by P J Berman
‘Majesty,’ the guard said with a grunt, yet somehow sounding respectful. ‘I found this worm hangin’ about by the royal picket line havin’ a look at what’s goin’ on. Thought ya might wanna talk to him about what’s what.’
Jostan shrugged, striding out from behind the table.
‘Such eloquence as always, Etralbard,’ he sighed. ‘Thank you, but remember your salute next time. Forget it again and we might just take it as insubordination.’
‘Very sorry, your Majesty,’ the guard said. ‘It won’t happen again’. He quickly snapped his palm up to the side of his head, then stood to attention, but he still received a soldierly glare from the Chief Invicturion. Clearly, he was in for some harsh words later and he knew it.
‘Gormaris,’ said Jostan. ‘From now on I want one of your guards on duty at the gate at all times alongside the Divisiomen. Teach them some respect.’
‘Yes, your majesty,’ said the man in raven coloured armour.
‘So, Etralbard, you’re sure this man wasn’t on some duty or other?’ Jostan asked.
‘No he wasn’t, your Majesty. His spear had an Asrantican pennant. He shouldn’t have been anywhere near here.’
Jostan turned to Feddilyn.
‘One of your elite,’ he chided him ironically, causing both men to laugh dryly.
‘So, is this true, soldier? Were you spying on us?’ Jostan demanded accusingly, returning to his formal tone.
‘N-no, your Majesty! I was just passing-’
‘-So you were there then?’
‘Yes but-’
‘Why?’ Jostan asked with a mocking expression. Jithrae thought quickly. His heart was pounding so hard that he thought it might rip its way out of his chest. He didn’t dare draw attention to Vaezona.
‘Well,’ he began, under pressure. ‘I was hungry and, err, I saw this goat, you see, so, err, I followed it but then I lost it and I thought it must have got in here, Majesty.’
A tense silence fell. King Jostan, Lord Rintta, the Cheif Invicturion, the black armoured soldier, Queen Accutina and Vaezona all stared at him. Etralbard was still standing to attention, though having to bite his lip. Suddenly Jostan’s face creased into a laugh, automatically giving the others permission to do so. Vaezona’s face remained etched with pain at what she was seeing. With equal speed though, Jostan’s hysterical expression dropped into one of cold austerity.
‘Do not mock us, soldier. Take him away.’
‘Wait,’ Accutina blurted out, causing everyone to turn to her. She’d spotted the desperate, silent fear in Vaezona’s eyes and she surveyed the girl with a malevolent smile. ‘What’s your name girl? Vezinae isn’t it?’ she asked.
‘Vaezona, your Majesty,’ Vaezona responded, failing to meet Accutina’s gaze. Accutina sniggered callously.
‘Do you know this man?’ she said, gesturing towards Jithrae. ‘You do, don’t you?’ She seemed excited now and she clapped her hands together with glee. ‘Is he your father? He is, isn’t he? Well, when he’s executed, I’ll ensure you get a good view.’ She laughed as heartily as if she’d just been told a juicy bit of gossip.
‘No,’ said Jostan.
‘What?’ Accutina demanded incredulously.
Jostan put his hand to his chin, semi-ignoring her. Kneeling at Jostan’s feet, Jithrae was completely bewildered. He had never been so terrified in all his life. His fate and that of Vaezona hung in the balance and he knew it.
‘We can use this girl for better things than fanning,’ Jostan mused thoughtfully. ‘Lord Rintta, did you not say earlier that our lack of word from Rildayorda and, more to the point, our lack of an explanation for that, suggests that our spies there are too few?’
‘Yes, your Majesty, but surely we require someone with experience to take on such a trusted position?’ questioned Feddilyn, as Accutina sulked in the background and the soldiers stayed silent.
‘On the contrary,’ replied Jostan. ‘That’s the beauty of it. She’s expendable and has no provable link to us. We do not trust Lord Alyredd and we must know exactly what he’s up to by failing to send us any troops. We don’t want a revolt while our back is turned. In addition, spies, by their very nature are treacherous bastards and the addition of another may just cause those planning to switch sides to conclude that doing so would be a fatal idea. They need to know that we are watching them as well as their targets.’
‘I quite agree your Majesty,’ said Feddilyn. ‘But may I suggest, would it not be prudent to notify at least one of our spies of her approach and arrange for them to work together. That way they might interpret her arrival as being a symbol of your support for them, revitalising their loyalty to you.’
Jostan paused.
‘Just one. We have a spy at the citadel at Preddaburg, if the wretch still lives. As you know, we haven’t had word from there for a while and we can’t be sure if there has been a change of loyalties. But we cannot risk getting word to them at this moment. We don’t want old Yathrud getting any tip-offs of our suspicions. We’ll have to rely on my spy’s initiative and intelligence.’’
He looked at Jithrae.
‘Oh, get him out of our sight. Lock him away,’ he said.
The kneeling Jithrae cried out as Jostan kicked him in the stomach, but he made no attempt to resist Etralbard as the big Divisioman pulled him back to his knees and dragged him out of the tent. He knew that to do anything else would do Vaezona no favours whatsoever.
Back inside the tent, Jostan turned to address the Chief Invicturion.
‘Chief Invicturion Aetrun, we want you to take Vaezona here into the citadel at Preddaburg. We know it’s earlier than planned, but the vanguard will march out ahead of the main army this very day. You will lead it. Take whichever units you choose. Officially, your business in Rildayorda will be to find out from Lord Yathrud personally why he has not sent me any troops. While you do that, young Vaezona will slip into the background and infiltrate the citadel’s staff ranks on my behalf.’ He turned to Vaezona, who was standing wide-eyed and visibly shivering with fear.
‘Now, are you starting to understand what you have to do for us, in order to keep your father alive?’
Vaezona nodded solemnly.
‘Yes, your Majesty.’
‘Good.’ Reaching into a small box on a table near Accutina’s couch, he picked out a small object, hiding it with his palms and put it into Vaezona’s hand, placing her other hand over the object so that not even those around them could see what it was.
‘Show this to nobody,’ he said with certainty and with a quick look around her, Vaezona shoved the object under her clothes, so that it just nestled against her left breast, momentarily distracting Jostan’s attention.
‘Nobody that is, except for one person and when you see that person, you must hand this over to them at the earliest opportunity. We are sure they will seek you out. You must not be caught with this by anyone else, or it will be discovered that you are working for us. If that happens, you will be unable to complete your mission, we will find out and your father will die. Do we make ourselves absolutely, explicitly clear?’ He paused for Vaezona to answer.
‘Yes, your Majesty,’ she said, visibly forcing the words out, shuddering, presumably at the thought of the consequences if she failed. Jostan nodded approvingly.
‘Come, girl,’ he said. ‘Let me tell you more about where you are going.’
Chapter 10
The dense morning mist hung low over the still damp grass. Accutina had no idea how she’d ended up there. How had she become so lost? The last thing she could remember was being in Jostan’s camp, but after going out for some fresh air, she had lost all sense of direction.
She was suddenly aware that she could hear the voices of men and women, presumably bustling around the camp, but they were very faint and she couldn’t pinpoint which direction they were coming from. All she could see was trees and grass. She decided to try to retrace her steps, but it was no use. She soon realised she’d been walking in thi
s new direction for far longer than she’d previously been heading the opposite way. And that river. She had no recollection of it being there before, yet there it was, having seemed simply to appear over the past few moments.
She heard a shout. She spun around, not knowing even if the shout had been from a man, woman or child. Her pulse was racing and she found herself breathless; the harshness of the sudden cold breeze making her skin crawl as if it were covered with cockroaches.
‘Who’s there?’ she cried.
Nobody answered. She was alone and yet in her state of extreme claustrophobia she felt another presence but could not place it. She looked around desperately and started to stumble in one direction or another, though she knew not which. As if to torment her further, it started to rain.
‘Jostan! Jostan!’ she cried.
She sensed movement behind her. A horse whinnied. He’d found her. But as suddenly as her fear had turned to elation, her elation turned to terror as the huge white stallion galloped into view, heading straight for her. She could not see its rider’s face; in fact, she could see nothing more than a silhouette with its sword arm outstretched and the long blade ready to tear through warm flesh.
Accutina was momentarily rooted to the ground, but instinct forced her to turn and run for her life. Her gown slowed her severely, while the bank of the river was muddy and it was all she could do not to slip. Surely the rider would be on her at any moment. She could hear the panting of the horse as it came inexorably closer; the sound taunting her, playing with her. With a searing burst of pain, she felt the weapon glance across her back, ripping a wide gash into it.
As she was cut down by the faceless rider, she fell helplessly into the river, which seemed to be much wider and deeper than it had been before. She gasped for breath as she choked on her own blood. She madly kicked for land but again the thick material of her long dress pulled her deeper and she could only tread water.
‘Jostan! Jostan! Somebody help me! Help me please!’
Something grabbed on to her foot from under the water. She tried to resist, splashing pathetically, but the force created by the monster below was too strong for her and with a final gurgle she slipped below the surface. As the water engulfed her, her entire world turned to a bright white. She threw herself upwards. All she could hear now were her own whimpers. Once she got them under control, she listened for other sounds.
Silence. It took Accutina a while to realise where she was. She blinked and blurred shades of blue, white, red and gold formed into cushions, her bedclothes and a semi-transparent curtain that hung around her bed in a loose square. With no small amount of relief, she realised that she was in her tent, sitting up in bed. She had no idea how far through the night it was, but she was certain that dawn was still some hours away. Jostan was not next to her. He must have stayed in his own bed that night. She laid back down and tried to fall asleep.
She was still agitated at breakfast, one of the few times in the day when she could be alone with Jostan, save for the servants. As they ate at a table set up in his tent, she carefully picked her moment to broach the subject.
‘Jostan?’
‘Hmm?’
‘I, I’ve had a dream,’
‘Oh yes?’
‘I was cut down by a man on a horse,’ Accutina warned. Jostan laughed.
‘And let us guess, you’re going to jump out of your skin every time you see a man on a horse from now on?’
‘Jostan,’ Accutina spat, trying to get through to him as his face mocked her. ‘It’s an omen. It was the white stallion of the Alfwyns. Estarron is telling us that Silrith lives.’
‘Of course, she does. For now. Then starvation and exposure will take hold and she will die, which is what needs to happen. Silrith killed Fabrald to become the next in line to the throne, didn’t she?’
Accutina said nothing.
‘Didn’t she?’ Jostan repeated, more firmly this time.
Accutina nodded, failing to look Jostan in the eye.
‘Exactly. And once in power, she would have stopped at nothing to stay there. We had to protect the Bennvikan people from that threat, yes?’
Accutina nodded again, colouring slightly in embarrassment, yet not totally convinced by Jostan’s argument.
‘She deserves her fate. Now, let’s hear no more of this foolish nonsense. You have been useful to us up until this point. It’d be a shame to lose that. But be aware that you have played all the cards that you have and as yet there is no marriage to bind you to us. You have connections, but so do we. You carry our son, but he is as yet unborn and we can easily have another one with someone else. Furthermore, any desire we once had for you is growing ever more fleeting. Do not forget how replaceable you are.’ he said coldly. Accutina’s heart filled with fear on hearing these words.
‘I’m sorry your Majesty, it will not happen again.’
‘There’s a good girl,’ he added approvingly, taking her hand and kissing it.
KRIGANHEIM, BENNVIKA
In the aftermath of the riot, life was beginning to return to normal in Kriganheim and revellers made their way noisily through the streets outside as night fell. Naivard greeted Hoban and Zethun in the dimly lit surroundings of his office. Braldor waited outside, keeping vigil to ensure that they were not interrupted.
Inside the small room, the three men were seated around a rectangular wooden table. There were just enough candles dotted around for all of those present to read each other’s faces properly, though of course they were kept far from the scrolls and parchments which covered another table on the far side of the room, as well as a number of shelves.
‘I cannot get over the callousness of the King’s response. It’s foolish, foul and short-sighted,’ Zethun bemoaned, as he put his wine cup back on the table. Naivard’s office was simple, but it wasn’t without its comforts. Evidently, the decor, or lack of it, was just a sign of the balding grey man’s plain tastes rather than any lack of money.
‘I fear that this sort of behaviour may be typical of our new ruler,’ Naivard stated coolly as he refilled Zethun’s cup.
‘Yes. His reaction seemed a pretty instinctive one to me,’ Hoban observed. ‘He appears the sort of man who believes a show of strength is the answer to everything; and even, a man who believes that to beg is to show weakness and to give concessions to those who beg is to show one’s self as being weaker still.’
‘Well he can’t hope to gain anything from that,’ Zethun sighed. ‘A nation prospers when its people are happy. If a King fails to protect his people, then what purpose does he serve? It’s all very well having a great warrior as our King, but that won’t stop the people from starving. If he doesn’t realise soon that he needs the people as much as they need him he will lose everything and the country will descend into anarchy.’
‘Oh, anarchy is already here, Zethun,’ Naivard replied. ‘As you know, only days ago, my own brother-in-law and his family were evicted from their house in Asrantica and my niece was kidnapped by Lord Rintta’s soldiers.’
‘That man is a sully to the word ‘nobleman’,’ said Zethun, feeling a new surge of anger. ‘Once again I am sorry for what has happened to your family. It makes me embarrassed to be of noble blood.’
‘Your family will be in my prayers, Naivard,’ said Hoban, patting his friend on the shoulder. ‘Do they prosper now?’
‘My wife’s sister and her younger children have come to live with my wife and me, here in Kriganheim. My brother-in-law has joined the King’s army. It was a group of Divisiomen who took Vaezona, so we thought that if there was a chance of finding her, that would be it. Yet, I fear I may never see either of them again.’
‘I’m sorry,’ said Zethun. He was unsure what to say and was suddenly very aware of the fact that Hoban and Naivard knew each other far better than he knew either of them. ‘Your family will be in my prayers also. Yet we can still stop this from happening to others and we must. The King already brings oppression and at this rate, he will so
on bring famine. Bennvika has suffered this sort of tyranny before. It cannot happen again. There is only one way to stop it. A republic.’
‘Those are dangerous words, Zethun,’ said Hoban with a cautioned tone. ‘But these are dangerous times so I suppose they are not out of place. Naivard, tell Zethun of the theory you described to me earlier today. I believe he should hear it. It may well be that King Jostan has no care for anyone’s rights except his own - something not unheard of in Kings.’
‘Certainly,’ Naivard nodded. ‘You see Zethun, on top of the current situation and the rumours of religious persecution conducted by the King and his family in Verusantium, I have concerns about how the King came to power in the first place. How a monarch gains the throne seems to me to be a good indicator as to what sort of ruler they will be. Let’s face it. It’s well known that it wasn’t the expected line of succession was it? His claim was secondary to Princess Silrith’s.’
‘King Lissoll was murdered by his own daughter. What evidence can you possibly have to the contrary?’ Zethun scoffed.
‘Well it’s all bit convenient for the King, isn’t it?’ Naivard suggested.
‘Absolutely. But it has always been thus with royals. What’s unusual about this one?’
‘They were very quick to find the culprit, weren’t they?’ Naivard pressed.
‘What are you insinuating?’ Zethun asked.
‘Nothing,’ Naivard said. ‘I just think there should be an inquiry into the cause of the King’s death. If the Princess and her maid really were the killers, then nobody else at court should fear the repercussions, should they? Whereas if they are nervous about such an inquiry, then that alerts my suspicions. If only we could convince the King that there may have been a third person involved in the murder, or even, we convince him that we are there investigating another crime altogether. Maybe some petty theft between the servants?’