by Tony Roberts
“I’m quite prepared to have a serious talk now. Take, for example, the gross unfairness of the dismissal of Vosgaris. A man who has served you faithfully these past ten years and then, thanks to the wicked lies of a man more interested in furthering favours from you than serving the empire, you banish him to Niake!”
“Amne, I’m warning you,” Astiras got to his feet.
“Well go on. What can you do? Banish me? To where? Where I go, Elas follows. You’ve already lost the support of Vosgaris and his family; you’ll do the same with the Pelgions who are, I may add, fairly influential. Who, then, will you have left? Mother? You’ve made her life a misery, something which only I should be able to be allowed to do.” She looked at Isbel who put the napkin even more firmly against her lips. This time it was to stop a burst of laughter from forcing its way past them.
Amne waved Astiras’ wagging finger aside. “Oh stop being a bully, father. You’re not talking to some poor frightened officer or courtier who owe their position to you and dare not speak out lest they lose their job, or even worse, their life. I understand Pepil is no more – no great loss but did you have to execute him? The man was almost at retirement age. No, you’re talking to your only daughter, who can, if you’re not careful, bring you down. You think I’m making an idle boast? Well then go ahead and treat me like you’ve treated everyone else around you. You’ve lost the support of the Council, by the way. Can you count the figures? Let me help you. There’s thirty votes on the Council.”
“I’m well aware of that, Amne! Stop treating me like a child!”
“Well stop behaving like Istan, then,” Amne said.
“What?” Istan burst out. “What do you mean?”
“You normally behave this badly, little brother, have you been giving father lessons?”
“Amne, you’ve gone too far! Get out of my sight!” Astiras leaned on the table. Both Kola and Stana stopped eating and clutched their mother for support.
“Now you’re frightening my children, shame on you. What sort of example is that to set? Yes, the Council. You had the Taboz and Pelgion votes but the Taboz have gone and I would pull the Pelgion away from you if you do anything to me. That makes it fifteen against you and fifteen for you.”
“So I have the deciding vote and what I say still goes. You’re a fool, Amne.”
Amne smiled and slowly shook her head. “Uh-uh, and what of Argan? He has the Varaz vote in his pocket. Argan loves his mother, poor misguided boy,” she added, winking again at Isbel, “and for what you’ve done to her, that vote will go against you, too. Sixteen to fourteen. You’re sunk, father. Think you can turn on your own family? Think we can loyally serve a tyrant? Think again, Astiras Koros. I’d rather have Jorqel voted in and you banished if you’re going to continue biting us like some rabid canine. We deserve better than someone acting like Istan.”
“You stop talking about me like that, you horrible woman!” Istan was on his feet, spitting his words in fury.
“Shame you’re growing up – you’re going to turn into another Astiras.” Amne got to her feet. “I’ve seen – and heard – enough. I do not want my girls in your company, father, nor that of your identical twin, your youngest son. Both of you are a disgrace to the Koros family. You snarl and whine about my behaviour, and of mother’s, yet you and Istan display the worst aspect of anyone in a high position, and it’ll be one that will bring you down before long. You have eroded your support, and now it’s in the balance. Go ahead and throw your weight around. Strike me if you dare – what sort of man beats his daughter pregnant with his grand child? You’re a poor example of a man. Good evening.”
She ushered her two daughters out, followed by her maidservants. The rest of the table sat still in shocked silence.
“Well, father, are you going to let her speak to you like that?” Istan demanded, furious. “How can you let a woman talk to you like that? She should have her tongue torn out at least!”
“Shut up, Istan,” Isbel said.
“I will not!” Istan countered hotly. “You’re just a woman; no woman will ever tell me what to do!”
“Go to your room,” Isbel said quietly. “You are out of order. I am your mother, not some servant.”
Istan whirled to face Astiras. “Well? Do something, you fool!”
Astiras swung his hand and caught Istan full on the face with his palm, knocking the boy off his feet, sending him crashing over his chair to lie on the stone flagged floor, clutching his stinging jaw. The emperor emitted a deep growl of fury, slowly rising out of his throat until it became a high-pitched scream, then he brought both fists down on the table, causing it to shake. “GET OUT, ALL OF YOU!” he roared. He stood there, shaking.
The servants fled, followed by Frendicus and the others, save Istan, now sitting up trying not to cry with the pain, and Isbel, who sat there quietly, shocked.
Gradually Astiras became aware that the two were still in the room. He was breathing raggedly, harshly, sweat bathing his face. “If you do not get out now I shall throw you out.”
“Enjoy your moment, Astiras,” Isbel said evenly. Amne had shown her the way. “I believe your family have had enough of your behaviour. I do not believe you are in full control of your mind. Something is wrong with you – you’re acting in a very odd way and I think either you’re losing your mind, or something is causing you to act like this.” She switched her attention to Istan who had stumbled to his feet. “As for you, I want words right now, in front of him,” she nodded at her husband who was sucking in lungfuls of air.
“What is it?” Istan slurred, truculently.
“Why did you put that letter under my door, telling me about your father’s affair with Metila?”
“Who said I did that?”
“Pepil, under torture. He wasn’t lying,” Isbel said, keeping a wary watch on Astiras who was looking around the room, his eyes wide and unseeing. “So you did it. Why?”
“I didn’t. It was Pepil. He was stupid.”
“Oh? So you knew about it? So why didn’t you tell your father or me?”
Istan gave his mother a nasty look and said nothing. Astiras bared his teeth. “Evil plotters, you’re after my throne… you won’t have it, I tell you!”
Isbel got out of her chair. She moved around the end furthest away from Astiras. “I said, you tell me why you did it, Istan. Or shall I guess? You wanted your father and me to break up? You took the letter from Pepil, or the Mirrodan, and slid it under my door. Why are you trying to do this?”
Istan’s shook his head vehemently. He looked at Astiras. The emperor hissed and thumped the table. “You’re all after me, you’re all against me!”
Isbel grabbed Istan by the arm. “Get out of here now – your father is losing his mind!” She was becoming worried about what her husband was capable of doing. “Guards!”
The door opened, and she was relieved to see the others crowded in the corridor. Two guards came in and hesitated, unsure as to how to handle the situation.
Isbel pulled her unwilling son towards the door but he resisted. Even now with his father a few paces away raging to himself, he fought anyone trying to make him do something. He couldn’t help himself, it was an automatic reflex. He had no idea whether it was for his own good or not, he just took the opposite path just because he could. “Istan – come on!” Isbel urged, this time with fear in her voice, for Astiras was coming round the table, a knife in his hand.
“I’ll deal with this defiance right now!” he declared, his eyes wild and his mouth working furiously.
“Captain Bevil!” Isbel shouted. “The emperor has lost his mind! I order you to have the emperor restrained – now!”
Bevil looked from one Koros to the other. The two guards had turned their heads to await the order. Bevil nodded and waved at the guards to protect the trapped empress and prince.
Istan screamed, the knife from his father was raised high above him and the expression on Astiras’ face sent water through his bowels. Ista
n’s legs gave out and he fell onto his behind, arms covering his head. Isbel was dragged down, trying to hold onto her son. Her neck was exposed to her husband and he aimed to plunge the blade down onto it.
Two pairs of armoured arms grabbed him and wrestled for the knife. Astiras roared in fury. “Traitors! You will all die!” He fought to break through to Isbel who by now had dragged a screaming Istan out of the way and was halfway to the door. Meri and Frendicus came in to help.
Isbel straightened in gratitude and saw Astiras being forced over onto the table, the knife still in his fist but going nowhere. She knew she had to take over now. “Captain, have the emperor restrained securely. Frendicus, go fetch the apothecary. Ambassador, please guide my son into the corridor, my thanks to you, by the way.”
Meri nodded, his dark eyes full of worry. The room reverberated to repeated swearing and outbursts from the emperor as he was pinned to the table and disarmed. She gave the knot of struggling men a wide berth and went to his seat. His goblet was still there upright and half full. She lifted it and sniffed. Pulling a face, she set it back down and waited. More guards came in, some with rope, and the incoherent emperor was bound and gagged and fixed to the stoutest chair at that end of the chamber.
The apothecary came in, his face reflecting dismay and anxiety. “Your majesty?” he enquired to Isbel.
“Sedate him. Then, I want you to give the contents of this goblet a full and complete examination. Let me know of your findings the moment you discover what is in it.”
“Ma’am,” he bowed and then opened his bag and fumbled for a bottle. It contained a strong sedative, and he merely needed to apply it to a cloth and hold it over the recipient’s mouth and nose. Once breathed in the victim fell into a sleep, drugged by the fumes of the distillation. It was used all over the empire and in other places such as Talia.
Isbel beckoned one of the sweating guards. “Stand here,” she ordered, “and let nobody – and I mean nobody – except the apothecary there, come anywhere near. Chase them off and if they ignore you, then use your sword with my full authority.”
“Ma’am,” the guard snapped to attention.
“You two, outside and let nobody in except the apothecary and the Captain here.” Two more guards saluted and went outside, barring the way in. Isbel went out and located a shaking Istan, sitting against the opposite wall. Meri was standing by his side. Isbel went up to him. “Thank you again, Ambassador. I shall speak with you on the morrow of this. I’ll take over with my son now.”
Meri bowed low and backed away. The others in the corridor were encouraged to move off. Isbel helped Istan to stand, and he didn’t resist. He was shaking violently. She gently guided him to his room and lay him down on his bed.
“Istan, I shall stay with you tonight if you so wish.”
Istan nodded. The vision of the sharp knife plunging towards him terrified the boy. He clutched his mother and Isbel held him close to herself, wondering whether on the following day he would revert back to his normal self. The thought depressed her further.
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
Isbel was up early the next morning, rapidly issuing orders to the guards. She hurriedly washed, changed and emerged from her chambers still being attended to by her harassed maidservants. Amne appeared, looking white. She hadn’t spent a restful night. Isbel brought her up to date with the events after Amne had left.
“I heard most of it but – what do you think is going on? He’s clearly under some evil influence.”
Isbel agreed. “The apothecary is investigating the contents of his goblet. It didn’t smell right to me. If Astiras has been slowly poisoned or drugged these past few seasons, then it’s no surprise he’s acted so badly. I think we should show restraint until we know exactly what is going on.”
“Agreed. Well, this is a turn up! Father and I ending up at each other’s throats and you and I becoming this close.” She held her step-mother briefly, and Isbel squeezed her arm in gratitude.
“How are the girls?”
“Lucky they went before the real excitement started, but they were a little scared all the same. So what about Istan then? You think he was involved in this Mirrodan plot to wreck your marriage?”
“I don’t doubt it. He’s a nasty vindictive boy and I think he believes if he can get all of us out of his way he can become emperor. That’s what his ambition is. As long as he believes that, he’ll work at getting rid of us all. What a horrible thing to think of your own son!” she finished.
“But so right – I’ve never liked him. So unlike Argan,” Amne said. “He’s such a darling – so considerate and thoughtful. Oh and that Sasia girl – she likes him a lot.” Amne smiled wickedly.
Isbel walked with Amne to the main administrative office. “I think I know what you’re getting at. That may pose problems in the future when Argan seeks to marry. No Kastanian noblewoman will tolerate a fully aware adult Bragalese servant in her household. And you’re saying Sasia is enamoured of Argan?”
Amne spread her hands briefly. “She’s not capable of anything yet, but once she gets to that age… Argan will be fully occupied keeping her off him.”
“Oh, dear gods! We will have to get her away from him in that case.”
“Mother – write to him. Let him explain it from his point of view – don’t go forcing him to do things he’d rather not do. Speak to him. Treat him as a grown-up – yes, yes I know he’s not yet, but honestly, he’s growing up pretty fast and he’s quite mature in some ways, and in others,” she shrugged, “he’s just the old lovely Argan we know.”
Isbel sighed. “I could really do with your full time support here, Amne, but I know you’re keen to go back to Kastan city – and before that gets too big,” the empress pointed to the bump. “Bad morning?”
Amne nodded. “Spent the first part of the morning trying to eat a small breakfast, and the second part throwing it up. The girls seem fine though. I’m taking them round the courtyard this morning. Make sure Istan is not going anywhere near there.”
“He won’t. I’ve got Gallis to take him for an all-day lesson in etiquette. He was properly shaken up last night and wanted me to be with him. He didn’t say much this morning but he’s quite clearly frightened.” Isbel sat down. “I’ll send a note to you the moment I hear anything.”
“Where’s father?”
“Sedated and tied to his bed. Nobody is going anywhere near him. I’m acting regent and I’ll have to write to Jorqel and get his opinion as to what to do.”
Amne nodded and looked around the room. “Sometimes mother, I wish we’d never been pushed into this position. We’d’ve been just one of the noble Houses then, with nobody taking much notice of us.”
Isbel put her chin in her hand and looked at her step-daughter thoughtfully. “Perhaps you’re right, Amne. But then I wonder what would have happened to us all if the Fokis or Duras had been left to run things into the ground. Would we now be subjects of Venn, or Mazag? Our estates would have been confiscated for certain, and we would have ended up in some poor housing estate in the less well-to-do quarter of Kastan City.”
“But do you think being made the imperial House has done us, the family, any good?”
Isbel shook her head. “No. I wish with all my heart I wasn’t here in this position. I would then spend my days in my country house playing with my grand-daughters and fussing over yet another of your pregnancies.”
Amne laughed. “How true! And I would have had a handsome young nobleman as my husband.”
Isbel smiled tiredly. “You would have had a whole legion of suitors, too. You are such a beautiful woman.”
Amne lowered her eyes, blushing. “Oh, gods! Now look what you’ve made me do! I’ve not done this in ages!”
Isbel took Amne’s hand in hers. “Go to your daughters, relax, enjoy your day. You need rest. I’ll take care of things here. I’ll run these admin clerks senseless.”
Amne nodded, kissed Isbel on the cheek and went to the door. She turned
in the doorway. “I don’t envy you – being empress isn’t as glamorous as people think, is it?”
Isbel smiled and waved Amne out. She then sighed and looked at the clerks, all waiting on her words. “Send out notices to all cities and provinces. The emperor is unwell and currently is unable to carry out his official duties. I am acting as regent in the meantime.” She flexed her fingers. First things first. A letter to Vosgaris. She had thought long and hard over the matter. She would not reverse Astiras’ decision. Perhaps it was best, after all, that he remain in Niake, away from Isbel. However, her feelings for him had not changed, and she still longed for his touch and embrace. She would, however, inform him as to the emperor’s condition.
Istan was very subdued in his lessons that day. The realisation that he had nearly been killed in his father’s rage had been like a shock of cold water thrown over him. His mind was a turmoil of competing emotions and it would take time for him to get over the incident. In the meantime, he tried to put it out of his mind as best he could by concentrating on what the dreadfully dull Gallis was teaching him.
Amne felt better the later it got in the day. The feeling of nausea was not so strong and she looked forward to getting past this phase. It was the one thing she really detested about being pregnant. Throwing up at a moment’s notice was hardly dignified, and it took just the wrong smell at the wrong time to set her off. Lucky she wasn’t in a fishing port or she’d be face down permanently. The two girls didn’t seem worse for the sight of their grandfather’s temper the previous night and happily ran about the courtyard, watched over by Amne and her handmaidens.
The apothecary visited Isbel and indicated he wanted to speak to her privately. In her chambers he turned to face her, his face serious. “Your majesty, I regret to say I cannot identify what is in the emperor’s drink, but it is not only vinefruit. Whatever ails him was in that drink, but as I cannot identify what it is, I cannot propose a cure.”
“Are you saying it’s a poison?”