by P J Berman
‘Unfortunately for you and the Princess, while we have been up here, her maid has been under interrogation. Now we have a confession. One that specifically implicates the Princess. Interesting. Especially given that, as everyone knows, a Lady’s maid knows her mistress like nobody else. Are you prepared to dispute that? People might start to ask questions why.’
Hoban was silent.
Silrith was sure Jostan must be bluffing. Surely it would be impossible to get a confession so quickly, even under torture? But then she doubted these Lords would believe that a maid could last long under questioning. She looked at Hoban imploringly, but something in his eyes said that there was nothing more he could do and his gaze fell.
‘It would not do well for any of you to stand against me. I can tell you with the gravest certainty that if word of any divisions within this country reaches Verusantium, the Emperor will not hesitate to invade,’ Jostan cautioned. ‘Join me and you protect Bennvika from that fate. You’ve all been under the Princess’ spell. Break it. Do not be lulled into thinking well of her. Now, guards, take her away.’
‘I am the rightful Queen!’ Silrith called, fighting to break free. ‘Jostan is the murderer. Can’t you see? Can’t you see?’
But it was no use. The large double doors closed behind them and Silrith heard no more from inside her father’s bedchamber. She fought to free herself from the grip of the guards, but seemingly to no avail, until a slight slip. It was all she needed. Ripping her arm free from one guard, she kicked him between the legs, a weak spot despite his armour, before sinking her teeth into the hand of the other. He cursed loudly, but his grip loosened just enough and Silrith ran for her life. The guards gave chase, though of course one of them could barely run and the weight of their armour gave Silrith a crucial advantage. Silrith ran down the huge staircase into the hall at the bottom. Fortunately, they’d only been one floor up.
‘Guards. Guards,’ shouted Jostan, who had come out on to the upper gallery and just moments later from somewhere a trumpet blew a single note.
‘Your Grace.’ One of King Lissoll’s royal guards ran towards Silrith, wearing full armour from neck to knee and a helmet with a black and white transverse horsehair crest, followed by two Bennvikan soldiers.
‘Nalfran. Help me. Kill those men,’ Silrith said desperately.
‘Yes, your Grace. Now run. Run for your life.’
Unarmed as she was, she didn’t argue. To the clanging sounds of blade on blade, she sprinted through the nearest doorway, almost flying down the corridor and charged through an archway into one of the palace’s many lounges.
The trumpet must have been a call to more of Jostan’s guards, as at least five, also in their black armour, appeared through the door at the other end of the room. Seeing her way blocked, she opened a window and was just hauling herself up on to the windowsill when a guard caught up and grabbed her leg. More men arrived and between them they overpowered her, wrestling her off the ledge despite her tenacious grip and bringing her crashing down to the floor.
Silrith kicked and flailed wildly as the men tried to hold her down until one stood above her. He took out his sword, turned it around, then raised it above his head before bringing the pommel down hard and Silrith’s world went dark.
The next thing Silrith was aware of was being shaken with a strong and ungraceful grip.
‘Silrith?’
She knew that voice. She opened her eyes quickly but was forced to shut them again as she felt a thwacking pain coursing through her head. She forced her eyelids open a second time. In the dim light, she saw a man’s face, quite close, yet his features were still a blur.
Blinking, she saw a pale complexion, curly red hair, an unruly beard and a flamboyant yellow flat hat with a white feather.
‘Silrith, are you alright?’
‘Oprion. Why are you here?’ She smiled as she recognised her childhood friend, who was now the Governor of Hazgorata and Bennvika’s wealthiest Lord. Then she looked around at the stone walls, the metal door, the small barred window and the burnt-out brazier on the wall. Lord Oprion looked most out of place here in his bright yellow tunic.
‘And why am I in this cell?’ she added. But after a moment it all came flooding back.
‘Cell? This is rather pleasant as cells go. Count yourself lucky you’ve got strong walls around you and not just a few bars to separate you from the poor wretches either side.’
‘It’s not the time for jokes. Why are you here? Why weren’t you present yesterday?’
‘I was delayed on the road. But now that I’m here, I want to help you. I paid off the guard, but we still don’t have that much time. I need to know what’s going on. How in the name of the Gods did you end up getting yourself arrested? There has to be more to it than I’ve been led to believe.’
‘And I think I can guess what they told you,’ Silrith said. ‘It was such a shock. My father was taken ill. It was so sudden. Then the physician said it was poison and that evil bastard Jostan accused me of committing the crime. Me! For the death of my own father.’
‘That’s ridiculous. I never saw a father and daughter so close.’
Silrith awkwardly pulled herself up to stand and Oprion backed away slightly to give her some space as she did.
‘I don’t know what I’m going to do without him,’ she said, shaking her head. She desperately wanted to grieve properly, but knew that this would only make her look weak and defeated.
‘How am I going to get out of here? And what of Invicturion Nalfran?’ Silrith said.
‘I believe the good Invicturion and his soldiers were put to the sword by Jostan’s guards,’ Oprion said in a wry tone, confirming Silrith’s suspicions. Silrith felt a stinging pang of guilt for those who had given their lives for her in vain.
‘But don’t worry,’ Oprion continued. ‘You can still get out of this. I’ll back your cause at the trial. I can pay off whoever we need to back us.’
‘Oh don’t be so stupid,’ said Silrith, turning on him. ‘I would assume that Jostan has taken the throne for himself, has he?’
‘Yes. Your father didn’t name a Lord Protector for the coming child, so Jostan was free to pursue his own claim. He’s even started using the royal ‘we’.’
Silrith nodded slowly. ‘Well, in that case, there won’t be a trial. He is a legendary orator. He exudes authority as I’m sure you’ve seen by now. All he has to do is make a convincing speech to the Congressate to get them to accept him as King. After that, they’ll let him do what he likes to me and there will be nothing you and your money can do to stop him.’
‘I doubt that.’
‘Are you sure? You may be the richest man in Bennvika, but Jostan isn’t from Bennvika is he? Have you seen Verusantium? Go to his residence in Bruskannia and you’ll find a province rich enough to put any independent Kingdom outside the Empire to shame. I appreciate the offer, but money won’t work. You’ll simply be outbid.’
‘So what do you suggest?’ Oprion asked.
Silrith began to pace around the room, trying to look in control while Oprion stood watching.
‘Military action is the only option left if I am to avoid exile or execution. If you can get me out of here and over to Hazgorata, I will lead your army here to take on Jostan myself. I may not be as silver-tongued as him, but I can make up for it through leading by example. Those swordplay lessons you gave me can finally be put to good use.’
‘I’m not sure you’re quite ready for that yet though.’
‘And I have some knowledge of navy ships. That could be useful,’ she continued, ignoring him.
‘Silrith, this is suicide,’ Oprion implored.
‘I must protect Bennvika and take revenge for my father. It was Jostan who had him poisoned. I’m certain,’ she replied.
‘And what proof do you have?’
‘None. But what proof do I need?’ Silrith was starting to become annoyed now and she clenched her fists in an effort to maintain self-control. She could
feel the magnitude of her situation playing havoc with her emotions. ‘Don’t you think it’s a bit strange that it happens while he’s here, just as he’s in a prime position to take advantage of my father’s death?’
‘I can see that and I believe you, but only because I know you so well. There are many who don’t know you like I do and among them are a number of men who would rather be led by a man than by a woman. Arcane, I know, but there you have it. Anyway, what happened when you were with me in Hazgorata didn’t exactly do your reputation any good, did it?’
‘I did nothing that would have damaged my reputation if I’d been a man.’
‘Whatever the rumours say you did, you defied your father by coming to me and learning to fight. That much is true,’ Oprion pressed.
‘I didn’t. I simply acted without consulting him first. Why shouldn’t I learn how to fight? Surely you know me well enough to know that I am my own woman, Oprion? Either way, we must not be divided. Not now. As I said, our situation dictates that our response must be military. It is the only option left. You well know of the horrific scenes I witnessed when I went with my father to Verusantium all those years ago. The Emperor ordered his Lords to see that everyone who refused to worship the Verusantian God was publicly executed in the most despicable of ways. Jostan’s father almost took pleasure in the task and Jostan himself will be no different. Whatever he says now, he will not tolerate the worship of our Gods for long. He will force our people to convert to his religion and will slaughter any who refuse.’
Oprion looked unmoved and said nothing.
‘Come on Oprion, you must have some troops that you can send to help me escape from here? There must be a rebellion and it must start now, before he can gain a foothold.’
‘Silrith, I understand that you worry about what will happen to the plebeians-’
‘They are not plebeians, Oprion,’ said Silrith. ‘They are our people and they need me to protect them and I can’t do that if I am locked up in here.’
He shook his head.
‘It’s too risky.’
‘What sort of man are you? This is our country we are talking about.’ She was getting more and more animated now. ‘You know, it seems strange that you were content to teach me how to fight but are now so reluctant to do it for real.’
‘I cannot take up arms against the King.’
‘I thought you were stronger than this,’ she replied in exasperation, turning her back again. She picked up the bowl of stomach-churning slop that some guard had evidently left for her to eat.
‘Silrith, I’m sorry, but-’
‘Gods, are men not men anymore?’ she cried, hurling the bowl at him. He only just dodged it as it flew past and smashed down on the stone floor, but some of the contents spattered on to his opulent tunic. ‘There was a time when the idea that the Gods were on one’s side was enough to move anybody to stand up and fight, but oh no, not you. You would rather capitulate and save yourself, you coward.’
‘I understand your frustration with me. But I really think I can do a deal to get you out of this.’
‘Money won’t work. I told you that. You have to help me escape.’
‘I can’t. I must at least make it look as if I support him, which means that I can only give my support to you in ways that are legal. I have a family to protect now, Silrith. A wife and children.’
‘I seem to remember you were less interested in them before I was branded a traitor. ’
‘Don’t unearth painful memories, Silrith. I loved you, truly I did. If only it had been reflected.’
‘I did love you, said Silrith firmly. ‘All my life I loved you as a brother and if you cannot see the value in that form of love then that is a failing of yours, not mine. In any case, it matters little. I can now see from your unwillingness to help me that your love for yourself supersedes all, so you are undeserving of such affection.’
‘I must protect my family.’
Silrith shook her head in dismay.
‘But not your closest friend apparently. One day you’ll learn that sometimes money isn’t enough. Anyway, don’t you realise that sooner or later he will expect all his Lords to convert as well? Will you readily renounce Lomatteva and Vitrinnolf, the mother and father of this nation and instead turn to the worship of Estarron? You can be sure that under Jostan the worship of any other God will not be tolerated.’
‘Of course, I will renounce them and I will order the people of my province to do the same for their own safety. Silrith, I’ve never been a passionate worshipper any more than you have. Forget the old Gods. They have turned their backs on Bennvika, so Bennvika requires a strong new God to protect it. The people will see that in due course.’
‘People should be left to worship whichever deities they will, Oprion. It should never be forced on anyone. You must see this. We are fighting for our very identities here, our culture, our way of life. Aren’t you willing to commit to a side until you’re certain who will win? Well, look. I’m in a cell and he’s the new King. Why don’t you just join his side right away? It’s pretty clear to me that you’ve already made your choice. You have betrayed your people and betrayed your Gods. It is clear to me that you care little for your sin. But your betrayal of a life-long friend? That is the part that surprises me. Really, does everything we’ve been through over the years mean so little to you?’
Oprion didn’t answer. Silrith nodded. Heroes and heroines were people of strength and action, not of words and after all, words were the only weapons Oprion ever used in anger. He also wasn’t a man of compassion and this had always grated on Silrith. She, on the other hand, had never forgotten how lucky she had been to be born rich and was very aware of the responsibilities that came with her position.
‘Well, that’s it then,' she said. ‘I will be exiled or worse, the nation will burn and Bennvika as we know it will be gone forever. Exactly what did you come here to achieve Oprion?’
He looked at the floor.
‘I just had to see you. I thought I could help.’
‘Is that it? No witty retort? You surprise me. Another disappointment you’ve sent my way. You profess that you want to help me, but you’re not willing to take any risks. One day you’re going to have to grow up and do what is right for your people. For a moment I thought you might even have a plan. Now, get out.’
Silrith had never felt so let down in all her life. All she could do now was turn her mind to how she might be able to escape without help, but her thoughts were void of ideas.
Oprion turned to leave, but stopped just short of the door.
‘Well if that is all, I shall ride home to Hazgorata. It seems there is nothing more I can do here,’ he said, still with his back to her.
With that, he opened the door and in a moment, he was gone, leaving Silrith alone. Alone in her cell and alone in the world. Letting go of her emotions, she buried her head in her hands. What now? She knew she was just the first of many who would suffer under the wrath of Jostan’s regime. She had seen it first-hand, but no amount of retellings over the years had made Oprion realise its true severity. It was hard to see justice in the treatment of even the pettiest of criminals in Verusantium. In a land where much of the population were forced to steal in order to eat, thieves were punished by hanging, whereas a public whipping was deemed punishment enough in Bennvika. Yet it was their attitude to religion that had shocked Silrith so deeply. Religion was important in Bennvika, but this was something else entirely. Their treatment of anyone who didn’t convert to the worship of the Verusantian God, Estarron, was nothing short of ethnic cleansing.
All this Silrith had witnessed first-hand as a ten-year-old when she had accompanied her father on a state visit to Bruskannia, the Verusantian province that Jostan now governed. At the time though, the area was ruled by Silrith’s uncle, King Lissoll’s brother-in-law Dionius. Silrith’s family were visiting at the latter’s invitation. Queen Gidrassa and Prince Fabrald had also come and they had stayed in the provincial c
apital, Gorgreb, where they were the honoured guests of Dionius, his wife Turiskia, who was also half-sister to King Lissoll, as well as Dionius and Turiskia’s son, a seventeen-year-old Jostan.
The entire invitation was a propaganda exercise to try and scare her father into forcing the conversion of Bennvika to the worship of Estarron. As a convert from Bennvikanism to the Estarronic faith, Turiskia had taken the lead in this, bombarding her brother with reasons why Estarron was greater than both Vitrinnolf and Lomatteva combined. Lissoll had some good arguments of his own and the friendly debate between the four adults drifted easily between the two languages that were common to both couples. Bored by talk of religion, the young Silrith, along with Fabrald, who was twelve at that time, had gone off to explore. They had asked Jostan if he wanted to show them around, but he had sullenly refused.
Sitting in her cell and thinking back, Silrith envied the innocence of her own younger self. The debate between the adults had been of no interest to her then, yet it had also changed her life. The idea that it was nothing more than a bore was laughable now.
The next day, they had all ridden out into the city together. While viewing the many stunning buildings, Silrith had been shocked by the wretchedness of the poor compared to the rich, for in the shadow of these gold-plated spires and domes, people hurried to get away from the royal party and cowered in their shops and homes as they passed. In Kriganheim, Bennvika’s capital, there would be crowds of jubilant people pushing forward to try to see them, but it was clear that these people feared their masters.
She soon saw why. When they reached the city forum they found it was teeming with people, unlike the eerie streets, yet there were no market stalls here, as there were in Kriganheim; just a crowd of people, all looking at the wooden scaffold in front of them. Even at ten, Silrith knew what a scaffold was for. As she watched, a priest with a long, grey beard and spotless white robes walked on to the stage. To his side was an executioner, dressed all in black and carrying a short sword.
‘What is the meaning of this?’ her father had asked.