Prince of Wrath

by Tony Roberts

  Now, however, having the heir to the throne here along with the army, and his proven intent in expanding the town, the people of Lodria saw hope in the future. The Tybar had not come. There were new buildings going up all the time in the town, and Jorqel had announced work for a total upgrade of all roads in the province and wanted workmen and surveyors and all other industries connected with that to come to him and offer their services.

  He needed material and so calls for quarrying had gone out; he needed tools for his workforce so the blacksmiths had been asked to supply two tools each; food needed to be supplied to the workforce and so offers had been made to provisioners to set up roadside shops – temporarily – to feed and keep happy the people who would be working all through the autumn and into the winter. The army would supply units to patrol the area to ensure nobody interfered with the work, whether it be thieves or bandits.

  Lastly Jorqel had offered a free pardon to all who had fought for the rebellion, and had even offered places in his army or the workforce for the roads to these people. He had sworn on his name and on the gods that he would not harm them. A few had come out of the wilds, hesitantly, but once they saw Jorqel was as good as his word, and that his word got back to the others, more came trickling into Slenna and even Niake, Aconia or Efsia.

  Farms were happy now the depredations of bandits and the threat of the Tybar had receded. All this meant that Jorqel was greeted cheerfully as he and Gavan roamed the streets of Slenna. The soldiers on duty on the walls looked smarter and walked with pride and confidence. Gavan noted this. “Sire, the men are all proud to be in the army once more. It was dreadful under the Duras and Fokis when we were derided and spat upon.”

  “Spat upon?” Jorqel stopped amazed. “Really?”

  Gavan nodded, his face grave. “The nobility got it into their heads the army was solely responsible for all the ills of the empire, and passed down to the people this opinion. Many men who wished to join the army were prevented by their families who didn’t wish their names to be smeared with being associated with it, and people were encouraged to abuse the soldiers in the streets.”

  “How ridiculous, and stupid!” Jorqel snapped. “How else could they be protected from foreign aggression and who else could stop brigandage? I knew of the feelings against the army by other Houses but not of the abuse in the streets! If this happens again – anywhere – I must know of it, do you hear, Gavan?”

  “Yes, sire.” Gavan wanted to change the subject. “So, the wedding in thirty days’ time, sire, where will you hold the reception? Is the castle big enough?”

  “Oh yes,” Jorqel nodded, “but I wish it to be outside. Shame there’s no temple here but I have sent word to Niake to drag the former High Priest down to perform the ceremony. I’m sure he will be all too happy to do so.”

  “Are you sure of that, sire? He must bear a grudge against your family for his exile to the west.”

  “Asking him to perform an imperial wedding is recognition that he is still in favour with the Koros, despite his treasonous words when my father took power. He would be foolish to turn the offer down,” Jorqel added, his eyes serious.

  Gavan nodded hastily. “Ah, yes, sire, I understand. So what of security? I presume you wish me to take care of that?”

  “Indeed, I can think of no other person I’d trust with that task. The usual people will be invited, including the Houses of Lodria.”

  “But not the Duras.”

  “Of course not; they are no longer regarded as being a House of Lodria. Their estates have been taken by the Koros, and I will be handing them out to loyal families shortly. Of course, I shall keep the best estate for myself,” Jorqel added with a smile.

  “Then you will need to visit it and appoint a warder to oversee the estate.”

  “All in hand, Gavan; I’m not a lazy fool like that Fokis imbecile who took power here a few years back. This street is perfect for bunting; have some of the out of work townsfolk make plenty – I want it all over here from the gate to the square.”

  Gavan nodded. “Do you think the Council will agree to your request to hunt the Duras down and invade Romos? It’s a big undertaking, sire. Romos will be tough to land on, given the pirates own the seas around it. We don’t have a navy to wrest it from them at present, and risking the army on a naval landing isn’t something we’ve done before.”

  Jorqel turned and faced his right-hand man. “I want to impress upon you, Gavan, of my determination to hunt down these people,” he stressed the word as if he were loath to say it, “who abducted my beloved, and who hatched this diabolical plan against Niake. As long as they live they will not stop, I am absolutely convinced of that, until they retake the throne of Kastania, and they will even destroy the empire in order to do that. I cannot rest until I have mounted the last Duras head on the gates of my town.”

  Gavan bowed. His master’s intentions were perfectly clear.

  ___

  To Argan, the long slow period of recovery was boring and frustrating. His mother fussed and fussed over him, bringing him his food, constantly asking how he felt and so on. It was getting silly. He couldn’t even go to the lavatory without her holding his hand. Lucky he had a little privacy once he was in the garderobe, but apart from that – well he was glad when he could get up and about out of his bed. It tired him though, and it seemed as if all his strength had gone.

  His mother asked Metila constantly about him, how long it would take until he was better, how much food should he have. To be sure, Argan found his appetite returning quite quickly, but his arms and legs were very weak, and so one day, about ten days after Metila had done her thing – Argan wasn’t sure exactly what she had done – to him, he was taken by litter to the shore of the Aester Sea a short walk from the walls of Turslenka.

  Argan was delighted by the scenery. A wide curving expanse of sand stretched into the far distance, all the way to a hazy headland he could just make out. The sea rolled up to the edge of the beach in lazy, slow ripples, and glittered over a deep blue as far as the eye could see. There were big tussocks of tough grass where the land met the beach, but there was a path that ran through it and Argan’s carriers, two servants of the governor, made it easily enough.

  With him were his mother, Metila, Kerrin and Mr Sen, as well as a group of guards who stood close by. Kerrin’s father was not keen on the trip to the beach and had turned down the offer but allowed his son to go with Argan. Isbel had thought about stopping Kerrin, but had decided it would be petty and unbecoming. She was unsure about Metila. Something about her troubled Isbel, but she couldn’t quite place what it was. She was Bragalese, and therefore someone to be wary of. She was a witch, that was certain, but both Astiras and Thetos had vouched for her, and she had cured Argan. No witch she’d heard of had ever done such a thing, so perhaps Metila was a good sorceress. However, there was still something about her that Isbel was on her guard against.

  Mr Sen panted and perspired, wiping his sweating face with his cloth. Such exertions were foreign to the tutor, at least they had been for far too long for his memory to recall. He still had a job to do and that was to teach the young prince how to be a prince. The administrative and social skills Argan had to learn would be vital to any member of a ruling House, and Argan’s future was likely to include running a province or two.

  Isbel sat on a sand dune, looking over the bay. She felt close to Argan now more so than before. She supposed it was because he had come so close to dying and it made her all the more aware of the young boy’s importance to her, especially now that Istan had become so unpleasant. She didn’t want to lose the one remaining child of hers that she could at least enjoy the company of. He was still fairly weak but Metila, who was closely watching him, said he would grow stronger and stronger each day. She was tolerated because she was his healer, but Isbel would have been happier if the woman hadn’t been there.

  Mr Sen flopped onto the sand next to Argan, blowing mightily. “By the gods, it’s hot here! Beautiful
view, I must say.” He looked over the vista and watched as a few sea avians dived into the water and rose up, shedding sea and spray, every so often with a wriggling sea piscine in its beak. “Fascinating,” he commented.

  “What are they doing?” Argan asked, shaded from the sun by a canopy. He sat on a rug, propped up with cushions. Kerrin sat next to him, one hand shading his eyes, watching the feeding frenzy.

  “They have found a shoal of piscines, young prince,” Mr Sen said, “and are plunging down into the water and spearing them in their beaks. I’ve heard of this but never seen it before.”

  “Do all avians do this?”

  “Oh no, just this type. Other types of avians eat other things, like grubs or berries or other avians. Or even dead animals!”

  “Ugh, really? Dead animals? Which ones?”

  Mr Sen glanced at Isbel who smiled. Her son was really a very curious boy. The tutor cleared his throat. “In the mountains or in the deserts there are great avians, carrion feeders, that eat the dead animals.”

  “Big? How big?”

  Mr Sen spread his hands wide, his flesh wobbling. “Oh, bigger than this,” he said.

  Argan’s eyes went wide. “Wow! What deserts? What mountains?”

  Mr Sen pointed out into the bay. “Far away, on the other side of this sea, is a great desert. It’s the Desert of Epatam. Very hot, lots of poisonous creatures and little water. It’s easy to die there if you don’t have any, and plenty of creatures die as a result. That’s when the carrion avians come, as if out of nowhere, to feed. Great flocks of them.”

  “Will I see the desert one day?”

  “Maybe, young prince, if you’re lucky. But there’s many things to do first before you can get there. Kastania used to own that place, but long ago we lost it to the Epatamian tribes who came out of the desert and pushed us back to the mountain passes of Amria. We have not been in possession of Epatam for nearly five hundred years.”

  Argan thought about that. His memories of the great map in the palace in Kastan City hadn’t stuck that well. He’d been interested in the regions near the capital but the further out it went the less important they seemed, until they were merely large tracts of territory with funny names and inhabited by strange peoples. “Will I lead an army there?”

  Mr Sen smiled. “As to that, young Prince, I’m afraid I do not know. Your future is something that you will have to shape, and be guided by those who decide where you will go.”

  “Father,” Argan replied, nodding.

  Isbel looked at her son, feeling a pang of fear. He would soon grow into a young man and then he would leave, leading an army against the enemies of the empire. His life would be put right back into danger. Sometimes she wished that her children would not have to do such things, but there was no escaping their fate. No matter what their martial abilities were, they would have to take the fight to whoever opposed them, come what may.

  “I’ll be with you, ‘Gan,” Kerrin smiled shyly.

  “Yes! My bodyguard,” Argan agreed. “We’ll show those silly Tybar who’s the best, won’t we?”

  “I’m not sure the emperor will permit you both to start in the same army, young Prince,” Mr Sen said, frowning. “Your bodyguard would have to be experienced and versed in battle. To have a young an inexperienced general guarded by an equally young and inexperienced bodyguard is risky.”

  “Kerrin will be my bodyguard, Mr Sen, and that’s the end of it,” Argan said sharply.

  Isbel looked surprised and stared at her son. Metila smiled and continued picking nearby leaves. Mr Sen bowed quickly. “Of course, Prince Argan, forgive me for speaking out of turn.”

  Kerrin grinned and hugged himself in happiness.

  Argan nodded to Mr Sen. “You said I must be dess- dees – decisive,” he spoke the word slowly. “So I am! You said ‘he who hesitates is lost’, and that I must be a general who makes quick de-cis-ions. I’m learning.”

  “You are indeed, Prince Argan. You will be a credit to your House.”

  Isbel wondered at the force in Argan’s voice. He’d never sounded like that before. She looked over at Metila who appeared to be oblivious of the conversation. Had something been done to her son besides being cured of his life threatening ailment? She got to her feet and two guards began to walk towards her but she shook her head and quickly indicated they were to remain on guard. She slowly made her way through the soft, warm sand to the Bragalese woman. “Metila, can I have a quiet word with you please?”

  Metila stood, bowed and allowed to be taken off to the next dune. Isbel stood looking out over the sea, the wind ruffling a few stray strands of hair. She had done her hair that morning but it still rebelled, damn it. “Your medicine to cure my son, Metila, does it have any side effects?”

  Metila looked at the empress with narrowed eyes. “You mean other effects, highness?”

  Isbel faced the witch. “Yes, I do. I’m asking you whether Argan’s behaviour is likely to be changed for good?”

  Metila looked across to Argan, still chatting with Kerrin and Mr Sen. “He still recovers. His mood might be different, but who know after near death? All people change when death nearly has them.”

  Isbel clucked her tongue. “I don’t mean that, Metila, I mean did you give him anything that definitely would change his personality?”

  “No, highness, I not stupid. All medicine and plants can change people. I not help that! I save him, but yes he might be different. I not know.” She looked down.

  Isbel sighed. “Very well. I’m just concerned over my son, that’s all. I’m no different to any mother, you know.” She looked at the Bragalese woman. “Ah, you have no children, so you probably don’t.” She returned to the others.

  Metila smiled. “No,” she said softly to herself, rubbing her tummy slightly. “I not have children – yet. But one comes.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

  The palace of Kastan City seemed empty now the emperor, empress and their party had gone. Amne found the place to be depressing and sombre, but maybe that was partly down to Elas’ influence. He was rapidly organising the running of the place and the province, sending out orders left and right, and making sure nobody was slacking.

  Amne had complained about being left out of matters and was promptly put in charge of sorting out the palace’s repairs and what to do now half of those who had been there were gone. It was a waste of space, Elas had said, so she should find some function for the unused areas.

  The new Frasian Provincial Council, a new body grandly created by Elas, oversaw the running of both Kastan City and the province from offices on the ground floor, the same ones that had housed Frendicus and his taxmen along with a couple of other administrative rooms. Elas employed fifteen people in all, paid out of the budget allocated to him by the central treasury. With that he had to ensure not only the salaries of those in his Council were paid, but also that the repairs or improvements demanded by Astiras were carried out. The town militia had to be paid for as well, and the only bodies he didn’t fund were the Palace Guard, of which there were a small core remaining to take care of security, under Lalaas, and the regular garrison, comprising of two companies of spearmen, based in the barracks of the palace.

  Elas had no control over their salaries, neither did he have authority over Lalaas. Astiras had made both clear to the new governor. Both knew why. Should Elas suddenly decide to throw his lot in with the Duras or any other rebellious faction, then Lalaas and his guard would place him under arrest. Should that prove impossible, then Lalaas would be charged with taking Elas’ head from his shoulders.

  The new governor accepted this with a stoic realism. If he were emperor then he would do the same. He had no intention to betray the empire to people whom he saw as fools or traitors in any case, and was fully occupied with gathering information on the province and the capital. He needed to know more about both in order to run them more efficiently.

  For Amne, this meant her husband was too occupied to take notice of
her during the day, which suited her. She felt as though he had pushed her aside far too easily, and she realised that he had intended that all along. It seemed as though he was of the opinion she was incapable of coping with anything administratively. Even her small city quarter had been taken and was being dealt with by some quill holder in one of the stuffy offices.

  Well, that left her free to do other things. She sought out Lalaas. The captain was much smarter now he had a proper imperial uniform and she thought he was the most gorgeous man ever. If only he was like Vosgaris and succumbed to her charms. Ah, never mind, always more than one man to seduce. She smiled winningly at Lalaas as she glided up to him. “Captain Lalaas, I have something to discuss with you.” She nodded to the two men with him, both junior officers, in dismissal.

  Both saluted and walked off, bound for their routine tasks. Lalaas sighed and looked down at Amne. She often interrupted his duties with some request or other, most of the time it was just to spend the time of day with him. She did like being in his company and he knew she was angling to get his clothes off, but he was not having any of it. He would most likely end up on the executioner’s block and he was not about to mess up such a lucrative post as this. He had become used to it over the recent past and found he actually enjoyed it. Quite a jump up from a humble hunter-warrior from Makenia.

  “Oh, Lalaas, don’t sigh so!” Amne scolded. “You don’t mean it!”

  “No ma’am, I don’t, but I was in the middle of instructing the lieutenants there.”

  Amne waved her hand in dismissal. “You can always catch up with them later. What I have to say to you is very important – much more than some trivial order. Please, my day room.” She took him by the arm and half-dragged him along the corridor. Lalaas stumbled a few steps then got into his stride and walked side by side, looking at the princess.

  “Important, you say?”

  “Mm-mm,” she nodded. “A job you should perform for me.”