Prince of Wrath

by Tony Roberts

  Finding places for the newcomers to stay was a challenge; taverns and inns were scarce and most of the empty properties had been appropriated by the victorious Kastanian soldiers who had either called their families from Kastan City to their new homes or who had taken single or widowed women as theirs. It took a little time for the exhausted Kastanian men to get used to their Bragalese women.

  Vosgaris was rushed off his feet. It was an endless sequence of checking who had come to Zofela, where they were staying, what they wanted, how long were they staying and so on. He then had to cope with the arrival of his sister back from Rhan who wanted to see him and barged into his office just as Amne arrived, breathless from a gallop the moment she’d seen the place from the last rise on the road. Alenna was also shouting out for Vosgaris to slow down in his dictation as she was finding it hard to keep up with the names and places he was spewing out rapidly, and Argan had turned up, both to see what the noise was and to complain about Istan’s habit of running up and down the passageways shouting out rude words at the top of his voice, and why wasn’t anyone doing something about it?

  Vosgaris put his hands to his temples. Alenna was waving her quill at him, demanding he repeat the last name again. Amne was wanting his attention, wanting to be shown to her quarters; Argan screamed in glee at seeing Amne; Vasila was banging on his desk asking if he wanted to hear what had transpired at Rhan.

  “Silence!” he roared, unable to take any more.

  “You,” he pointed at Argan, “young man, go see your father about Istan. You,” he pointed at Vasila, “go and change; you’re covered in sweat. I want a written summary before dinner – you’re eating with me. You,” he flicked a finger at Alenna, “Princess Amne is staying here in the castle. Take the list to Pepil – he’ll need to see it. Now, all of you, give me peace and quiet!”

  They left, leaving Amne leaning against his desk, an amused look on her face. “I like it when you’re forceful, Captain. You ought to be like that more often.”

  “Oh, goodness,” Vosgaris sighed deeply. “This place is insane. Welcome, by the way.”

  Amne grinned, shut the door, slid a bolt across it, then glided up to him. “Then welcome me appropriately.” She took hold of him and kissed him deeply.

  Vosgaris forgot about his headache and returned the kiss, feeling a warmth spread up throughout him. In no time they were on the floor, ripping each other’s clothes off, and making love passionately.

  Vosgaris had been in control of the situation, and rolled off, breathing heavily. “By the gods,” he said with a heavy sigh, “I damned well needed that!”

  Amne agreed, making a long noise of contentment. She had tried to lead but Vosgaris, to her surprise and delight, had pinned her down and taken over. The pent-up frustrations she had felt had vanished in a wave of pleasure and heat, and had happily let Vosgaris loose on her. He seemed to have needed it as much as she had. “My stay here will be very memorable if this is anything to go by.”

  Vosgaris got up and reached out a hand to the princess. Amne took it and was pulled to her feet. “You’d best get tidied up and presentable for your father. I don’t think he’d appreciate you turning up to see him looking like you’ve been ravaged.”

  “No,” she giggled, “that wouldn’t do. I have things to do and to discuss with him anyway, but after tomorrow I’m free. I’d like to go riding with you.”

  “Again?” Vosgaris said, smiling rakishly.

  “You know what I mean,” she punched him lightly on the arm. “Oh, it’s good to see you, Vosgaris; I so wanted you after you went. It’s been beastly.”

  “I understand. There have been letters from your husband to the emperor.”

  “Oh he hasn’t been declaring our marriage difficulties to all and sundry, has he?”

  Vosgaris shook his head. “I was with the emperor when the dispatches came in, and your father muttered about the two of you needing your heads being banged together, or something like that. He shut up when he saw me looking at him.”

  Amne pouted. “We’re not well matched, and he’s such an unfeeling boor. Not like you, of course. Oh, you’re a man! You’d be perfect as my husband!”

  “I thought you wanted Lalaas as your husband?”

  Amne slipped on her undergarments. “Oh, he’s too correct. I’d ideally like a collection of men,” she smiled widely at Vosgaris, “one for today, another for tomorrow, and another for the day after.”

  “One to dress you, one to undress you,” Vosgaris joined in lightly.

  “You’ve got it,” Amne nodded. “A bed maker, a bed warmer. Mmmm, now that’s a lovely thought! Doing anything tonight, Captain?”

  “Dinner with my sister and you, and the emperor and empress. The moment we got word you were coming it threw them into a fit of activity. So, less of the ravished visitor and more of the composed princess.”

  “Oh, aren’t you just the commanding one?” Amne stepped up close to him. “Don’t get too used to telling me what to do; remember who I am.”

  “As if I could forget, you beautiful woman.”

  Amne smiled, kissed him again, hard and long, then located her remaining clothing and picked it up, dressed quickly, and moved to the door. “I have fifteen men from the Kastanian Imperial Mounted Militia, or as they like to shorten it, the KIMM, as an escort. They’ll need housing too.”

  “Already arranged, ma’am,” Vosgaris bowed. “Stables and garrison quarters in the castle.”

  “Well, you’re quite the efficient one, aren’t you? I’m impressed! Alenna Duras seems to have settled in, too, hasn’t she?”

  “She’s just called Alenna these days, ma’am. Not a good idea to shout out the family name.”

  “Indeed. Don’t worry, my lips are sealed.”

  “Shame,” Vosgaris said.

  Amne regarded the captain for a moment, then slowly came up to him. “You are getting quite cheeky, aren’t you? Well, Captain, if you are good, I might give you the benefit of my lips in the next couple of days.”

  “Please,” Vosgaris whispered.

  Amne licked her lips slowly, winked, then returned to the door. “I want to see my younger brothers too. Please show me their quarters as well as mine.”

  Vosgaris bowed and followed her out into the passageway. Guards walked up and down slowly, bowing to Amne as they noticed her. Amne smiled briefly in acknowledgement. They went along to a cross passageway and here the walls were adorned with tapestries and more lighting, and more guards were in evidence. “This, ma’am, is the imperial wing. A set of rooms set aside for the imperial family. At the end are the emperor and empress’s chambers, then Prince Argan, Prince Istan and here,” he showed Amne the nearest door, “a chamber set aside for the visit of either yourself, Prince Jorqel or Prince Elas.”

  “Thank you, Captain,” Amne smiled. “Will there be a maid to see to my needs?”

  “One will be along presently. Make yourself at home. I believe your belongings have already been placed in the chamber. If they haven’t, let me know.”

  Amne said she would, then opened the door and stepped inside. Vosgaris watched until the door closed, then turned about and went back to his office. Alenna was there, sorting through a few more papers. “Oh, you’re back,” she said. “I felt it wise to stay out of her way.”

  “Oh?”

  “She’s got something of a – fearsome reputation, so I am led to believe.”

  “Who, Amne?” Vosgaris was surprised. “The princess, I mean. Fearsome? No, I wouldn’t say that – who’s told you that?”

  Alenna shrugged. “I hear gossip around, you know. People will say some really outrageous things! She has a temper, hasn’t she?”

  Vosgaris pursed his lips. “We-ell, a little, maybe, but nothing terrible. She’s certainly forthright and uninhibited with her opinions, if that’s what you mean.”

  “Hmm, I think it best I avoid her for a while, anyway. It was chaos in here, wasn’t it? Anyway, I delivered the papers to the emperor’s majo
r domo. Everything seems fine. It’s getting late – what are the plans for the rest of the afternoon?”

  Vosgaris sat in his chair, opposite Alenna. “We’ve received all the guests we’re meant to receive. There’s a dinner tonight and I’m one of the diners. The emperor wants me there since my sister has returned from Riliyan.”

  “Oh. Well, tomorrow there’s a slave contingent going to the river to re-divert it back to its original course. Guards will be needed as escort.” Alenna studied the scroll for the morrow’s activities. “There’s a talk on street planning by that boring councillor which is being held here by the emperor. He needs to know what is being proposed.”

  “Boring councillor? Oh, the one with the bald head and moustache. What’s his name? Boredon?”

  “Borridon!” Alenna laughed. “Boredon! Better not say that too often or I might say that to his face! So, after that talk, the Mazag ambassador has his daily visit to the emperor for a chat, then we have Lord and Lady Varaz and their daughter Velka visiting us from Niake.”

  “Oh, them!” Vosgaris recalled the last time he’d seen them and Argan’s misfortune with the mud and water on his and Velka’s clothing. “Velka is being lined up for Prince Argan.”

  “Is she? That’s sweet. I wish I was lined up for someone,” Alenna sighed. “My family has made a mess of that. Did you know I was one of the women presented to Prince Jorqel in Slenna before his betrothal to Lady Sannia Nicate?”

  “So I understand – that must have been nerve wracking.”

  Alenna put her chin in her hand and her eyes went dreamy. “It was, a little, but father was so sour and testy, and the prince and he had a bit of an exchange. Mother was ever so cross with him afterwards. She said it had ruined any chance I had of marrying into the Koros.” She sighed. “Then, of course, father and my brothers really went mad and alienated everyone with that horrible plan to drug all of Niake.”

  Vosgaris nodded slightly. “But you made the right choice and helped save all those lives, and for that the emperor and his family have taken you in and here you are.”

  “Here, yes, but I’m without friends or family. I’m very alone, Vosgaris.” Tears began to run down her face.

  A little awkward, Vosgaris put a hand on her shoulder. “You have a friend here, Alenna, you’re not alone.”

  She smiled through her tears and squeezed his hand. Her throat was too tight to speak but she was grateful nonetheless for his words and physical touch; it was something she needed, especially at times like this when memories of her past came to the fore. She tried hard to banish them to the back of her mind which was why she threw herself so enthusiastically into her work. At night it was the worst, and often she cried herself to sleep, hugging her pillow, for there was nothing else to hug.

  ___

  Argan was frustrated. Nobody was listening to him! That fantor-face Istan was so noisy all the time, and no matter who he spoke to about it, no-one seemed that bothered. Even Vos’gis had told him to go somewhere else, and he seemed very cross. Why he was cross Argan didn’t know, but on the advice of the captain he had tried to see his father but he had been told the emperor – Argan didn’t know why the smiling man Pepil always said that; why couldn’t he say his father? – was too busy and he would see him at dinner when they could discuss things over the meal.

  Well, that was really ploppy. Argan liked using the word. Ploppy. A naughty word but not really one of the nasty ones. He’d heard a few of them spoken around the place and was shocked at how many were said. If they were nasty words why did people use them so much? Grown-ups. He didn’t want to become a grown-up. It seemed grown-ups said things they didn’t mean most of the time. That wasn’t being honest.

  He thought maybe Amne would see him. After all, she had just arrived and apart from a quick hug he’d not had the chance to really speak to her. He knew which room she was in and so he went up to it, passing a guard who bowed to him. Argan bowed back slightly, as he’d been told to do. It was not right to bow lower than the guards. He guessed that was because he was higher in rank than the guard and the higher you were the less you bowed. Would his father not bow at all? Would a slave bow so low his head whacked the ground? Argan put his hand to his mouth to stifle his giggle.

  He knocked on Amne’s door. After a moment one of the castle domestics appeared, her face wreathed in a frown. The frown vanished when she saw who it was. “Oh, Prince Argan!”

  “Hello,” Argan said brightly. “I came to see my sister. Is she in?”

  “Who is it?” Amne’s voice came from within the room.

  “Prince Argan, ma’am.”

  “Oh, let him in!”

  Argan smiled as he entered past the clearly disapproving domestic. An elderly Bragalese woman who had made the mistake once of making a naughty comment in Bragalese when she had been asked to clean up a spot of mud on the floor of a passageway. Argan had asked her what it had meant in her own language and she had gone bright red. He still didn’t know but he would ask Amal when the opportunity came. He might understand the language but there were some things he still didn’t, and he guessed they were words that shouldn’t be used.

  Amne was sat on her bed, dressed in white undergarments. A few clothes lay draped on the edge and it was clear she had or would be trying them on. “Hello Amne,” Argan said. “I hope I’m not messing up any dressing up plans?”

  Amne stood up and put her arms out wide. “Come here and hug me properly!”

  Argan grinned widely and threw himself into the arms of his sister. She hugged him tight and after a moment she stepped back and looked at him closely. “You’re getting taller. You’re up to my chest now.”

  Argan nodded. He had been momentarily taken aback when his head had been pushed into Amne’s boobies but he had managed to breathe by bending his head up. Amne guessed what had happened and her eyes sparkled with mischief. “So how are you finding life in Zofela?”

  Argan sat down on the bed and Amne sat with him. The domestic hovered, an air of disapproval cloaking her. Amne dismissed her and the domestic huffed out of the room. “It’s a bit colder here, and not as comfy.”

  Amne nodded. “It’ll get colder, believe me. You’ll need plenty of winter clothing. Your studies coming along fine?”

  “Oh yes, Mr. Sen says I’m doing very well, and Panat says my mar- mar- martial,” he concentrated on pronouncing the word properly, “training is progressing well, but I’m a bit behind because of my injury. I’m going to be allowed to ride tomorrow, and that’s going to be scary!”

  “It’ll be fine, Argan,” Amne reassured him, “riding will get easy after a while. I can do it with no problem, and you’ll find its so much better getting around on equine back once you master it. As a general you’ll need to ride anyway.”

  Argan nodded. “Yes I’m going to be a general. That’s scary too. What about you? Did you see Jorqel get married? What was it like?”

  Amne laughed. She so enjoyed Argan’s bright enthusiasm; it was such a contrast to the dullness of Elas and the others in Kastan City. At least with her mother there she’d enjoyed crossing swords with her, but even that pleasure had been denied her once the empress had left. “I’m fine, Argan. In fact tomorrow I’ve got to do lots of things and see various people, it’s part of my new role as imperial ambassador. Prince Elas runs Kastan City and Frasia and I travel around the empire visiting people on behalf of the family and pass on very important messages.”

  “Oh, isn’t that dull? Why can’t an ordinary messenger do that?”

  “Special messages need special messengers. I’m a special messenger, don’t you agree?”

  “Oh yes, you’re a princess! That’s very special!”

  “So, tell me, Argan, how are you really? I was so upset when I was told you could die, and I think it’s the work of the gods that you still live. I’m also told you can now speak Bragalese. How is that possible when you’ve never been given any lessons?”

  Argan shrugged. “I don’t know, it j
ust happened after Metila cured me. She’s Bragalese, so maybe she passed on some of her thinking to me? All I know is she saved me and I’m happy she did that. It was a horrible time, all those nosebleeds and headaches. Now I’m better and can think straight, and I feel so much stronger.”

  “You seem a little more grown-up, that’s definite.”

  Argan pulled a face. “I don’t want to be a grown-up. It’s so ploppy.”

  “Ploppy?” Amne laughed. “It doesn’t have to be; only if you let it, believe me. There are those around you who would have you behave like a stuffed jacket, but be yourself, Argan. I won’t let anyone tell me how to behave, not even father!”

  “You stand up to him? Wow, that’s scary, isn’t it? What if he shouts at you?”

  Amne grinned. “I shout back.”

  “Ooh, you’re brave!” Argan noticed little bumps on Amne’s arms. “You’re getting cold – shouldn’t you dress?”

  “Yes I ought to – here, help me.”

  Argan looked confused. Amne picked up a dress of blue wormspun. “There’s nothing to it, you need to know how a woman dresses anyway, so its time I showed you. Look, take this by the hem at the bottom, like this, yes that’s it, and draw it up so the whole thing is flattened, then slip it over my arms and head. I’ll put them up.”

  Argan stood on the bed and slipped the dress awkwardly over her arms, and watched as it slid easily down her arms and torso. Her head appeared through the top and she smiled at him encouragingly. She stood up and the dress slid easily down past her hips and knees, to end at her ankles. She next pulled her hair out from the dress and shook her head. Her fair hair flowed and Argan thought it was like a field of edible grass. He said so. Amne laughed and kissed him on the cheek. “You’re so lovely, you know. It’s such a pleasure being with you. You’ll make a woman very happy.” Her face clouded for a moment and Argan was going to ask her what was wrong, but she suddenly switched moods again and twirled, the dress hem flowing. “What do you think?”