Drakenfeld (32 page)

‘What are we looking at?’ I asked.

Leana moved me to a position alongside a rusted brazier. She kept her back to them while I faced them. ‘Pretend we are friends or lovers, smile at me, and keep watching.’

I glanced up every few moments, until another man came along, dressed the same: they stood taller as he walked up to them, and they exchanged nods before he marched on.

‘Maxant’s veterans?’ I whispered.

‘Yes,’ Leana replied. ‘I only noticed them when I saw the same group of men walk by the same point three times.’

‘They’re patrolling the place to make sure any rivals are kept at bay. I suppose they’d have every interest in their general making it into the Senate, where he could start
granting them all sorts of pensions or extra land. Maxant is no fool.’

We strode back towards where the full spectacle was building up, and kept ourselves in the shade of the ruined temple to observe the event.

Large whitewashed buildings, their facades blighted with age, loomed up either side of us, three storeys high. An old woman was hanging her washing from out of a top-floor balcony that seemed so
precarious it might collapse at any moment. A huge vulture flew over the courtyard in the direction of the coast, each wing longer than I was tall.

I thought about how Maxant was making a calculated move towards establishing his political career. Once no one was within listening distance, I discussed the matter casually with Leana,
suggesting that I might trust him even less than other senators.

‘Why?’ she asked.

‘The key.’

‘The key to the Temple of Trymus?’

‘Yes,’ I replied. ‘The realization only came to me earlier today. I have a hunch, but it is no more, that whoever entered that room first was the person who put the key in the
lock on the inside of the door. We have always been led to believe that the door was locked from the inside, making it impossible for anyone to either enter or escape that room. But what if the key
had been put in there deliberately after the door had been barged open? Whoever had the confidence to do such a thing must have known, beforehand, they’d be among the first to enter the room
that night. And no one else but our beloved, celebratory general could have possessed such a confidence – because he was destined to open it for his own ceremony. He knew precisely when it
would open and precisely when everyone would see Lacanta. Seeing all his operations here highlight that he is a superb tactician both on and off the battlefield. I’m sure he could have
managed a simple key trick.’

‘But Lacanta and Maxant were both seen by many people just before the body was found. Maxant especially was the focus of attention that night.’

‘I didn’t say that he killed her,’ I replied, ‘merely that he was the first to gain entrance to the temple – and knowingly threw people off the scent. The rest
remains a mystery, though if his men are this organized . . .’ I paused. ‘It all must have happened so quickly. The planning would have to have been so thorough, precise to the last
heartbeat.’

‘Could he risk sharing such a matter with his soldiers?’ Leana asked. ‘If they battered the door down with him, they may know more.’

‘If such a pact was ever revealed, that they killed a royal, it would mean the end for Maxant – so he may not have wanted others knowing. He may have worked alone. But say he did put
the key in the lock – he would also have to be very confident that his soldiers would be distracted by the blood-soaked body of the dead royal . . .’

‘Why would he kill her?’

‘I don’t think he’d really want to kill Lacanta and not even our glorious general, fresh from the field of slaughter, would be swift enough to be the cause of her death that
night. But look at what he might achieve as a result.’ I gestured to the gathering throng below us, all of them waiting to hear what Maxant was about to say, many of them desperately eager to
catch a glimpse of a man whose achievements would mark him out for legend. ‘Senator Veron suggested that with Lacanta out of the way, Licintius may need to rely on Maxant’s popularity.
He implied nothing, of course, but it’s possible that Maxant felt Lacanta was in the way of his senatorial career. Not just that, but Maxant was after land for his veterans. Think of his
extra power if he had strong influence in the Senate – think what he could achieve. Come to think of it, if other senators had dreams of Empire, then they’d certainly get behind
him.’

‘An unlikely conclusion,’ Leana said.

‘It is, and I don’t fully believe in it myself, but the man we’re about to watch possesses a far more cunning streak than I’ve previously realized.’

The anticipation of the crowds was something to behold and I tried to explain to Leana their desire to see General Maxant. To these people, he was not merely just some
politician – he was a war hero. They were all too rare these days, having largely been confined to stories. Not only that, but Maxant had travelled north to lands beyond the limits of their
understanding. Mauland’s people were so far away they were almost like mythological beings. Maxant might as well have ridden his warhorse to another world entirely.

The general had returned victorious, having secured the colder, northern frontiers, placated a savage culture and brought with him all sorts of treasures. Though the gods existed in the heavens,
to the people of this neighbourhood General Maxant would be as close as they might get to seeing a god. And no doubt, in centuries to come, he would be deified and his name would be uttered with
the likes of Trymus, Malax or Festonia, and become part of the city’s heritage.

But to me he had now become a suspect in a murder investigation.

We were standing only a dozen yards or so away, down one side of the courtyard, still on the temple steps, which offered a perfect view of the scene. I hoped we might be able to hear his every
word. There were a good three thousand people within this courtyard now, leaning out from windows, huddling on balconies or sitting precariously on rooftops, all engaging in a lively, peaceful
banter with one another. They lined the streets and alleyways beyond so that it was impossible to move around. Up on the steps, where Maxant would be appearing, a few of his soldiers were standing,
wearing only the bold purple tunics of the military, but no armour. At least, these were the only soldiers wearing uniform – no doubt there were many more milling around the perimeter of the
courtyard or within the gathered throng itself.

We waited so long it was as though we would be here until nightfall, but presently the victorious general came out onto the platform, rising up above the masses with his arms out wide. A priest
of Trymus stood behind him, bathing the general in incense. The noise became ferocious, as if a war had spilled into the courtyard.

Maxant was clearly enjoying this position. Wearing the same purple tunic as his men – as if to signify that he did not consider himself superior – he accepted the applause he
received before waving for silence.

Flanked by soldiers, he addressed the crowd.

‘Citizens of Tryum!’ His voice was full of the command I expected from a man of his position. It must have carried the full length of the courtyard and a few streets beyond.
‘In the presence of Trymus, you bless me with your presence. You are the people who contribute to the structure of this city. You are as essential as the aqueducts or the grain supply. You
make Tryum.’ A predictable roar went up and everyone applauded him. Flattery only enhanced his popularity. He held his hands aloft for silence once again. ‘But your neighbourhoods are
in need of support. Your current representative, Gerrantus, has not served you well.’

There was a scuffle within the crowd. A man was trying to shout something, his voice muffled, and soon he appeared to get dragged down to the ground.

Maxant carried on regardless. ‘No. Gerrantus hasn’t served you well at all. He leaves dead bodies to rot on the side of the road. He lets pathetic thieves stalk the streets,
destroying the lives of hard-working families by taking their valued possessions. There is too little order, but I can deliver military discipline and make your streets safe again. I have travelled
far, with these men beside me.’ He gestured to his comrades. ‘And we have brought discipline and civilization to the wild places of the world. Gerrantus, they tell me, has barely walked
beyond the city walls.’

The crowd seemed to like that. Maxant gave a confident smile. Though his posture was formal, his manner was anything but – his composure was pitch-perfect for the occasion: proud and
humble, jovial and serious. He continued for several more minutes listing his priorities for the district, which included greater access to grain, a minor relaxation of taxes and new units of the
Civil Cohorts to be formed, all of which would receive the blessings of King Licintius. He listed his credentials: a man who was born not four streets away, who climbed the ranks of Detrata’s
army, who through grit and steel led the finest warriors in the kingdom to regain the pride of the Detratan Empire. I never expected quite the cheer that the last point received. I did not realize
just how much these people still longed to live in a conquering nation.

‘I will bring discipline and order and safety for the hardworking people of Tryum,’ he repeated. ‘All I ask of you is a show of hands come election day, on the morning after
the next full moon. Come, friends, support me – and I will support all of you in return.’

That was that. Maxant walked off the platform and out of sight, the priest and his soldiers following him. The masses were jubilant and optimistic.

But it was the men who were not cheering, however, that caught my eye. I indicated a couple of large groups of them to Leana. Some I recognized from earlier, but others I took to be either
supporters of Gerrantus, or merely hired thugs.

‘Things are about to get bloody,’ I said to Leana.

‘Shall we stay to watch?’

‘Yes, let’s hang back a little longer.’

Now that people were beginning to move on, we stepped back a little deeper within the sanctuary of the crumbling temple. I spotted a member of the Civil Cohorts stood by idly a few yards away,
clearly not aware of what was about to happen.

‘Be careful.’ Leana placed her hand on the hilt of her short sword.

The crowds gradually dispersed, and the two groups of men became more defined. Once they did, the mood changed dramatically and the rest of the stragglers hurried their pace. There were about
two dozen on one side, nearly all men, and twice as many on the other; each wore roughly similar clothing, grubby tunics of varying shades. The outnumbered set of men were physically superior to
the others; I took these to be Maxant’s soldiers.

Situations like this pained me. As a member of the Sun Chamber, all I could do was observe the confrontation and report it to the correct authority figure. I could not stop it without any
soldiers to hand, and neither were we powerful enough to subdue it.

Quite a few people were still lingering around the fringes of the courtyard, watching the spectacle from a street corner or from windows.

Blades were drawn. Two leading figures stepped towards each other and spoke in the centre, the soldier standing a good head taller than the other. After a short while, it seemed to transform
into a relatively calm debate.

And then Maxant’s man slit the other’s throat so quickly, I barely saw it happen.

The victim collapsed as the other men surged towards the soldiers, who proceeded to form a disciplined line.

The melee was fast, violent and efficient; blood spouted in thick gouts as skin was ripped open. There were rapid punches and crippling kicks, but no sooner had it all started than the remaining
attackers, or victims, fled.

Standing with their weapons still poised, the remaining soldiers regarded the courtyard, which was so badly stained with blood. With a professional calm, they gathered up the corpses and dragged
them to the perimeter of the yard, before proceeding to vanish down a side alley.

‘Is this how politics is done in Tryum?’ Leana remarked. ‘This is your version of democracy?’

Another beautiful evening lay ahead. The sun was just passing beyond the rooftops and birds skittered about in the clear, purpling skies. Smoke drifted about on the breeze,
having come from the stoves being fired up for the evening, which mixed with the scent of jasmine flowers from a nearby bush. After the excitement and emotional range of my day, there now seemed to
be a wonderful stillness, and a sense of peace.

I took another moment to look at the hand-drawn document acquired in Lacanta’s room. It was incredibly vague, so much so that I started to believe it could have been something else
entirely – a sketch perhaps, or strange esoteric notes that had manifested in this way. The words were indecipherable, which didn’t help, and there were various triangles scattered
about. Maybe it was an encoded drawing from a lover?

Bellona had prepared a nourishing meal of freshly caught fish covered in pepper, bread and vegetables from the market gardens of the city. She turned to leave us, but I nagged her incessantly
until she sat down to dine with us. Reluctantly, and eventually with a heavy smile, Bellona agreed, but she would not touch a drop of wine no matter how watered down it was. She ate tentatively at
first, with great pauses between mouthfuls, though with time she relaxed – and only then was I satisfied.