by Tony Roberts
“Good. Can’t wait. Did you step in poo?”
“Ugh, might have. They just go everywhere.”
“Lucky it isn’t a fantor,” Argan said with a laugh. Kerrin snorted in good humour. Thetos had just come in and eyed the two.
“Fantors again? You wouldn’t like looking after one of those. All that mucking out, avoiding being stood on and trying to fit the harness to it. We wouldn’t have a place big enough for one anyway.”
“Governor,” Argan leaned forward, “you said they do exist – so where are they and what do they do?”
Thetos speared a hunk of bread on his hook and picked up a knife. “Ah, far to the west. They were used in war by ancient warlords but nobody has done so for centuries. They only exist in our stories now, and people dismiss them as fantasies. Rubbish of course, they do exist and should anyone manage to use them in war again, well it’ll be hard to defeat them.”
Argan recalled the colourful books he used to read in Kastan City when he was much younger. The images stayed in his mind. He wished he could still read those, but his parents and guardians all insisted they were too young for him now and he should concentrate on things proper to his age and station. Being a prince was not always a good thing. “I would like them in my army.”
“Hard to control, Young Prince, and need a lot of feeding and care. Not always an advantage, and you could hardly sneak up on an enemy with a load of them with you, eh?”
“Hmm,” Argan pictured Istan crashing through a wood, knocking the trees over. “No, I suppose you’re right – but would an army need to sneak up on anyone? I mean, there would be so many wearing clanky armour it would be very hard to be quiet.”
Thetos chewed for a moment, then waved his hook haphazardly. “Men can stay quiet when ambushing an enemy, waiting behind bushes, or trees, or a fold in the ground. With fantors you couldn’t do any of that!”
“Ahh, yes. I see. Fantors would be good in some situations but not in others, yes?”
“Precisely. There you go,” Thetos grinned and waited for the arrival of his piscine.
Argan finished first, excused himself and went to his room to change into his riding gear. He was looking forward to being in the saddle again. It had been quite some time and the weather had been too bad to have riding lessons, but today was different.
He was looking forward to the coming spring and summer.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
The arrival of the lone rider caught emperor Astiras’ attention. It was one of the army’s relay riders, employed to pass on messages through the empire as fast as possible. The new watchtowers with their relay stations were getting post and messages delivered much faster, to the emperor’s delight.
However, delight was not his emotion as the rider vaulted off the equine and came running up the stairs to the keep entrance. Something in his body language told Astiras something was not well in the Kastanian Empire.
Astiras stood just inside the entrance, fighting the urge to stride forward. He had to keep the impression of calmness and authority. The rider came up to him, knelt and lowered his head. “Sire, urgent dispatch from Mazag, compliments of General Vanist.” He offered a small tightly rolled up scroll with the red ribbon of Mazag tying it.
Astiras waved to Vosgaris to take it and pass it to him. Once in his hands, Astiras impatiently opened it and scanned the message. His heart sank. He looked up and nodded to the rider. “You may rest and refresh yourself.”
Vosgaris indicated a guard to show the man the canteen, then faced his master. “Bad news sire?” Astiras’ face was a giveaway.
“Bad enough. Mazag has learned of an alliance having been signed these past few days between Venn and Zilcia. Moreover, a new Venn army is being assembled in Kral, with contingents from Zaros and Rhan, and they are gathering in a huge camp just over the border close to where our southern border meets Mazag. Mazag are not sure who is the likely target, but you can safely assume our ceasefire is about to end. Damn their black hearts! Will it be Venn invading Mazag and Zilcia us?”
“Zilcia do not share any border with us, sire,” Vosgaris pointed out. “And they can only attack us by sea which is risky, as Venn found out a few years ago. Unless of course Venn allows a Zilcian army to land in Epros and march overland into Makenia.”
“Which is what I would do. Damn it!” Astiras whirled. “Gather the officers of the army, Captain. I want a Council of War in the hall in one watch’s time!”
The hall was transformed. Out went the cutlery and crockery, plates and candlesticks, and weights put in their place on the table. The room was swept hurriedly and the servants vanished, both being found new tasks and glad to be away from the severe looking army officers gathering in the cavernous hall. The banners hanging from the ceiling and the crossed spears over the wall mounted shields seemed more appropriate now.
Astiras took the chair at the head of the table, Isbel next to him. Vosgaris sat on his other side, Landec down one place from him. Opposite him sat the castellan of Zofela, and then came the company officers, spearmen, archers and mercenaries.
“For those who don’t know,” Astiras began the meeting without any introduction, standing up and leaning on both fists set on the table, “Venn has signed an alliance with Zilcia, which opens up the possibility of a longer front of hostilities on our eastern frontier. I have also been informed there’s a new Venn army being assembled just over the frontier in Kral close to the Ister River, so we don’t know yet whether they’ll invade Bragal or Mazag. I’m convinced those motherless bastards are going to resume the war now they’ve got Zilcian nipples to suckle on. Thoughts?”
“What’s the stance of Mazag, sire?” the castellan asked.
“Friendly. They are the ones who gave us this intelligence. General Vanist is mobilising his Army of Valchia and I wouldn’t be surprised if their main army on the plains to the south are also making themselves ready. Venn would be a fool to invade Mazag but since Venn are damned fools anyway I can’t put that past them.”
“Will the Army of Valchia come to our assistance if Venn invades Bragal?” Vosgaris asked.
“I believe so, provided we feed them. I don’t want a foreign army on our soil un-provisioned. That’s a disaster waiting to happen. I will write back to Vanist and ask him to post his army in Bragal. It’ll serve both our purposes well, for they will be in a forward position to meet those motherless filth eating porcines before Mazag territory is affected, they will be supplied by ourselves, and we will have an army already in the field to face any attack.”
“What of our forces, sire? Should we mobilise?” Landec asked.
“Not yet. It’s costly and I want to save expenses – but I want an alert sent to Turslenka and Kornith, and border patrols to be stepped up. We need to send alerts to Romos and Lodria too because Venn may try to attack from Cratia once again.”
“And of Zilcia’s intentions, sire?” the castellan asked.
“Hmph! No idea. They’re not saying. Vosgaris, arrange to send a letter to Kornith and get from that engineer fellow a breakdown of their armed force capabilities and composition. I need to know what they have and what they are capable of.”
“Sire, if Mazag are going to site an army on our soil,” Vosgaris responded, “I think it would be sensible to appoint a liaison officer to their staff.”
“Agreed. You’re volunteering then?”
Vosgaris looked surprised for a moment, then shrugged. “Why not? It’d give me something different to do and an insight into Mazag military capabilities. I don’t speak good Mazag, though.”
“Then get another volunteer, Captain, who does and who will act as interpreter.”
Vosgaris nodded. “No doubt you’ll suggest that in your message to General Vanist?”
“Of course, Captain.”
Isbel stirred. “We should appraise the population here. Last thing we need is for the locals to think Mazag are an enemy. We will need to stockpile food and the like for our allies too. Where are
you thinking of siting them?”
Astiras pursed his lips. “Hmmm, not sure. Anyone here have a place in mind? Needs to be somewhere south of here.”
“Sire,” one of the company officers raised an arm. “A day’s march to the south is a plain – a valley – with a water supply and grain grass fields. There are a few farms and three villages nearby but the valley bottom is perfect. Tracks south, east and north.”
“Good, point it out on this map,” Astiras thumped the map of Bragal before him, weighted down on all four corners. The officer came over and studied it for a moment, then pointed at a small blank spot to the south of Zofela.
“We haven’t given it a name but I’ve heard the villagers refer to it as Kamalak. Nor sure what it means.”
“Bountiful water,” Vosgaris said. The others looked at him. The captain looked abashed. “I – ah – have been learning Bragalese since….. well….”
“That’s fine, Captain,” Isbel smiled and put a hand on his arm.
Vosgaris nodded and looked down. It was still painful talking about Alenna. “Lak is water, kama is plentiful, or bountiful.”
“Thank you, Captain,” Astiras nodded. He had a knowledge of Bragalese and knew enough to know Vosgaris had been accurate in his explanation. “That sounds perfect. I want supplies gathered, and a militia unit set up to police the area. I do not want any incidents between the Mazag and the villagers. This close to Zofela, are they Bragalese or Kastanian?”
“Two are Bragalese, the one furthest north is Kastanian, sire,” the same officer spoke again.
“You seem to know a lot about the area, Commander. Are you a local?”
“No, sire. I have patrolled there frequently.”
“In that case you will command this militia unit. Make sure the Bragalese in particular are kept well away from Vanist’s army. I don’t want stories of rampant village women humping their way through our allies, pursued by vengeful husbands.”
“Shouldn’t the Mazag ambassador here be involved?” Isbel asked. “After all, it’s his people involved and he may be of use as a liaison officer.”
“Or appoint someone suitable – hmmm yes, good idea,” Astiras grinned. He eyed Pepil standing close by. The major domo, now fairly wizened with age, waited patiently. “Get the ambassador and inform him of the situation and suggest he appoints one of his dual language speakers to accompany Captain Vosgaris here to the camp of General Vanist when he marches here.”
Pepil bowed and backed away. He cast a long glance at Isbel and then left. Isbel, oblivious of the look she’d been given, turned to Vosgaris. “Is there anything you’ll need to assist you in your duties?”
“Possibly, yes. I’ll need to gather a list of things.”
“Bring them to me later.”
“Ma’am.”
The meeting broke up with messengers bursting forth from the town, riding hard along the roads of the province. The news had to be passed quickly, for nobody knew when Venn would act. It was agreed by those at the meeting that their neighbour had been planning this move for quite some time.
Astiras found Pepil waiting for him in his day room. “Yes, Pepil? Is there something you wanted?”
“Sire – I don’t know whether I should tell you this or not – but…. I have been suspicious for some time about the empress.”
“What? What do you mean, man? Speak up!”
Pepil looked nervously to the door, then leaned forward. “It has been noticed that the empress and Captain Vosgaris have been getting close since the death of Alenna.”
“What are you saying?” Astiras scowled, his fingers curling into fists. “Are you spreading court gossip? If you are I’ll rip your balls off and force them down your throat!”
“No sire, I haven’t come to you before about this but even when we were in Kastan City I was aware of a closeness between the two. I have kept a diary of their – secret meetings.”
Astiras slowly sat down. “And where is this – diary?”
Pepil slowly drew out a folded sheet of parchment and passed it to Astiras. “I am loath to do this – but since you have been vilified by the empress recently for an extra marital indiscretion, I think it only right that you ought to learn of this. My loyalty is to you, sire.”
Ingratiating moklar, Astiras thought sourly, and looked at the list of meetings. They were extensive. He raised his eyebrows and looked up. “And who else witnessed these – liaisons?”
“Ah, I do have witnesses. Guards on duty at the time, members of my office. They are, naturally, afraid to volunteer this information for what it may do between you and the empress.”
“And why, Pepil, are you doing this? What favour are you asking for in return?”
“Sire!” Pepil affected an outraged stance, “I am a faithful servant of your majesty!”
Astiras growled, then looked back at the list. Finally, something he could throw back at his wife. True, they had resumed sleeping together but she still reminded him of his affair whenever the situation – in her eyes – demanded it. He was getting tired of the subject. “Very well, Pepil, thank you. Can these witnesses verify these incidents?”
“Yes sire, if you promise no punishment will befall them for doing so.”
“I vow that nothing will happen. Now let me go sort this out.” He left, barging a chair aside, leaving a smirking Pepil alone in the room.
The larger premises in the stone castle meant that Isbel now had her own day room where she and her handmaidens were usually found. Astiras crashed in without any warning and jerked his thumb at the handmaidens. “Out. Go find something useful to do elsewhere.”
The two women fled, frightened at the emperor’s attitude and tone. Isbel stood up, indignant. “What is the meaning of this, Astiras? This is my room and you should knock….”
“Here,” Astiras thrust the parchment into her hands. “Look at that!”
Isbel read the dates and places and the notes, and the blood drained from her face. How many years did this cover? The dates went back nine years. “What is all this about?”
“Your illicit meetings with Vosgaris, that’s what! Pepil has informed me of the closeness between the two of you – and you had the damned cheek to put me through all kinds of abuse for my affair! All the time you were seeing him!”
“Nothing happened, Astiras, I swear! This is a list of the times I wanted to speak with him on private matters.”
“What, for all the time you were alone in a room together?” he shouted, jabbing the parchment. “Long enough to do more than just ‘talk’!”
“And you’re judging me by your own sordid standards, Astiras Koros! As for that slimy creature Pepil, he’s finished here.”
“He is certainly not!”
“Oh yes he is, can’t you see he’s trying to cause trouble between us……” she stopped halfway through her sentence. “Astiras,” she breathed, horror stricken. “What if he’s the secret contact of the Mirrodan?”
“He’s been with us for ten years, Isbel! The Mirrodan have been around for just five! There was no way he would have known about them when we were in Kastan city, and he was listing your indiscretions back then! Vosgaris is going to be strung up from the castle walls and you – well you will be banished to a temple!”
Isbel stood up and threw the parchment at her husband. “This is a complete lie – a supposition with no grain of truth, made up of rumour and scandal mongering. Where does it say I’ve been seen actually touching the Captain? Well?”
Astrias glared at her. “Does it matter? People have noticed you being close to him!”
“Of course it matters you idiot! I’m close to my handmaiden, but that does not mean I’m sleeping with her! You have not one grain of truth, you’re just jumping on some scandalous jumped-up smear against me just to get back at my indignation at you making free with that Bragalese witch! And it seems its fine for you to do so whereas even speaking to a man means in your hypocritical mind I’m sleeping with him! Oh, you’re so two
-faced, aren’t you?”
Astiras hissed through his teeth. “Of course I’m eager to get my own back over the Metila incident….”
“Incidents!”
“Alright, incidents, damn you, but I have a right to stop anyone being free with my wife, or does that not count anymore?”
“I am not dallying with anyone, Astiras – that dirty little sneak Pepil is spreading untruths. He can’t resist intriguing, and I have no idea why! Vosgaris has been very depressed since Alenna’s death and has needed support – something that clearly has passed your attention. He’s been very unwell, and he’s only just getting over it. This sort of thing will knock him back and I think he won’t be able to carry out your task. He’ll be too distracted and upset.”
“Phooey!” Astiras scoffed. “He’s a soldier. He’ll do what I order him to.”
“Then order him in here and order him to tell you the truth. He’ll tell you nothing has happened between us.”
“I might well do that – my own right hand man, too. He should have used his right hand and this would not have happened.”
Isbel sucked in her breath. “Astiras! You can be so crude!”
“I am what I am. And what I am is emperor, don’t forget that. I have a hard enough task holding this empire together without my wife giving others the opportunity to spread rumours and gossip about her. Bah!” he flung up an arm and turned about.
Isbel shook. Yes, she had feelings for Vosgaris and she knew he had the same towards her, too. But never in all these years had she given in to them, and now Astiras was accusing her of betraying their marriage. “Astiras, I’ve never betrayed you.”
He turned back, his face like stone. “Captain Vosgaris will never serve here again.” He held up a hand to forestall whatever she was going to say. “He will be on liaison duty with the Mazag army, and once this crisis is finished, I shall reassign him to some other posting, well away from us here. I cannot run the risk of anyone causing further damage to our reputation – clearly you have been seen far too many times with that particular man,” he pointed to the parchment on the floor, “which you cannot deny, and whether indeed you are telling the truth or not, it makes no difference. Scandal is scandal with or without smoke.”