Prince of Wrath

by Tony Roberts

  “Very good, sire. That leaves just yourself and Bragal.”

  Astiras chuckled and rubbed his hands. “After the good news about the treasury, I’ve made my mind up what to do with Zofela.”

  “And what is that, dear?” Isbel cocked her head.

  “Well, Zipria have built a stone castle, have they not? We have no others in the entire empire, a silly state of affairs. Zofela needs to be built up now. So I’m going to construct the empire’s second stone fortress here.”

  “Goodness, Astiras! The cost!”

  “We can employ those out of work Bragalese in the cages,” Astiras grinned. “In return for their freedom, they can work on building us a castle now. Two years it’ll take if we plan it right. Pepil, I want stonemasons brought here. I want a design for Zofela – we’ll have a stone wall for the town, too. Build the castle off to one side so we aren’t living in a building site.”

  Vosgaris puffed out his cheeks. That was an ambitious scheme, but the emperor was serious. By constructing a new castle away from the site of the present one, they would be able to live without being in a mess.

  “If it means getting rid of the slaves then I’m all for it, Astiras,” Isbel commented.

  The emperor nodded and then looked at Vosgaris still standing before him. “Now, Captain, your sister. I am having her prepared for a new posting. I want you to provide her with enough equipment to travel up to Turslenka and from there on to Kornith.”

  “Kornith, sire?” Vosgaris was taken aback. “All the way out there? What is she to do there?”

  “I think you should ask her that, don’t you, Captain? Then maybe you can determine what she needs to fully assist her. You may go.”

  Vosgaris saluted. Isbel rose to her feet. “I shall accompany you, Captain,” she said lightly. “I wish to see my sons and a little diversion to see your sister won’t put me out.” She smiled at Vosgaris who was strangely unsettled by that. Isbel never smiled at him like that.

  Astiras waved the two out, already thinking of the next item on the agenda.

  Outside Isbel strode alongside the captain. “Captain, a little word in your office first?”

  Vosgaris bowed, now apprehensive. They arrived and Alenna looked up in surprise, then stood nervously and curtseyed. The empress dismissed the girl and Alenna left, casting an anxious look over her shoulder towards Vosgaris before the door closed behind her.

  “Captain, are you disappointed at the news that Amne is expecting a child?”

  Vosgaris shook his head. “No, ma’am. Why do you ask such a question?”

  “Oh, perhaps because you might have had a child with her yourself?”

  Vosgaris stammered, sweat breaking out on his face. “M-Ma’am – that’s a terrible thing to suggest – I would never…”

  “Oh don’t treat me like a fool, Captain,” Isbel said irritably, waving his words to extinction. “I’m not stupid or blind. If I had proof of you two dallying with one another I’d have you executed, you know that?”

  Vosgaris couldn’t speak. He stood rigidly to attention, sweat coating his forehead and lips. His eyes looked haunted.

  Isbel sighed. “Oh, Vosgaris, I’m disappointed in you. I thought you had the sense to leave her alone, especially now she’s married. But I guess you’re a typical man, who cannot resist a beautiful woman.”

  Vosgaris cleared his throat. “Ma’am. Am I to be punished?”

  “No, but I should, shouldn’t I? If this got out there would be a scandal we can do without, you understand? You really ought to get married to someone – it would at least serve to keep you under control!” Isbel sighed and shook her head in exasperation. “At least now that silly girl is pregnant and won’t be dashing about trying to seduce army officers.”

  “I-I’m sorry, ma’am.”

  Isbel pursed her lips. “And I was concerned that you were showing me too much attention back in Kastan City! It seems you need to be watched whenever any woman is about. Have you bedded young Alenna?”

  “Ma’am! No I haven’t!”

  “Well, why not? She’s available, young, not entirely without some charm. Yes, she’s a Duras but learned and intelligent, and has been brought up properly in social etiquette. I’ll put it to the emperor that the two of you ought to be wed.”

  Vosgaris’ mouth worked in shock. “M-married? To Alenna?”

  Isbel nodded severely. “Yes! If only to keep that,” and she pointed to his loins, “under control! I will not have you rampaging over Amne the next time she visits this place. I can’t afford the time to keep an eye on you, but at least with a wife someone will be there to make sure you behave. Yes, I think that’s a just – reward for your indiscretion.”

  Vosgaris rolled his eyes. “Ma’am – I don’t suppose a grovelling apology will change your mind?”

  “No.”

  “Or a vow of my undying love for you?”

  Isbel almost choked. “Captain, I could hit you. Either you’re very brave, or very foolish. I’m flattered that a much younger man such as yourself finds me – desirable, but I am empress and you would certainly go under the axe if you so much as touch me.”

  Vosgaris decided he was hung well and good anyway. “Yes ma’am, and I know that. But you are very, very beautiful. Stunning, in fact.”

  Isbel stood up, shaking her head. “Don’t think you can charm me, Vosgaris Taboz. Prepare yourself to be wed to the charming Alenna. That way we can erase that Duras name from her forever.”

  The captain sighed and bowed his head. Stuck, trapped, pinned. Shit.

  Isbel felt a pang of pity towards him but crushed it. “Now, enough of self-pity. I’m sure she’ll make you very happy indeed. You can break the news to her yourself when you’ve seen your sister. And smile – it’s not every day a man learns to hear of his future bliss.”

  Vosgaris’ expression wasn’t exactly blissful, but he dutifully went to the door and opened it for Isbel who glided out, quite pleased with herself for her solution to a number of matters. They made their way out and went down to the ground floor. Off to one side of the hall was a doorway and in here they found Vasila. This was her temporary quarters. She greeted Vosgaris and curtseyed to the empress.

  “So, tell your brother what we’re planning for you, Vasila,” Isbel said, sitting down in one of the two chairs in the small chamber.

  Vasila chuckled, a wicked sound. “After my success disguised as a priest, the emperor and empress here thought I would be suitable to go to Kornith and be their agent there, disguised as a priest again.”

  “For how long? Someone’s going to find out the longer you continue with this charade, you know!” Vosgaris sounded concerned. His day, after a terrible start, was getting worse.

  “Oh, don’t fret so, brother! There are is a shortage of priests there at the moment, and they have asked for one to be sent as soon as possible. An old one died a little while ago. So I’m to be their new priest. I’ve been given a lot of lessons about the gods and what it is to be a priest, and they think I’ll be ready to go in the spring when the roads clear. By then I should know enough to get by and I’ll have a full set of clothes especially made to fit me to make me look like a man.”

  “It’s madness,” Vosgaris commented. “You’ll be in constant danger, Vasila.”

  “I want to do this, Vos,” she said. “I’m bored with home life, and mother and father trying to marry me off to some wet fool. I need more excitement in my life, and I’m doing it for Kastania, too.” She smiled to try to reassure him.

  Vosgaris sighed. He knew just when Vasila’s mind was made up there was no shifting it. “Well, if that’s your mind settled, I’ll have to go along with it. Father will have a fit if he ever finds out. I wouldn’t be surprised if he marches up here and takes you forcibly back to our estate.”

  “I’d like to see him try! I work for the emperor now. Father won’t dare defy an imperial command.”

  Vosgaris conceded that point. Isbel, seeing the two siblings settling down
to chat on fine details, decided to leave them. Vosgaris had got over the immediate shock of being forced into a marriage and was thinking again. The empress returned back to the accommodation floor and went to Argan’s room. He wasn’t there and the guard who passed by on watch said he had gone to his studies on the floor below. There was an untidy bed and Isbel frowned. The servant should have sorted that out. Even as she was thinking that over the door opened and the diminutive figure of Sasia appeared, carrying a couple of cloths and a small pail of water, steaming. She had come up from the kitchen where the pail had been warming over a fire. Sasia stopped and curtseyed, uncertain as to what she should do.

  “You’re Sasia, aren’t you?” Isbel said.

  “Highness,” Sasia said in her thick Bragalese accent.

  “You are my son’s personal servant?”

  “Prince Argan, yes. I look after his room and comfort.”

  “Very good. I hope you do a good job; if not I shall replace you.”

  “Highness, I do my best. Prince Argan a good Prince; he show me kindness. I want to be his servant.”

  Isbel nodded slowly. She was getting the same general message about Argan from everyone he had met. It seemed Argan was as respected as anyone in the Kastanian hierarchy. Shame Istan wasn’t cut from the same cloth. “Very well, Sasia, I won’t get in your way. Carry on.”

  Sasia curtseyed again and watched as the empress left, her brown eyes strictly neutral. Outside Isbel was momentarily irresolute. Should she go see Istan or not? She decided she really ought to. Gallis, the old retainer they employed in Kastan City, had reluctantly followed them to Zofela, but he was still plagued by the terrors the last time he’d been there. Gallis was also, as a former priest, Vasila’s tutor in the ways of the gods. At least he got a break from dealing with Istan.

  Vosgaris was hesitant himself. After speaking with his sister, he had returned to his office and Alenna was there. He had not spoken to her and was sitting at his desk, not seeing anything. His mind was whirling. Finally, fed up with the silence, he called Alenna over.

  The girl rose up and stood before him. She had noticed Vosgaris’ distraction but had said nothing. Clearly it was something to do with the empress.

  With a sigh, Vosgaris began. “Alenna, the empress has made a momentous decision, at least it is for you and I. She believes you would be better cared for and protected if you married, and she has pointed out that since I am single, I am the best candidate for you. I want to know what you think of that before saying anything further.”

  Alenna’s face drained initially, then the blood returned with a vengeance. He eyes went round and wide. “Married?” she managed to blurt out. “To you?”

  Vosgaris smiled sardonically. “Yes – a lowly captain.”

  “Don’t say that, Vosgaris,” Alenna said forcefully. “You’re a very important member of this Court. Of course I’d love to marry you! That’s – that’s wonderful news! Yes, yes and yes!”

  Vosgaris knew then with a sinking heart he was doomed. Affecting a much more cheerful manner than he felt, he stood up and took both her hands. He looked into her eyes and thought that perhaps he’d been unkind about the smiling woman before him. Her eyes were shining with joy. Maybe being with her wouldn’t be such a bad thing after all. He had enjoyed his recent dalliances with women, and wanted that to continue, but perhaps his life would be more structured and settled with just the one.

  “Well, say something!” Alenna said, tugging on his hands.

  “You’ll make me a very happy man,” Vosgaris said, smiling at her. Alenna squealed and flung herself into his arms. The feel of her body against his was like a pleasurable shock wave. He squeezed her. “I’ll tell the empress you’re happy about her suggestion.”

  “So why didn’t you suggest it?” Alenna said, her hair tangled and face red.

  “Working together this close, it didn’t occur to me.”

  “Oh, you dense head. I love you, you know that? I feel so happy being with you – after all that’s happened to me recently I needed someone who showed me kindness and comfort, and you did both of those!”

  Vosgaris had no idea that she had felt that way. He had been too busy thinking of Amne, or Isbel. Or both. He smiled down at her. “Well, let’s both go and tell her, and we can fix a date. I think in the spring – winter here can be so depressing.”

  While things were developing in Zofela, Amne was getting used to her condition in Kastan City. She found that Elas had become over-protective and tried to restrict her going out even more. The recent upswing in her feelings towards Elas sank again. Lalaas decided to stop things getting bad again. He called in on Prince Elas who was exercising during one of his rare free times, practicing with a sword.

  “You wanted something, Captain?” Elas asked, lunging at thin air.

  “Sire. The Princess; I believe she is being restricted by yourself?”

  “What of it, Captain? Now she is expecting our child I will not have her risk both her health and the child’s. She is not to go out of the palace!”

  “With due respect, sire, she is in no danger and I am reliably informed by the palace birthing women that it is safe for her to walk about outside.”

  “I have made my decision. Captain, please do me the honour of sparring with me; I am informed you are adept at swordsmanship.”

  Lalaas slipped off his over jacket and stood facing the taller Prince. Elas tapped Lalaas’ blade and they began. As they struck one another’s blades, Elas explained his decision. Lalaas listened but advised that Amne was getting frustrated, and if the Prince would not accept the Captain’s word, then he could listen to the women who were there for the welfare of the pregnant Princess. After all, Lalaas said, a good ruler listened to his subjects. Elas looked thoughtfully, then concentrated on beating through Lalaas’ defence which he managed. He looked sternly at the captain. “I believe you did not use your skills to the best of your ability there. Please do your best; I do not wish to triumph because you allowed me to.”

  “To beat a superior is bad form, is it not, sire?”

  “Others may think that, I do not! I am fully aware you are the superior with a blade, now show me!”

  Lalaas shrugged, tapped blades, then went at Elas with a flurry of strikes left and right which had Elas backing away hurriedly. Finally, with his back to the chamber wall, he had to yield. Breathing heavily, Elas bowed in acknowledgement and nodded. “Better, for unless I fight a better man, how can I better myself? Thank you, Captain. Your earlier comments have been noted. You may return to your duties.”

  Lalaas bowed and did so, and before the day was over Amne came up to him with a pleased expression on her face. “You’ve done it again, Lalaas,” she said, taking his hand and squeezing it. “Elas has changed his mind – except for riding; I’m not permitted to get on equine back.”

  “That would be too risky now, ma’am. But I’m pleased he did listen.”

  “I love you, you know,” Amne whispered into his ear. She smiled at him again and he nodded.

  “Yes, ma’am, I do know. Oh, message from Zofela. It appears Vosgaris and Alenna are to be married.”

  Amne’s face went still for a moment. “What is that? You’re serious? Vosgaris and Alenna Duras?”

  “Sshh!” Lalaas looked round in alarm. “That name is not to be mentioned, Emperor’s command.”

  “Phah! Oh all right. Vosgaris, married? When?”

  “I think they mentioned in the spring. I hope I can go to it; he’s a good friend.”

  “Oh that’s unfair!” Amne exclaimed. “I shall be nearly halfway through by then and getting big. There’s no way I’ll be allowed to go to Zofela then! Can’t they delay it until I give birth?”

  Lalaas chuckled and patted her slightly bulging stomach. “Not really. This is your prime concern now.”

  “Oh I’m going to hate being pregnant, I can see!” Amne said and flounced off.

  “So are we all,” Lalaas muttered, shook his head, and wandere
d off in the opposite direction.

  CHAPTER FORTY-THREE

  The chanting of the women filled the barn. Voices rose and fell, and the flickering torchlight played across the faces of twenty of them, lined around the birthing bed, calling out to the gods to protect the woman about to give birth.

  Metila, bathed in sweat, lay on the blankets and hay, crying out as the contractions grew stronger. Two women knelt by her, one on either side, ready to assist with the baby. Another contraction, a big one, long and painful. The urge to push filled Metila’s whole being. She wanted it out, now! She arched her body and screamed.

  The sound of the chanting dimmed and hands played over her lower body. Another urge. She pushed. Pushed again. The pain swamped her and she yelled out hoarsely. Then something eased and the pain diminished, and her belly suddenly felt emptier. A cry of a little child reached her ears.

  “Oh, it’s a boy,” one of the two birthing women exclaimed. “You have a son,” she said in Metila’s ear.

  “Give him – to me!” Metila gasped out, now relieved the ordeal was over.

  “A moment,” the woman said. The women wiped the worst of the fluids off the bawling child, wrapped him in a thin blanket, then placed him on the new mother’s chest. Metila felt a warm, soft shape press against her, and automatically brought both hands to feel the wriggling being. As it was still crying, Metila brought her right breast up to the boy’s mouth and pressed the nipple into it. The baby stopped crying and began sucking, a reflex action, instinctive, and Metila had to adjust her breast until it was comfortable for both and the baby began suckling.

  After the placenta had been delivered, two of those present wiped her down. “We will let you rest now,” the eldest woman said. “One of us will be close at all times should you need anything. What is the child to be called?”

  “Klandesi,” Metila said, tired.

  “Klandesi? Little destroyer?” the woman wondered on the name, then shook her head and left the small claustrophobic space, emerging into the cool night air of the Bragalese eastern plains. It was early spring and the winter had been nothing exceptional either way – neither long, cold or bad. Just a normal winter. The woman who had just given birth had appeared one day just before winter had begun and had invoked the ancient Bragalese custom of shivtak, a community’s care of a homeless pregnant women. Under the custom, she could stay one full cycle beyond the birth before going on her way.