Chapter thirty-six

Amansk

 

Arnon had no choice but to allow the Crimson Knights into the city. They marched in and politely demanded food and lodgings. The Praefectus had to manage this as best he could: there were various hotels and hostels and large houses, but it inevitably meant some lodgings in private homes. A huge sense of dislocation and violation hung over the city. A very few, still resisting, troops and some rich families fled to Gorodnikov – Dom and Toby were among them.   

The Knights were well behaved and well mannered, but their sense of right was very strongly developed. They were on their imperial crusade; they were off to smite the enemy: any that stood between them and their goal were either misguided or obstructive. 

Arnon’s two concerns were to discover the whereabouts of his daughter and to get the main mass of the army to move on as soon as possible. He still hoped for assistance from Gorodnikov or Eth, but it was likely that any such help might take an age to come.

Meanwhile he was brooding over tactics. He had managed to preserve a cache of weapons in the cellars under his residency, mostly by insisting that he should retain his personal bodyguard and the use of his home. In addition, he had had no desire to have Gaius captured by the knights, so he had paid Lucian to hide him somewhere in his fish warehouses, imagining that that would be the last place that the Baron would look for a renegade Ortian.  The beauty of Lucian was that the knights half-thought that the merchant was on their side, as they couldn’t quite imagine anyone who was motivated entirely by financial gain.  

 

The Baron sent Balliwick to talk to him. The Ethian aristocrat was in a very jolly mood but was trying half-heartedly to cover it up. He was clearly buoyed up by the knights’ early successes.

‘Bad luck, old man’ he said, a half smile forming on his lips, ‘a very tricky situation to be in. I’m awfully sorry that it’s come to this…’

Arnon was standing in the hallway of his residence; he had no desire to talk to this ridiculous man.

‘Where’s my daughter?’

Balliwick looked surprised.

‘Did no-one tell you?’ She’s still at Castle Uberwald. The Baron thought that it wouldn’t be safe to repatriate her while there was a risk of military conflict. She’ll be returned as soon as is feasible. I saw her a few days ago – she’s fine; such a spirited girl’

Balliwick took a few steps back, as if anticipating a sudden onslaught and his smile died on his face. He glanced over at the knights who were minding him; there were six of them and they were reassuringly solid. Arnon didn’t move, however: he was angry but not surprised. Anyway, what was the point of wasting his violence on this sycophant? He was contemplating bigger targets.

‘You cannot rely on my continued co-operation unless you return her as soon as possible. You can tell your master that’

Balliwick tiled his head sympathetically. He relaxed slightly and the flickering smile returned to his face.

‘I will’ he indicated, ‘but I’m not sure that he’ll believe that there’s anything that your forces can do, now that he has control of the city. But, I will tell him, I promise’

Arnon knew this was true, but found it hard to face up to his complete failure. They had bought his quiescence by their cowardly act of abduction, but it hadn’t made any difference, Amansk would have fallen either way. Perhaps now there would at least be less bloodshed. They would surely go away eventually.

‘Why am I not permitted to speak to the Baron?’ he asked.  The grandmaster had been in the city for more than a day and he has come nowhere the residency.

Balliwick finally let his smile flower fully.

‘He’s not stayed here, of course. That would have been foolish with winter approaching. He wants to push on to take Monurbis while the weather is still clement in the north. I’m afraid that he left me to smooth over… umm, how can I phrase it… any remaining political problems’

‘So, are you in charge of the occupying forces?’ asked Arnon, a sudden hope quavering his voice.

Balliwick shook his head and laughed in a rather mannered way.

‘Of course not’ he said, ‘I’m no military commander...’

He turned to the oldest of his knight-guards and gestured him forward. The knight was pale and tall, and he looked exquisitely cruel. Disappointment crushed Arnon’s heart.

‘This is Hendryck. The Baron has appointed as Marshal of the city, in absentia’

The new Marshal bowed stiffly and then nodded, almost imperceptibly.

‘Praefectus’ he growled, ‘it is a great pleasure to serve alongside you’

He turned to the west, as if in an ancient storybook of imperial chivalry, and saluted, his right hand resting exaggeratedly against his forehead, palms outwards, in the prescribed way. Arnon had read about the Imperial salute, but had never seen anyone in the city do it before, except as a joke or in a play.

Hendryck peered across at him, puzzled.

‘Praefectus’ he said, quietly, ‘I am thanking the Emperor for his benedictions…’

Arnon felt like saying ‘go ahead, don’t let me stop you’ but then he thought of Lily and the city. He sighed softly and then followed the Marshal’s lead, turning in the same direction and then saluting, bending his arm so that the back of his hand wiped the sweat from his forehead. ‘A very functional salute for a hot climate’ he thought bitterly, but again he said nothing.

The two city leaders were now standing facing the open door of the kitchen. He could see the cook staring anxiously at them though a curtain of hanging pots and pans. He smiled at her reassuringly and she disappeared from view.

Arnon kept his position but turned his head to look at Balliwick. He was leaning against the table and smirking. He seemed to be enjoying himself again. Arnon had already decided that however cruel Hendryck might turn out to be, he was probably a better man than this shallow popinjay.      

‘What about you, Lord Balliwick, won’t you join in the benediction?’ Arnon said, pleased to find an outlet for his anger, ‘I’m sure that you have a lot to thank the Emperor for...’

Balliwick’s expression changed very abruptly, and for a moment a look of intense hatred swept over it. Arnon wondered for a second whether this look was for intended for him and then he realised that it was clearly directed at the Emperor. He was surprised and disquieted – why had he elicited that reaction?

A moment later Lord Balliwick’s face resumed its normal lazy complacency.  He pushed himself up and swung slowly round to be very approximately facing west and then slapped his forehead with the back of his hand, just as if he were swatting a large fly.

Arnon looked at Hendryck to see if he had noticed this blasphemy, but the Marshal was lost in his thoughts. He looked as if he was in a trance, staring through the kitchen onwards, in his mind at least, to Visnea and the sanctified Emperor.

They stood there for a while, with Arnon’s eyes flickering between the upright knight and the lolling lord. In a perfect world, he thought, neither of them would be in his perfect world.

‘Hail the Emperor!’ barked Hendryck

‘Hail the Emperor’ said Arnon, quietly but without rancour; he had absolutely nothing against the Emperor.

Balliwick mumbled something which certainly ended with the words ‘the Emperor’ but whose first word was, Arnon was quite certain, not ‘hail’.

Arnon saw an opportunity.

‘Lord Marshal’ he said, ‘I wonder if I could talk to you on official Imperial business?’

Hendryck, turning from his reverie, smiled stiffly and nodded.

‘Yes, of course. I would be happy to speak to you’

 Balliwick resumed his irritating smile and his semi-reclined position against the hall table. Arnon stared at him and then over at the Marshal.

‘I did say Imperial business’ indicated Arnon, ‘so only Imperial citizens should be present’

Balliwick suddenly woke up to what was happening. He was startled up from his relaxed pose again. He looked irritated but also there was a sparkle in his eye as he looked at Arnon. This was clearly the first time that it had occurred to the Ethian that the Praefectus had any political skill at all.

Balliwick narrowed his eye and caught Hendryck’s gaze. There was an unspoken, rather tense, conversation and then the Ethian relaxed again. He turned to leave.

‘I’ll leave you two loyal servants of the elves to have a chinwag’

He left the room with the same boyish lolloping gait that he had arrived with.

‘I’ll go and see if anyone has tracked down your son or Lieutenant Gaius. I’m sure you’ll be very pleased to hear about the whereabouts of both of them’

Then he left, taking three of the guards with him.