Indomitus Vivat (The Fovean Chronicles) (4 page)

     I’d have to get myself out of this one.
  I smiled to Tartan and I took his shoulder in my hand for a second, but I excused myself and found where my Wolf Soldiers were bedded down, and joined them.

     It had been a hell of a day.

    
Later in the royal Eldadorian court, I sat alone on the throne atop the dais, at the end of the long, royal gallery.

     One day it would be imperial, I knew.  Royal was good enough for now.

     “And you can see, your Grace,” the Earl informed me, “the implicit growth of the project affects not only my own earldom, but the Eldadorian nation.”

     Blah, blah, blah – the man had been droning on for thirty minutes.  The Rule of Fifteens came to mind again, as it often did in such circumstances.

     Any meeting that took more than fifteen minutes had a second agenda.  Anything that took longer than fifteen seconds to say was probably a lie.

     “I humbly add that this nation’s prosperity has astounded the world under your sage leadership…”

    
Damn
, I thought to myself. 
He is sucking up to me.  That is another ten minutes at least
.

     Eventually they would learn that I didn’t respond well to
it, and they wouldn’t do it anymore.  The political animal is still an animal.  It hunts to survive.  It learns its prey’s strengths and weaknesses, or it dies.

     I had been in Eldador the port for two days.  Glennen had roused this morning for a while, then gone back to sleep.  His neck throbbed, and the first thing that he wanted was mead.  I had talked him into breakfast tea, but I could smell that they had put something in it when it came.  He had ordered me to sit for him at court, then rolled over and gone back to sleep.

     I think the Earl wanted to build a granary or something.  I missed that part of the dissertation.  Really didn’t matter because I planned on telling him, “No,” regardless.

     I wished I were with Shela.  It looked like I would be sending for her.

     “You munificent opulence has changed Fovea for all time…”

    
I wondered what ‘munificent’ meant.

    
Having or showing great generosity
.

     I started on the throne.  The Earl either didn’t notice or didn’t care.

    
You need to know these
‘three dollar words’
if you want to rule these people
.
     I had a feeling that War hadn’t asserted Himself to correct my grammar.

    
You think you do great things
?

     “I hope to,” I thought in my
mind, knowing that He would hear it.

     And I stood in a field, feeling the hot sun on me, my calloused hands on the plow before me, the smell of my own sweat mingled with the hearty funk off the horse before me, of the newly turned earth beneath my feet.

     I wiped the sweat from my forehead, and looked toward the great city, Eldador, where I had never been.  Even now more masons were hauling more stones to her, as if more stores would make her greater, as if the sun could not set on enough of it.

     “I paid for those stones,” I thought to myself, bitterly.  “A share in 6 of everything I own, to the drunken king for his wine and his stones and his better life, while I live in a stick house with a roof that might leak.”

     And I stood on the solid, wood decks of the newest of the cutters pulling from Eldador the port, and I wore the uniform of a boatswain and looked up in pride at the Eldadorian flag, flying from the mizzen.

     The first mate had told me that most sailors die at sea, the rest are lucky if the scurvy and the whores don’t leave them too twisted to lead a normal life.  I didn’t care; my father and his before me had been sailors and I would be one as well.

     “Mount the main and hard aport,” the first bellowed.  The quartermaster spun the wheel and we picked up the breeze.  The mains’l snapped and billowed out in all of her glory, the spray from the prow of
White Stallion
splashed on my face and filled my nostrils with her salty spray.
     To one side of the quarterdeck stood a squad of Wolf Soldiers.  Haughty bastards who had never smiled in their whole lives, who never drank with the crew, who never did anything but kill or plan to kill – they are a plague on Eldador in my opinion.  The Heir put them everywhere to remind the rest of us how things would be when the King’s health finally failed him.

     Gendine, my best friend, clapped me on the shoulder, seeing my glare.  “Be still, Vark, they are blooded veterans, and you are still a ‘wog.”

     That they were.  I ran to the rigging, my bare feet gripping the planks beneath me as the ship topped a swell.

     That didn’t make me like them.

     And my woman screamed, from our one room home in Thera.  I paced outside the door, on the street, passersby nodding their respect to me or, if they knew her, giving me their good wishes.

     The midwife tended her, I assured myself.  The midwife knew what to do.

     I couldn’t even af
ford to replace the bedding after her labors.  At best I might replace the straw ticking and turn the mattress. The bed covers lay on the dirt floor.

     This great land of prosperity called
Eldador; it had not been so great for me.  I had come to here a Volkhydran, my Lord’s gristmill empty and his water wheel spinning free.  There was nothing there anymore.  There would be nothing for a long time.

     In Eldador they took almost no tax, and so all of the mills were hiring.  That didn’t mean that they had room for a Man.  Men were lords in Eldador, Uman worked the mills and the fields and the armories.  Uman would hire 1,000 more Uman before they gave a wage to a Man.

     My woman screamed again, bringing forth a new voice to this world, a new mouth to feed.  Whether it would be my son or daughter anyone might guess.  My woman is a whore, bringing wage to the table while I go from mill to farm to factory, begging for the chance to earn a wage.

     She screamed and I could imagine that she blamed me, for my mistake to come here.

     “
Enough!
” I shouted. The whole court jumped before me.  The Earl became quiet, looking bewildered at my rage.

     I had misspoken myself.  I stood, and I glared at the Earl.

     “You think that I am a child, that you can massage my ego and impress me?” I demanded of him.

     He blanched.  Lupus the Conqueror was a killer. They all knew what I had done to Sammin.

     “Leave me,” I demanded.  “Court for the day is adjourned.”

     One of the Oligarchs approached me but I glared him away.  A mural of Alekanna to the left behind the throne worked as a door and I used it.  Let the masons make a new secret entrance for the security of the Heir.  I wasn’t in the mood to be protected.

    
This is beneath you.

     “Apparently it is not,” I snarled, knowing that the one I snarled at had the pain.  That if He invoked the pain, then I would be helpless and do anything
He wanted. 

    
You are the instrument of War,
he informed me
.  You do what you must, and what no one else can.

     “Whatever that is.”

     I took long strides down the back halls, to the King’s quarters, from where I could get to my own.  I could hear the steps of the squires who attended me – no less than three for the Heir, no less than five for the King.

    
The Fovean Kings underestimate your ambitions.  They still believe that they can control Eldador politically
.

     “I am sure that Constantine XI thought the ambitions of a twenty-one-year-old Sultan could be solved politically until Mehmed II overran Constantinople in 1453.”

    
As you have demonstrated with Outpost IX.

     “I didn’t think it would be lost on You,” I said.  “I thought the world should see what I would do to anyone who came after me.”

     Which is not the only reason that I did it, and which He surely knew.  People
love
to follow men who are ‘fearless’, because they can lose themselves in their maniac ambition.  It is a lie to say that if you have nothing then you have nothing to lose.  If you have nothing then you have everything to gain with the right person leading you.

    
My whole life demonstrated that. 

    
You near your purpose, then, instrument.

    
Would I make the world better if I controlled it all?  I would certainly make it better for me.  History showed that kind of thing wouldn’t benefit too many more people. 

    
The Egyptians had enslaved entire races at the height of their power.  They had buried their wealth in giant pyramids just to prove that they could do it.

    
The Eldadorians held apartheid-style dominance over their subjected Uman people.  They enjoyed a better lifestyle now, but if this capitalist experiment were to fail, would it be Man or Uman whose children did without?  Would I have or want Uman nobles in my realm?  Would Sammin be dead now if he were a Man?

    
As for me…

     I pushed open another concealed door and I entered the King’s apartments.  Glennen wasn’t here – there were too many drinking hours left in the day for that.  His squires would drag his drunken body in here, shave him and bathe him and put him to bed, when the booze had overwhelmed him.

     I was kidding myself thinking that I could have plied him off with some tea.

     “There is a price for everything, my love,” Shela had told me.

     When I had prayed to War, he had warned, “You have barely begun to do as I desire
.”

     Now I thought I knew what he wanted.

     “The gifts of War are not without price,” I quoted my wife.

    
Nor should they be.

    
“I was a loser about to die, and you made Lupus the Conqueror, the White Wolf, Scourge of Trenbon, blooded bounty hunter, the Killer of Conflu.”

    
I made nothing.  That is not the way it works.

    
“But there is also Rancor the Just, the liberator, the avenger.  The one who humbled Outpost IX – the only one.”

    
That is as much you as the other, but this is made of your own choosing, your own free will.  That is how it works, instrument.  It is all free will.

     “And now it is before me to take the next step, open the doors and fulfill the mission of my god.”

     This is what you are brought here for.

    
“Just because it looks like I can do this thing, does that mean I should?” I asked quietly. 

    
You are the servant to a god.  You must learn to separate yourself from what you, as His instrument, may or may not do.  You must have faith.

     “Faith, or pain, you mean.” 

     If that is how you must understand it.

    
“That doesn’t sound very much like free will.”

    
If a god could be frustrated, as I am sure a god could, then I could sense it in War.  He was not used to having His will questioned.

    
You are already aware that you cannot trust Tartan Stowe
, he told me.

     “Yes,” I said. 

    
And that only you can be trusted for that seat and that power
.

     He didn’t need me to answer, so I didn’t.  I had already decided on it, but the idea that War had made the effort to tell me…

    
Yes
, he added. 
Finally, you have come to a glimpse of what I have in store for you.
 

Chapter
Three

Consequences

     The second day of the month Eveave began cold, dry and bright.  Our beloved monarch marked that morning with another drunken display, and that evening my slave girl and my daughter entered the city.

    
Glennen got liquored up and decided that he needed more children, so he went hunting for women through the palace.  He actually had a troupe of them running for their safety and their own lives through the halls and back rooms of the palace before I could be notified.

    
I didn’t have to hit him to subdue him, but I came close.  I stood in his way and told him that he would have to go through me to get to them.

    
He swung, but he couldn’t focus so he couldn’t hit.  I pushed his hand aside a first, a second and a third time.  He called me a treasonous bastard and said he would have me hung.

    
“Who are you going to give the order to?” I asked him.  “Who is carrying out your orders for you now?”

    
That made him pause.

   
“I’ll tell you, I am,” I said.  “And I do everything for you, including wiping your ass when I have to.  And I have to do it, because you’ve chased everyone else away.”

    
He looked right at me, right into my eyes, and had one of those moments of lucidity that drunks sometimes have.

    
“They have all abandoned me?” he asked.  “They all left me, like Alekanna did?”

    
I stared into his eyes, made him look back at me and said, “She didn’t leave you, our enemies killed her.  And your friends didn’t leave you, you chased them away.”

    
He collapsed against me, sweating and stinking and, after a few moments, sobbing.  He knotted his fists in the material of my shirt, at my shoulders, and leaned his weight on me.  He swore that he didn’t like what he had become and would change.

    
He went to sleep and, the next morning, started drinking again.  We moved all of the female staff where he couldn’t get at them.

    
I had a better time with Shela’s arrival.  She acted happier to see me, and no one got hurt.

    
I had her consult with the royal healers, hoping that she could repeat her success with Genna on the king.

    
“You don’t understand these things, White Wolf,” she told me, “so you won’t understand why we can’t help him.”

    
“Try me,” I said.

    
We were in my Spartan room, already in the process of being made less Spartan by her addition of a bassinet, more furniture, some tapestries and a different bed.  We were sitting on a pile of quilts at the foot of our bed because Shela hadn’t decided on chairs for us.

    
She sighed, taking Lee to her breast and doing this jiggle with her that she did when she was thinking.  She didn’t rock my daughter as much as bounced her, but I think it comforted both of them.

    
“I was able to cure Genna,” she said, more to the air than to me, “because Genna was afflicted.  A physical ill had been forced on her body, which I could find and attack.

    
“Glennen brings this on himself from grief and loss.  I could heal the damage done to his body from the strong drink, but it would just make him better able to harm himself.  It’s a thing in his mind that is broken, an idea that he can’t rid himself of, that in the drink he can find a clarity or an ease from the grief and pain, or at least a way to step away from it.”

    
I nodded.  That sounded like a good summation of alcoholism to me.  And they had to decide to get better on their own, or they had to give in to it, one or the other.  Until then, you could dry them out a thousand times and they would just go right back to what they were doing, because they didn’t see anything wrong with it.

    
“But we still have to deal with the drunken monarch,” she concluded.  Lee finished and Shela shifted her to her shoulder for burping.  If I behaved myself then sometimes I got to do it – Shela knew no Master when it came to her child.

    
“Maybe not,” I said.  “If you have known a real alcoholic, then you know the problem has a way of fixing itself.”

    
“You mean the yellow sickness, which takes their insides and destroys them, colors their eyes and breaks the veins in their nose, until they die.”

    
I nodded.

    
“Do you really want to let your liege lord die?” she asked me.

    
I thought about it.  I owed my title to Glennen.  He had fostered me in Eldador and named me ‘heir.’  His faith in me had made me strong.  I had killed for this man, and risked everything, for his wife, his friendship, and his faith in me.

     My god wanted him dead.  He wanted me to replace him. 

     I couldn’t just let him die.

    
I couldn’t stop him, either.  I tried watering his drink, but he simply drank more.

    
I dutifully sat in court as Heir and spoke frequently with those Oligarchs here as well as mine in Thera.  The month of Eveave progressed on, as time will. 

    
“We are the emissary of Trenbon,” the Uman said, one of a party of five who had petitioned to plead their case before the Eldadorian court.

    
This should be interesting.

    
I allowed them to approach the throne, dressed in the royal livery of the House Aurelias, of the Silent Isle.  Each wore an eagle on his breast.

    
“We petition for reparations, for the actions of your subject, Duke Rancor Mordetur, against Trenbon, for his illegal invasion of the Silent Isle, his violation of the moratorium on violence against the persons of the Fovean High Council, and for the damages done to Outpost IX, both in loss of property and in loss of life.”

    
Neither the Uman language nor that of Man had a word for ‘cajones,’ but if they had, I would have used it.

    
“We see no justification for reparations,” I said, instead, “on the grounds of self-defense.”

    
“Self defense?” the Uman seemed incredulous.

    
“Thera was attacked first,” I stated.

    
“You have presented no proof of this,” the Uman insisted.

    
“Of an attack on Thera?” I said.  “I have the body of a dead queen, the word of the Duchess of Thera, numerous Wolf Soldiers and testimony from members of the Free Legion.”

    
“Irrelevant,” he sniffed.  “And, as you must know, un-presented to the Fovean High Council.”

    
I looked at the Oligarchs.  The one I had come to know as ‘One’ nodded.  Under the Fovean High Council’s charter, evidence wasn’t evidence until proxy delivered it, as I had done for the Great Dwarven Nation, and debated by the members.

    
I had emissaries to the Fovean High Council, but only the monarch, not the heir, could command them.  I could not send my own proxy for the same reason.

    
I hadn’t seen it necessary to shove something in front of Glennen to sign, and that had been a tactical mistake.  I should have covered that base and hadn’t.

    
“And what evidence do you have, then, that the Duke of Thera had any involvement in your alleged attack on Outpost IX?”

    
The gallery enjoyed a moderate amount of laughter as the Uman sputtered.

    
“The city was sacked,” he said.

    
“We have no proof of this,” I said.

    
“No proof?” he repeated.  “There are thousands of dead.

    
“I have seen none of these,” I said.

    
“Your Highness, you were there,” the Uman said.

    
“And I saw none of this, prove otherwise,” I said.

    
They were dumbfounded.  However, the same rules applied.  They would have to present that evidence from Angron or one of the other Fovean monarchs, and then the Eldadorians would have to debate it with the rest of the Fovean nations.  We would have to be given the opportunity to speak through proxy, and clearly we hadn’t.

    
They must have been thinking I had a guilty conscience or something.  They didn’t know me.

    
“Your Highness, is it your position that Outpost IX was not attacked?”

    
“It is our position,” I said, “that you have no proof that it was attacked by
me
.  Not proof that has been presented before the Fovean High Council.”

    
“No less than 1,000 nobles –“ the Uman began.

    
I shook my head.  “They saw a man in a war helmet and armor,” I said.

    
“You spoke before the Fovean High Council,” the Uman argued.  He became more and more flustered.

    
“And who will present that evidence?” I asked him.  “Which of the delegates to the Fovean High Council, and from which nation, has decided to antagonize – um, implicate – me?”

    
I felt reasonably sure that none of them right now were lining up to alienate me directly.

    
And I could be called as the accused, but only my monarch could force me to attend, and that wouldn’t happen any time soon.

    
The nobles who had written the charter had not wanted to be subject to the High Council over their own leaders.  That had probably seemed like a clever way to avoid certain responsibilities at the time.

    
“This leaves us in a difficult position,” the Uman said, finally.

    
“No,” I said.  “Your position is to leave, mine is to let you.  What could be simpler than that?”

    
Indignant, that is what they did.  My Eldadorian delegates would be shamed before the High Council now, for my playing so underhanded a trick.

    
I didn’t care.  I hadn’t invaded to make them like me.

     The delegates left the city that day, according to my Eldadorian sentries.  I would need more efficient spies.

    
At the end of the day at court, the Oligarchs anticipated me.

    
“We have taken the liberty of calling Glennen’s council,” the second told me, as we walked through the palace to the dining room.

    
“We shall dine, and speak with them,” said the first.  “The lady Shela has been informed and will attend.”

    
“There are missives from your Free Legion associates, as well,” the fourth said.  “You are informed that they would like 3,000 Wolf Soldiers for the summer campaigns, in Volkhydro and in Sental.”

    
I nodded.  No chance of that happening.  I knew it already.

    
If I were a gambling man, I would bet that Volkhydro wanted to take part of the harvest, and that Sental wanted to weaken Volkhydro to prevent just that.

    
“And how is our beloved monarch?” I asked.

    
They looked at each other, then at me.  “We are informed that it took ten of your Wolf Soldiers to keep him from charging out of the palace gates,” said the third.  “He wanted to go out into the streets and spread the wealth of Eldador with the common folk.”

    
I could only imagine what he thought that might be.

    
“I want Wolf Soldiers in all of the key guard positions throughout the palace,” I informed him.

    
They exchanged glances.  “The house compliment of 1,000 can be sent to the royal foot.  Your five hundred and Lady Shela’s thousand could replaced them here.”

    
We were outside of the dining room now.  As heir, they expected me to fill Glennen’s place at the head of the table, if he didn’t make an appearance.  That had happened one time, and he had puked into his salad and passed out at the beginning of the meal.  I still preferred that to having to nod and smile at his drunken rambling through a meal.

     “However,” the second among them said, “the House Guard are chosen for their loyalty to the monarch.  They take their positions seriously, not just for the advantage of such duty, but for their love of the Stowes.  There are four children whom they protect, not just the King.”

     “They will not simple depart,” the third said.

     “Not peacefully,” the first agreed.  “And open combat with them-“

     “Will make me look like an usurper,” I said.