A Frequent Traveller's Guide to Jovan: Book 1
Elle Black
Smashwords Edition
Copyright 2011 Elle Black
Discover other titles by Elle Black at Smashwords.com
Read more of the Frequent Traveller's Guide at http://www.to-jovan.net
Generously proofread by Alan Belcher. All remaining mistakes are the author's own.
Cover Art: The Throne Room in Byzantium by Benjamin Constant (1845-1902)
Thank you for downloading this free ebook. Although this is a free book, it remains the copyrighted property of the author, and may not be reproduced, copied and distributed for commercial or non-commercial purposes. If you enjoyed this book, please encourage your friends to download their own copy at Smashwords.com, where they can also discover other works by this author. Thank you for your support.
Contents
Since the death of their brother the Emperor Dolmus brought the
royal brothers Valentin and Cassius back to the capital, Valentin has
cured the boredom of court life with poppy-sap and women, while for
Cassius the remedy has been ale and the result much the same. Then an
ill-fated duel causes their niece the Empress to banish them to
Gallica to deal with a problem there, and they find themselves drawn
ever more back into the world of Jovani politics: a world their
brother banished them from seventeen years earlier.
As
Valentin veers from disaster to disaster, always running from his
past and a life he would prefer to forget, Cassius is fascinated by a
damaged pleasure slave he rescues from a brothel in Sha-Pensei.
Valentin's weapon is sly diplomacy, while Cassius prefers the honesty
of the sword, but will either be enough to protect Jovan, and
themselves?
A knock on the door woke Cassius from a wine-soaked sleep.
He took his time wandering to consciousness, until he remembered the significance of the morning and bolted upright. This turned out to be a mistake and Cassius winced, pinched the bridge of his nose, and crawled out of bed.
The knocking, which had paused, resumed.
“Yes, I’m awake now,” he called. “Come in, Valentin.”
Cassius pressed his eyes closed, then cracked them open. The person who stuck his head around the door was Cesare, the steward of Monsilys Palace. “Oh. You.” Turning his back to the door, Cassius went in search of his hose.
“The Empress requires your presence, Lord Cassius.”
“Does she?” Finding a pair of hose crumpled on the floor, Cassius pulled them on and stood up. “My brother’s too, I imagine?”
“Lord Valentin is even now on his way to the Audience Chamber.”
“I see.” Cassius found a shirt and tunic in a chest, which he threw on and belted, before beginning the long process of wrapping himself into his formal cloak. It was a shoddy job, but Adrienne would be used to that by now. If she wanted someone immaculately turned out, she could easily admire Valentin.
Although somehow he doubted the Empress would be in the mood to admire either of them.
Hurrying over to the nightstand, he splashed some warmish, stale water in his face, grabbed his bracelets and chain of office, and went to the door.
Cesare had watched these preparations patiently, and now stepped aside to let Cassius precede him from the chamber. As they went through from the private to the public apartments, the plain sandstone floors were replaced by mosaics and frescos. They traversed the atrium and went into the Audience Chamber.
Empress Adrienne’s young face was set as she watched Cassius join Valentin in front of the dais.
“Lord Valentin,” she said, “Lord Cassius.” She seemed disinclined to speak further, merely sat on her throne and frowned down at them. Cassius instinctively stood up straighter. Adrienne may be his niece and a decade his junior, but she had her grandfather’s scowl. Cesare took up a position standing by the door.
“Adrienne,” said Valentin, “if you’ve no objection, we have an engagement to keep in thirty minutes.”
“Yes,” she said, drumming her fingers against the armrest. “You will not be keeping it.”
“Oh?” Valentin said dryly.
“No, and I can’t imagine why in the world you would think I wouldn’t hear about your duel, Lord Valentin, and put a stop to it. The Skyan Ambassador’s son. Really.”
Valentin stifled his smirk. Cassius shifted his weight from one foot to the other.
The Empress lifted her hand and waved it as if to shoo away that unpleasant topic, then said, “We have heard reports of trouble in the east.”
“Trouble?” Cassius raised his eyebrows.
“Yes. Rumours that there are an awful lot of Papirians on the frontier. That Lord Atellus Ventus allows and even assists them.”
“Gallica has been a long, slow, difficult war,” said Cassius. ” ‘Tis hardly the first time such rumours have floated to court.”
Frowning, Valentin said, “The Papirians are involved this time.”
Adrienne nodded. “I am sending you to Gallica.” She held up her hand as Valentin began to protest. “Be quiet. You will deal with this situation for me. And nobody need mention the Skyan Ambassador’s son.” Her raised eyebrows dared either of the two men to object.
Cassius broke the silence by bowing and saying, “Yes, Empress.”
She didn’t quite smile, but Adrienne nodded. “I shall expect a report within six weeks. Take any action you consider necessary. Cesare will oversee your departure from the city.” Adrienne waved them out.
As a contingent of guards followed them back to the private apartments, Cassius said, “I told you she’d get wind of it.”
Wincing, Valentin nodded. “You were right, of course. Damn, I hate that that man is going to think I broke my word to meet him.”
“You shouldn’t have called him out at all,” said Cassius.
“If it was such a mistake, you shouldn’t have agreed to be my second.”
Cassius sighed. “Gallica,” he said with disgust. “After the war, I hoped never to go back there.” They reached his chambers, and Cesare left him with four guards to oversee his packing as Valentin continued to his own suite.
A few short hours later, their supplies were packed into saddlebags, and they were mounting up and riding down the steep streets of Monsilys towards the sparkling blue sea. Two companies of Imperial Guards rode with them as they left the city and turned inland, riding through the outskirts of the imperial province.
At the edge of the province, one company stopped and spread out in rows on the road, watching them as they pointed their horses towards the Gallican frontier. The other company fell in with them, while one man on a fast-looking horse galloped off down the road, bearing a message from Adrienne to the Governor, Lord Atellus Ventus.
It would be a journey of two weeks and more to the town of Iunatras, the last Jovani town before the frontier. Atellus’ stronghold was a further hour down the road, and had been the rallying-point when periodic skirmishes with the native Gallicans had become outright warfare. After the Jovani victory, Lord Atellus had stayed as Governor of Gallica, and had been gifted Cordiserrat in gratitude. Atellus was currently trying to make the westernmost parts of the territory safe for settlers.
The real mystery was what in the world Atellus stood to gain from allowing Papirians to run freely in his territory. The Papirians, little more than outlaws, occupied the mountains that ran down the spine of Jovan, a good few hundred leagues from Gallica, and took their doctrine from their leader, Papirius, a condemned Jovani traitor. They would side with any Gallican resistance, and no doubt make Atellus’ job more difficult.
When they broke their long ride for the evening, Cassius raised the issue with his brother. Valentin shrugged. “I have been thinking on that myself. Rumours of treachery follow Atellus like smoke from burning wood, but this is the first time Adrienne has taken them seriously. What we must establish is whether this rumour is as smoke coming from a single burning tree, or an entire forest.” He bit into his waybread, winced, and chewed gingerly. “When do we reach the next town?”
“Tomorrow night.” Cassius, who was used to soldier’s fare, broke the hard biscuit in half and then into quarters and popped one into his mouth. “None of the villages around here could accommodate us.”
Valentin, still eyeing the waybread in disgust, said, “What sort of a man is Lord Atellus?”
Cassius considered this. “A simple man. I would have said a loyal man. He commanded his troops well in the war.”
“A soldier, in other words.” Valentin stared into the fire. “I think we will try a front-on action then. No point fencing if his only weapon is a broadsword.”
“Because he would kill you with his first stroke?” Cassius said, raising his eyebrows.
Valentin ignored the interjection. “Overt action may provoke an overt response by which we can judge his guilt.”
They reached Iunatras in good time. It was an old town—as old as the Empire—but the recent conflict had led its fortifications to be significantly upgraded.
Whatever benefit might have been gained from entering the town quietly and nosing around was obviated by the company of Imperial Guards at their back, so they swept through the town gates in style, and within half an hour all Iunatras knew they were staying at the Wolf’s Head, with the company bivouacked in the field outside the walls.
After a quick trip to the rudimentary baths, Cassius and Valentin set off for Cordiserrat, escorted by Ennius, the company captain, and a troop of his best men. Cordiserrat hunched atop a gentle hill, scowling over the Gallican Plain. Since Cassius had last been here, the earthworks and wooden palisade had been replaced by an entirely charmless stone fortress.
The wooden gates were pushed ponderously open, and they rode into the yard. As the fortress walls closed in around him, Cassius realised that there was actually quite a lot of greenery in the yard. Uneven stones gave way to a square garden planted with flowering shrubs, and several potted trees lurked in the corners against the wall.
Cassius swung off his horse as Lord Atellus stepped out to greet him. “Governor.” Cassius grasped the man’s forearm.
“Lord Cassius, welcome. We had your messenger four days ago. What brings you back to this forsaken corner?”
“Imperial business,” Cassius said. As they turned to enter the keep, he added, “The greenery in the courtyard is quite lovely.”
“That is Lady Ignatia’s influence—my wife,” he added, seeing Cassius’ blank look.
“Does the lady live here?”
“Where else would she be? You will meet her shortly, if you stay for dinner.”
Cassius and Valentin exchanged glances behind their host’s back. Atellus’ tone had cooled markedly when he spoke about his wife.
“Thank you, we will take up your offer,” Valentin said.
“Good.” Atellus flicked a finger, and a retainer jogged away into the castle.
Valentin and Cassius followed Atellus into his office, and sat down in a cosy arrangement of chairs next to the fire. After preliminary courtesies, Valentin leaned back and stretched his legs out in front of him. “The reason why we’re here, Lord Atellus, is that our Blessed Empress has heard some rumours which make her very uncomfortable.”
Atellus, seated opposite, raised his eyebrows. “Oh?”
“Rumour has come to us that there have been Papirians seen on the frontier. Now, our Empress appreciates your progress, but she would prefer to have this particular rumour decisively contradicted.”
Atellus’ eyes flickered for just a moment before he said, “Of course, what rubbish. No patriotic Jovani could ever countenance such a thing. Progress in Gallica has been slow and difficult, but it has been made, through the hard work and determination of loyal Jovani soldiers. We have put down quite a few skirmishes; if the Papirians surface, we will put them down decisively.”
Valentin nodded. “Lord Atellus, I am glad to hear that.”
The Governor glanced at Cassius, who said, “You have made some remarkable improvements to Cordiserrat since I was last here.”
After a brief, suspicious glare, Atellus leaned back, putting one ankle on the opposite knee, and said, “Yes, it has been, what, five years since you left?”
“More like seven, I think,” said Cassius.
“After the Gallicans surrendered—officially at least—I made it a priority to strengthen the defences here and at Iunatras in preparation for the inevitable insurgency. The Gallican does not take defeat graciously.”
As they talked about the tactical situation in Gallica and the empire at large, Atellus relaxed. By the time they went in to dinner, Cassius had almost forgotten about that momentary flicker.
Dinner was served in a long room decorated with half-painted frescos. A woman and two men were already seated at the table. Atellus introduced the woman as his wife. Cassius blinked. Lady Ignatia was young; younger than him, and therefore some years younger than her husband. The men were introduced as Melitaft, Atellus’ second-in-command, and Braegan, the Steward of Cordiserrat.
Ignatia gave Cassius a quick look as he sat down opposite her. She really was very young, probably half Atellus’ age or less. And she seemed nervous as she gestured for the servitors to bring in the first course.
Braegan was on one side of Cassius, and he chatted to him over the first course. He was a Gallican, but gave to understand that he had fought for Jovan in the war and earnestly believed in the Jovani Empire. On Cassius’ other side, Melitaft focused mainly on his meal. Valentin was next to Atellus, and they seemed to be getting on well enough.
The first course was replaced by the second. Cassius said, “Lady Ignatia, I understand the gardens in the yard were your idea.”
The lady nodded, then swallowed and added “I had my lord pull up some of the stones so I could plant clippings. The fortress is so dreary otherwise.”
“Cordiserrat serves its purpose,” said her husband.
Cassius, watching Lady Ignatia, saw her cast a quick look at Atellus before looking down at her plate and saying in a crushed voice, “As you say, my lord.”
After dinner, they rode back to the Wolf’s Head. The road was long and dark, and they passed no other people until they came within sight of Iunatras’ walls. Later, as they prepared for bed, Valentin said, “That poor child, married to an old bastard like Atellus.”
“Yes, and he does seem displeased with her for some reason.” Cassius shucked his shirt and kicked off his shoes.
“Hard to imagine why. What do you think of Braegan and Melitaft?”
“Melitaft was a dour fellow. But then, being stationed under Atellus, I’m hardly surprised. Braegan is a Gallican, but he seems harmless enough.”
Valentin was about to speak when there was a knocking on the door. Cassius opened it, and the landlord stuck his head into the room. “Please, my lords, forgive the intrusion, but there is someone here asking to see you. She is downstairs in the pantry. I, ah, thought it best not to leave her in the taproom,” he said, “and had nowhere else to put her.”
Quickly, Cassius reached for his tunic, which was still warm from his body. “Who is it?”
The landlord looked shifty. “That I couldn’t say, my lords.”
Having redressed, the brothers trooped downstairs and through the kitchen to the large room lined with shelves that served as the pantry. In the centre of the room stood a cloaked woman. Cassius realised who the person must be, just as she pushed the hood back from her hair.
The Lady Ignatia stood in the candlelight, one hand clenched in her cloak, the other wrapped around herself.
“Please,” she said, “I know this is very unorthodox, but you have to help me. My husband is going to kill me.”
While Cassius stood stock-still in the doorway, Valentin hurried to the girl’s side.
“Why do you think that?”
Lady Ignatia regarded him with what looked to Cassius like frustration. “Because—” she fluttered her hands, “the way he looks at me now. He’s so angry.”
“Have you two been fighting?”
Wordlessly she shook her head.
“I think he is tired of me,” she said. “I think he wants a new wife who will give him children.”
“Will—you not?” asked Valentin.
“I haven’t yet, and we have been wed five years.”
“How old are you?” Cassius leaned against the doorframe.
Valentin frowned over his shoulder. Lady Ignatia turned glowing eyes on Cassius and said, “Twenty-two.”
“Maybe it is Lord Atellus who cannot have children. After all, he is well past his fiftieth year.”
Lady Ignatia huffed out a breath and buried her face in her hands. “I’m so scared,” she hiccoughed. Valentin patted her on the shoulder and she peeped up at him through her fingers. “Can you help me?”
“Help you?” Cassius uncrossed his arms and stepped into the room.
“Hide me here. Take me with you so that my lord cannot murder me.”
“Well…” Cassius shifted his weight. The silence filled the pantry.
“You won’t, will you?” With a final cry, she leapt to her feet and ran out of the room. Her footsteps echoed down the hall in the direction of the stable.
Valentin made to go after her, but Cassius put out a hand to stop him. “That was all very dramatic, wasn’t it?”
Valentin gave him a troubled look, but didn’t follow Ignatia. Silently, they trooped back upstairs.
In the morning, just as they were about to ride out, Atellus rode into the inn yard and dismounted. Melitaft stayed on his horse.
“Atellus,” said Valentin, holding his reins. “We were about to ride to Cordiserrat.”
“I anticipated as much. I had business in town this morning and hoped to catch you, if not on the road, then here.”
Valentin opened his hands. “You have succeeded.”
“Lord Cassius, Lord Valentin, would you like to ride out with me and see the progress we have made in Near Gallica?”
After glancing at Cassius, Valentin said, “Thank you, we would.” He gestured to Ennius and instructed him to take two troops and meet them outside the town gate.
“My men are able to protect us,” said Atellus, frowning as he watched Ennius ride off.
Valentin turned to mount his horse. “Forgive if I prefer to have my own men nearby.”
“Am I under suspicion for something?”
Valentin, now mounted, raised his eyebrows and said, “Yes, for collusion with traitors.”
“The Papirians.” Atellus laughed, but the crease between his eyes remained. “Still.”
“No evidence has yet arisen to conclusively indict or clear you, Lord Atellus.”
Turning and swinging neatly onto his own horse, Atellus said, “Perhaps seeing the good work I have done for the Empire will count in my favour.”
Cassius said, “Yes, no doubt. Let us get on with it then.”
Nodding at Cassius, Atellus turned his horse to the street and they rode out. Atellus’ troops were milling about in the street, and they collected their own guards, impeccably turned out, outside the town.
As they rode straight past Cordiserrat and onto the Gallican Plain, Cassius marvelled at the transformation. At the end of the war, the Gallicans had brought the battle right up to Cordiserrat’s timber palisade, sneaking a forlorn hope through the trees dotting the plain and taking the defenders unaware. Now, every tree on the plain, right up to the distant bluish hills, had been razed, creating vast grassland where nobody could hide.
Near the base of Cordiserrat, there were even enclosures holding livestock and some fields. Atellus told them that they had not had one raid in three years, since they had cleared the plain.
As Cordiserrat faded behind them, they kicked the horses to a steady canter. It took them two hours before there was anything to be seen but grass. Then, on the horizon a nearer shape detached itself from the distant mountains. Cassius surmised it was Touris, the first of the Gallican towns. Touris had been hard-used by both sides in the war. Now, a part-finished Jovani fortress extended its grey stone walls to clasp the town close. Outside the walls, row upon row of blue-painted wooden grave markers lined the road. The sun, not yet at its zenith, hit the paint and reflected it at the travellers.
At least three of Cassius’ friends were buried in Gallica, along with hundreds of men he had commanded. If he dismounted and walked between the graves, how many of the white-painted names would he recognise?
They rode on, and entered the town. Their reception was not so much hostile as guarded. People on the streets had perforce to stand aside and watch as the group of almost fifty men rode past, and occasionally Atellus acknowledged a greeting from a well-dressed resident. He led them through the town to the foot of the fortress, which seemed to be the epicentre of activity in the town. Against the fortress wall were two inns, one distinctly nicer than the other, and a barracks. They went to the nicer of the inns, and left the horses there. Atellus beckoned them to walk with him through the fortress gate.
Cassius and Valentin flanked Atellus, with Ennius and some of the men walking behind them. The rest had taken themselves to the barracks for refreshment. Melitaft had absented himself.
“As you can see, progress has been steady. Of course, Cordiserrat was the priority, but we hope to have Touris finished by the end of next year.” Atellus gestured to the keep. On the roof, several small shapes scurried about, laying slates. “We have had some trouble securing stone supply from the quarry, which is a day’s ride further into the Gallican Territory, but I hope to have that problem resolved shortly.”
“Oh?” Cassius said.
“Gallican insurgents,” said Atellus. “This close to the border, most Gallicans have chosen to embrace Jovani rule, but there will always be troublemakers.”
“In Touris?”
“No. The building of Touris Castle is the only thing that sustains the town. Once it’s finished—well. Touris will become very reliant on the Empress. See how we have reinforced the wall with these pillars?” Cassius looked where Atellus gestured and made admiring noises.
After the tour, Melitaft reappeared and murmured something to Atellus. They returned to the inn for refreshments; then, mounted on fresh horses, they left Touris by the eastern gate and set out on the road for Felville.
Felville was a different beast altogether. Six companies of legionaries were bivouacked in the fields surrounding the city. As they passed through the gate, they met another four soldiers, who saluted Atellus and Cassius then returned to checking the papers of everyone who attempted to enter or exit the city.
“Let me guess,” said Cassius, leaning toward Atellus. “If there is an insurgency, it will come from here.”
“That is my suspicion,” said Atellus, “but I have the situation well in hand.” At that moment, a raggedly-dressed man ran at Atellus’ horse. The horse shied, and in the confusion, the man vanished down a side street as suddenly as he had appeared.
“Yes, the situation in Felville seems to be well in hand, Lord Atellus,” said Valentin, raising his eyebrows.
Atellus clenched his fist and didn’t respond. They rode past a section of the city which had clearly been flattened by trebuchet fire and never rebuilt. Instead of stopping at an inn, Atellus took them through the other side of the city to a waystation that had been set up within the encampment. Here they were served with a small, plain lunch. Atellus excused himself, saying he needed to take care of some things in town.
Cassius stood. “I will accompany you.”
“No, that is quite unnecessary. Please, stay and enjoy your meal.” Atellus tucked his gloves into his belt and strode out of the waystation.
Cassius leaned back and looked up at the sky. Then he sat down and picked up his spoon. Atellus returned quickly, and they set out again, this time to inspect a forest that Atellus thought might hold premium-grade oak for shipbuilding. After viewing the forest, they turned back toward Touris, approaching it at an angle to meet the track from the stone quarry. Atellus thought they might meet a cart so that Cassius and Valentin could appreciate the quality of the stone for themselves.
“Of course, we have troops as far in as Pelagel, which passes for a capital in Gallica, but that is a week’s ride from here,” Atellus was saying.
Cassius closed his eyes and loosened the reins, trusting the horse to follow its fellows.
He listened to the sounds of the forest: he heard the crunch of leaves under the horses’ hooves, and the sweep of wind through the trees. There was some kind of animal rustling in the undergrowth. Cassius smiled. Opening one eye, he confirmed his suspicion that his horse was drifting toward the tasty grass on the verge. He tugged the reins, then guided his horse alongside Valentin, who cast him an eloquent look: Atellus was still delivering a lecture on the geography of inner Gallica.
He heard a whir as something flew past his arm. Instinctively, he grabbed Valentin and pulled him off his horse. They tumbled down on top of each other, almost under Cassius’ horse’s hooves. He heard another one fly overhead.
“Arrow,” he said in response to Valentin’s offended look. Between the horses, they were shielded from the archer, wherever he was. Atellus was shouting, and a detachment of his men had dismounted and were searching the surrounding bush land. Valentin climbed to his feet using his horse’s girth strap, while Cassius stayed crouched between the two horses’ haunches. As Valentin stuck his head over the horse’s back, the hidden archer took another shot.
Atellus shouted “Over there!” pointing at the source of the third arrow. Cassius dived towards his brother, catching him as he slumped to the ground, blood pouring from his skull.
Ennius sent two men to the horses’ heads to walk them away from each other while keeping Cassius and Valentin protected. A man ran up with a medical satchel, and Cassius stepped back out of his way. Looking carefully over the horse’s rump, Cassius watched the troops disperse into the forest on both sides of the track.
“Arrow grazed his temple,” said the medic. “He’ll wake up in a moment.”
At the same time, someone shouted, and then there was a groan. Melitaft emerged from the brush, followed by two men dragging a third by the feet. The third man was dressed in dun-coloured homespun. He was choking on blood spurting from a gaping gash on his neck.
“Medic!” shouted Atellus.
The medic tied off the bandage around Valentin’s temple and stood.
“He’ll be fine,” he said to Cassius then jogged over to the wounded archer. Cassius waved his hand at the two men holding the horses to move them off so that he could kneel at Valentin’s head and watch events.
The medic examined the man for a moment, then leaned back and shook his head.
Valentin groaned, turned his head, and vomited onto the grass. The medic came back over, helped Valentin to sit up, and gave him a bandage with which to wipe his mouth.
“Nothing to be done about the archer,” said the medic. “He’ll be dead within a minute.”
“What happened?” Valentin touched his bandage and winced.
Cassius left the medic to give him a summary and went to stand beside Atellus, who stood frowning down at the body of the archer, lying in a cooling pool of blood. Ennius gestured, and his soldiers clustered around Valentin and Cassius, facing out and scanning the forest.
“Who do you think he was?” Cassius looked down at the dead man. He could have been Gallican or Jovani. Or any one of five other nationalities.
Atellus was still frowning. “Just a Gallican,” he said, “trying to strike a blow for the insurgency.”
“An oddly pointless gesture, one man taking on forty in the middle of a forest.”
“The Gallican insurgent is not a rational creature,” said Atellus.
“Neither is the Papirian.”
“Why in the world would you think this was a Papirian?”
Cassius ran a hand through his hair. He beckoned Ennius. “Search the body for anything that might identify him.”
Atellus looked like he might object, but he let Ennius crouch down and begin going through the man’s clothes. As Cassius watched Ennius’ progress, Valentin staggered over to stand beside him. There was grass stuck to his tunic.
After watching silently for a moment, Valentin said, “So, was this bastard a Gallican or a Papirian?”
Atellus made an irritated noise.
“No possessions on him either way, my lord,” said Ennius, standing up and dusting off his knees. One of the other soldiers beckoned to him.
Valentin said, “How did he die?”
“My men found him climbing a tree. They have orders to kill insurgents on sight.”
“So they pulled him down and slit his throat before anyone could question him.”
“Swift justice is what these people understand,” said Atellus.
Ennius tapped Cassius on the shoulder. “Dravis says there’s a way to know for sure if he’s a Papirian.” Ennius gestured, and a tall, scruffy soldier stepped forward.
“Speak,” said Atellus, his tone icy, “and tell only truth or you will share his fate.”
Intimidated, Dravis looked at Cassius, who gestured to him to continue.
“Dravis is from the foothills,” said Ennius. “He has some experience of the Papirians.”
“Personal experience?” interjected Atellus.
Cassius put his hand up. “You said there was a sure way to know if this man was one.”
“Yes, they all have a pattern of scarring on their left shoulder. It looks like a sword wound or an animal scratch. The higher up they are, the more marks they have. The first marks are a circular sword prick—” Dravis touched the hollow of his shoulder, “—followed by a claw mark through the centre of it, and then two more parallel. After that, I don’t know.”
“Why have you never spoken of this?”
“It is not—safe to talk about it. My family lives too close to the mountains. And I thought you would already be aware of these marks.”
Cassius said to Valentin, “Do you think the Empress does know?”
Valentin raised one shoulder. “I wonder.”
Cassius nodded to Ennius, who knelt and pushed aside the dead man’s shirt to reveal a deep puncture scar intersected by a ragged gash in the hollow of his shoulder.
There was silence as they all stared at the Papirian marks.
“I thought it was nonsense,” said Atellus, “but the Papirians must be siding with Gallica.”
Cassius was saved from responding when Valentin fell to his knees and retched. “We must get him back to Iunatras,” said Cassius, kneeling beside his brother.
“Bypassing the quarry road will shorten the return journey. I will send my physician to you.”
“Thank you,” said Cassius. “We will return to the matter at hand later.”
“Indeed.” Atellus looked down the path. “I am as eager as you to resolve this issue. I only wish now that my man hadn’t killed him before he could be put to question.”
“Only following orders,” said Melitaft. It was almost the first time Cassius had heard the man speak.
Atellus gave him an irritated look.
On the long ride back to Iunatras, Cassius was preoccupied by Valentin, who was lolling about on his horse as if he were drunk. When they got back to the Wolf’s Head, Atellus hovered in the taproom while the physician examined Valentin and pronounced that he had a concussion but nothing worse.
Cassius sent Atellus back to Cordiserrat, promising they would visit him the next morning. Atellus went reluctantly.
Valentin was propped up in bed, patting at the fresh bandage around his head. “I’m going to have a scar,” he said.
Snorting, Cassius sat down on the chair beside the bed and leaned back, resting one ankle on the opposite knee. “What are we going to do about Atellus?” he said.
Valentin frowned. “I don’t know. The issue is not simple. He has an impeccable record as Governor of Gallica and Commander of the Imperial Forces, and he has not taken any of many opportunities to kill us.”
“Unless the Papirian in the forest was his doing,” said Cassius. “He did leave us in Felville.”
“I don’t think so.” Valentin sat up straighter. “He was angry at the attack, and relieved that we hadn’t been hurt. And it would have been a simple matter for his men to lose the archer instead of killing him.”
“But?”
“But…he wasn’t surprised to see the Papirian mark. And his wife is terrified of him.”
“She is very young,” said Cassius. “What about the quiet Melitaft?”
“I don’t like him,” said Valentin, closing his eyes. “Now go away; I want to sleep.”
When Cassius went to rouse Valentin the next morning, he found him burrowed under the quilt, curled on his side.
“You go,” he said. “I feel as if I’m on a boat in a storm. I think I’d pitch off the side of my horse if I tried to ride.”
“What do you want me to do?” said Cassius.
A long, pale hand emerged from the covers. “Take note of everything. We will go through it when you get back. And—take the whole company.”
Cassius made a gesture of denial. “I can’t do that. What about you? The Papirians know we’re on the frontier; they could easily come after you.”
“Fine, take three troops and send the rest here. I promise not to stand in any windows and to require all who enter my presence to remove their shirts so I may check their shoulder for the mark.” He paused, then stuck his head out of the blanket. “Particularly the women.”
Rolling his eyes, Cassius left. He asked the innkeeper to check on Valentin in an hour and send for the physician if necessary.
At Cordiserrat, Cassius dismounted and came to take Atellus’ hand. “My brother is unfortunately still laid up,” he said. “He insisted that I bring half our men in the hope that their combined wisdom might somehow substitute for his.”
Atellus smiled tightly. “Come, let us sit and talk.”
“You don’t mind if I keep Ennius with me, do you?”
“Not at all.” Atellus gestured to Melitaft, who fell in with them as they entered the keep. Melitaft proved largely immune to Cassius’ attempts to draw him into the conversation. After an hour or so, Braegan the Steward knocked on the door. “Governor,” he said, “your wife needs you.”
Cassius happened to be looking at Atellus as a look of disgust flashed across his face. Suddenly, Ignatia’s midnight claim did not seem so implausible.
“What does she want?”
“Some matter of tradesmen from Touris. She awaits you in the hall.”
Atellus looked down, closed his eyes, and stood. “I had better attend to this. Melitaft—”
“Governor.” Braegan cleared his throat.
Raising his eyebrows, Atellus said, “Well?”
“If you wish, I can take our guest on a tour of the home farm.”
“If you’ve no objection, Lord Cassius?”
“None.” Cassius stood.
Atellus nodded. “I will resolve this matter as quickly as possible. Melitaft, come with me.”
Braegan guided Cassius and Ennius out of the castle by the postern gate. They walked down the embankment to some buildings clustering into something resembling a village. On the other side, they found livestock corrals.
It turned out the Steward was a natural talker. When war broke out between Jovan and Gallica, he had volunteered for the Jovani army and after a short, undistinguished career as a legionary, had found his true calling in administration. When Cassius wondered how a Gallican had come to side with Jovan, Braegan responded cheerfully that his family lived on the borders and appreciated the civilising influence of Jovani culture more than most Gallicans.
They kept walking, past the corrals. Braegan pointed out the grain warehouses, and the vegetable garden. On the other side of the castle they found an orchard. The so-called home farm must be supporting quite a few people.
Cassius listened to the flow of chatter and wished Valentin were here. How exactly did one go about pumping someone for information? Valentin had ties to the Inquirers, but Cassius had more experience with wartime inquiry, which usually involved pain. He seized a brief pause to interject: “Has the Governor been acting differently lately?”
Considering for a moment, Braegan said, “He has ridden out to Iunatras and Near Gallica more frequently of late. Time was he preferred to stay here with his wife and let Melitaft ride all about the countryside.” The Steward frowned and said with an air of frankness, “Then again, with the estrangement between the Governor and Lady Ignatia, perhaps he finds less to keep him here.”
Perking up his ears, Cassius said, “Why are they so cold to each other?”
Braegan glanced at him. “It wouldn’t be delicate of me to say, my lord.”
Cassius raised his eyebrows. They were some way away from the castle by now, in the middle of a field, surrounded by sheep. Cordiserrat frowned down at them from its perch on the hill. Ennius stood a few feet away, leaning against a tree.
“Well… I don’t know the full story, but it was a love match between the Governor and Lady Ignatia. At least, it was until she started stepping out with a Gallican. She met him when he brought goods to the castle.”
“Lady Ignatia was being unfaithful?”
“Oh yes.” Braegan leaned towards Cassius. “Rumour has it the Gallican had links to the insurgents. The Governor was furious. But I can say no more without tarnishing the lady’s reputation.”
“No need,” Cassius said. “We will speak to Lady Ignatia herself.”
Braegan looked disappointed.
They walked back to Cordiserrat, and Cassius pondered Braegan’s revelations. Atellus’ wife had been betraying him with a Gallican rebel. Could that make him angry enough to plot her murder? And how were the Papirians involved? Cassius rubbed his temples. He would just have to concentrate on giving his brother all the details of his findings when he got back.
Cassius ran into the lady as he was returning to the keep. Ennius had gone to check on his soldiers, and Braegan had excused himself and ducked into the kitchen wing as they passed the walls.
Ignatia seemed upset and distracted. Obviously her business with her husband had not gone well. When she saw Cassius, several emotions crossed her face before she held out her hands to greet him. “I apologise for my behaviour last time we met.” She looked around. “Could I speak with you?”
“Yes, certainly,” said Cassius, wondering if Valentin’s life usually involved this many confidential discussions.
Lady Ignatia towed him up to her private sitting room. She offered him a chair then sat down opposite.
“How are you, Lady Ignatia?” said Cassius as an opening gambit.
“Not well. I am in daily fear of my life.”
“From Lord Atellus?”
She laughed helplessly. “Who else? Coming to see you at night was a terrible risk. I know that murderers wait outside the castle walls for me.” Ignatia studied him. Cassius wondered whether he should mention Braegan’s revelations or wait until he spoke to Valentin. “You don’t care,” she said. “What if I told you that my husband is in league with the Papirians to kill me? Would you care then?”
Cassius frowned. “First I would ask you what proof you had, my lady.”
“I overheard him talking to one of them in his study. The man identified himself as a follower of Papirius.”
“Really?” Cassius’ stomach dropped. “Does the Governor know you overheard this conversation?”
“No. ” Ignatia thought for a moment. “I don’t know. I don’t think so. If he does, it is another reason for him to want me dead.” Her eyes filled with tears, and Cassius winced.
“My brother and I will do everything we can to protect you. But, uh,” He searched for words, “I have heard another story. That you—took a lover, from among the Gallicans, and that your estrangement from your husband dates from his discovery of this fact.”
Ignatia went still, her eyes flicking up to meet Cassius’. Then she blushed and looked down at her lap. “It was a mistake. Should I die for a mistake?”
Putting his hands up, Cassius said hastily, “No, of course not. We will need you to stand witness of what you have said. Will you do that?”
Ignatia nodded, her lip wobbling. “Lord Cassius,” she said, “I do not want to die. Please protect me.”
Valentin was up and about when Cassius returned to the inn midafternoon, but he didn’t look pleased about it. Cassius found him in the taproom, being hovered over by the innkeeper.
“Brother,” said Cassius.
Valentin looked up and raised his eyebrows, tilting the bandage at a jaunty angle. Cassius said down beside him and said, “How is your head?”
“Well enough. What news at Cordiserrat?”
“There is more to the story.” Cassius told Valentin about Ignatia and the Tourisian lover, and about her revelation that Atellus had met with a Papirian.
Valentin took a sip his drink and nodded. “So she is somehow wrapped up in this business. But perhaps not in the way we’ve been thinking.”
“Yes.” Cassius frowned, sifting through his conversations with Ignatia and Braegan. Cassius glanced around the taproom. “Let’s go where it’s… quieter.”
“Good idea.” They went upstairs and into Cassius room. Cassius sat down with his back against the door, so he could hear anyone coming down the hallway. Valentin said, “You said she never leaves the castle.”
“She fears being murdered outside the walls, where it might look like an accident or robbery.”
Valentin paced across the room. “Correct me if I’m wrong, but… most of those living at Cordiserrat are legionaries. They have no personal loyalty to Atellus. If a suspicious death occurred…”
“Yes, the garrison would investigate it. But an accident—”
“—And a grieving husband—” They looked at each other, then Valentin turned to look out the window. “Assuming the Papirians are interested in Gallica, Atellus would have a lot to trade for one simple murder, and the Papirians no compunction in carrying it out.”
“Atellus said there had been more rebel activity of late. Could he be turning a blind eye to Papirians operating out of Felville? It would explain the one we killed in the forest.”
“It makes sense. Ageing Governor of a border territory catches his young wife cuckolding him? If someone with the right expertise picked the right moment, they would find fertile ground there.” He looked across at Cassius. “This is serious. If we’re right, Atellus will have to be brought back to Monsilys to face the Empress.”
“He served Jovan well in the war. Iunatras and Cordiserrat have prospered under his care. That must count in his favour.”
“It will earn him a kind death, but death will be his fate.” As they reached Ennius, Valentin dismounted and handed his reins to the guard. “So we must be absolutely sure of our finding.”
As they rode up to Cordiserrat the next morning, with all fifty of their guards, Valentin looked at Cassius and said, “Are you ready, brother?”
Cassius nodded. “I know my part.” They shared a quick smile, and then the great gates swung open.
Braegan greeted them. “The Governor is down at the home farm. I have sent a servant to fetch him. In the meantime, would you care to take refreshment?”
They declined, and were escorted to the great hall. There was quite a bit of activity; servants hurried in and out, and some soldiers still lingered over their breakfast at the long trestles lining the room.
As they waited, Cassius ran over the case in his head. They had to push Atellus into a confession. Atellus was a careful military commander; he would not like being forced into a corner.
Not long after, the Governor returned. “Shall we go to my study?” he said after greeting them.
Cassius and Valentin stood. “No,” said Valentin, “your retainers should hear this.”
Opening his palms, Atellus said, “Then, by all means.” Several of the legionaries drifted over to stand near him.
“Lord Atellus, we have come to arrest you on charges of conspiracy and treason.”
“Oh.” The Governor crossed his arms. “On what grounds?” A hush had gone around the hall. All the retainers stopped their work, and suddenly the room seemed very crowded.
“On the testimony of your wife.”
Atellus turned and gestured to Melitaft, who came forward from the doorway. “Fetch Lady Ignatia here.”
“Wait.” Valentin put up his hand.
While Melitaft looked between them, Atellus said, “Don’t I have the right to face my accuser?” He seemed very calm.
Valentin frowned. “Yes, I suppose you do.” He nodded to Melitaft, who ducked out the door.
“May I ask of what I am accused?”
“The lady testifies that you have made an arrangement to have her killed by Papirians if she leaves Cordiserrat.”
“I categorically deny this allegation.” Atellus raised his voice so that he could be heard throughout the room. Then, more quietly, he said, “I feared you were being led to false conclusions, my lords, but I hoped that my long record of service and loyalty to Jovan would cause you to doubt any allegations against me.”
Cassius glanced at Valentin, who said, “Your defence will of course be taken into account by the Empress.”
“With respect,” said Atellus, “I think I can spare you the trouble of dragging me to Monsilys in chains.” He paused, casting a look around the room. “But I would prefer to make my defence to you privately.”
“Governor—” Valentin began, but broke off as Melitaft escorted Ignatia in. Atellus cast her a contemptuous look. “I believe my wife will also prefer that this be done in private.”
Ignatia cast him a wide-eyed look. Sighing, Valentin acquiesced. Five of the guard fell in behind him as they all trooped out of the hall.
In his study, Atellus offered seats to his guests, who all elected to remain standing. The guards ranged themselves around the door, windows, and fireplace.
“Well, Ignatia?” said Atellus. “I’m told that your testimony forms the basis of the case against me.”
Glancing fearfully at Valentin, Ignatia said, “I have but told the truth.”
A bitter laugh escaped her husband. “I rather doubt that.”
Valentin put up his hand. “Ignatia, recount your story.”
“I came to Cordiserrat as my lord’s wife,” Ignatia began. “We met some months earlier in Rinnai. I was in some difficulty, and received my lord’s assistance, and finally his offer of marriage.” She had locked eyes with Atellus as she said this. Atellus’ expression softened briefly. Ignatia continued: “We were happy for four years, except for the fact that I couldn’t give my husband a child. Eventually, this drove me into the arms of another, a Tourisian worker. It meant nothing, and the affair was short-lived. But my husband found out about it.” She looked down at her feet. “We argued. He said several times that he should have married someone else; a widow perhaps who had already proven she could honour a wife’s duty to be faithful and carry children.”
Atellus spat out a laugh, but he didn’t interrupt.
“Some months back, my lord had a visitor—a Papirian.”
“How did you know he was a Papirian?” Valentin asked.
“Yes, Ignatia,” said Atellus, “how did you know?”
Ignatia frowned. “I heard him say so. At least, he said, ‘My master, Papirius, is very interested in Gallica’.”
“Where and how did you hear this?” asked Valentin. Cassius watched Atellus, whose attention remained riveted on his wife.
“Passing my lord’s study. My lord was in there. And Melitaft.”
“That’s a lie!” Melitaft broke out. “Commander, are you going to let her tell such lies about us? We’ll be put to inquiry.” He turned to Cassius. “My lord, no need; I will tell the true story willingly.”
Cassius blinked at him. Atellus put his hand up. “Peace, Melitaft. Let Ignatia tell her story.” He put a slight emphasis on the last word. “Then I shall tell our guests the truth.”
Melitaft subsided. Ignatia bit her lip, and looked wide-eyed at Valentin. He gestured for her to continue.
“I was passing the study as they went in. Later, returning to my rooms, I heard the Papirian identify himself.”
“Can you give us any details of the compact made between Lord Atellus and the Papirian?”
“Yes, my lord made a deal with them. In return for access to Gallica so they could sow treason and insurrection, my lord asked the Papirians to murder me.” She paused. “They could make it seem like bandits, you see. Then my lord would be able to wed someone who could give him children.”
“You must have been walking very slowly past my study, my dear, to hear all that,” said Atellus. He barely seemed angry.
Valentin cast a look at Cassius, then said, “Ignatia, have you anything else to say?”
The girl thought for a moment, then shook her head.
“Then please sit down.” Valentin ushered her over to a chair, where she sat, studying her hands. “Lord Atellus, how do you answer these allegations?”
Atellus made a sweeping gesture with his hand. “I reject them.”
“On what grounds?”
“My lords,” said Atellus. “You have been led into believing a lie assembled from a few circumstantial details.”
“Oh?” Valentin raised his eyebrows.
“Why didn’t you bring these accusations to me first? I would have told you the truth of it.”
“You have not so far,” said Valentin. “You said that no patriotic Jovani would countenance the presence of Papirians. And now you ask me to believe that had I asked you would have told me the truth as you are about to tell it?”
After a moment, Atellus sighed. “No. But not out of disloyalty; rather, out of a natural disinclination to expose the sordid details of my marriage.”
“That you had bargained your wife’s death for Gallica?” said Valentin coolly.
Atellus made a cutting gesture. “You have it entirely switched around.” He took a long breath. “I did enter a compact with the Papirians, but not in the way you suppose.”
Pausing, Atellus looked up at the ceiling. Ennius moved a couple of steps closer, until Valentin put his hand up.
“They came to me to offer me a deal: they would destroy the Gallican insurgency. In exchange for my wife.”
Ignatia’s head snapped up, but she didn’t speak.
Narrowing his eyes, Valentin said, “You had better start from the beginning,” he said, “and leave nothing out.”
Cassius, meanwhile, had drifted across the room to stand behind Ignatia’s chair.
“I met Ignatia as she says, in Rinnai, which is two days’ ride from the foothills of the Spinal Mountains. I brought her back to Cordiserrat as my wife, and I thought we were happy here. Despite her age, she seemed content to stay at Cordiserrat and make it her home; she didn’t bother me to take her to parties, or to Monsilys for the winter. About a year ago, I discovered she had been taking a plant that made it impossible for her to have children. It was the first of three betrayals.”
Ignatia was on her feet. “Liar!”
“I found the plant growing beside the wall. Your servant told me you took it every day in your tea.” Atellus was almost shouting.
“No,” said his wife, “I never did. How dare you mock my barrenness?” Cassius urged her to sit down, but she shrugged him away.
Atellus ignored her. “The second betrayal was her affair with the Tourisian insurgent, but that proved her undoing, because it brought a man named Magnus to me. Through the bragging of this Tourisian fool, he had learned of Ignatia’s existence. He stopped me on the street and said he had a proposition for me.”
Magnus. Cassius felt the name as if someone had buried the butt of a sword in his gut. Through sheer willpower he managed to keep his gaze straight ahead and not glance at Valentin. Out of the side of his vision, he saw Valentin’s fist clench and release.
After pausing for a couple of breaths, Atellus continued: “Having no idea what he was, I told him he might come and see me at Cordiserrat. He came the next day—the meeting my wife happened to overhear. He told me he had a request, and if I should grant it, not only would the Papirians withdraw from Gallica, they would destroy the Gallican rebels from the inside out.” As Cassius and Valentin shared a look, Atellus added, “So you see, I didn’t bargain away Gallica. I bargained for it.”
“Tell me,” Valentin’s voice gave nothing away, “what could the Papirians want so much that they would give up Gallica?”
Ignatia made a small, protesting noise in her throat.
Turning to her as if he saw her for the first time, Valentin answered his own question: “One of their own,” he said.
“Precisely.” Atellus shifted his weight from one foot to the other. “Magnus told me that my wife was one of his kind, a filthy Papirian traitor who had gone on a spying mission and never returned to the mountains.”
“These are lies,” cried Ignatia. “You can’t believe him! He has admitted to planning my murder.”
Atellus spoke over her: “Of course I disbelieved him at first. I had him thrown in a cell. But he had told me that there was a way I might know the truth of his accusation.” He nodded to Cassius. “You have seen them too, my lord: the Papirian marks.”
Hearing this, Ignatia looked around wildly. Cassius laid a hand on her arm, and gestured for two guards to come and stand nearby.
“The next time I took my wife to bed, I saw it, just as he had described. And I knew.” Atellus rubbed a hand across his face.
Valentin advanced on Ignatia. She stared at him.
“Lady Ignatia, I am going to have to examine your shoulder. If you are blameless, you have nothing to fear.”
Ignatia struggled against Cassius’ hand on her arm.
Valentin looked at Cassius. “Hold her.”
With the lady resisting in earnest now, Cassius hauled her back against his chest, clamping his arms around her ribcage. He trapped her feet against the chair, and two guards held her arms. She brought her head sharply back against Cassius’ chin, and his teeth clacked together. He tasted blood. As Valentin stepped forward, she tried to kick out at him, then turned her head towards Cassius shoulder, closed her eyes, and made a whimpering noise.
Valentin quickly pushed her dress and shift aside to reveal the hollow of her shoulder, where two shiny white scars confirmed Lord Atellus’ story.
There was silence. The guards against the wall leaned forward to see what everyone was looking at. Atellus leaned back on his heels, his face carefully blank. Eventually, Valentin said, “Lady Ignatia, you understand that I must take you to Monsilys to face the Empress. If you had come to Monsilys when you first fled the Papirians—but no matter. Your fate is now out of my hands. I would advise you that meticulous cooperation with Lord Cassius and me, and with the authorities to whom we hand you in the capital, is your best course.”
Lady Ignatia still had her head pressed against Cassius shoulder. At this, she opened her eyes and regarded Valentin. “It matters not. Whatever I tell you will be out of date by the time I speak the words. When they learn what has happened, that you know the marks, they will send men out to scar every crofter in the foothills, so you cannot tell who is guilty. They will devise a new symbol by which to recognise each other. And they will move camp and destroy every path that I can mark on a map.”
This seemed to require no response. Valentin nodded to Cassius, who released Ignatia to two guards. They were instructed to take her to the courtyard and hold her, while another two were sent to her rooms to pack some belongings.
Valentin turned to Atellus. “You understand that you will still have to face the Commander-General.”
“What, no apology?” said Atellus.
Raising his eyebrows, Valentin said, “You have a case to answer too, Governor. You planned to murder your wife and conspired with Papirians to carry out the deed, to the effect of removing a potentially useful witness. Why did you not hand her over to the Empire? Why kill her?”
“I thought—” Atellus sighed, “to spare her the inquiry. Her fate is death either way. Let it be a kind death, then, I thought. Why do you think she hid herself away, tied herself to an old man: a bright, shining creature like that? She was terrified of what you would do to her.”
“When last I spoke to her,” said Cassius quietly, “the person of whom she was terrified was you, Lord Atellus.”
Atellus looked at the fireplace. “I will of course cooperate, my lords.”
Valentin, clearly choosing his words carefully, said, “And this Magnus? Where is he now? Bringing in a high-ranking Papirian would help your case.”
“I know not. Once he had my cooperation, he vanished. Presumably back to the mountains—”
They heard a shouting, then Ennius burst through the door.
“My lords,” he panted. “The prisoner has escaped her guards.”
Cassius glanced at Valentin, then both ran out of the room, following Ennius. Cassius shouted to the remaining guards to stay with Atellus. Along a hallway, down a flight of stairs, and they were in the courtyard. There were soldiers everywhere, concentrated around a locked door that appeared to lead into one of the keep’s towers.
“She went that way, Commander,” said Ennius.
“Open that door!” shouted Cassius. “Batter it down if you have to!” To Ennius he said, “Where does the door lead?”
Download this book for your ebook reader.
(Pages 1-34 show above.)