"Because I dreamed of you," Romana said quietly. "Even before you came to this city, I dreamed of you."
"You...dreamed of me," Miranda said.
Romana nodded. "Even before you arrived I dreamt of you. You were being borne towards Eternal Pantheia upon a wave of gold, shimmering and shining bright. An eagle flew above your head, and you yourself were glowing as brightly as the sun. And yet, at the same time, two wings of shadow hovered above you. You will bring either great glory or destruction to our state, Filia, and I wonder if even the gods have decided which yet."
Miranda blinked. "I'm sorry...all of this is because of your dreams?"
"Don't talk like that!" Hyllia spat. "Princess Romana's dreams are never wrong!"
Romana held up one hand. "Peace, Hyllia."
"Insolent as she is, the girl speaks truth," Junia said, leaning forwards a little. "Her Highness has the sight, as 'tis said Lartha did of old. Since then it is not unheard of for those of the blood to see things that are yet to come."
"Look at her hair, Filia Miranda," Harmonia said. "Look into Her Highness' eyes. Then look at her brothers. Is it not plain to see that the line of princes has bred true in her, as it has not in so many generations? With Lartha's Sight and Aegea's vision she will led us to great things, if she is allowed."
Or at least she will lead your famillies to greater power and influence. I doubt if much beyond that concerns you, Miranda thought sourly.
"A week before my father's final illness I dreamt of an old wolf, Filia," Romana said, her voice trembling. "An old wolf lying on a bed, swollen with sickness, eyes rheumy, breath wheezing. And around his bed I saw the other wolves gather, with hungry looks in their eyes, eager to devour him. And I saw a dappled unicorn run from the old wolf's bedside with a lioness by his side. A week later my father took to his bed, and within a month he had perished and my brother Jason fled the city in the company of the mage of the Black.
"More recently I dreamt of a city by a river, surrounded by a field of roses red as blood. Roses with sharp thorns like knives or spearpoints, thorns reaching out to choke that city and all within it.
"But in my dream, I saw the gates of the city burst open and a great black bull charged out into the field, trampling the roses wherever he trod. And after him came a serpent, a sea snake and that same lioness and the dappled unicorn that I saw in my earlier dream. They all charged out and they all trampled the roses, until a host of wolves came out of the north and swallowed every last flower that bloomed beyond the city walls. It was only a few days ago that word reached me of events in Corona: the rebel group calling itself the Crimson Rose laid siege to the provincial capital of Davidheyr, but found it defended by a small group of extraordinary individuals who rallied the people and defended the town until the Thirty Fifth Legion arrived to put the rebel forces to flight. Among those people was my father's natural son, Jason, and his mage bodyguard." She smiled. "I believe your brother was among them also."
"Michael?" Miranda asked. "How could you possibly know that?"
"Because amongst those poor children of the Empress now sheltering from the destruction of their homes were a hundred or so folk of the town of Lover's Rock, who told of how the gladiator Michael Sebastian Callistus Dolabella ban Ezekiel had escorted them along the road."
"But when I found him he was in Deucalia," Octavia said. She flushed a little and bowed her head. "I'm sorry, your highness."
"Quite all right, Filia, I believe you," Princess Romana said. "It can only be that he and his companions crossed in Deucalia for some purpose of which I am ignorant. Tell me, Filia Miranda, of all the creatures in my dream which would you say fit your brother best? The unicorn and the lioness are spoken for, so it will be either bull, serpent or sea snake."
"The black bull," Miranda said without hesitation. "The bull is the old symbol of Corona, if I remember right, and Michael does call himself the Last Firstborn of Old Corona. Neither snake nor sea snake fits him so well."
"I see," Romana murmured. "I...am very sorry to hear that, Filia."
"Why?" Miranda demanded. "What else do you know?"
"Two nights ago I had another dream," Romana said, sounding more reluctant this time. "The black bull, the same as before...dead, pierced through the heart."
Miranda's eyes widened. She felt as if, had she not already been sitting down, she might have fallen over. "No," she said. "No, it cannot be true."
"My dreams never lie, Filia," Romana said quietly.
"But they are just dreams," Miranda said fiercely. "They mean nothing, they portend nothing. I refuse to believe that my brother is dead just because you ate cheese before bedtime. You...I..." she climbed to her feet, blinking back the tears that threatened to spring from her eyes. You damned fool. All that time spent watching you in the arena, rushing to your side, healing your wounds, and your going to go and get yourself killed far away where I can't reach you. You damned fool.
What would mother say, to see both her sons perish so before their time?
"You have our condolences, Filia Miranda," Elylyona murmured.
"I don't need to be consoled over something that is a lot of nonsense," Miranda snapped.
Octavia approached, her expression soft and compassionate, and put her hands upon Miranda's arms. "Do you want me to go back to Deucalia. I could try and warn Michael..."
"No," Miranda shook her head. "There's....there's really no need. I don't believe in dreams, or fortune telling." She wiped one eye as quickly as she could. And if it is true, what the princess says, then it is already too late. All that you could do is put yourself in danger, and I cannot lose you too.
"Ahem."
Miranda blinked, and wiped her eyes again, to see another little girl standing at the fringe of the garden square, surveying all within with an air of smug superiority. She looked to be about the same age as Hyllia, but where the princess' cupbearer had an ill-favoured face, with a square-ish jaw and jutting ears, this new girl - while much too young for any but the vilest to have any thoughts pertaining in that direction - gave every sign that she would blossom into a rare beauty one day. Already she was blessed with hair of gold and eyes of sapphire, and a very small nose with a slight upturn of the kind that Miranda found rather delightful.
What was less delightful was the unmistakeable air of entitlement that she wore as plainly as she wore her white dress - trimmed with golden thread - and her grey cape.
"Prince Antiochus says that you're to stop keeping Miranda prisoner here and bring her to him at once," she declared primly. "He's waiting. And Miranda: stop dawdling and hurry up."
"Filia Miranda would be the courteous address," Junia said.
The girl sniffed. "I don't need to courteous to her. My father-"
"Should think himself lucky that the Empire did not decide to conquer his wretched little island centuries ago," Junia said sharply. "Certainly he is not so mighty that you may brandish his name like a sword and lord it in the palace of Emperors."
The girl gave a loud harrumph, and pointedly turned her eyes away from Junia Livius. "Anyway, you're both to come at once. You're commanded, so get a move on."
"Don't you dare talk to Princess Romana like that!" Hyllia shouted. "You should bow before her, and call her Your Highness."
"Who are you to talk to me like that?" the girl demanded. "I'm Aula of Arginusa, and my father rules the whole island. You're just some pleb who doesn't even have a name."
"I do too!" Hyllia yelled, shaking her fist in Aula's direction. "My name's Hyllia of the Subura and if you talk to me or the princess like that again I'll kick your teeth in!"
"Hyllia," Romana said in a tone of reproach. "A lady never threatens violence when she can demolish by verbal insult instead."
"Sorry, princess."
"That said," Princess Romana murmured as she turned her gaze on Aula of Arginusa. "If you ever speak to a member of my household in that tone again, young lady, then I shall have you beaten, and a fig for your father. Do I ma
ke myself clear?"
"You wouldn't-"
"Sergeant Oraka!"
"Yes, yes, I understand," Aula yelped.
"Then run along and tell Antiochus that I shall bring Filia Miranda by shortly. Go, and pay more attention to your geography lessons in future."
"My geography lessons?"
"You appear to have misplaced your manners somewhere, perhaps map reading will help you to locate them again. Besides, you seem to need reminding of the size of Arginia compared to the span of Aegea's dominion. Off you go."
Aula ran off.
"Little brat," Junia said. "I'd like to put her over my knee."
"You are just sore that your ancestor was defeated outside the walls of Arginusa," Harmonia said.
"He was not defeated," Junia replied primly. "He was ordered to break off the siege before he could finish it. That is quite different."
"Are you quite composed, Filia Miranda?" Romana asked. "Are you ready to proceed?"
"Yes, yes, I'm fine," Miranda said quickly. "Why should I be troubled at all. I do not believe a word that you have said."
Romana smiled kindly, although her smile was marred somewhat by the touch of pity that Miranda detected there. She and Octavia led her down the garden path, leaving her household and her guards behind.
"Captain Thrakes, one hundred yards distance, and be discreet, for the sake of Princess Consort Portia," the princess instructed.
"Yes, Highness."
"Hestius," Princess Romana commanded. "Stay close."
One of the big, rough-looking men bowed at the waist. "Of course, your highness. We obey." Nevertheless Miranda did not see them follow.
Michael is not dead, she told herself as she followed where Romana led. He will not die. But in her mind she heard another voice, that of Princess Romana, My dreams never lie, Filia.
Desperate for anything, even the most inane conversation, to take her mind off the image of Michael lying dead in some far off field, pierced by a blade, Miranda forced herself to speak. "Your cupbearer is certainly...she is quite..."
"A rough diamond?" Romana suggested.
"Yes," Miranda said. "Yes, why not? And she is from the subura; isn't that a slum?"
Romana nodded. "She tried to rob me at last year's Prince's Laurel at the Grand Circus. My guards caught her, of course, and I had no coin on me at any rate, but I was impressed by her courage. I could have had her hanged, but I decided to make something of her instead."
"You took her in?"
"It is my sincere hope that one day her descendants will command legions and govern provinces in the Empress' name," Romana said. "Who knows, one day her blood may sit in the Patricians' College alongside the lords Livius, Rutulus and Salinator."
"You have more old names in your train than your brother does, if I have it correctly," Miranda said.
Princess Romana nodded. "Livius, Rutulus, Salinator, Lacus, some of the oldest and most noble famillies in the Empire are behind me, percieving as I do that we must return to the customs of our ancestors if we are to survive. Antiochus draws his support from amongst the equestrians, promising them wealth, status, a greater share in the government. Of the powerful equestrian famillies only Vespasia's family are with me."
"But you have the nobility."
"Some of it, Filia," Romana said. "As many patrician famillies follow the Lord Commenae's lead, and he is no friend to me. And there are other factions: the Red, the Green, the Yellow. If I had the entire Patricians' College behind me then Antiochus could not stand against me. As things stand it is all I can do to match his influence."
Romana brought her to the same place where Miranda had last met Portia. The Empress was there again, looking as beautiful as ever, with her long, luscious golden hair practically shining in the sunlight passing through the leaves of the trees, which made her skin look pure as silk.
On her left hand side sat Prince Antiochus, his brow creased with impatience and his lips pursed in an irritated pout. On Portia's right sat a man of roughly the same age, with the same dark hair worn in loose curls, clad in majestic purple robes. He held one of Portia's hands in his own, squeezing it gently, and Miranda guessed that he was Portia's husband and, hence, the Emperor Demodocus the Second himself. He did not look particularly imposing as a sovereign. Out of his robes he would, she thought, have looked quite ordinary. Doubtless that was how he had been able to disguise himself and win Portia's heart as a man, not as an Emperor. But, although Miranda could quite comprehend what had drawn him to the kind and beautiful Portia, she was less certain what Portia had first seen in him.
Don't be a shrew, Miranda, she thought to herself. There is more to men than their looks, and there is no need to bring everyone else down to your level of misery.
At the sight of Miranda, Portia beamed a delightful smile. She rose to her feet quickly. "Miranda!" The Emperor stood up to allow his wife to pass by him and to approach Miranda quickly, pulling her into a hug. "It's so wonderful to see you again. How are you?"
"I...I am fine, Portia, thank you," Miranda murmured.
Portia stepped backwards, reaching out to gently brush Miranda's cheek. "You've breen crying, what's the matter?"
Miranda shook her head. "It's nothing, Portia, really."
"If there is anything that we can do, Filia Miranda, you have but to ask," the Emperor said, coming to stand beside his wife. He glanced at Princess Romana. "Romana, have you been upsetting Portia's guest."
"I have told her the truth," Romana said softly. "It is sometimes upsetting, as you know as well as anyone."
The Emperor's face reddened a little, but Prince Antiochus simply laughed and clapped his hands together like a child. "What has she been saying now, Filia? What have you been so foolish as to take in earnest? Everyone who comes into contact with our sweet Romana should be given a warning out of courtesy: she lies. She should wear a sign around her neck proclaiming her a liar." He rose to his feet. "What was it this time, sister?"
"My dreams," Romana said. "They touched upon Filia Mirnada's family."
"Your dreams," the Emperor scoffed. "My good brother is right, Filia, you should not trust one word in ten to spring from Romana's mouth, especially not when those words concern her powers of foresight. She makes them up to gain attention, though it is a game she should have grown out of by now."
"They laughed at Aegea as well, once," Princess Romana said, calmly and with great dignity. "In Eudameia they scoffed at the Empress of All of Nothing, and called her an overgrown child who thought that playing with her soldiers prepared her to make real war. They did not laugh after she burned Eudameia to the ground."
"I fear, Your Highness, that if you did turn out to be lying I should be quite glad of it," Miranda said quietly.
"Romana," the Emperor said sternly. "For the kinship that we share I have, for the longest time, indulged you in your antics: your politicking, your intrigues, your lies, your vanity, your self-aggrandisement, your Empress worship. I have turned a blind eye to the way that you make little of me, insult my wife, attack Antiochus in public. I will not turn a blind eye forever. You go too far."
"Really?" Romana murmured. "I scarce think I go far enough."
"Poor little sister," Antiochus said. "How it must gall you to be the youngest of us, and to see all that you desire so close and yet out of your reach."
"Not as much as it galls you, self-evidently, or I should have gone crawling to Pater Quirian in your stead."
"Romana!" the Emperor snapped. "That is enough."
Romana bowed her head. "As His Majesty pleases."
The Emperor turned his attention to Miranda, a fond smile passing across his face. "Whatever my sister has told you, Filia, put it from your mind. Her words have no power save the power to disturb, and there is no more of the future in them then there is in the fall of a sparrow."
Miranda's lip twitched upwards. She would call herself fond of the way in which the two brothers spoke to Princess Romana but, freed from the princess'
complete certainty and the devotion of her followers, she found it easier to let her fears melt away like a shadow withering under the gaze of the sun. "Thank you, Your Majesty, I feel better already."
"Demodocus always knows just what to say, don't you darling?" Portia said with a bright smile.
"I try, my dear," the Emperor said. He took Miranda's hand and kissed it. "Filia, it is my pleasure to make your acquaintance."
Miranda bowed. "I am humbled by your presence, your majesty."
"Oh, don't be humbled, everyone around me is humbled, I would rather you be honest," the Emperor said. "And, since you apparently feel free to call my dear wife by her name in private, you may do the same with me. I shall call you Miranda, and you shall call me Demodocus."
Princess Romana sighed loudly.
"If you are feeling unwell, sister, perhaps you should retire and summon a physician," Demodocus suggested sharply.
"I will treat your brotherly concern for my wellbeing with the utmost seriousness," Romana replied.
"Please don't fight," Portia said. "You know that I don't like it."
"What a pity, I think it's terrific fun," Antiochus said. "But then, I suppose we can't expect someone as tenderhearted as you to understand such things, can we?"
Miranda frowned a little at that, it sounded a little too like an insult for her liking.
Portia did not seem to notice. Instead she looked to Octavia, "And who is this?"
Octavia made a clumsy curtsy, "My name is Octavia, your majesty. Octavia Volucris."
"It's a delight to meet you, and please call me Portia," Portia said. "Are you Miranda's friend?"
Miranda reached out and took Octavia's hand. "We are lovers, Portia."
Portia looked confused for a moment before her face lit up. "Really? Oh how lovely. It is the most magical thing in the world to be in the love, don't you think?"
Octavia smiled. "Yes it is."
Portia smiled fondly. "Please, sit down, everyone, there's no need for us all to be standing like this.
They sat down around the table. Prince Antiochus lounged on his chair, a sharp contrast to the stiff, uncomfortable posture of Princess Romana. Demodocus avoided looking at his sister, instead focussing his attention upon Portia, whose smile was tinged with a touch of nervousness.
Spirit of the Sword: Pride and Fury (The First Sword Chronicles Book 1) Page 57