The Crown of blood

I

Noran stood at the starboard rail of the galley's aft deck, enjoying the shelter of the sail while Ullsaard reclined on the deck, his hands behind his head. Clad only in tunic and kilt, the general was less imposing than normal, but even unarmoured and lying down his massive frame and muscular body dominated the afterdeck. Noran idly wondered what it would be like to have such a remarkable body, to have eyes turn to you whenever you entered a room.

The slosh of the water, the creak of ropes and the warm evening air dulled the senses. Bare feet padded on board as the sailors turned out to trim the square sail, urged on by the quiet orders of their captain. The sailors cast glances at the reclining general as they tiptoed around him, whispering to each other.

"A welcome sight after so much desert," suggested Noran, pointing to the vine-crowded terraces of Okhar rising up the banks of the river.

Ullsaard sat up and looked at the fertile slopes.

"Not as welcome as the streets of Askh, but it's a start," replied Ullsaard with a languid stretch. "Twenty-five days we've been travelling, and we're barely halfway."

"It'll be quick enough, you'll see." Not for the first time, Noran compared Ullsaard to an ailur; seemingly quiet and passive, but masking a capability for immense violence and destruction. His rank, his affected civilisation, were the blinkers that kept him from going wild. Some of the stories of the general's exploits moving up the ranks had made Noran glad he was a friend; he had resolved to keep that friendship for as long as possible. The tales of Ullsaard's enemies generally ended badly on the bloodfields.

"We'll pick up a few barrels of wine to celebrate your homecoming. It's been a good summer, by all accounts."

"Stopped by to check on your estate while you were coming to see me, by any chance?" Ullsaard said, giving his companion a dubious look.

"I had to resupply somewhere before that interminable trek into the sands! The quays at Geria just happen to belong to my father. That's not my fault."

"Yes… and I'm sure your visit didn't delay your duties as herald any longer than necessary."

"I may have sampled an amphora or three while I waited for fresh provisions to be brought aboard. What's a day here or there when you're travelling such a long way, anyway? You're just sour because you could have left all the dust and heat a couple of days earlier."

Ullsaard grunted and lay down, closing his eyes.

"It's not natural to have no rain for so long," he said. "Ever been to Enair in the winter?"

"Thankfully, no."

"Pisses down every day. I don't mean the little squalls and showers you get in Askhor; I mean solid downpours day and night from harvest to spring. And the wind! Howls down from coldwards, bringing the sea with it."

"It sounds truly dreadful. I'll be sure to avoid it if I can. No wonder all you Enairians are such a miserable lot." Noran leaned back against the rail and looked down at Ullsaard, becoming serious. "You haven't really told me much about what it was like growing up in Enair."

"No, I haven't."

Noran waited but nothing else was forthcoming.

"Oh, come on! Throw me a bone here. You must have friends there still; perhaps there was a lass or two you tumbled in the rain? What about family? I know your mother still lives there, but haven't you got any cousins, uncles, alluringly mature and experienced aunts?"

Ullsaard sighed deeply and remained silent.

"Fine," pouted Noran. "It's not like this journey isn't long enough, without you playing dumb for the whole voyage."

"If you want to gossip, talk to the crew," mumbled Ullsaard. "I'm sure they'll be happy to tell you about the harlots they've humped in every town along the river, if that's what you're after."

"You can be such an arsehole, Ullsaard. I try to take an interest in your life and you throw it back at me."

"Don't be such a woman. We could talk about hunting, or the races, or fighting, but you just want to pry into my sex life. You're as much as a gossip as Meliu!"

"Tell me about it! I swear she and Neerita are more like old women than any of their sisters once they start jawing. Did you know that Princess Meerina has gilded rose petals scattered on her bed every night in an attempt to entice Aalun to sleep with her? Imagine that, bribing your own husband to fuck you?"

"I can't imagine that, and I'm pretty sure I don't want to try."

"Me neither, but it's the sort of prattle I have to put up with once Neerita and Meliu start talking. I swear I'd have Neerita's tongue cut out if it wasn't for all the other things she can do with it. I tell you, she does this thing where she can curl her tongue into a tube, and when she sticks i-"

"If you finish that sentence I'm going to chop off your balls," growled Ullsaard. "I don't care what you and Neerita put where, just don't tell me about it."

Noran fell into a sullen silence and watched the sailors returning to the thin strip of shadow beside the duskward gunwale, the sail having been trimmed to the captain's satisfaction. Maybe Ullsaard was right; he would be better off talking to someone else. He looked at the sailors again; most appeared to be catching what sleep they could. It was probably better not to disturb them.

Noran turned back to the river, scanning the surface for flying fish or other delights to distract him. Here and there a small dhow bobbed on the water, nets trailing behind it while the three or four fishermen aboard lounged in the setting sun. Evening was coming on and clouds of midges were rising from the rushes along the bank, gathering over the water. Birds gathered for the feast, diving and sweeping just above the river, snatching mouthfuls of the swarming flies.

It was pleasant enough, but intensely boring. Back in Askh, someone would be holding a feast, or there would be games held at Maarmes; something to stimulate the senses and the intellect, or at least rouse the flesh. Noran made one more attempt to animate his lethargic friend.

"These Okharans are a bunch of lazy bastards, aren't they?"

"Most of them," replied Ullsaard. "Had a couple of Okharan porters a few years back. They were always wanting to take rest breaks. Still, the ones I've got in my legions don't give me any problems. Not officer quality, mind you, but diligent enough when they've been trained, and damned obedient."

"You'd be obedient too if you have Nemtun for your governor. He scares the shit out of me, and I'm a family friend."

Ullsaard dismissed his friend's concern.

"He's the king's younger brother, that's what scares the shit out of you; because you're scared of the king. Nemtun's all talk, a bully. King Lutaar gave him Okhar so that he doesn't come back to Askh too often. Too many willing girls and hot days for him to want to leave."

"He trained Aalun and Kalmud; he can't be just full of farts."

Ullsaard yawned again and stared out towards the sunset, shielding his eyes. His tone was distracted.

"True enough, he was a tough bastard in his prime, from what Cosuas says. Pretty much conquered Anrair single-handed if some of the stories are to be believed. But after that, he couldn't be arsed anymore; he had that one great campaign and has lived off it ever since. He hung around the palace knocking up maids until Lutaar sent Murian to take over Anrair and gave Okhar to him."

"You see, that's the sort of gossip I'd like to hear from Neerita. Useful stuff to know."

The pair fell quiet for a while, contemplating the vagaries of the sexes. Noran took a knife from his belt and began cleaning his nails, flicking dirt into the swirling waters. Ullsaard broke the silent reverie, sitting up.

"Ever felt like going for a governorship?"

"What?" said Noran, whose thoughts had strayed back to Neerita's bedroom talents.

"A governorship — ever been interested?"

There was an intent look in the general's eyes; the question wasn't out of idle interest.

"Why? Have you heard something?"

"No, no!" Ullsaard warded away Noran's intrigued look with a wave of his hands. "I mean, I don't see any of the current governors shifting any time soon. What I meant was, if we settle northern Mekha, for instance, or somewhere else, would you want the king to bear you in mind?"

Noran considered this for a while, lips pursed.

"Not really. Well, maybe. Well, of course I would, but it'd have to be somewhere nicer than Mekha. Though, I suppose if I was to station myself in that new town you'll be building, with some proper irrigation in and everything, it wouldn't be too bad. I think my father was once offered Maasra, but didn't like the idea of living on the Nemurians' doorstep. And that he said being a governor wasn't as great as it seems — more a case of getting the blame if things go wrong and none of the credit if things trickle along nicely. It's like having an ailur — impressive until someone has to clean up all the shit."

"What about a piece of Salphoria?"

Noran's eyes widened with surprise and then narrowed.

"Is that likely? I mean, that would be a bit of a jewel, wouldn't it? Yes, Magilnada would make a fine seat." A look of consternation clouded Noran's face. "Magilnada would either be fantastic or terrible, no middle ground. What with all our damned gold and ore going to the city, it's pretty rich already, but it's hanging its arse out in the wind, right on the edge of the wilds. You'd be dealing with bandits, rebels and who knows what other vagabonds and idiots, not to mention probably a whole army of pissed-off Salphors plotting to get their lands back. They're not like Okharans, or Maasrites, or Ersuans. They wouldn't piss on their king if he was on fire, so how do you conquer that lot? The more I think about it, the more it seems like it'd be more trouble than it's worth. Anyway, that's not going to happen any time soon, is it…? Is it?"

Ullsaard shrugged.

"Who knows? I think I could persuade the king that Salphoria is achievable, if we decide to really go for it. It's definitely worth it. Gold and silver. Gems. Copper, timber and coal. As much grain as Okhar and Nalanor put together. More of everything than Askhor has already, just over the mountains, being wasted on a bunch of long-haired barbarians. More than that, it's the route duskwards. Nobody knows what lies past Salphoria, not even the Salphors!"

Noran was doubtful and his look expressed as much.

"Even if we assume that the king was to go for it, it's a tricky proposition to become governor. I mean, there's Prince Aalun to consider first, surely he'd want a piece of the action. Younger son, no governship yet, he'd be the first in line without a doubt. Even if he wasn't interested, which is unlikely, I'm not sure my family has enough clout to make any realistic stake. There's better-placed families than ours that have been sticking their tongues right up the king's arse for generations for just such an appointment, while my father's been blinkered by his trade interests. We've got plenty of lands, plenty of produce and even some ore, but how's that any use? The king gets a damned good share in levy anyway, it's not like you can bribe him."

"Maybe you're right," sighed Ullsaard.

"It's not like you to give up on something so easily," said Noran. "What is it? Come on, something's been gnawing your cock for a while now, why don't you tell me?"

Ullsaard glanced at the crewman at the tiller, who appeared to be dozing fitfully. The general stood up and joined Noran at the rail, keeping his voice low.

"I really want to have a go at Salphoria. Right now. It's like we're a legionnaire standing at the door of the whorehouse tugging himself rather than going in…" Ullsaard sighed and frowned. "Cosuas and the princes won't argue against the king, the governors are more concerned with keeping their posts than expanding, even that old warrior Nemtun, so the king sits on his hands. I figured…" He shrugged, helpless. "I thought that maybe I could use a bit of greed to fire the ambitions of a few of the big families. You know, start them jostling for the spoils, putting some pressure on the king."

He sighed again heavily and spat over the rail. Noran said nothing. It was the most talkative Ullsaard had been in years and he didn't want to interrupt.

"Problem is," Ullsaard continued, "I'm just no good at the politics. All I've done in my life is kill people, either with a sword or a spear or an army. I'm bloody good at it too, but it seems that after all these years, what has it got me? Askhos knows, I love the legions, I really do, and I've got a damned big house, three wives, three sons and plenty of askharins to show for it. But nobody listens to me. I'm just a general, I just do what the king wants me to do, kill the people the king wants me to kill.

"Ah shit, I don't know what I want."

Ullsaard started to turn away, disgusted with himself, but Noran grabbed him by the elbow and pulled him back.

"While I'm no politician, I've picked up a thing or two from my father over the years," Noran said. "If you're going to dabble in politics you have to take two views: the short and the long. In the short view, you have to be ready to exploit any opportunity that might arise and then deal with the consequences later. For the long view, you have to manipulate the situation for the present so that opportunities you are looking for come about in the future."

Ullsaard's nod was uncertain and his frown deep.

"But how do you do that?" he asked.

Noran chewed his lip, formulating an answer that would make it clearer for the straight-thinking Ullsaard.

"Right," said Noran with a smile. "Think of a battle. You go into it with a plan, right? In your mind you have everything set, the way things should turn out. That's the long view."

"Yes, I see that. And when things go wrong, or really well, you react and adapt the plan. If the enemy makes a mistake, you exploit it, if they do something unexpected, you move to counter it. That's the short view."

"That's right! But if you spend too much time reacting, you end up going nowhere, and the same is true with politics. At some point even the most equivocating politician has to make his opinion known, even if he later changes it. The good thing about a battle is that you know what you want to do and who your enemies and allies are. That's not true of politics. Sometimes you're not sure what it is you want to achieve, but you know what it is that you don't want; usually something somebody else wants to happen. People change sides according to self-interest, and often the battlefield itself changes."

"Sounds complicated."

"To one of the family heads or a governor, mustering an army, marching it for fifty days to a battle, organising your troops and then laying out a battle plan is complicated. It's just a matter of how you think about things."

"Maybe I shouldn't get involved, maybe Cosuas is right."

Noran slapped a hand to Ullsaard's shoulder and grinned.

"You would make a lousy politician, friend. For a start, you actually have some loyalty to those around you. You're generally honest, which is a definite drawback in politics. The biggest problem I see, and some would say this is a good thing, is that you actually care more about the empire than you do your own circumstances. No matter what they say in public, those nobles are only thinking about one thing: how does this benefit me?"

"Surely the king and the princes aren't like that. After all, the empire's interests and the fortunes of the Blood are the same. Aren't they?"

"At the basic level, of course their fortunes are the same. But when you think about it, what does the king want for? He's the king! Everything in Greater Askhor is his, one way or another. You are, I am, my house, your soldiers, it's all his. The king allows us certain freedoms to make sure we continue to do the things he wants us to do. On the other hand he is nothing without us. If everybody in the empire decided tomorrow that we didn't like Lutaar, what could he really do about it? He can't physically take everything from us."

"He could send a legion to kick you off your estate and put you to the spear," laughed Ullsaard.

"Only if the general and the soldiers agree to do so."

"Why wouldn't they?"

"I don't know. Perhaps because they've met me and realise what a wonderful person I am and they think Lutaar is being mean to take my estates from me. It doesn't matter. The reason you obey the king is out of loyalty to his position, and the threat of reprisal. If you turn against the king, whoever he is, then you are inviting anarchy. If you ignore the king, your captains can ignore you, and their legionnaires can ignore them. The whole thing breaks down. Suddenly you find out that you're not living in Greater Askhor, you've become a Salphor!"

"I see where this is going. For the empire to work, it needs everything in agreement. The armies have to fight, the farmers have to provide the armies with food, buildings have to be kept, roads maintained, all of that. The king has to keep everyone happy so that they do their bit."

"No…"

"What? If the farmers stop farming, we'd all be starving. Surely he has to keep them happy, and those that own the estates?"

"Only if he wants to be nice. This is where we come back to you, the general, and the threat of reprisal. If the farmer decides not to grow food, he gets his door kicked down by your booted foot and told to grow food at spearpoint. Well, that's the implicit punishment for disobeying the king; he doesn't actually have to do it to everyone. By the same measure, you have to go and kick down the farmer's door unless you want Cosuas or Nemtun or some other sword-swinging bastard paying you a visit."

Ullsaard shook his head and scowled.

"But if legions start fighting other legions, the whole thing becomes a mess. The king doesn't achieve anything by letting that happen."

"Which is why it's the threat of force that is his most powerful weapon, and your loyalty to the empire your greatest weakness. You can't act out of place, because the long-term consequences could be disastrous for the empire and your future prosperity. Enlightened self-interest keeps everybody and everything working, with the occasional reminder from the king to make sure nobody starts getting ideas that would cause trouble.

"The only real threat to the empire is a person who doesn't care about the empire because they don't care about their future prosperity and well-being. Nobody sane would want to destroy the thing that guarantees their future, so we all go along with the whole enterprise. It doesn't matter what we really think about the empire, as long as it's there, because it's better to have it than not."

"That's… terrible. You're saying that people are only loyal to the empire because they're scared of not having it?"

Noran shrugged. He pointed to a fishing boat passing a spear's cast away from the galley, two men hauling at their net.

"Do you think they care about any of what I've just said?"

"Probably not."

"They want to know that they'll get a good price for their fish and nobody is going to turn up and burn down their home in the night. Before the Askhans came, that could never be guaranteed, and now it is. That's what the empire means to them. They don't have to see the huge interacting interests that drive Greater Askhor to appreciate what it's brought them. Before Askhos, we would have been rivals, sending our little warbands to raid each other's villages for a few abada and maybe a comely wench.

"Askhos did away with all of that, showing that if we took a step back and looked at the wider world, we could do so much more. I may not have read his book, and I don't have much time for the Brotherhood, but Askhos was a very clever man. He didn't have to conquer the whole world to get what he wanted; he just had to show people that it was possible. Their ambitions did the rest; whether that ambition was to rule over Enair or just to have a stretch of river that could be fished without risking an arrow in the eye."

Ullsaard absorbed this in silence, fingers tapping the rail. He nodded gently to himself, but then his brow furrowed again.

"I think I understand what you've been telling me. But what does any of it actually mean?"

Noran leaned back against the rail and gave an expansive shrug.

"Probably nothing at all. Greater Askhor is what it is. You're frustrated at the moment, but you can't fight the whole empire. People are happy with the way things are, from the farmer to the king. Unless you can prove to them that you're offering something better, why would they want to change?"

"You're right," Ullsaard said with a grimace. "Cosuas said the same thing, but in a different way. I'm putting my desire for war above the needs of the empire. If Greater Askhor doesn't need a new war now, who am I to demand one? That's just being selfish."

The general patted Noran on the arm and smiled. "Thanks."

"That's not really what I meant…" Noran muttered to himself as Ullsaard set off across the deck towards the ship's captain. "Ah, bollocks to it."

The king's herald headed in the opposite direction, seeking the comfort of the Okharan wine stashed amongst his belongings.