Miranda sighed. "It is a generous offer, Portia, but there's really nothing you can do. It is...a family matter."
"I did not think you had any family in the city?" Romana asked.
"Neither did I, until recently," Miranda murmured with a sad smile. “That’s the problem.”
Portia's face crumpled with sympathy. "Oh, my dear Miranda, that sounds awful. You must tell us all about it."
"I would rather not," Miranda said, quietly but firmly.
"Of course, of course, how silly of me. My curiosity got the better of me," Portia replied. "We will say no more about it unless you wish to. Now, would you like some more tea?"
"Yes, thank you," Miranda said.
"Allow me, your majesty," Romana said, taking up the china teapot. As she poured, she said, "Portia, I hear that you were seen in the Tyronian market yesterday."
Portia snorted. "I could hardly not be seen. After you told me off for sneaking around the Subura I went to the market as the Empress. I had one of my gowns on and took all my guards."
"I'm sure that made Captain Caesennius much happier," Romana said.
"It didn't make me happy," Portia replied. "The guards kept everyone away from me, and everyone kept bowing. I didn't get the chance to talk to anyone."
"Talk to the slaves, they'll listen to anything you want them to you."
"Only because they're afraid of what will happen to them if they don't," Portia replied. "Don't you get terribly lonely here?"
"No," Princess Romana said simply. "I have my ladies in waiting, my guards, my wolves, my hunting hounds, my astrologers and magi, my chambermaids, my grooms-."
"Those are only servants," Portia protested. "They're not your friends."
"Perhaps not, but I care for them nonetheless," Romana said. "Portia, I am sorry if you sometimes find the palace a constricting place, but the fact is that you are the Princess Imperial. And you are too often seen."
"Too often?" Portia asked. "What do you mean?"
Romana leaned backwards in her chair. "Why do you imagine that I so rarely stir outside the palace, save for official engagements?"
"I confess, your highness, that I thought you were a snob," Miranda said.
Romana laughed. "No, Filia, I have nothing but love for all of Aegea's children. No, the reason why I stay cloistered behind these walls, why I do not show myself on every public holiday, why I am not in every eye as Portia is, and Antiochus too? Because I do not wish to grow stale as a sight so early in my youth
"By staying here, shut away within these palace walls, I cannot stir out from the gates but I am wondered at, even if only as the mad Princess Romana, who consorts with snake-charmers and howls like a wolf at each full moon. The sight of me is like a comet, to be pointed at in awe and hushed amazement 'this is she! The princess comes among us!' My presence graces the public state like a majestic robe which is so lavish that it be but seldom worn lest it be tarnished by the wear and tear of many usages, or that familiarity shall give every eye the opportunity to mark well all the flaws and frays and tears upon it.
"Portia, if you continue to amble up and down the common streets, then soon you will forfeit all the majesty which is the due of your noble marriage and esteemed rank. When you have cause to set forth in all your splendour do you imagine that the people will mark you as the Princess Imperial should be marked? No. You will be as a pigeon in the Square of Heroes, a sight more nuisance than revelation, commonplace and mildly detested.
"You are the Princess Imperial, Portia. You may find it is a gown that restricts your movements but it is one you chose to wear when you wed His Majesty. And it is that majesty, which is the gilded laurel on your brow, which stands in peril if you do not cease to make the eyes of men grow weary of your common sight, and make yourself seem less than marriage and a tender heart might make of you."
"Do you really believe all that?" Miranda asked.
Princess Romana looked halfway between amusement and affront. "If I did not believe it, I would not say it. Filia Octavia, do you not agree that the things we see most often soon lose their lustre to the eye?"
Octavia blinked, a faint blush of embarrassment spreading to her cheeks. "I...um...I don't think it's my place to say, Your Highness."
"Meaning that you disagree but are afraid to say so," Romana observed. "You may speak."
"I...I see Miranda all the time," Octavia murmured. "She's still beautiful in my eyes."
"And she will be still when she is old and doddering," Portia said warmly. "That is what it means to be in love, don't you think?"
Princess Romana put up her hands. "I will concede the point on that particular; I should have thought of it myself. Yes, love has a logic all of its own, does it not?"
"There is nothing logical about it, Romana," Portia said. "Where is the logic in an Emperor marrying a scullion? Love defies reason."
"To a point," Romana said softly. "But when one loves there must be cause behind it. One does not love in absence of all reason to give love. You have a kind heart, a gentle spirit, a fair face and a pleasing figure and all those things my brother loves in you. He in his turn has a noble brow, eyes a pleasant shade of brown, a body tall and muscular, a passing wit and a humility in his soul that is most uncommon in a prince of most high blood, and for those things he is loved in turn by you. Were you a shrieking harpy with the face of a cyclops and he some slavering ogre with an overbite do you imagine that you would be married now?"
Portia shifted uncomfortably. "You make it sound so cold."
"Filia Miranda, Filia Octavia, what do you think?" Romana asked. "There must be something to love, must there not? Nothing will grow from nothing."
"I think you are right, but I hate the way that you express it," Miranda replied. "Portia is right, you do make it sound cold. Is there no one or nothing that you love, that you speak of love in such a frigid fashion?"
Romana looked into Miranda's eyes. "I love this country. With all my heart I love it. With my last breath I shall proclaim my adoration for it. I love the heaving turmoil of Eternal Pantheia, the smoke rising from the temples as the sunlight gleams on the monuments. I love the misty moors of Imperial Lavissar. I love the frozen peaks of the western mountains. I love the salty harbours of Tyronia, where the chatter of merchants mingles with that of philosophers. I love the sandy expanses of Triazica and the glittering riverways of Ne'Arin. I love Corona's rocky shore, I love the trees of Turma, I love the pastureland of Saba. I love this land, I love its people, I love what has been built upon it.
"I love the Empire's pomp, I love its pride, I love its swagger, I love its steel. I love its strength, I love its endurance, I love... I love it whole entire, every last bit of it. I will take a husband, in due course, I have no doubt; but the Empire will always have first claim upon my heart."
Miranda pursed her lips. "Pomp and pride, steel and swagger; are those really the qualities you desire in a nation?"
"What would you have in their place, Filia?" Romana asked.
"Compassion?" Miranda asked. "Fairness?"
"All may climb the ladder if they have the skill," Romana replied.
"And if they have not the skill?"
"Then with good fortune someone will offer them a hand to lift them up," Romana said, glancing first at Portia, and then at Octavia.
Over the Empress' shoulder, Miranda could see the Emperor approaching, head bent down slightly, deep in conversation with Prince Antiochus. The two brothers were dressed nearly identically, in purple togas trimmed with gold, with silver bracelets heavy on their wrists. Prince Antiochus wore a golden circlet on his brow, while the dark curls of the Emperor hung down about his face without adornment. They were followed by eight guards, who had dispensed with their ceremonial spears and kept their hands hovering near the hilts of their short swords.
Miranda pushed herself up onto her feet, leaning on her cane. "Your Majesty, your highness."
Portia looked behind her. "Demodocus, darling!"
&nb
sp; The Emperor walked quickly over to join his wife, taking her hand and kissing it. "As always, my dear, you are more radiant than the sun." He took her in his arms in a firm embrace.
Prince Antiochus looked at them with a smirking sneer playing upon a handsome face, albeit one marred by a ridiculous moustache colonising his upper lip. "We must look to find you a husband of your own, Romana. Would you not like to partake in this marital bliss for yourself?"
Romana's smile cut like a blade. "Will you marry me to some common herdsman, that I must learn to cook and clean and keep a house for him? Or will you tie me to Hippolytus Kyrios or Dio Verra and trust your cronies to keep me in line?"
"Do you have a preference?"
"I think between such offerings I should prefer the peasant," Romana said. "Either one I could make Prince Consort, in due course, but the common pleb would probably be easier to bend to obedience than one of your henchmen."
Prince Antiochus' face hardened. "You have a glib tongue, little sister. You should be careful lest it lead you into trouble."
"Yes, clearly I should follow your example and sneer at everyone instead, that is the course of prudence."
"Romana, that's enough," the Emperor said, breaking off his embrace of his wife. "Antiochus is right. You have a touch of wit about you and you use that wit to make sport of those around you. You mock Antiochus, you belittle Portia-"
"Demodocus, I really don't-" Portia began.
"I do," the Emperor said firmly, not taking his eyes off his sister. "It ends, now. The mockery, the plotting intrigues, the scheming machinations, the manipulation of the credulous, the proclamations of your own importance. Do you think I did not realise how you have sought to aggrandise yourself at my expense? Did you imagine that I would ignore it?"
Romana turned away from him, beginning to walk up and down as she spoke. "It is true, your highness, that I have, upon occasion, spoken to her highness in a firm tone, feeling it my duty as a princess to the purple born to educate her who came to our dignity by marriage in the duties of and manner proper to her newly risen state. And yet I spoke never with intent to wound or to offend but only to improve and enlighten one whom I adore.
"As to my other offences, I pray your highness will grant me knowledge of some particulars whereby I am charged with such gross improprieties and brushing treasons and, being so armed with full details, I do declare that with your pardon I may quit myself of many of these scurrilous allegations that-"
"My pardon!" the Emperor shouted, stopping Romana in her tracks as he seized her by the arms. "You cry my pardon? Gods pardon you the killing of our mother at your birth, then we shall speak of pardoning your lesser offences."
Miranda felt her grip on her stick tightening, as Portia gasped in shock and Octavia gave a fearful squeak. Prince Antiochus was practically leering.
Captain Thrakes, the burly man with the face of a thug who commanded Princess Romana’s guard, looked to be on the verge of intervening. But, unseen to the Emperor, the princess made a slight gesture with her hand, and the captain backed off.
"So," Romana said. "Now we come to it. Always?"
"Always," Antiochus said.
"And here I thought that power was the only thing you loved."
"Enough!" the Emperor bellowed, pushing Romana aside and turning away abruptly. "I give you one last warning, Romana, out of consideration for the bond we share as siblings. Curb your pride and your ambitions. Put aside all thoughts of greatness or of destiny. Scatter the powers that you have gathered to yourself. Or I shall strip them all from you and more, so you may learn the humble obedience that is your lot in life. I have no wish to marry you against your will, but I will do so if it is the only way you leave me to teach you to be docile."
Romana blinked, and said nothing. Her chest rose and fell, her eyes bored into the back of her older brother, and for a moment Miranda thought that she would defy her brothers. But when she spoke, it was only to say, "Well, it is more warning than you gave to Jason, I suppose. I thank you for the caution, your majesty. I shall remember what you have said."
"That is not agreement," Antiochus growled.
"Indeed," Romana murmured.
"Enough, Antiochus," the Emperor said.
"Demodocus-"
"Her actions will show the proof," the Emperor said. "And you will call me majesty in the presence of others."
Prince Antiochus looked positively mutinous. "Yes, Your Majesty."
The Emperor forced a smile onto his face. "And now to happier matters, I trust. Filia Miranda, my brother and I have discussed this at great length, and my good opinion combined with Antiochus' unwavering faith in you - plus the praise of my dear Portia, who holds you in the fondest regard - has convinced me that this is the best decision that I could make. Filia Rebecca Miranda Callistus, I would name you Commander of the Army."
Octavia gave a half shriek of surprise, thus freeing Miranda from the need to give any audible demonstration of her own shock. But in place of noise she felt her legs weaken a little, and she feared that she would topple over and fall.
"Commander of the Army," she managed to get out. "The...the Imperial Army?"
The Emperor laughed. "I am sure you would make an excellent commander for Xarzia or Xiang-li, Filia, but sadly I have no authority to dispose of their forces, only my own."
This time Octavia must have also felt Miranda was in danger of falling, for she put out one hand to steady Miranda as she wavered.
"But...but I'm not a soldier," Miranda said.
"Indeed not, that is one of your best recommendations for the post," the Emperor replied. "I have had my belly-full of soldiers. They think me weak, you know. Dux Nikephorus, the Lord Commenae, they all think that they can bully me with the strength of their legions. I hope that you will not underestimate me in the same way. Working with me, and with my dear brother Antiochus, I hope that together we can change not only the army but this country."
"Working with you?" Miranda said. She laughed nervously. "Your Majesty I am...I am...I am not the sort of person who ever dreamt that the Emperor would ask me to work with them in anything. You need my help?"
"Of course he does," Portia said. "You're wonderful, Miranda, and we all think so."
"Attempt to reform the army from without met with bitter opposition," the Emperor said. "But change from within, with a reformer as Commander, is a quite different proposition."
Miranda frowned. "But doesn't the commander have to be a senior officer?"
"Usually," the Emperor conceded. "But technically it is not an absolute necessity. The position is in my gift, I can appoint whomever I like. And I will appoint you, unless you earnestly do not desire it."
Miranda hesitated. More than any other decision she had made since coming to Eternal Pantheia, this one had the feeling of irrevocability about it. She could break off her relationship with Prince Antiochus simply by avoiding him. She could take her leave of Lord Quirian any time she wanted to. But this...Commander of the Army. Master of Soldiers. The Emperor was offering her responsibilities ranging across the whole of the Empire, across the southern sea, from Lavissar to the East Wall. Across the length and breadth of the land, soldiers would answer to her. Miranda was not at all sure she wanted such a weight upon her shoulders.
And yet…
When Lord Quirian had brought her to Eternal Pantheia he had told her that the influence she would wield would more than make up for the loss of her vote and other legal rights. At the time Miranda had taken his point, and so given up a great deal of what little power she, as a citizen, had possessed. Yet now His Majesty offered her power of her own, the power to remake the Empire if she so chose. She would have the power, right and authority to raise or dismiss men in arms, to appoint officers, to sit at the Emperor's right hand in all his councils, to send troops marching hither or yon. She could deploy the army's might to crush the power of the Crimson Rose once and for all. She could use her golems on the frontiers. She could do...anything she want
ed.
Miranda looked at Portia, who beamed with happiness on Miranda's behalf. She looked at Octavia, who looked to be on the verge of tears. She looked at Prince Antiochus, who had a greedy smile upon his face.
As Commander of the Army she would have the power to protect Portia, as she had vowed to do. She could protect Octavia. She could protect the ordinary people of Corona Province from the Crimson Rose; she could protect the innocent people of this city from the ambitions of the powerful.
All these things that she wished to do, she would be able to do with the office of Commander of the Army in her hands. Compared to that, what was her nerves regarding the responsibility? She had taken on grave responsibilities the moment she had agreed to start creating golems.
Miranda smiled. "Your Majesty, I am at your service."
Portia clapped her hands together. "Wonderful! Absolutely wonderful! Oh, Miranda, I'm so glad."
The Emperor smiled. "As am I. Congratulations, Filia. As of this moment hundreds of thousands of men now answer to you."
"Six hundred and fifty thousand foot, two hundred and thirty thousand horse, seven hundred war elephants, nine thousand camels, two thousand aestivals, forty thousand orcs and sixteen thousand centaurs, more or less," Romana said. "Congratulations, Filia Miranda." Her smile did not quite reach her eyes. Regardless of what she might say, Miranda could sense the Princess' displeasure.
At that moment Miranda found that she really didn't care.
"Well done, Miranda," Prince Antiochus said, swaggering forward. "I trust you'll serve us well in your new office."
Miranda bowed. "I will serve, your highness." But not for you, your cause or for your sake.
Prince Antiochus leaned forwards to whisper in her ear. "Perhaps, since we are going to be working so closely together, we could become...close in other ways. I'm sure that I could cure your of your affliction."
Spirit of the Sword: Faith and Virtue (The First Sword Chronicles Book 2) Page 13