Down to the Sea (21 page)

The emperor shook his head. “The Republic. Answer that.”

“As I said, crush it.”

“And what of the other houses still to contend with if I should divert my attention elsewhere?”

…“Unify through this war, or should I say, this crusade. The Bantag are our brothers. What they are now enduring could happen to us. Tell the other houses that.”

The emperor came to stand by Hazin.

“Crushing them is a small thing, Your Highness, a very small thing.”

“And of course you will lease the troops. Yet more expenses on top of expenses I cannot now afford.”

Hazin smiled. So here at last they were getting to the true purpose of this summons.

“Go on, I am fully attentive, Your Highness.”

“The cost of the victory over my brother was rather excessive.”

“Yet you agreed to the contract.”

“Wouldn’t you in my position?”

Hazin laughed softly. “Your brother set the bid mark, which you had to exceed.”

“Don’t you think I know that? It will bankrupt the throne.”

“Your brother didn’t seem to think so.”

“He never considered such things. I have to.”

“Are we brokering a deal here, Your Highness.”

“I do not broker deals,” came the sharp reply.

“Then let me see if I can surmise the offer. The Grand Master with whom you negotiated with is dead. You agree to my ascension as Grand Master, and in return I forgive the debt owed to my house.”

The emperor said nothing, his gaze fixed on Hazin.

“I could say that I sent the Grand Master to his ancestors out of loyalty to you.”

The emperor smiled sarcastically and Hazin laughed. “Fine, then. The debt can be forgiven. You will declare a holy crusade to aid our beleaguered brothers to the north, revealing what happened to them, declaring your outrage that your brother knew of this but kept it a secret since he was too preoccupied with vying for the throne. Such a declaration will of course cast you in a positive light and at the same time divert attention to a new cause.”

Yasim looked at him warily. “Sometimes you are too cunning, Hazin. In thinking of me, what is it that you seek for yourself?”

“I must have some payment to the Order. To totally forgive the debt, especially after the effort made to secure your throne, would be unforgivable, and I would fall within hours of announcing it. Here is what I propose. We help you to crush the human Republic, you can make payment in part from the loot taken, the money counters of my house will be satisfied, and you shall appear as a liberator.

“Your fractious cousins and countless nephews could be promised fiefdoms vaster than all that you now hold. Offer them new empires and they will fall in line.”

The emperor became more animated, looking over at Hazin with eager eyes.

“Let your cousins weaken themselves. Then, when the time is right, confiscate their lands. Use that as payment and eliminate them at the same time.”

Yasim could not help but smile. “You will make a deadly Grand Master,” he whispered.

“All in service to you, my lord.”

“I’m not so stupid as to believe that, Hazin.”

“Nor am I so stupid as to challenge you. With the unfortunate and untimely death of my old master, I have all that I desire in this world. What need is there for more? Besides, my fate will be linked to yours, and you, sire, are an entity that I know.”

Yasim slowly nodded in agreement.

“Might I therefore suggest that tomorrow you dispatch a fast frigate to the Bantag coast carrying ambassadors and some military advisers? Inform their Qar Qarth that war is about to begin.”

“When?”

Hazim fell silent, as if carefully calculating.

“It’s a long run for the frigate, and a collier will have to follow in its wake to refuel it for the return journey. Give a week for the frigate to reach the Bantag coast, then another week for your envoy and advisers to reach their Qar Qarth. Offer to them full military assistance if they will abandon the reservation they are trapped on and move south to the coast to link up with us.”

“Assistance such as?”

“The Shiv.”

“You would commit them to such a place?”

Hazin smiled inwardly. He knew Yasim would leap upon the offer, believing that the mailed fist behind the Order would thus be directed elsewhere. It showed a weakness of Yasim to react without’ fully contemplating the hidden meanings.

“They, fighting alongside the Bantag, will be a powerful force against the Republic.”

Yasim nodded in agreement.

“The uprising would therefore stir first in the east, diverting the Republic’s attention. Then time the arrival of the fleet to strike along the main coast of the Republic. We know where their main naval base is. Annihilate it in one blow, land your own troops there, and resistance will begin to fall apart.”

“A dangerous time of year to campaign,” Yasim replied, his enthusiasm suddenly cooling. “Storm season. Also, my fleet has been hard pressed. Much needs to be repaired and refitted.”

“Strike hard now,” Hazin said. “In three weeks’ time most of the refitting can be accomplished. If anything, your sailors, your warriors, are at their best. In addition, the campaign will immediately divert attention, consolidating forces that were fighting against one another into a common crusade. It will meld them together. Wait until next year, and that chance might be lost.”

Yasim hesitated, looking over the railing of his balcony to the city below.

Walking across the balcony where the emperor stood, Hazin leaned against the railing. It was shortly past midnight, the end of the most torturous and difficult day he had ever known, and all had fallen into place. Overhead he heard the distant hum of a flyer, faint, almost imperceptible as it drifted northward. He smiled.

A nod from the emperor indicated that agreement had been reached and the audience had ended.

“I’ll pass the necessary orders to begin preparation in the morning.”

“I will see you at the celebration of your ascension, my lord,” Hazin said formally, bowing low. He left the room, gaze lingering for a moment on the chamberlain, the bloated eunuch. He wondered what this one thought. He must know that his days were numbered, that he had been far too loyal to Hanaga.

The eunuch drew closer. “Grand Master,” he whispered. “May I come to your temple tomorrow to speak to you?”

Hazin smiled graciously. “Oh of course, Tugana, of course. Though there is nothing to fear, Yasim even mentioned you in our conversation. Rest assured that your position is safe. I pointed out that your loyalty was to the family and not to Hanaga himself.”

He saw the wave of relief in the poor fool’s eyes.

“But do come anyhow. There is much we can discuss.”

Perhaps it might be worth the effort to ensure this one survived. Then he would be in debt and could be useful.

Hazin followed the eunuch out the side door so that the guests waiting in the outer chamber would not see whom the emperor had been talking to. The captain of the Green Gate waited to escort him out of the compound.

All was playing out as desired. Hazin felt in such a munificent mood that he decided that this captain would not suffer when he died for his insult. A blade no thicker than a wire inserted into the base of the skull by a courtesan of the Order would do the trick. Perhaps even allow him the pleasure of lying with her first as a small gift before death.

Yes, all was unfolding as he had planned. He looked to the North and smiled, wishing Cromwell a safe journey home.

Exhausted, Richard Cromwell sat before the president of the Republic. He struggled to keep his hands from shaking as he gratefully took a cup of tea, the third one Andrew had offered him since the interview started.

“Can you tell us anything else about the plane you flew?”

“I’m sorry, sir. I tried to stretch it to land. I should have set it down on the beach along the Minoan Shoals rather than try and make the last ninety miles to Constantine.” Andrew extended his hand in a calming gesture. “You might have been stuck out there for days before someone spotted you. I don’t blame you for trying the final stretch. I’d have done the same thing.”

“Still, I lost the plane damn near in sight of land.”

“Just lucky one of our frigates spotted you going in. But is there anything else you can tell us about their weapons?”

“Ship designs, I can give you only general information. I worked on some of it on the train ride up here and can compile more information in a day or so. Perhaps if some of the design engineers from the technical college asked me questions I might be able to remember.”

Andrew nodded approvingly and looked over at Pat O’Donald, the only other person he would trust to be at this meeting and whom Richard had requested attend as well.

“Is there anything else you can remember, lad?” Pat asked. “Did you hear of a date when they plan to start, details about machines? Can you tell us anything else about this Hazin, or those beastly men?”

“The Shiv?” He wearily shook his head. The interview had been going on for nearly three hours without stop, and it was obvious to Andrew that Cromwell was past the point of exhaustion. He had been fished out of the ocean less than two days ago, taken straight to Bullfinch, then put on an express train straight back to Suzdal.

“Frightful, sir. They don’t seem quite human. I’m not sure if it’s because they have been bred for so long that they are different from us, or if it is their cult or the drugs that Hazin gives to them.”

Pat, who had shown remarkable restraint throughout the meeting, could finally contain himself no longer. “Cromwell, a personal question.”

Andrew could see Richard stiffen. “Yes, sir. About your son. That’s why I asked that you attend when I met with the president.”

“You knew him?”

“Of course, sir. We trained together at the academy flight school and were berthed together on the
Gettysburg
.”

Pat showed a hint of embarrassment. The fact that he did not know such common details about his son’s life was troubling.

“Did he say anything? I mean, did you talk at all about things before the
Gettysburg
was lost?”

Richard hesitated, looking not at Pat but at Andrew. “Go on, son,” Andrew said softly.

Richard shifted, coming almost to attention as he turned back to face Pat. “Your son is alive, sir.”

“My God!” Pat cried. He bolted up from his seat and began to pace furiously. “I knew it. I just knew the lad was still alive!

“How? Did he escape, too?”

Richard shook his head.

Pat seemed torn with emotions. He was relieved of the horrible anxiety that had controlled his life since Andrew had told him that the
Gettysburg
was destroyed and a lone survivor had escaped. Now, to suddenly discover that his boy was still alive, but a prisoner, was all but overwhelming. Pat looked at Andrew, desperation in his eyes.

“Could we arrange an exchange? Remember, the Tugars did it with Hawthorne. We did it with the Merki and Bantag. Damn it, Andrew, I’ll go myself.”

Andrew extended a calming hand, his gaze still locked on Richard. “I think Mr. Cromwell here has more to say.” Richard nodded his thanks and took a deep breath. “Out with it, boy. Come on,” Pat snapped anxiously. ,“Sir, I offered your son the chance to escape with me. He refused.”

“What?” Pat roared. He advanced menacingly on Richard, but Richard didn’t flinch.

“Are you calling my son a traitor?”

“No, sir, I didn’t say that. On the night I escaped, I asked Lieutenant O’Donald to come with me. He refused.”

“The weight,” Pat interjected, grasping for answers. “He must have realized how desperate your plan was. A hundred and fifty pounds more and you might not have made it.”

“That’s not what decided the issue, sir,” Richard replied, and Andrew realized that Cromwell had brushed over a point. Taking Sean would have meant dumping nearly thirty gallons of precious fuel, but he’d been willing to do that anyhow.

“Out with it then, damn it!” Pat shouted.

“Sir, I hate to be the bearer of this news. Your son, something happened to him.”

“They tortured him, didn’t they, the filthy bastards.”

“Pat, would you please let Mr. Cromwell explain,” Andrew said quietly but his voice was hard, the tone expecting compliance.

Richard looked over at Andrew with the slightest flicker in his eyes. It was obvious that he hated what had to be done, but would go through with it regardless.

Pat sat down, pulled out his handkerchief, and wiped the sweat from his brow. “Go on then, Cromwell.”

“Yes, we were tortured.”

“That’s rather evident,” Andrew interjected, for the wounds on Richard’s face were still evident, lips still puffed up.

Richard started to say more, but fell silent.

“They broke him, didn’t they?” Pat asked.

“It wasn’t just the torture, it was something they put in our water. It was a drug. I have heard about how morphine affects men who were wounded.”

Andrew looked at Cromwell unflinchingly. His own addiction to morphine after being wounded at Capua was one secret of his life that only those closest to him knew. It was frightful as well that after twenty years he still thought of it at times and had to fight the craving. Emil had told him that it would be like that for the rest of his life.

“Was it morphine?” Pat asked.

“I don’t know. It made you feel like you were floating, the pain was gone, but you could still see and think clearly. It also made what Hazin said terribly persuasive. It was a horrible thing to fight against.”

“Yet you resisted.”

Pat looked over at Andrew, ready to make an angry comment, but a gesture stilled him.

“Yes, sir. At least I think I did,” Cromwell replied.

“And my son?” Pat asked.

“Hazin seemed to single him out for special attention,” Richard replied.

Andrew could sense that Cromwell was skirting the truth, but knew it was best, at least with Pat in the room, to not press for any further details.

“What do you mean, ‘attention’?” Pat asked warily.

“After the torture we were separated, and I didn’t see Lieutenant O’Donald again until just before I left. I assume Hazin talked to him as he did to me.”