Prince of Wrath (65 page)

“Too damned right you wouldn’t, but that’s the truth of it. Of all the effrontery, you take the treasure chest! What in the name of the gods would compel me to surrender my province to you people?”

“Sire, we are in control of Epros, Riliyan, Kral and Cratia. We are on two of your frontiers. Your armies are not big enough to face ours. We know of your financial problems and the fact your armies are small, under-armed and with low morale. Our forces are better armoured, full of fervour, purpose and have the means to carry the broken walls I have seen here. You would not be able to stop our attack. You are being allowed to leave now, unmolested, with your colours and honour intact. If you refuse, then my Duke will order the attack and unfortunately, all of you will either fall or be taken prisoner. I doubt your treasury would be able to meet our ransom demands, so you would spend the rest of your days as a guest of the Duke in Venn City’s deepest dungeon.”

Astiras shot up out of his chair, stepped down off the dais and swung his hand across Godin’s face, striking him hard. The Venn diplomat crashed to the floor and lay there, dazed, for a moment. Astiras loomed over him. “Go back to your kivok people, you blustering piece of filth. By the time I’ve finished with your much-vaunted army, they will be lining the roads of Bragal on the top of spear points! None of you will leave my realm alive. Get out of here.”

Godin slowly got to his feet, helped by his furious assistants. He wiped the blood from his mouth. “You are all doomed,” he said thickly. “Count your last days, Kastanians. It will be a pleasure to see you all fall and the flag of Venn fly from these ramparts.” With that he and the other Venn left, watched in silence by the Kastanians.

“We are going to have to recruit more soldiers to defend the town,” Astiras said, sitting back down. He was aware Isbel was staring at him, her displeasure radiating out at his actions. “Frendicus, do we have the funds to pay mercenaries?”

“Yes, sire. Even though we have made a loss this half year of over four thousand, with all the expense of the new building works, we still have enough to raise a few companies. The only new building work anticipated will be in Zipria – everything else in the empire has been funded and there won’t be anything new until next year.”

Astiras nodded in satisfaction. “Then, gentlemen,” he looked at Teduskis and Vosgaris, “you two are to take on the responsibility of raising three new companies from the native population. I want at least one of them to be archers.” He glanced at Argan, sitting wide-eyed in his chair. “Prince Argan will accompany you on your recruitment tours since he speaks the language as well as anyone I know.” Argan swung his head in surprise, then his eyes switched to his mother who was frowning. Astiras slapped the arm of his chair. “I want those slaves approached and given a choice – either sign up as levies and earn their manumission, or remain slaves until the day they die. They can earn the right to live in Zofela when it is rebuilt. That is my decree. Write it down,” he waved at a scribe standing to one side, recording the day’s edicts and events.

The Mazag diplomat stepped forward. “Sire, what of the Mazag? Our army is facing the Venn out in the open on your behalf.”

“And I – we – are grateful, my Mazag ally. Please send word to General Vanist to be ready to march back here and deploy his army out of sight to the west in the woods of the mountain slopes. I want those fools to think Mazag has deserted us and gone. Now Venn thinks we have an outnumbered garrison with broken walls, they will easily defeat us. I want them to come and be caught in a trap. Give us seven days and then he can march.”

Teduskis and Vosgaris grinned. It was a good plan. They were dismissed, and Meri left to compose a message to General Vanist. The trap would then be set.

Isbel was not best pleased. She waited though till Astiras and she were in their chamber alone before turning on him. “I wish you would think before you act sometimes, Astiras! First you commit a political assault on a diplomat by hitting that Venn – nobody ever does that! Venn will spread the word and everyone will know how we treat diplomats. You can rest assured, husband, that Venn will embellish what happened here to their benefit. You will be cast in the role of a monster, and our reputation stained beyond recall. Venn may even – with probable success – call other nations to support them in their war with us! And not satisfied with that, you then thrust our son into a dangerous assignment without even consulting me! Do not think I will sit idly by again in public if you do that again. I shall challenge you in front of everyone, so think next time you consider one of your numb-brained schemes!”

Astiras waved irritably at Isbel and walked up and down the chamber, his forehead creased in a frown. “The Venn scum deserved to be struck! He cannot come into my court and spout his vile delivery and not get what he deserves.”

“This is not a barracks where an arrogant new recruit cheeks his elders, Astiras!”

“No Venn comes here and acts in a non-diplomatic manner. If he had behaved like a diplomat then he would have had his teeth intact. In any event, I wanted him away as I needed to issue my orders to that Mazag counsel and Teduskis. It all came to me at that moment, and the perfect means by which to smash these impudent porcines utterly. As for Argan, its time he started getting involved in official matters. War is going to come to him here and he can’t hide away in Court forever. He’s fluent in Bragalese, and Teduskis and Vosgaris will be with him. You worry too much, dear.”

“Astiras,” Isbel’s face was flushed red, “you’re still not listening! I was not consulted about Argan! I am his mother, and I have as much say in his wellbeing as you! I would appreciate it if you asked me first when these thoughts come into your head. Clear?”

“Oh, very well,” Astiras waved his hand dismissively. “I’ll speak to you next time. I cannot go back on my command, and the boy needs to see how we do things here. He’s nine the next winter, and getting closer to the time he’ll have to start collecting his own Court. He’s got two already.”

“Yes, I know,” Isbel said, not mollified in the slightest, “and I am going to have a say in who he has, not just you. Don’t you dare appoint anyone else without me agreeing to it,” she shook her finger at him. “The boy is sensitive and your clumsy methods of doing things are not good for him.”

“Oh, Isbel, he’s not made of glass; he’s a tough one. He survived that illness. He needs to learn about how things are done now, not next year.”

“And he is not going to fight in any battle!”

Astiras folded his arms across his chest. “Now who’s being clumsy? War and battles are my thing, and there is no way that boy is going anywhere near the field. He’ll be here in this castle when I go to fight the Venn.”

Isbel was still not pleased but let it go. At least Astiras had vowed to discuss it with her next time, and if he didn’t, then she would object publically. She would live up to her promise, and Astiras had best beware.

Argan was excited to accompany Teduskis and Vosgaris down to the chaotic scene by the old walls. Guards marched on either side and Argan noticed both men had their swords strapped on. They were not going to the slave gangs other than by meaning business. Vosgaris leaned over towards Argan. “Young Prince, you are to speak to the slaves in their tongue what General Teduskis says, and if any of the Bragalese says anything, you are to let the general know what they said, even if it’s a swear word.”

“Would they swear?” Argan asked, surprised, “why would they do that?”

Vosgaris shrugged. “Sometimes they hear things they may not like and react badly. This is just the way of things. Here we go.” They stopped on the edge of town, where the walls had formerly stood. Now there was just a jagged rip in the ground, and the land fell away to the ground outside where hundreds of stone blocks were being stacked. A rough and dusty road had been made across the valley floor running to that place, and Argan noted it went straight to the distance where people were working, hacking stone out of a hillside. Wooden wagons pulled by beasts of burden regularly travelled back and forth, bringing more stone to the side of the town. Men were working away at the blocks, chipping lumps off them, making them neater and more regular, so they began to look like large bricks rather than lumpy stones.

The dust that rose from the site filled most of the sky and the men working in the site were coloured the same as the stone, a light brown or dull yellow. Guards walked around the edge of the site, keeping an eye on the workforce, making sure nobody ran away. Argan wondered how anyone would run since most seemed to be linked together in groups of between six and ten by chains.

Teduskis stood straight and planted his fists on his wide leather belt. “Hear ye all!” he bellowed. Vosgaris nudged Argan and indicated he step forward alongside the general. The men all stopped working and squinted up at the figures framed against the skyline. Argan filled his lungs. He repeated Teduskis’ words, his high-pitched voice carrying to the listening men as surely as the deep boom of Teduskis.

Teduskis nodded at Argan in approval. “Now hear me and listen well.” Argan repeated the words when Teduskis paused. “War is coming to Zofela. The Venn have sent an army into Bragal. They are burning villages. They are burning people – your people. Emperor Astiras has vowed to defeat these evil people. He needs more men to destroy the Venn army.”

Argan shouted the words, feeling very important. This was his first function in public and he was amazed at just how quiet the men were, so unlike Fantor Face who would not let Argan say anything, shouting over his words whenever he tried to say anything to him.

Teduskis’ eyes roamed over the uplifted faces, noting the surly expressions, the hostile looks he was getting. He felt it was a waste of time having these people in the army, as he might get a blade in the back leading these people. Still, the emperor’s words were law and he had to obey. “Therefore he has decreed that any of you who volunteer to join a native levy and take part in the battle will earn their freedom and have the right to live in Zofela in one of the new houses being built.”

As Argan’s translation washed over them, the slaves looked to one another. The new unspoken leaders amongst them were the ones they looked to, those who would decide whether they agreed or not.

“What say you, slaves?” Teduskis finished.

“Do we have this written down for us?” one of the slaves, a big man with thick black hair on his head and chest, spoke out.

Argan told Teduskis what had been said. Teduskis nodded. “It is being written as I speak to you. It will be shown round your gangs shortly. All your past participation in the rebellion against Kastania will be forgotten, and you will be permitted to resume your lives as citizens of Zofela. But those who refuse shall remain working here until the day you die.”

There was a silence, punctuated by a cough or two. The dust spiralled up lazily and thinned. The smell of unwashed bodies remained, though, and Argan thought it was a horrible odour. He hoped everyone would say yes and they could get back to somewhere that didn’t smell so bad.

“If it is written, then we agree,” the black-haired man said, looking round at his associates who all nodded in agreement. “And we do not have to work in this accursed quarry one more moment!”

Teduskis nodded slowly. “You will be taken to workhouses on the other side of Zofela that are being turned into temporary barracks, given food, clothes, and spears. You will be given training, turned into Bragalese levies under the command of Emperor Astiras. You will receive a daily coin of one copper furmic for your efforts.” A furmic was a division of a furim. A hundred copper furmics made a silver furmic, a hundred silver made a furim.

The slaves gathered together, their overseers unsure as to whether they should separate them or not. Teduskis looked upon the group. “You will be asked to pledge loyalty to the emperor and the empire, of course. Having fought as rebels against him already, he will need an assurance you will not betray him again. Rest assured there will be no mercy if you should break that pledge.”

“We know the penalty,” the Bragalese spokesman said. “Landwaster Koros shall receive our sworn oath until the death.”

Teduskis breathed out heavily; it had been a gamble but it appeared the slaves were amenable to the terms. Freedom and a place to live in return for swearing allegiance to the Kastanian emperor and a term as mercenaries in his army. “Let us go, young Prince,” the aged retainer said softly. “You have done well.”

As they returned to the castle, Argan looked up at the two men. “Will they fight for us? They didn’t look happy, Teduskis.”

The general snorted with amusement. “They weren’t happy because they are slaves. They’re not best pleased being given the choice of fighting for their conquerors, but the choice they have is to continue being slaves. If they give a pledge, it ties them to their word, and breaking their word is an act of a coward and liar, and therefore someone who cannot be trusted.”

Argan thought on his words. “Are you going to fight alongside father?”

“I expect so, Prince Argan. My place is by your father’s side. It has been so for many years.”

“Well then you had best take care.”

“Thank you, sire.” Teduskis smiled. “We’ll make sure you and the others are kept safe.”

Vosgaris cleared his throat. “So who is going to build the new wall and castle now the slaves are to be freed?”

“Oh, leave that to the emperor. He may take a number of Venn prisoners, and if that’s the case they’ll be put to good use. Otherwise it’ll be a more expensive hiring of workmen. It’d bring work to Zofela, though.”

Astiras took the news with pleasure. His plans were beginning to form the way he wished. Riders had gone north to the Bakran Mountains with a bag of gold, promising more work for the tough, hardy people there. More riders had gone into the hills east and west, visiting the villages, offering gold to those who would rally to the standard of Landwaster to repel the evil Venn army burning its way through the countryside. Bragalese men, normally reluctant to associate themselves with the Kastanians, trickled towards Zofela, hearing of the burning of the villages first hand from their own people thus knowing that the Kastanians were, indeed, telling the truth. After all those years of war with the empire, they now just wanted peace and to be able to live without fear of their homes being put to the torch, and the Venn posed a grave threat to them all. For now, the Bragalese decided to stand alongside their conquerors to see off the invaders.

General Vanist received the plans from Zofela and grunted in amusement. He longed to use his sword on the Venn. He had no love for Kastanians but despised the Venn even more. Given the choice he’d ally with the emperor to slaughter the untrustworthy Talian republic. He pulled his men back overnight on the seventh day as planned, after dropping a ‘report’ that recalled him to Valchia at their campsite.

The next morning the astonished Venn saw that the road was clear. Alcazui was relieved; his scouts had only told him of tough mountain tracks around the block and it would take many days, making sure they weren’t seen, before they could put themselves between the Mazag and Zofela, and even then he didn’t like the fact he would be in the middle of two hostile forces.

One of his riders came galloping up to him as he ate his early morning meal and passed the report found at the abandoned campsite. Alcazui read it and frowned. Was it a trap? He interrogated the rider, asking where he’d found it and how easily was it on show? The answers gave him little illumination. He summoned Godin and his captains. “It seems the Mazag army has been recalled to their territory, or perhaps that is what we are meant to believe. It smells of a trap. I want your views.”

Godin shook his head. “Koros is an animal. I’m surprised he has any allies. The way he treated me in front of everyone, a diplomat, was disgraceful. He’s nothing more than a bully, using his fists as a means to settle an argument. I would not be surprised to hear he had insulted the Mazag diplomat and as a result Mazag has withdrawn its assistance. I don’t know for sure but I’d say this was a possibility.”

“Hmmm. Captain?”

The senior captain laughed briefly. “We must not pass up this opportunity. Even if Mazag is drawing us in, we must go on. We cannot stay here too much longer. The men need to get going!”

“I agree,” Alcazui admitted. “Send out scouts, find out where the Mazag army is or where its gone. Do not engage in action, but the moment anyone is seen, return and report. In the meantime, get the men ready to march. We move towards Zofela!”

The camp was transformed into activity. Men, happy at last to get going, formed swiftly into their units and it wasn’t long before the Venn army moved off in the wake of the Mazag force, following the footprints and detritus left by them quite easily.

In Zofela preparations were almost ready. Volunteers and mercenaries had swollen the Kastanian army and now they numbered over eight hundred. How effective the new units would be was open to conjecture, but half of the army was Bragalese, some were Bakranian and about two in every five Kastanian. It was like the old days when the empire was made up of all different people, all united under the imperial banners.