yourself and ravage me senseless. Isn’t that right?” she asked the two women.
“Yes, ma’am,” they chorused, looking at Lalaas with amusement.
Lalaas shrugged and looked about the chamber.
“Oh, cheer up, Lalaas. You’re like a bored child!” Amne unfastened her jacket. “I’m going into my bathroom to change into my riding gear. Are the equines ready?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Good.” Amne slipped off her jacket and it fell to the floor. “I want you to be waiting with them ready for the two of us in the rear courtyard in a quarter watch’s time. We’re going to visit the Turslenkan Gate district and see for ourselves what it is like.”
“Should we not have a few more guards?” Lalaas queried, worried that the district may be a poor one and as a consequence a princess could be vulnerable.
Amne frowned, turned and regarded her bodyguard. “Are you saying the streets are dangerous?”
Lalaas shrugged. Amne was half undressed and showing far more of her physique than she should. Both Kiri and Selana were waiting alongside, uncertain whether they should attempt to cover up her half revealed breasts. Lalaas bit his lower lip. “Kastania is still not completely in favour of the Koros, ma’am. There are rebellions still going on in Makenia and Bathenia, many of the nobility are barely tolerating your father’s rule, and the longer he’s away in Bragal the greater the risk someone may whip up trouble here in Kastan City. And this district – I assume it’s not in the richest quarter? Therefore its likely to be rough, and anyone passing through those streets on equineback is likely to be viewed as a possible target for robbery. Kastan has had a hard time in recent years, and people are short of commodities and prices are high.”
Amne gave Lalaas a hard look. “Is this the same man who fought off bandits and Bragalese rebels single-handedly? Lalaas, you’re becoming as fussy as mother! What is this place doing to you?” She stepped closer to Lalaas, looking up at him. He was aware of her; half dressed, standing before him. He had a momentary urge to pick her up, take her to her bed and make love to her; but it passed. She continued, very softly. “Are you saying that even here in Kastan there are elements opposed to my family’s rule?”
Lalaas nodded. “Don’t believe the Koros are universally loved throughout the empire, Amne. Plots exist, and it’s the noble houses who will decide whether you will remain in power or not. If they sense the public opinion is running against you, then they may well switch sides and ride on popular feeling to the throne themselves.”
“Who? Have you heard anything, Lalaas?”
“No – but I know there is opposition to you and your family. For the moment your father has cowed all opposition, and he’s been very clever in making sure who is to blame for the empire’s ills. As long as he remains successful, then I believe the number of people opposed to you will remain low. But if your father loses a battle, then things may change. I wouldn’t be surprised if the Duras or the Fokis – or any one of a number of rival houses – were secretly planning to arrange a military defeat of him.”
Amne stared hard at Lalaas. “Then your thoughts should be taken to my father.”
“I’m sure he’s aware of them. He wouldn’t be your father if he wasn’t.”
Amne thought for a moment, then suddenly turned. “Well, I shall write to him this evening. In the meantime, get our equines ready!”
“Of course, ma’am.” Lalaas shut the door behind him and left the two guards standing on duty by her room, walking down to the ground floor, making for the stables in the courtyard. Vosgaris suddenly came out of a room to the left and they bumped shoulders.
“Where are you off to?” Vosgaris asked, a hard edge to his voice.
“The stables. The Princess and I are going riding through Kastan’s streets.”
“Damned foolish,” Vosgaris commented. “You should have a couple of guards.”
“I’m her guard.”
“Sure – and you’re able to fight off any threat.”
Lalaas faced the young guard captain. “I don’t like the tone of your voice, Captain. At least try to be civil. I’ve no idea what I’ve done to incur your enmity, but I’m getting tired of it.”
Vosgaris stuck his face into Lalaas’. “I don’t like the idea of other guards here in the palace. They should be under my command. You’re a security risk and that’s something I can do without, given the current uncertainty in the empire. If you left tomorrow, I wouldn’t miss you.”
Lalaas stood his ground. “You’re far too uptight, Captain. I’m no security risk, but your state of mind isn’t good for a man in your position. If anyone needs to go to improve the situation around here, it’s you.”
Vosgaris’ mouth turned down, and he pushed Lalaas hard against the wall of the corridor. Lalaas bounced off the wooden panelling and his right arm blurred in an arc, his fist catching a surprised Vosgaris under the chin. The palace guard captain staggered back, bumping into a marble statue of a long dead emperor which rocked slightly on its square plinth, and shook his head, feeling the ache spreading under his jaw.
He unbuckled his sword and allowed it to drop to the floor with a clatter. “It’s about time you and I settled things, isn
’t it, play-thing?”
Lalaas smiled and also unfastened his sword belt. It joined Vosgaris’ on the ground. “As you insist, lap-canine.”
Both men flexed their muscles and circled each other. The end of the corridor was twenty feet away and a cross-passageway intersected it. A pair of doors stood at this point and one of Vosgaris’ guards stood there, open-mouthed. The captain saw him and shook his head, indicating the man remain at his post.
Lalaas checked, his right leg planted firmly on the ground and punched hard for Vosgaris’ face. The young nobleman swatted it aside as Lalaas expected it. His left came up hard under the captain’s guard and sank into his midriff. Vosgaris grunted and stepped back three paces, slightly bent over. Lalaas didn’t allow him any time to set himself, and followed him, hands striking high and low. Vosgaris desperately tried to block them but a few got through, snapping his head back. He’d never faced anyone who could strike as hard as this before. In desperation he swung his foot and caught Lalaas on the thigh.
The hunter hadn’t expected anything as dirty as that, expecting a gentleman to fight accordingly. Hissing between his teeth, he glared at Vosgaris, whose face was red and swelling. “As you wish, Captain. Don’t expect me to fight cleanly in that case.”
“Do your worst,” Vosgaris said tightly. He was beginning to realise he was outclassed. He needed to do something unexpected and vicious to get the better of this man. He charged, arms out wide, hoping to grab the man and fling him to the floor.
Lalaas saw his intention and half-turned. He’d learned to fight in Bragal, utilising his outdoor skills and the army sparring sessions when the soldiers were bored. A few of them had been good at wrestling, a sport enjoyed in the past when the empire had been much bigger and regular sporting events had taken place between the rival towns and cities. All this had stopped a few years ago when the empire had collapsed in on itself following the military disasters against the Tybar and the outbreak of civil war. So now when Vosgaris lunged, Lalaas used the captain’s charge to lift him up over his hip and send him flying with arms and legs out splayed, to land with a heavy crash where the floor and wall met.
Lalaas slowly limped towards the grunting figure of Vosgaris as he levered himself up from his prone position. The captain ached but was damned if he was going to give in. He sprang up and more by luck than judgement struck Lalaas in the chest with a roundhouse blow. Lalaas took it but it hurt. In a reflex he brought his left hand down onto Vosgaris’ neck, stunning him. Vosgaris sank to his knees and Lalaas struck again, sending the captain to the ground.
The hunter stood above him, rubbing his chest. He looked down at the groaning figure of the captain, an unreadable expression on his face. He thought for a moment, then, with a sigh of great patience, knelt by him. Vosgaris’ face was screwed up in pain. “Captain, I can teach you how to fight properly, if you like. I’m willing to serve under your command, too, so that I’m following your orders, as a mercenary guard, if you like. All I’m asking is for you to cease this antagonism towards me. I want a friend here in the palace, and I think you could do with one, too. I’m willing to forget this incident. I think we could both profit from settling our differences and helping each other. I’m out of my comfort here, and need a sponsor. I’d like that to be you, if you would do me the honour.”
A sponsor was something used quite regularly in the social echelons of Kastanian society, when someone of junior standing looked to progress, using a richer or more importantly placed person to guide them along, in return for perhaps financial reward or physical protection or something similar. It was a symbiotic relationship.
Vosgaris looked up at Lalaas, surprise on his marked face, then slowly he nodded. He was taken aback by the generous offer of Lalaas, and raised a shaking right arm. Lalaas grasped it and the two men shook arms, hands firmly grasping the other’s forearm. The captain rolled onto his backside and sat up, tenderly massaging his head. It was marked and would be bruised for days. “Oh I’m going to be in deep trouble for this,” he slurred, his mouth thickening.
“We can say we had a sparring bout, practicing.”
Vosgaris tried to smile, then though better of it. “We need to co-operate, Lalaas. Things are so delicate here, and one wrong word could be bad. It can be very tense here at times. We don’t need extra problems. We can help each other, as you say.”
Lalaas helped Vosgaris up. “Yes. I don’t like being put into this position any more than you do. I’m out of my depth. I’d prefer being with the army, scouting for them.”
“Hmm. You’ll have to bring me up to date with what’s going on out there – I find news in here is not that honest, shall we say? Certain things are omitted.”
Lalaas grinned. “Over a drink?”
“After the evening watch, yes. There’s a barracks here where they serve ale. I’ll be there.”
Lalaas promised to join his new friend and left, heading for the stables, after picking up his sword. Vosgaris gingerly did the same and then walked up to the inscrutably straight standing guard. “Not a word to anyone about this, Kalard, or you’ll be out of a job.”
Kalard nodded. “Sir.”
Vosgaris grunted, then went about his duties, hoping to the gods his face wasn’t too badly marked.
When Amne arrived outside by the stables, Lalaas carried on as if nothing had happened. Amne didn’t seem to notice that anything was amiss, and apart from a few moves he gingerly made when mounting up, the hunter appeared as if nothing had indeed happened.
They rode towards the twin gates in the chill winter air and they were opened by the sentries on duty, and then were out in the streets of Kastan. Amne led, being familiar with the city, and Lalaas followed, both in order to watch her back and because he had no idea where they were going. The wide streets of the Palace Quarter showed the rich and privileged lived here, and they continued, attracting interest from a few passers-by, recognising the princess despite the fact she was wearing a fur hat and a scarlet cloak of wool. Her face was easily recognisable, as was her fair hair and the emblem on the equine’s saddle blanket, showing the avian of the Koros family and the twin circles and single bar of Kastania.
She acknowledged the bows and curtseys and Lalaas rode on stoically, noting all the time the attitude of the citizens. They did appear to be happy to see her, but this was probably due to them being in a rich quarter. Further along towards the Turslenka Gate the street narrowed slightly and shops took the place of houses and mansions. All the main streets in the capital had shops running along them near the gates. A few narrow side streets ran off with the upper storeys leaning out towards each other, and it was down here that the unwary could be taken advantage of.
They stopped close to the gate and Amne looked at both sides of the street. “My quarter is here,” she said, a slight uncertain tone to her voice. “But I don’t recognise the street names.”
“Shall we ride along that side street there, ma’am?” Lalaas nodded towards a fairly well used street. There was little refuse strewn about which indicated it was used on a regular basis. She nodded and led him into the narrow passageway. The wood and stone houses rose up straight from the narrow pavements and the upper storeys, almost entirely made of wide wooden beams, leaned out haphazardly. Small windows could be seen high up, and the roofs were steeply pitched so as to allow any snowfall to slide off and not gather dangerously which could add too much weight to the roof, or later on when thawing, inundate it with melt water.
The street, cobbled, was wide enough to admit one equine at a time, so Lalaas rode behind the princess, looking up at the buildings with a slight degree of apprehension. This wasn’t his environment; he was at home out in the countryside. They came to another street, a wide one, running left-right, and emerged from the narrow passageway. Amne exclaimed in relief. “Ah, the Street of Tanners, I know this place. Or, I know of it.”
Lalaas came alongside and saw a number of faces turned towards them in curiosity. A few nudged each other in sur
prise and whispered to one another. It seemed royalty did not often visit such places. Amne nudged her mount forward and came closer to the citizens. “Good day,” she said, “I am Princess Amne Koros. I am here to see how conditions are in this quarter. I have been receiving letters from some of you concerning the vermin and poor upkeep of the buildings.”
The citizens bowed or curtseyed. Lalaas looked round carefully. No sign of anyone skulking in shadows, no expressions of hostility. So far so good. He looked up at the buildings. A few showed signs of neglect. Water damage was unmistakable.
One of the citizens, urged on by the others, came forward, taking off his fur cap and crushing it nervously in between his hands. “Your highness,” he said, his voice clearly trembling, “it is an honour you come to this place. If we had known, we would have made efforts to tidy it up.”
Amne smiled. “Then I would not have known the true conditions here, would I not? Please, show me what troubles you have with the vermin and buildings.”
She dismounted and Lalaas followed suit, taking both reins and tying them to a handy post that held up the front of a butcher’s shop. He stepped closer to Amne who was being led by the nervous spokesman to a large building with a multitude of small windows. The paintwork was peeling badly and the wooden beams clearly had crumbling faces where water had got at them, and then dried out. Amne tutted. “There are no repairs carried out on this building?”
“No, ma’am; it is owned by the Helndis family and they have not responded to our pleas to repair the building. So we wrote to the palace. I trust we did the right thing?”
Amne nodded. “I need to know the truth here; funds are limited but I need to see for myself what needs the most urgent work on it. I know everything is urgent,” she added, seeing the spokesman was about to speak, “but some work is clearly more urgent than others. What of the roof?”
And so they continued, with more people arriving all the time, drawn to the spectacle of having one of their ruling family actually being there. Some people brought out sweet cakes and freshly baked bread, and to their delight Amne sampled some, complimenting them on their cooking. Another complaint was the smell from the tanneries at the back of the buildings, but since there was little that could be done about that, Amne merely sympathised.