Vengeance of Hope

by P J Berman

  One of the Divisiomen sniggered, catching the attention of Gasbron and Silrith alike. Silrith caught the eye of the guilty Divisioman, a woman in her thirties, who dropped her gaze but continued smiling.

  ‘Have I said something funny?’ she asked with a withering glare. Anger flared within her, but quickly she swatted the thought from her mind. There were more important things to deal with.

  ‘Come,’ she said to Gasbron as she turned to leave.

  ‘Corpralis Candoc, you take the demonstration from here,’ Gasbron said to his subordinate, before following Silrith.

  ‘What do you require of me, my Queen?’ Gasbron enquired as they walked through the claustrophobic streets of the inner ward.

  ‘I need you to train me to fight with a sword, shield and spear,’ she said without dropping her pace. ‘I am able enough when it comes to the use of a bow and arrow, but that is hardly the weapon of a leader. I have had some training the techniques of swordplay, as you yourself have seen, but given the situation, I feel that what I can currently achieve needs some refining.’

  Gasbron looked taken aback, apparently unsure whether to take her seriously or not.

  ‘My Queen, won’t your uncle, the Lord Yathrud, be leading the army?’

  Silrith stopped in her tracks and rounded on Gasbron.

  ‘I will lead my own troops. Of course, I will use my uncle’s experience and advice to my advantage, but how can I expect my troops to fight and die for my cause if I do not? You think I’d be a better leader if I cowered in my rooms like a frightened child, instead of taking control of my own destiny? Is that the kind of ruler you’d rather serve?’

  She fixed her eyes on his, tight-lipped, almost daring him to answer, but evidently he wasn’t that stupid.

  ‘Now, that is where I find myself in requirement of you,’ she continued in a lighter tone, pleased that her words appeared to have hit home. Gasbron pursed his lips awkwardly as he thought about his response.

  ‘My Queen, I’m afraid it’s not as simple as-’

  ‘-So you’re not up to it then?’ Silrith interrupted, angry that she hadn’t already made her point as clearly as she thought she had. ‘I thought turning novices into professional soldiers was your bread and butter when not on campaign. What I am asking of you is less than that. Now I’m sure you were selected as this province’s Chief Invicturion because of your particular talent in that area, or was that a mistake? Is this attitude that you show me now just a lack of commitment? This wouldn’t be a time to be on a charge for insubordination now would it?’

  ‘I saved your life,’ Gasbron exclaimed.

  ‘You were instructed to,’ Silrith countered. ‘Do not think that I believe that you have any feeling towards me. Now, you will do as I command.’

  Gasbron sighed.

  ‘I will obey your orders, my Queen,’ he said.

  ‘Good. Now take me to the armoury. We start immediately.’ She turned and they started walking again. She would share in any hardships endured by her troops. She would show her love for her people by leading by example. She cared less for whether or not she was loved. She simply needed them to see that her purpose in life was to protect the helpless. In any case, she would need their loyalty when her secret came out, which it had to eventually. There was no way around it. People would find out one way or another, but if this happened at the wrong time, many people would die and the thought of that sickened Silrith.

  ‘Of course, my Queen,’ Gasbron said. ‘I’m sure I can find you some appropriate weapons, though a suit of armour will not be possible. You see, they are made to fit the wearer and they take some weeks to make.’

  ‘I’ve already thought of that,’ Silrith said, the smile returning to her face. ‘Earlier today I had a servant find me some padded armour, chain mail and boots that fit well. Now I just need some form of supplementary armour and of course some weapons.’

  For some reason, Gasbron had a slightly awkward and rather embarrassed expression on his face. Silrith looked at him, confused.

  ‘Speak,’ she said.

  ‘Well, wouldn’t trying the armour for size be a problem, my Queen?’ He asked carefully, looking again at what she was wearing.

  ‘Why?’ Silrith rolled her eyes and grinned wryly as she caught his meaning. ‘I have set aside somewhere where I can change discreetly Gasbron. You will just have to wait outside while I do so,’ she said, trying to keep the exasperation out of her tone.

  THE FIELDS OUTSIDE FAEN TIRA, ASRANTICA, BENNVIKA

  The camp of Jostan’s army sprawled across the lush green fields to the south of the city of Faen Tira. The daffodils were out, birds sang and the morale of the troops was sky high as they basked in the sunshine under which they had met with the reinforcements supplied by Lord Feddilyn Rintta. Tomorrow they would march again and in the coming days, they would meet with the further reinforcements led by Lord Lektik Haganwold and Lord Aeoflynn Tanskeld.

  Jithrae, however, was feeling no such confidence. After all, he had joined the army specifically so that he could attempt to find Vaezona. There had been little chance of that so far. He knew that wherever Vinnitar was, there was a chance that Vaezona might be there also, but as he was not a professional soldier, Jithrae had to join the militia, where he served as a spearman.

  This meant that his tent would have to be far away from those of the Divisiomen. To be caught snooping around the officers’ quarters in the gloom of the night was to risk being cut down by an over-exuberant guard who took you for an enemy. Equally, it was impossible simply to drop out of line while on the march to look for her among the camp followers, because aimlessly searching the baggage train for a familiar face would be like looking for a needle in a haystack. Anyway, he decided, some uncouth mercenary would probably spot him straight away and whip him back into line before he’d dropped back ten paces.

  This day of rest, however, presented him with an opportunity. Because of the number of refugees who had been coming into Kriganheim and because it was already a great trading city full of people who originally hailed from elsewhere, it had been possible to sign up for units from any part of the Kingdom. Being an Asrantican, Jithrae had joined a unit assigned to his home province, whom he had joined up with when Feddilyn’s army had met and merged with the main force.

  Joining an Asrantican unit meant that it would be easier to find Vinnitar and, hopefully, Vaezona too. As he approached the cordoned off camp, whose flags depicted the black and white trident, the standard of the Rintta family, he headed straight for the nearest sentry, carrying his spear in his right hand and his large round shield in his left.

  ‘Alright son,’ he said casually to the sentry, before realising it was most certainly a mathematical possibility when he saw the boyish face that looked back at him. ‘It’s midday. End of your patrol, mate. Go get some rest.’

  ‘Cheers mate,’ the sentry replied gratefully as he relinquished his position to Jithrae and sauntered off.

  That was easy, Jithrae thought to himself as he attempted to look casual yet vigilant in the way that good sentries always seem to manage. There was a fair amount of activity in the cordoned off area. Many soldiers were present, but also others such as clerks, cooks, horse groomers and, most significantly, servants. Every so often Jithrae would spot a dark-haired girl whom he hadn’t seen previously and his heart would leap, only for him to realise it wasn’t Vaezona. After what had seemed like an age he was starting to give up.

  That was when he spotted a group of Divisiomen who had gathered around a table outside one of the larger tents. They wore their armour, but their heads were bare and they tucked into huge lumps of meat, bread and cheese while laughing loudly and telling lewd jokes and stories. The sight of the food reminded Jithrae of his own hunger. Subconsciously he licked his lips. Maybe he’d get some hot stew when he got back to his comrades, but then again maybe he wouldn’t. Suddenly he recognised one of the voices, causing him to focus more closely on the men for a moment. Vinnitar!

&
nbsp; Transfixed, Jithrae didn’t realise he’d stopped.

  ‘Oi! What’re you looking at?’

  Shit! Jithrae silently cursed to himself.

  ‘Want some food do you? Here, have some,’ Vinnitar picked up a lump of cheese, which he deliberately threw so lightly that it landed on the grass just out of Jithrae’s reach. The Divisiomen howled with mocking laughter at Jithrae’s longing expression. Once he realised he was doing it he hastily turned to carry on his patrol. He would have to try again at night, whatever the risk.

  ‘Oi! I know you.’

  That got Jithrae’s attention. He hesitated momentarily, then started moving again in the hope that Vinnitar would lose interest and let him go.

  ‘Hey! Don’t you walk away from me.’

  Jithrae halted, briefly closed his eyes, took a deep breath and turned to face Vinnitar. The Chief Invicturion was on his feet now, standing close to the fence, with all the humour gone from his face, though he smiled slyly.

  ‘Yes, it is you! How’re you doing Jithrae? Are you looking for daddy’s little girl?’ Vinnitar exclaimed derisively, clearly taking much pleasure in Jithrae’s discomfort. He turned back to the other soldiers.

  ‘Hey boys, this is Vaezona’s daddy.’ He grinned like a child. ‘We all enjoyed a bit of Vaezona, didn’t we boys?’

  Immediately the whole group of Divisiomen got to their feet and made animalistic noises, thrusting their hips as if humping the air. Vinnitar turned back to Jithrae.

  ‘Moaned like a fucking whore, she did,’ he whispered in Jithrae’s ear, before withdrawing to watch the anger boil up in Jithrae’s face. ‘You won’t find her here now though. The King’s taken a shine to her.’ A surprisingly rueful expression flicked across his face, but then it was gone. ‘A shame. She was a lot of fun,’ he added with a sneer.

  Jithrae felt as if he could run Vinnitar through there and then, but he knew the penalty for such an act and to leave Vaezona fatherless would be no help at all to her in her current situation. He turned to carry on his patrol, ignoring the jeers coming from behind him. He didn’t know whether or not to believe Vinnitar, but the idea of the King noticing Vaezona and having her become his own servant was perfectly conceivable.

  Kings had done that many times in the past when visiting nobles and anyway, Vaezona was sixteen now and had grown into an attractive young woman. Revealing that information could have been a momentary slip by Vinnitar, but on the other hand, from what he knew of the man, Jithrae was sure that Vinnitar was just the type to throw in a red herring such as this. Either way, he had to see if it was true.

  Chapter 9

  Jithrae had some idea of where the King’s command tent was likely to be, as he had previously seen part of the royal complex, but then again it was hard to miss. As could be expected, it was right at the centre of the camp and was full of brightly coloured tents, each flying the banners of various noble houses, including the families of the Governors, who also had more tents pitched closer to their respective Divisios and provincial militias.

  Given that the ruling monarch also held the title of Governor of Kriganheim, the Divisios of the royal province were also present and as Jithrae approached, he saw that this area, cordoned off just as the other noble areas had been, was guarded by a pair of Divisiomen, rather than militia. No chance of posing as a guard then.

  The two before him had no shields and their helmets lacked the transverse black and white crest he had seen on Vinnitar’s helm when he had come to Jithrae’s home on that fateful day. They did, however, clutch spears, ready to block the path of anyone who tried to enter without permission.

  Given his lack of success thus far, Jithrae decided a more direct approach might be in order. As he nervously approached the two guards who stood at the entrance, he reminded himself he had nothing to hide, so what could he be afraid of?

  ‘Err...g-good day sirs,’ he said, attempting to sound a little more educated than he was. ‘There, err, there appears to have been-,’

  ‘-What?’ one of the guards grunted, attempting to intimidate Jithrae further.

  ‘Oh, well, there appears to have been some kind of mistake. A sort of mix up, you see.’

  ‘Really?’ The Divisioman’s interest looked almost genuine.

  ‘Yes, um, my daughter, she was travelling with me, you see, err, with the camp followers. She was supposed to find me when we stopped to set up camp, but she hasn’t, a-and I believe she may be here.’

  The guards looked at each other, then laughed.

  ‘You think we’re going to let you in here with that story? Your daughter is lost so you come straight to the royal enclosure to look for her?’

  ‘But, but what if I left my weapons here? Go on, search me.’

  ‘Oh yes, you can go in if we do that.’

  ‘Really?’

  ‘No. Sod off.’

  Jithrae cursed to himself as he walked away. That was when he spotted a small hillock off to his left, topped with a few trees and these led to a larger wood that marked the edge of the camp. Crucially though, the hillock overlooked the royal enclosure. He began walking purposefully towards it. He wondered if he’d be able to spot Vaezona from there. Just then though, he caught sight of another Divisioman who, as Jithrae watched, reached the crest of the hillock and continued his patrol in Jithrae’s direction. Wondering what he could try next, Jithrae watched the man, who didn’t seem to have noticed him, as he was still some way off.

  He paused, wondering how to get in. He withdrew a little when the third guard came past, telling Jithrae to keep away, but he still hung around wondering what to do. Then he noticed a dark-haired teenage girl some meters away on the other side of the fence, standing with her back to him, hanging bed linen on a line. She wore a nicely made yellow dress of the kind that, had it not been for the activity in which she was currently engaged, would have made it hard to tell whether she was a member of a relatively rich family or the servant of the ultra-rich, as Vaezona would surely be if she were here. Below that, she wore white under-trousers that protruded from below the dress’ hem. As she worked, he squinted to make out her features. She must have felt his eyes on her, as she turned to look over her shoulder.

  ‘Father?’

  Damn! That wasn’t Vaezona. His blood ran cold as he realised that although her eyes were on him, she was addressing one of the guards. Divisiomen earned a good wage and lived well, with such a lifestyle allowing their families to join them in the closed-off quarters reserved for them and their noble masters. Quickly he tried to get away while looking nonchalant, but it was no use.

  ‘What is it Nazarae?’ he heard the guard say.

  ‘That man. Over there. He keeps looking at me.’

  ‘Oi, You!’ the guard called to Jithrae, who gave a fearful intake of breath before turning to face his aggressor. ‘I thought I told you to piss off!’

  ‘Well, I,’ Jithrae had no chance to say any more. The guard marched forward and grabbed him by the collar, knocking off his helmet in the process. Jithrae reached out for it, causing him to drop his shield, much to the amusement of the second guard. In stark contrast, the girl’s face was deadly serious.

  ‘Havin’ a look-see at my daughter were ya?’ said the first guard. He paused, with a thoughtful expression on his face, as if he were trying to form an intelligent idea using less than adequate reserves of brain matter. Clearly his wages as a professional soldier were not in proportion to his intellect. Even Jithrae could see that. After a moment the man gave a toothy grin, having clearly thought of a way to exact his revenge on Jithrae for his alleged leering.

  ‘Come on soldier, let’s see what the King makes of peasants who stand around trying to get into his private enclosure.’

  The guard ripped the spear out of Jithrae’s hand and threw it to the floor, before half dragging him through the entrance, laughing to himself in his deep, gruff voice. After what seemed like an age, they came to a large tent, decorated in the silver and blue of the House of Kazabrus. Three
flags flew from the top, each depicting the silver Kazabrus eagle on a blue background. Below, there was a large section of the front that was folded outwards making it possible to see inside.

  As they entered, Jithrae was thrown to the floor roughly. Trembling, he looked up to see a number of eminent people who had clearly been discussing whatever the document on the table in the middle of the tent was and whose eyes now all fell upon him. He did not know who some of these people were, but soon worked it out.

  The broad, dark-haired young man dressed in white robes was clearly the new King. He wore jewels of every colour on his fingers, with sapphires hanging from his earlobes and a golden chain that hung low on his chest. Jithrae did not know the name of either of the men in armour next to the King but was struck by the jet black armour plates that one of them wore. He had a square, scarred face and short hair and the sculpted helmet under his arm had just a single horizontal slit for his eyes. The other armoured man was of the Divisios and the black and white transverse crest on his open-faced helmet with its low cheek plates and nasal guard marked him out as a Chief Invicturion, just like Vinnitar, though it wasn’t him. The only one whose identity he knew for certain was Lord Feddilyn Rintta, who was dressed in green today. He’d seen the Governor of Asrantica once riding on horseback through the streets of Faen Tira when Jithrae had visited the city. The Governor must have been on his way to some banquet or another, apparently attempting a look of consummate serenity while ignoring the jeers of his people as he passed. Yet now his beady eyes looked down his long nose at the man before him.

  On the far left, in the background, reclining on a couch and looking distinctly bored, was Dowager Queen Accutina, presumably. She was being fanned by a servant girl in a pretty, knee-length, dress-like tunic and under trousers; all made of silk as white as a dove. The outfit’s relative simplicity emphasised the copious amounts of material that had gone into Accutina’s purple garment.

  Just for a moment, the servant girl raised her eyes, Vaezona’s eyes. Jithrae’s heart leapt with such intensity that he had to stop himself from crying out. He could see in her eyes that the feeling was reciprocal until the moment was lost as Accutina yanked Vaezona’s arm forward. Simply instructing Vaezona to wave the fan slightly closer apparently never occurred to her.