Vengeance of Hope

by P J Berman

  ‘You recognise the hand?’ Hoban asked.

  ‘I do not.’

  ‘Oh I think you do, my Lord,’ said Hoban.

  ‘It’s clearly a forgery,’ said Oprion evasively, avoiding eye contact.

  ‘Even allowing for the possibility that it might have been dictated,’ said Hoban. ‘You must at least recognise its voice. This was intercepted by one of my associates. You can imagine our surprise when we discovered that this secret letter was intended for your eyes.’

  ‘There is nothing conspiratorial here. You can see, can you not, that this is a letter requesting assistance for Princess Silrith’s rebellion? Assistance I have no intention of giving.’

  Rumours of Princess Silrith’s presence at a rebellion in the south had been rife recently, but nobody quite seemed to know how much was true.

  ‘Even to your childhood friend?’ asked Hoban.

  ‘Even to her.’

  ‘I saw how your expression changed when you saw evidence to suggest that she still lives,’ said Zethun, trying to look like he knew about this before. ‘You don’t believe that she murdered her father do you?’

  ‘Don’t you?’ Oprion countered. ‘Or what about you, Congressor Salanath? What do you really think?’ Oprion advanced on Hoban, attempting to intimidate him.

  ‘There are bigger things at play here than what I think,’ Hoban said. ‘And one of them is the answer to the question of why the Princess clearly thinks that there is a chance you will help her.’

  ‘And I will answer that question by burning this letter,’ Oprion said coldly, tucking the letter into his tunic.

  ‘I’m sure the King will understand,’ said Hoban. ‘I certainly hope he does. I only wanted to provide you with this information before you speak with the Congressate, my Lord. I just hope that nobody else made a copy before the letter reached me.’

  ‘I support the King and no other,’ Oprion said.

  ‘The people do not support him, my Lord,’ said Zethun. ‘You know that.’

  ‘Yes, but do not think that I have failed to realise that you have been directly involved in swinging public opinion against the King, Zethun. Yet, alas, there is nothing I can do to help you or Princess Silrith. I am a servant of the King,’ Oprion said curtly.

  ‘My public appearances have simply encouraged the people to express their anger at this new King’s treatment of them,’ Zethun said. ‘I have reminded them that they do not have to live in a world where they are expected to lay down their lives for people who repay them by taking their lands. But even they know that this can never happen when even the man at the very top attained his status through trickery, greed, and deception. How can there be justice and honour under the rule of such a man?’

  Zethun wasn’t sure where he had found the bravery to utter such risk-laden words and a tense pause hung in the air for a moment.

  ‘There is nothing I can do,’ Oprion stated quietly.

  ‘Is that an enforced position or a stance you have chosen to take?’ Zethun asked.

  ‘There is always something that people with your wealth and position can do,’ said Hoban. ‘Especially when their actions would be seen to be honourable ones.’

  ‘The recent rioting should serve as proof that the people must be listened to,’ Hoban went on. ‘The discovery of any proof that Princess Silrith lives will only add to this. I am no royalist. That is well known these days, but better a benevolent monarch than a tyrant. She was kind to the people and that made her popular, which makes them resent their recent treatment by the King all the more. They are dangerous when united in one cause. Do you want them to see you as a weak leader who follows wherever the pendulum of power swings, forsaking even his dearest friends? Or would you prefer them to see you as a champion of honour and chivalry who stands for what is right and doesn’t take his orders from a man who believes that his position of power is his given to him by his God? Is it really more likely that they’ll support you when you serve a man that suppresses them or a woman who would liberate them?’

  Taken aback by this verbal onslaught, Oprion visibly brooded on this for a moment. His face had gone a slight shade of pink and he was sweating a little. Clearly Zethun was right in his assessment and this man was not as strong as he was attempting to look.

  ‘Alright,’ Oprion said. He paused to think for a moment, then his face lightened as if he’d had an idea.

  ‘Look, Gentlemen,’ he stated in a much calmer tone than previously. ‘I can see that what we are discussing here is of great importance, but here and now is neither the time nor the place.’

  Zethun opened his mouth to protest, but Oprion carried on anyway.

  ‘Why don’t you both dine with me at the palace later?’ he said with a smile so large that it had to be fake. An awkward silence fell over them.

  ‘Of course, my Lord,’ said Hoban slowly. ‘That would be most agreeable.’

  ‘Of course,’ added Zethun.

  ‘Excellent,’ said Oprion with a sickening turn of over-politeness. ‘Now if you’ll excuse me, gentlemen, I have a speech to make. Guards!’

  Turning his body sideways he moved between Zethun and Hoban, who watched as he walked to the double doors. He waited as his bodyguards caught up and opened the doors for him, then turned round to face Hoban and Zethun. With his head, he indicted for them to go through ahead of him. The three of them entering together would look strange. Once inside the busy hall, again surrounded by impatient noise, Zethun and Hoban took their seats as they waited for Oprion to follow.

  ‘That letter wasn’t really written by Princess Silrith was it?’ Zethun asked.

  ‘No, I had to make a gamble. I decided that if Silrith really is enough of a threat to King Jostan then she’ll have realised that writing a letter to a wealthy ally is worth the risk of discovery. I dare say a letter like this exists if the rumours of her escape are true. I got Capaea to write that one though. It’s amazing what information rich ladies will confide in their maids.’

  ‘Gentlemen, I present to you his Grace, the noble Lord Oprion Aethelgard, Governor of the province of Hazgorata.’

  Zethun and Hoban’s conversation was interrupted by the declaration made by one of Oprion’s bodyguards, both of whom had now entered the room. In perfect unison they produced their bugles and played a fanfare as Oprion entered, looking rather burdened now.

  He cast an uncertain glance at the speaker. Zethun watched as the old man tapped his staff on the floor three times and said ‘Lord Oprion Aethelgard will now address the Congressate.’

  ‘My fellow Congressors,’ said Oprion, in a tone that completely lacked even the slightest hint of confidence or charisma, as all around him took their seats.

  ‘I find myself with a decision to make,’ he went on. ‘But the important thing that we all must remember is that normally the King would be here to make the final decision on what we do now. As it is, we do not have that luxury. We must try to do what is best for Bennvika and in so doing we must try to make sure we avoid compromising the King’s position.’

  Oprion’s body language was utterly rigid, with his movement limited to the occasional hand gesture; his feet rooted to the ground.

  ‘There are two letters that I believe should be brought to the Congressate’s attention,’ he went on. ‘Both were intended for the King, but as I said, in his absence, we must step in. The first is from the King of Medrodor. Our friend King Spurvan has written to confirm his approval of our King’s proposed marriage to the Dowager Queen Accutina. He says that he is pleased that the alliance with Bennvika will continue and that he looks forward to attending the wedding ceremony in due course.’ He paused briefly as a murmur rippled through the crowded group of ageing politicians.

  ‘What is of concern,’ Oprion said in a raised voice after a moment. ‘Is the content of the second letter. It would appear that the Verusantian Emperor, Graggasteidus, has cast his evil gaze over this Kingdom. In his letter, he asks why our King hasn’t formally recognised him as h
is Liege Lord.’ There was an audible intake of breath from all around.

  ‘It also appears,’ said Oprion, raising his voice to be heard above the dissenting clamour. ‘That the King has a spy in his midst, as the letter goes on to demand an explanation of why he has chosen a marriage alliance with Medrodor.’

  ‘This is exactly what the King assured us wouldn’t happen!’ called out one Congressor, painfully getting to his feet. His outburst didn’t seem to fit with his image, with his withered skin and vulture-like features. ‘Do you say he didn’t plan this all along? Or if he didn’t, how can we trust that he is in control of our nation’s fate?’

  ‘How dare you question our King’s ability to rule,’ Oprion blustered. ‘I believe that it is the Emperor who is making demands to which he is not entitled. Bennvika must not bow down to his demands. The alliance with Medrodor will remain intact.’

  ‘What if the Emperor attempts to force his will upon us?’ called out another Congressor.

  ‘Then any course of action will be for the King to decide on.’ It was a weak answer.

  ‘How can we hope to defend ourselves if the King has the army in the south?’ came another dissenting voice.

  ‘Any drastic course of action will be for the King to decide on,’ Oprion said again as the exasperated crowd began to quieten. ‘The question is, do we deem the threat serious enough for us to recall him in order for him to deal with this?’ Oprion said. A few continued to jeer at him. He’d lost his audience. Zethun looked on quietly amongst all the raised voices. This was almost painful to watch.

  ‘It may be that the King returns sooner than planned.’ Evidently, Oprion was trying a different tack.

  ‘His original target may have been the Hentani,’ he went on. ‘But through the existence of a third letter, I can confirm that the rumours are true. Princess Silrith did escape her captors and is at large in the south, where the King has besieged her at Rildayorda.’

  Hoban had not mentioned the location, but Rildayorda was the name that had kept coming up on the rumour mill.

  ‘So the King lied to us about his true intentions?’ Congressor Dongrath called out.

  ‘No,’ Oprion responded firmly. ‘There was a change of scenario.’

  Many Congressors audibly scoffed at this.

  ‘Now,’ Oprion continued. ‘We can only presume that the siege is progressing well, as the King has not asked for extra troops. However, it is possible that he may. If this comes to pass, we cannot send more. I propose that we advise him of the Emperor’s letter, so that he may adapt his strategy in case of invasion.’

  ‘Does he plan to continue the campaign against the Hentani after Rildayorda is taken?’ another Congressor asked. ‘How are we to defend the city with just a few thousand troops against the Verusantian legions if the Emperor comes?’

  ‘I do not doubt that if that happens the King will already have returned to Kriganheim with the army,’ Oprion said.

  ‘A tired and weary army,’ called out another Congressor. ‘And what happens if the Emperor seizes the King’s Verusantian territories? He will have no access to his own riches. He’ll exhaust the funds in the royal treasury and then he’ll want your money, my Lord Aethelgard.’

  ‘Then I will have the power to ensure that he uses it wisely,’ Oprion replied, visibly sweating.

  ‘I don’t expect that he’d wait for you to give it to him, my Lord,’ said Hoban, standing. ‘I rather think it would be an order, on pain of death. Being a Kazabrus, our King is so wealthy that he’s never had to manage an economy before, but that’s what he’ll have to do if he were to lose access to his Verusantian province. In short, if Bruskannia is taken from him by the Emperor, it will only be a matter of time before the King’s campaigns and extravagancies bankrupt Bennvika.’

  ‘We’ll be ruined,’ another Congressor moaned.

  ‘More importantly, we’ll be ripe for invasion,’ said Hoban. ‘Just as my esteemed colleague Congressor Tavigradd already alluded to. What is your response to this scenario, my Lord?’

  Hoban sat down again. Oprion’s face was crimson and he was sweating profusely, Zethun noticed, despite the distance.

  ‘Even in the unlikely scenario of that happening,’ Oprion replied. ‘I have every confidence that with our northern army, supported by our allies, the Medrodorians, would be a more than sufficient force to repel the Verusantians. Even if they were to attack now we could keep them at bay long enough for the King to return with the main army. Furthermore, I am sure that if we were to suffer such an attack, the Etrovansians too would feel threatened enough for them to come to our aid. We need not panic.’

  This man is both a coward and a naïve fool, yet assurance of his cooperation is still needed, thought Zethun. Hoban had done his part by publicly putting him under pressure, adding to that which was already upon him. Now it was time to win his favour through assistance.

  Zethun stood. Some Congressors looked angered by the sight. There was an unwritten rule that even on the occasions when they were invited into the Congressate Hall, the Demokrois should be seen and not heard unless they were publicly instructed to do otherwise by the Speaker. However, Zethun was in no mood to heed that rule.

  ‘Noble Congressors,’ Zethun said. ‘Is it not the case that we are putting my Lord Aethelgard in an impossible position? Any quarrels you have about money will soon pale into insignificance. We have little time, so we must use it wisely. The Emperor hasn’t yet made any direct threats, but that does not mean that his forces are not yet ready to strike. I propose that we alert the King to the situation with all haste, but we assure him that the matter is in hand. Meanwhile, we raise a temporary army from the remaining local population and for those who are worried about the cost, we can limit this by having all the professional soldiers here in the city on hand to train the recruits. That will include the King’s Verusantian Lance Guardsmen, just to assuage any worries he may have about this.’

  So long as they felt protected, the common people wouldn’t care who won at Rildayorda. Once the fearful rumours of the Verusantians spread, they’d support anyone who marched the remains of their army north to claim Kriganheim and protect it from invasion. If Jostan won, then that would be the expected result and if Silrith won, then if she had any sense then she’d cast herself in the role of liberator rather that oppressor and in the uncertainty and the upheaval, the hope of a republic lived on. Either way, the arming of more of the local population would give them a greater chance of fighting for their own destiny. As Zethun had expected, there were many grumbles from the Congressors, but none openly voiced an opinion against him. It seemed they were more scared of the Verusantian Emperor than they were of the King.

  ‘Does this meet with your approval, my Lord?’ said Zethun.

  Oprion looked slightly abashed. He was probably annoyed that his thunder had been stolen.

  ‘Yes, yes it does,’ he said eventually.

  All turned to look at the speaker, who was seated some way behind Oprion. The withered old man hit his staff against the tiled floor three times before saying, ‘The notion has been proposed, now let it be judged. All those in favour say aye.’

  ‘Aye!’

  ‘All those against say nay.’ A few voices answered, but in negligible numbers.

  ‘The ayes have it.’

  A cheer filled the room, yet what Zethun noticed most of all was the hate-filled look with which Oprion now fixed him. The man’s emotions seemed all over the place. Surely he wasn’t stable enough for such a powerful position? After all, Zethun had just given him support and he had clearly taken it as an affront. This was a very vain and stupid man indeed.

  Zethun was just about to tell Hoban about this as they left the Congressate Hall and headed towards the steps that led down into the street when something stopped him. He had noticed the rather slight form of a young woman buying food at the market that filled the crowded city forum. She was wearing a faded blue and white dress. But he knew her face, even though he
’d only caught a momentary glimpse of it before she turned away again.

  ‘Hoban,’ Zethun said. ‘Isn’t that Capaea?’

  ‘Capaea?’ A passing Oprion interrupted before Hoban could reply. ‘That’s Lyzina. The Queen’s maid. Guards, arrest that woman!’

  The girl heard the order and instantly turned and ran, dropping her basket of purchases. The Verusantian guards ran after her and four more soldiers of the Bennvikan Divisios appeared from either side of the building and gave chase.

  ‘That girl knows something about the murder of King Lissoll. I’m sure of it,’ Oprion said.

  ‘What are you going to do with her?’ Hoban asked.

  ‘Arrest her and question her of course,’ said Oprion. ‘What does it look like I’m doing? My soldiers have been searching for her ever since she robbed me.’

  ‘Robbed you of what?’ asked Hoban.

  ‘Oh, just some money,’ said Oprion unconvincingly. ‘But it was quite a lot. It was the very day I arrived at the palace too. It was almost like she knew something of the murder and wanted to get out and buy her way on to a ship to a foreign land before I realised her involvement.’

  ‘Well as far as I can see, your troops haven’t caught her yet,’ Hoban chuckled. ‘But once they do, I suggest you allow young Zethun here to have an audience with her.’

  ‘And why should I do that?’ said Oprion.

  ‘I guarantee his approach will get her to speak faster than any of your torturers,’ Hoban said. ‘Wouldn’t that make a fine impression on the King when he returns to find that where once there was a threat posed by a missing person who may carry dangerous information, there is now none.’

  Zethun turned to look at the two men.

  ‘That certainly wouldn’t do me any harm,’ Oprion said thoughtfully, surveying Zethun. ‘But tell me, what would be so different?’

  ‘It’s simple,’ said Zethun. ‘I know what the common people want. Therefore I know how to make them feel that doing something for me is worth their while. I guarantee that I can get her to divulge any information she hides, so long as her life is not forfeit. We could exile her or something instead.’