"Filia Tullia was well worthy of love," Michael said. "Will you take me to her?"
"Of course, come with me," Terentia said, and she began to lead the way.
She led him down corridors with vaulted ceilings, past cells where patients writhed and moaned under the care of the nurses, where they sat staring blankly at the wall before them, where they sat in their beds and read from scrolls and parchment bundles.
"You treat all kinds of ailments here," Michael said.
"We are the largest hospital in Eternal Pantheia after all, and the best," Terentia replied. "Only the Eudora Hospital for invalid soldiers can compare to it."
Michael nodded. "Tell me, how is Lucilia?"
"She is as well as can be expected given her condition. She cannot rise from her bed and her chest is so weak she cannot even abide cooking smoke," Terentia turned to face him, a fond look upon her face. "And yet she remains cheerful and kind. In all the time I've known her I have not heard her voice a single complaint about her situation."
"She sounds a rare gem indeed," Michael said. "It is a cruel fate that she must suffer this ill news."
"Indeed," Terentia said. She led him to a cell and opened the door. "Here we are. Lucilia, you have a visitor, a gentleman come to see you."
Michael looked into the cell and saw a young girl sitting up on a small bed, dressed in a white nightgown. She had luxuriously long light brown hair that descended in great waves down to her waist. Her eyes were blue, just as Tullia's had been. Her skin was very pale, another reminder of her fallen sister. On the table beside her bed were numerous wood carvings, including an owl, a unicorn, a cat and a girl.
"A visitor?" she asked, her voice high and childish. "Who could it be?"
Terentia waved him in, while standing beside the door. "Good luck," she whispered.
Michael nodded, and walked slowly into the room. "Good day, Filia. My name is Michael Callistus. I have the honour to be a friend of your elder sister, Tullia."
"A friend of Tullia? Are you her prince?"
Michael smiled. "No, I am no prince but a poor fellow of Corona. Filia Lucilia, may I sit down?"
"Of course."
Michael sat down in the chair next to the girl's bed, unsure now of how to begin.
Lucilia smiled at him, and held out her hand. "Sir, will you give me your hands?"
Tentatively, Michael placed his right hand into Lucilia's grasp. Her grip was slight but warm, it tickled a little as her fingers played across his palm. "You have honest hands, sir."
"I do?"
"Mm-hmm." Lucilia giggled. "I can always tell."
Oh God, why must such a sweet child suffer so? Michael blinked, and looked around the room as if for some deliverance. "You... you have beautiful carvings, Filia."
"Yes, they're wonderful, aren't they?" Lucilia smiled. "Xanthe made them for me. I get lonely here, so she gave me these friends to keep me company." She reached out and picked up the little wooden girl. "This is my sister Tullia, a present for her when she gets home. Do you know when she'll come visit me again?"
She handed him the carving, which was indeed of Tullia Athenaeum. As he held the wood in his hands, Michael's breast heaved with sorrow and a sob escaped his mouth. He would have wept, had he been a weeping kind of man.
"Are you all right, sir? Have I upset you?"
"No, no," Michael said swiftly. "I... I have some grave news for you, Filia. News I should have told you from the start. I am afraid that I am here to tell you that your sister...Tullia has fallen. I am afraid that she will never return to claim your gift."
Lucilia gasped, her whole body convulsed with shock. She was still and silent for a moment.
"No," she murmured. Then she began to moan piteously like a mother giving birth amidst great pain. "No!"
Tears began to flow down her cheeks from out of her blind eyes. Terentia dashed into the room, kneeling to embrace Lucilia with the girl's head upon her shoulder, while Michael took her hand in his and held it tight while she wept out her sorrow.
"I am so sorry," Michael murmured. "I am so very, very sorry."
"Let it out, child," Terentia said. "Let it out."
"I don't understand," Lucilia cried. "She was so brave and so strong and she was my sister. How could she just leave me like that? What happened?"
"She was brave," Michael said. "The bravest person I have ever met and strong too. Stronger than I am. She fell locked in combat with a fearsome monster, and she dealt him a great injury, the only person to ever do so. She was magnificent. In all my years I will never forget how glorious she was, I will never forget her."
"But she's gone," Lucilia wept. "She's gone and she's never coming back."
"Yet she is here with you, always, her spirit watching over you," Michael said. "I have seen her with my own eyes, her spirit standing at my shoulder. Tullia is dead, but never think that she has left you!"
"Really? You mean it?"
"I would never lie to you, Filia. You said yourself that I had honest hands."
Lucilia smiled a little at that, "So I did. Do you think that she's here now?"
"I am sure she is."
Lucilia pushed a little away from Terentia. "Goodbye, Tullia. I love you. I'll always love you. I'll..." she wiped away more tears with one sleeve. "You must be sick of all this crying."
"I have a brother and a sister of my own, I would weep as hard if any harm befell them," Michael said. "That was what Tullia and I first found we had in common: little sisters we both loved very much. Filia Lucilia, I made your sister a promise, that if anything should happen to her I would take care of you as she did. For that reason, though I can never replace Tullia, I offer myself in her stead, to stand as brother and protector to you for as long as you require me. Will you accept me, Filia?"
Lucilia took her hand away, and reached towards Michael's face. He closed his eyes as she ran her small fingers over his chin and under his eyes, across his forehead and upon his nose.
"You have a very kind face," Lucilia said. "I can see why Tullia chose you to make this promise. Yes, Michael, I will."
"I thank you kindly, Lucilia," Michael said. Traditionally such a bond ought to have been sealed in blood, but he was not going to cut open the hand of a sickly eleven year old girl. Besides, he and Tullia had already sworn in blood on behalf of their respective sisters, so there was already a blood bond between the two of them.
"And now, Michael, as my brother, would you tell me everything you remember about Tullia? I hardly ever got to see her, after she went to work for the mages, and I want to know everything I can."
Michael nodded. "Of course. Where would you like me to begin?"
Dido's House of Pleasures was closed that night, but packed to the rafters nonetheless. Massive tables had been placed in the centre of the atrium and weighted down with copious quantities of food and drink: fine wines, roasted peacocks, dormice, honey cakes, lemon cakes, pigs' heads, succulent apples, blood oranges, a fine bull that would have done honour to a prince roasted and served whole as the centre piece of the banquet, the choicest cut offered up as a sacrifice to the gods. It was a feast fitting for a prince, and as he watched the actors and the working girls, the cross-dressers and the toy-boys, the priests and the playwrights mingle around the hall united in their love for and devotion to Jason, Michael realised that much though he may disdain the title of prince, much though he might rail against the very notion of monarchy, he had been all along the prince that Tullia had wished him to be. He had no throne, no crown or diadem, he had no army. He was a prince in threads and patches, ruler o'er the disposed, the downtrodden, the outcast and unwanted, yet he was nonetheless a Prince in truth and he ruled their hearts by right unchallenged. He moved through the crowds with regal bearing, joining the bawdy manner of the revels yet at the same time always above them. Their joy, which set some to weeping for a touch of his brown skin or a glance from those purple eyes, was that of subjects long leaderless whose rightful monarch has at last returned to set all thin
gs to rights in the disordered state. In this coarse company His Highness shone with the touch of the divine grace.
"Metrobia!" Jason cried, embracing a fat old cross dresser in a red dress, whose hair was woven through and through with strings of pearls, while diamonds hung about her sagging neck and golden bangles clattered on her wrists. "Metrobia, I am so glad to see you here. I had heard your health has been delicate these past months. I thank the gods that they have made you well."
"Oh! If anything has made me well it is the sight of your fair face, my boy, but you flatter me too much. Age encroaches and my beauty fades, and those who once would have thrown me roses now pass me in the street without a second glance. I am glad that you knew me in my prime, but-"
"But nothing Metrobia, you are as fair as ever and I am as in love with you as I was on the day we met. Come, vision, make me immortal with a kiss and I'll do likewise." She kissed him upon each cheek and then upon the lips. She was blushing furiously as a debutante maid as His Highness left her.
Michael's admiration for Jason's mastery of his people was cut short as he saw that Metrobia was now making her way towards him.
"You look uncomfortable," she said, caressing his cheek with nails painted red. "Do you too wish to be made immortal?"
Michael clung to his chivalry as an immovable rock to stand on in this place of perilous, uncertain footing. Taking Metrobia's hand he pressed it to his lips. "I thank you ma'am, but in my land even a kiss upon the lips is held a marvellous and sacred thing, to be not idly cast aside but hoarded carefully and only granted to the one whom love's dart strikes."
"A gentleman? A rare sight in this part of town. You know, you would have loved me once. There was a time I could have brought you to your knees from all the way across the room. Still, you are a comely lad; will you dance with an old lady as if she has stunned you as she once would have?"
Michael coughed. "How can I refuse?" He took her in his arms, and as he whirled her across the floor he could have sworn he heard Amy laughing her head off.
"You really are a gentleman aren't you? The dancing here is generally of a much wilder kind."
"I have no doubt of that ma'am, but I believe that wildness should be reserved for the battlefield and for the foe," Michael replied. "The dance floor should be a place of elegance and beauty."
"You don't believe that there is beauty in wildness?"
"Not half so much as there is in grace, ma'am," Michael said.
Metrobia laughed. "Oh, that I were half my age. Gods, I could have shown you the error of your ways when I was young, don't you doubt it."
By the time they stopped Metrobia was quite out of breath. "You dance very well." She patted his cheek. "Such a shame about the stuffed shirt."
As Jason invited everyone to sit down to dinner, Michael made unseemly haste to secure the seat by Elissa. At least the quiet girl might grant him a reprieve from the madness of this place.
"Thank you," she murmured. "For saving Jason."
Michael blinked. "His Highness saved me as often, I am certain sure. He owes me nothing; I owe him a great deal."
"He said that you saved his life from a man who was going to kill him," Elissa said. "He said you fought off a whole army."
"His Highness does me far too much honour," Michael said. "I fought one man in the midst of an army. And only for a little while."
Elissa was silent for a moment. When she spoke again she was so softly spoken Michael had to strain to hear her. "What's it like, to fight?"
"To fight, Filia, or to kill?" Michael asked. "Which is it you really wish to know."
"I want to know what it's like to not be afraid," Elissa said.
"Then I am afraid you must ask someone else, Filia, for I could not tell you. Our Amy might know," Michael said. "Do you wish to fight?"
"I want to be free," Elissa said.
Dinner was an overly bawdy affair to Michael's taste, but he was not placed in any more embarrassing situations. At the end, when everyone had eaten their fill, Jason clapped his hands and said, "Aristophanes! Good old man! A speech! Come, let's have a speech from you. Something tragic and with great weight, to please my guests."
An elderly actor, his hair distinguished white, rose from his seat as all conversation hushed. "Very well. As we have with us a lord of the Empire and a worshipper of the Empress, I shall speak the Death of Aegea from the Tragedy of Lord Ilioneus; the messenger's speech where the great lords first hear of the Empress' death."
Gideon's face went very still, his whole body becoming as a statue as he waited for the player's words.
Aristophanes took a sip of wine, cleared his throat, and began to declaim in a commanding baritone:
"My lords, it is most grievous news I bear,
Which shall cause stones to weep, and the walls-
Of Pantheia to crack from moaning out,
Their sorrows. Aegea, mother bold,
To each of us the soul of kindness,
The font of courage and our honour's heart,
Our captain of valour and of constancy,
The blade, the armour and the rose of this,
Fair state which she hath forged with us,
Hath left this world and all her sons bereft,
Now that their sun's extinguished. Twas in,
Argonia, despicable land, where she had gone,
To curb their warlike overweening pride,
And to their hills the barb'rous folk had fled,
To face us not with honour but with guile.
So as our column, strung out greatly sore,
Wearily wandered through a wooded pass,
The foemen, blazing wrath, sprang from the trees
And on us fell with spears and loud war-cries.
By the shadows of the o'er-looming trees
Our hearts were darkened and our valour broke,
Men turned, this way and that, their voices wild,
With panic and with terror. Just as sheep,
Blinded by their fear, mill hither and yon,
While the wolf in their midst devours them all,
So we ran, and cast aside our arms, while wolves
In armour of Argonian bronze devoured our host.
But Hark! What trumpet from beyond the forest
sounds?
What soldiers these now pressing through the trees,
Their flag raised high, their drumbeats steady.
What name is this that lies upon their tongue
What other name but 'Aegea! Aegea! Aegea!'
Her shining helm the darkness burned away,
Her purple crest it blazed with fire,
Her samite steed, its horn aglow,
Her howling wolf, its jaws slick red.
One glance of her proud visage and,
Argonia's pride and valour burned away,
While our hot courage roared up to its top,
To drive them forth and claim the field as ours
But lo! Oh woe! What dastard deed defiant shriek,
As victory cheers rang out, one single spear,
One solitary dart in anger thrown by some retreating foe,
Pierced great Aegea's side. She groaned, and swooned,
And fell from unicorn's back with mighty crash,
Even as Mithrok made when, pierced by his son's blade,
He cast his shield aside and toppled to raise mountains.
And such a groan as from the earth arose,
Was equalled up by Aegea's soldiers as they did
Behold her hurt. All night we prayed,
And knelt upon the ground about her tent,
All thoughts, all hopes, bent upon Aegea.
Our banners hanging limp absorbed the rain,
Our glories and our triumphs washed away,
No man was there who would not trade his life,
For the salvation of great Aegea. Had Argonia,
Possessed the wit to strike at us that night,
Then every soldier now alive would h
ave been slain
For want of watching outwards for our foes
So bent was every thought upon our Aegea.
The clouds black o'er our heads, a funeral shroud,
The rain upon us was the heavens' weeping,
And all the soldiers round about, their heads bent down,
Weeping fit to drown the land in grief for Aegea well beloved,
And when she breathed her last the cry that rose from us,
Did shake the trees and cast down all the leaves,
Did strike the clouds and fair disperse them all,
It equalled up the thunder yet 'twas not,
One tenth expression of the grief we felt,
There was no man who did not despair,
And reach for blade to take his life that we might,
Join Aegea in the world to come and serve her still.
But then, as hope was lost, a light was spied,
In fallen Aegea's tent. Her great soul upwards
To the heavens began to rise, but halfway stopped,
Hanging suspended 'twixt the heavens and the earth,
Not born divine, but no more mortal either,
She who had sought to carve an empire out on earth,
Had won instead a place amongst the gods.
Smiling, she bade us take true heart and comfort,
Protect her son, place him upon the purple throne,
Win the empire she had wished to win,
Lift up the humble, and wear down the proud,
And be just, as she knew that we could be.
And thus is Aegea lost to us and gained by all,
Blessed are they, and roundly cursed are we."
Aristophanes bowed as all the guests began to applaud wildly. As Michael looked over at Gideon, he saw that his beloved captain was weeping silently, whether for Aegea or at himself for not having been there to witness it he could not say.
Shortly afterwards the party began to break up, Jason's friends beginning to go back to their homes, even as the girls in the Pleasure House began to tidy up ready for business the next day.
Michael retired to his room, only to find that it was already occupied by Juno, the girl with the golden skin and the long black hair, who looked at him expectantly with wide dark eyes.
Michael cleared his throat. "I have no interest in sampling the pleasures of this house, ma'am. If you will excuse me."
Spirit of the Sword: Faith and Virtue (The First Sword Chronicles Book 2) Page 16