Spirit of the Sword: Faith and Virtue (The First Sword Chronicles Book 2)

by Frances Smith

  But then, after what she had done she could not really say that she deserved any other treatment, could she?

  "If they..." Miranda swallowed. "If they decide to put me to death, I don't want you to interfere. I won't have your death on my conscience."

  "Put you to death?" Octavia gasped. "But Michael promised-"

  "Michael is very gallant, but he is just one man," Miranda said. "And not even conscious at the moment. Regardless, if that is the princess' decision, I will bear it. And so will you."

  "You can't speak for me, not like that!" Octavia snapped. "You can't just tell me to...to watch you die! I'm not your slave and I'm not your pet and you can't just pat me on the head and tell me 'there, there' before you go off to get your head chopped off! Do you think I would just stand by, because you told me to, like a dog? Is that what you think of me?"

  "No!" Miranda said. "Of course I don't."

  "Then why would you say something like that?" Octavia demanded.

  "Because the only death I want now is my own," Miranda shouted, whipping her head round to look Octavia in the eye. Tears began to run down Miranda's face. "Octavia, how many people did Prince Antiochus kill? Ten? Twenty? Forty? Fifty, at the most? How many did I kill last night?"

  "No one knows yet," Octavia murmured.

  "Because the toll is in the hundreds, if not thousands," Miranda said. "Three hundred and twenty-four men from the Seventh Legion dead, and another ninety three wounded; the Lord Commenae informed me of that personally. Four hundred and twenty-four from a single unit, and the numbers are still coming in from throughout the city. I am as vile a creature as ever walked the earth. How can I go on, after this?"

  "You're not vile," Octavia said. "You were...you weren't yourself."

  "But I was, don't you see," Miranda said. "All of it, the anger, the pride, the conceit, the judgement, all of it was in me before Portia died. All of it was growing in me the longer I spent in this place. If it had not been Portia, it would have been something else in the end."

  "And that's it?" Octavia asked. "One misstep and you are condemned? What about mercy, what about forgiveness, what about making things right?"

  "How?" Miranda said. "How can I make this right?"

  "I don't know, but..." Octavia hesitated. "You told me that it drove you mad how Michael used to seek death in the arena, the way he couldn't forgive himself for what happened to Felix, the way that he didn't care how much he hurt you. Don't you care about how much you'll hurt Michael and Felix, the way that you're hurting me? I'd die without you, doesn't that matter?"

  "Of course it matters," Miranda said. "But...does it matter more than the rights of the victims to justice? Isn't that all that Quirian wanted, in the end? That the wicked should pay for their crimes, and not be protected by rank, wealth or power, or be able to tell themselves that what they had done was not so terrible, and look away from the damage they had caused?"

  "Lord Father was willing to hurt a lot of innocent to get his justice," Octavia said. "I don't think you want to take him as role model."

  Miranda smiled. "No. I probably don't. In any event this is all academic. My fate, as that door there demonstrates, is not in my hands."

  As if summoned by her voice, the lock clicked and the door opened. Hyllia of the Subura, now reinstated as the Princess' cupbearer, stood in the doorway, a sour look upon her face as she glared at Miranda from between her unruly bangs.

  "The Princess wants you," Hyllia said. "Follow me."

  Miranda and Octavia rose to their feet.

  "Not you," Hyllia snapped, gesturing to Octavia. "She wants to see you alone."

  Octavia glanced at Miranda.

  "It will be all right," Miranda whispered. She was confident of no such thing, but if she was to be condemned to die at the hands of Princess Romana she had no wish for her lover to be there to see it.

  She followed Hyllia out of the room, and three out of the four guards trailed after her while the fourth locked Octavia back in and resumed his station on the door.

  The palace floors were still stained with blood. In some places they were positively slick with it. Most of the bodies were gone by now - at least through the places where Miranda was going - but the blood was still ever-present. Guardsmen who had placed their spears aside to take up mops and buckets were swabbing out the floors, sloshing water over the marble, scrubbing the mosaics. They looked up as Miranda past, and more of them stopped to glare at her passing than not. She suspected it was only the word of Princess Romana that stopped them from striking her dead.

  She looked away, unable to meet their eyes. She could hardly deny that she had earned their ire. She focussed instead on young Hyllia, and noticed that the young girl was moving a little stiffly.

  "Are you hurt?" she asked.

  "It's nothing," Hyllia grunted.

  "I could help if you-"

  "I don't want anything from you," Hyllia snapped, briefly whirling round to point aggressively before resuming her strident progress.

  Miranda swallowed. "Who did I kill?"

  "Too many," Hyllia snarled. "The guards, the servants, they were my friends and you killed them! I hope Princess Romana cuts off your head!"

  She probably will, as like as not, Miranda thought.

  Hyllia brought her to the long vaulted throne room, nearly as empty as a tomb now, devoid of all those who had thronged it on Miranda's last visit, to see Romana humiliated by her brothers and stripped of all her powers and titles. Now, Romana stood upon the dais from which her brothers had denounced her, though she was attended only by Captain Thrakes and a handful of guards, plus one or two of her burly henchmen who had obviously made their way back to her swiftly enough, as Hyllia had done. Miranda would not be surprised if the stargazers and dream-interpreters and mystics were readmitted to the court in short order now that Romana ruled.

  Romana, garbed all in mourning black – whether she was mourning the Empire still or mourning her brother specifically Miranda could not tell - stood with her back to her protectors, standing beside the throne and staring at it as though she feared that it might melt away, and with it all her power and state, if she left it unattended.

  "Princess Romana!" Hyllia exclaimed. "I brought her, just like you asked."

  Romana looked their way, her purple ponytail flicking over her shoulder as her head turned. "Hyllia. What have I told you about the correct mode of address for me now?"

  Hyllia bowed her head, but from what Miranda could see she seemed to be smirking slightly. "Forgive me, your majesty. But I did bring her."

  Romana smiled. "Yes, you did. Good girl. Filia Miranda, approach. Everyone else, leave us."

  Hyllia, Captain Thrakes, the guards, none of them said anything. None of them made any move to do anything either. They looked everywhere but at their mistress, and Miranda.

  Romana sighed. "Is there a problem? Major Thrakes?"

  Captain Thrakes, or Major now, apparently, cleared his throat. "I do not think it is altogether wise to-"

  "If Filia Miranda wished me dead I would be dead," Romana said briskly. "Give me the room, I wish to speak to Filia Miranda in private."

  It was clear from the furrowed brow of Major Thrakes that he was far from convinced, but it was equally clear that he did not dare to question. He merely bowed, and ushered his men out of the room via one of the side doors.

  "You as well, Hyllia," Romana said.

  Hyllia bowed again. "Yes, princess." She gave Miranda one last dirty look before departing out of the great doors. Miranda could hear her feet squeaking on the floor before the doors shut.

  Princess Romana turned away, looking at the throne once again. She ran her hands just over the gold, only an inch away from the majestic chair, but never quite touching it, though sometimes her fingertips came so close.

  Miranda frowned as she walked towards the dais, the tap of her walking stick interrupting the thump of her feet as she moved. "Why do you not just place your hands on it, since you clearly want t
o?"

  Romana smiled as she ran her fingers just above the throne. "It is not yet mine to touch. Not until I have been acclaimed as Princess Imperial and invited to assume the throne by the army, the patricians and the people of Eternal Pantheia. It is said the purple throne will curse those who grasp at it out of turn. And yet it tempts me so." With what looked like visible effort, she wrenched her hands away. "I regret that I cannot offer you any refreshment, Filia. As you have doubtless observed, the palace is rather short-staffed at the moment."

  Miranda said nothing, grateful that Princess Romana did not choose to the state the obvious with regards to whose fault that was. "If I were to offer you my condolences, would you take it amiss?"

  "Less than if you offered me congratulations," Romana murmured. "Though I should probably thank you, Filia. Antiochus could never have taken the throne after what he had done, but it would have been very awkward to have kept him around, a constant challenge to my claim. And yet I would not have wanted to begin my rule with an act of fratricide. The beginning informs the race, after all, and what kind of race would be informed by a brother's murder?"

  "You'll forgive me, I hope, if I do not accept your thanks," Miranda said. "I hardly think it was worth the death and devastation I caused to put you on the purple throne."

  Romana shook her head. "No. But were you more my partisan I would tell you to take comfort in the knowledge that at least some good can come from this. But you do not believe that, do you?"

  Miranda said nothing.

  Romana turned to face her, clasping her hands behind her back. "I am the ruler that this country needs, Filia. I can make this country great again, I know the way."

  "Your road does not lead to anywhere I wish to visit," Miranda replied.

  Princess Romana pursed her lips. "I told you, when you first came to this city, that I desired your friendship. I was not being disingenuous. I really do wish we could have become friends."

  "I fear our differences of opinion are too vast and too deep," Miranda replied.

  "But why, Filia?" Romana demanded. "You and I, can you not grasp it? I am now the mistress of the world temporal, you are unassailable in the world magical, joined together what might we not accomplish?"

  "More likely we would tear the earth to shreds with the force of our arguments," Miranda said.

  Romana chuckled. "Yes, I do suppose you are correct. You have demonstrated that you cannot grasp the justice of our cause, and I cannot accept your disdain for all that I hold most dear. And yet you will forgive me if I bemoan the wastefulness of it all. Your power, your potential, your intelligence, even your conscience, the Empire has great need of such.

  "Always before I spoke to you from weakness. I was a princess, true, but little thought of and less trusted. You were the Empress' favourite, and the Emperor's, under the patronage of Prince Antiochus. Yet now I am Princess Imperial, and you are my prisoner. And yet from strength I ask you humbly once again, Filia Miranda: will you consent to serve the Empire, and lend your talents to our glorious destiny?"

  "In what way?" Miranda asked. "More golem armies?"

  "No," Romana said swiftly. "I have all the army I require, the finest army ever made. No, if you consented I had thought to use your skill at healing. Is that offensive to your soul?"

  Miranda held her gaze for a moment. "I am sorry, your majesty...but your cause is not mine. Your country is not my highest good. Your Empress is not my god. And I have had enough of serving the high and mighty, a tool for their purposes. I am sorry."

  Romana closed her eyes and sighed deeply. "Oh, Filia Miranda, what am I to do with you? Lady Manzikes - I have restored her family to its rightful place in the Patrician college, it was petty of Demodocus to have denied her that - has already petitioned me to have you executed. I fear the common people would agree with them if they knew the truth. My surviving officers and attendants feel the same way. The word treason has been mentioned in connection with you so often it begins to weary my ears. What have you to say?"

  "That I will accept death, if that is your will," Miranda said calmly, feeling nothing at the prospect of impending death. "I only ask mercy for Octavia and Felix. They had no part in my actions."

  "Mercy?" Romana said. "I think it would be kinder to kill the poor girl than make her live without you, any fool could see the height of her devotion. In any event, the matter is immaterial, I will not kill you."

  Miranda blinked. She had not expected to be spared at all, still less had she expected to be spared in so casual a fashion, yet Princess Romana had announced it with no more care than if she were discussing the weather. "I don't understand."

  "You may lack the inclination to bear children and continue your line," Romana said. "You may not love the Empire, or even like it, you may have no desire to work for the benefit of your country, but you are a valuable asset to the Empire and I will not so heedlessly throw you and your potential aside. There may yet come a time when I must put you to work for the good of the state, and so I will keep you alive against that eventuality."

  "You're...letting me go?" Miranda asked.

  "No," Romana declared firmly. "You will be taken under guard to the Imperial estate at Volsci, not far from Ilpua. It is a comfortable villa, well appointed and well staffed. There you will be held, under watch and guard, until I send for you or decide otherwise."

  "House arrest," Miranda said.

  "If you are determined to be reductive about it, then yes," Romana agreed. "But genteel house arrest, I hope you will agree when you get there. The baths are warm, the weather is pleasant and the house is comfortable. It is no dungeon to which I am condemning you."

  Oh, it is, simply a comfortable one, Miranda thought. But she also realised that she had deserved much worse for what she had done then genteel house arrest, and so she bowed and said, "Your Majesty is very merciful."

  "Her Majesty is very pragmatic," Romana replied. "Although it is true I do not regret the opportunity to begin with an act of mercy. The beginning informs the race. Yet how I wish there was another way. We might have made a splendid team."

  Miranda smiled. "I thank your majesty for the compliment, but I have a lover already and I am rather devoted to her."

  Romana laughed aloud. "Oh, I dare say, Filia. And yet, though you must not take this as a slight, even were you able to put children in me you would not be what I look for in a consort. You are intelligent, forthright, honest...and when I marry it shall be above all to a man who is pliable. I'll have no masters at this court save I."

  "Perhaps it is good thing I am going to Ilpua then," Miranda said. "I have had my bellyful of masters."

  Romana shook her head. "If there were no purple throne, Filia, if I were not Princess Imperial, who would you set to rule the Empire? Would there be an Empire at all? Would you truly divide Pelarius into petty dominions, as Quirian urged?"

  "Perhaps," Miranda said. "Although Michael says there would be incessant war between them, and he might actually be right. Perhaps I would make a republic, a great nation governed by its citizens."

  "Who would vote themselves largesse from the public coffers, no doubt," Romana said. "Who would hold the people in check? You?"

  "Need anyone?"

  "Have you not seen enough of people in this city to know the answer?" Romana asked.

  That was uncomfortably true. "I simply feel that there must be another way than war and conquest. Could you not at least strike the chains from the slaves? Why must this nation be built upon the backs of the unfree?"

  "The Empire is not built on slaves, Filia, it merely has slaves in it," Princess Romana replied.

  "Then free them, if they are not indispensible," Miranda said.

  "To what purpose?" Romana asked.

  "The purpose of doing the right thing," Miranda said.

  "I am not a god, Filia, to have a heart big enough to give all mankind equal standing in it no matter who they be. I cannot love strangers and foreigners so much that I will harm my own p
eople by forbearing war against them. I cannot love the slaves so much that I will harm my own people by setting them free. You are thinking of the good of men, and that is your charge as Aurelia's heir, but my charge is to preserve the Empire and enhance its greatness, and that I will do through means light or dark, as necessary. As I told you before, Filia, I am what the Empire requires me to be. And yet, I swear to you, that holding the Empire's good as the highest cause and motive I will prove worthy of the weighty charge that you have, unwittingly, placed upon my shoulders."

  "What could I do if you were not?" Miranda asked. "I think... I think you may well be a great princess, but I fear you will not be a good one, according to my lights. Though you may be by your own."

  Romana nodded. "I hope, Filia, that some day you may come to admit that I was right all along."

  "I do not share your hope," Miranda said. "But...the fact that you hope it gladdens me."

  Romana's lip twitched, though she did not smile. She was silent for a moment. "I am sorry, about Portia."

  Miranda said nothing. She blinked, and tried not to think about the dream she had had, of Portia burning, nor of the memories of her friend's actual death.

  "She was a good woman," Princess Romana continued. "But, you must confess, an absolutely terrible Princess Consort."

  "She was a wonderful woman," Miranda said. "And a good argument as to why monarchy is a bad idea."

  Princess Romana turned away. "I would say she was an argument that power should not be bestowed on those who are not trained to use it wisely. Or, in Portia's case, use it at all. And yet she was, as you say, a wonderful woman. I do grieve her passing, you must believe me."

  Miranda said nothing.

  "I have something for you," Romana said, and from her sleeve she produced Portia's necklace, the string of sapphires that she had been wearing when... it had been cleaned of blood, at least. Romana took a step down the dais and held it out for her. "Most of Portia's jewels were, strictly speaking, not hers. They belong to the throne, passed from one Princess to the next. They were hers, now they are mine, they shall one day belong to my daughter. Yet this was a gift to Portia from her husband, before they were even married, and it does not seem right to me that it should become just another necklace in the Imperial jewellery vault, to pass to my children and their children with no knowledge of its origin or history. I think...I think that Portia would better appreciate it going to you. Let it be a token of her love for you, as it was given as a token of love to her."