An earthly crown - читать бесплатно онлайн полную версию книги автора Kate Elliott (CHAPTER FIVE) #8

CHAPTER FIVE

Jiroannes Arthebathes was at Eberge when he received the courier from his uncle ordering him to leave three-quarters of his retinue and all of his women and their attendants at the northern villa of the Great King's fourth cousin.

His personal secretary, Syrannus, read the letter to him. Jiroannes grabbed the parchment out of Syrannus's hands and spoke the words to himself. " '…It has come to our attention that the presence of women in your party would be a hindrance to our negotiations. Therefore, nephew, I feel it wise for you to travel with only twenty guardsmen, two grooms, three slave-boys, and your personal secretary. Be so good as to obey my wishes.' "

Jiroannes had learned to swear fluently at the palace school for boys; he did so now. "This is humiliating! And well he knows it, too. He would never travel with such a paltry escort."

"Surely, eminence, your uncle would not demand such privations of you without good reason."

"How can he expect that I will be granted any respect at all, even by such barbarians as these jaran, coming to them with a mere six servants? And no women! Their Bakhtiian will think me the merest lordling. Surely my uncle understands that as the ambassador of the Great King, may his name resonate a thousand years, I must present a dignified retinue. Savages are only impressed by force, size, and gold. They will think Vidiya is some trifling princedom." He snorted and glanced around his chamber. True, he was far out in the provinces, but the Great King's fourth cousin had imported the finest carved furniture from the port of Ambray, and the cunning designs woven into the upholstery of the couch attested to the skill of his slaves. Though it was also true that the tile inlaid into the floor had flaws and inferior color, and the beads of the door curtain were painted wood, not glass. "How can the jaran respect us as the most civilized of peoples, as well as the most powerful, if the Great King's ambassador arrives with a train of servants that any concubine might own? Feh."

Syrannus said nothing, but he extricated the delicate parchment from his lord's smooth, dark hands and rolled it up with the reverence due any communication from the person of a great lord and King's Companion of Vidiya.

"And I showed laudable restraint, I would have thought," Jiroannes went on, although in a more subdued tone of voice. "I brought only three of my concubines."

"Eminence, perhaps your most honored lord uncle has obtained information that forces his hand in this?"

"I know. I know." It was too much, really, to have to endure a year in circumstances of the utmost coarseness, ambassador to these jaran, and now to have to maintain himself as a Vidiyan ought with so few servants. "I doubt if these barbarians can even recognize such markers of status."

"I think, eminence, that it would not do to underestimate them. Eight kingdoms and four principalities have already fallen to their onslaught. Why else would the Great King, may his name endure a thousand years, bother to negotiate with their prince?"

"Four kingdoms and eight principalities. Let us not exaggerate their power. Surely, if it came to war between us, you don't think these barbarians have the slightest chance to win?"

"One hears tales, eminence. The more savage the man, the less honor and the Everlasting God's tenets will stay his hand. They say this Bakhtiian violated a holy temple and its ten virgin priestesses. That he massacred an entire town out in the wilderness, five thousand men, women, and children, even the cattle, leaving only the smoking ruins of the buildings and bloodied corpses for the scavengers. They say jaran men are so proud that they won't touch any women but their own, that they call foreign women 'dogs.' They ride covered in their own blood, and they can't walk, since they sit on horseback from childhood on."

Jiroannes stroked his beard, amused. "I hope you do not believe all these superstitious tales, Syrannus. I have also heard it said that they scorn the bow and arrow because it is a woman's weapon. Can you imagine? Thinking a woman could shoot? It is nonsense, and you'd do well not to believe such stories."

"Still, eminence, your most honored uncle must have had good reason to give you this order."

"Yes. I have never doubted my uncle's judgment. And it was undoubtedly my uncle's influence that convinced His Imperial Majesty to grant me this mission."

"It is true, eminence, that five other young men of good family vied for the position. To succeed with such an important assignment will assure you higher standing at court.''

"Yes. And a hope of moving into the Companion's Circle." Jiroannes sank back onto the silken couch and snapped his fingers. His Tadesh concubine padded forward from the corner and knelt at the foot of the couch to massage his feet. "And if I fail, I will spend the rest of my life in the provinces." He considered the papered walls trimmed with gold leaf, the arched windows looking out over the gardens, sere and brown with winter, and the beaded curtain that concealed this room from the rest of the honored guest suite. Wooden beads, indeed!

"Certainly, eminence, the rewards for succeeding will be great. Your most honored uncle has already begun negotiations, I believe, for your suit for the hand and dowry of the daughter of this house."

"Yes. The daughter of the Great King's fourth cousin. That would be sweet indeed."

"With such a connection to the royal family, eminence, surely a Companion's Sash would be guaranteed you."

Jiroannes did not reply. He watched the Tadesh. Her hands, stroking his feet and ankles, were strong and assured. She was a foreign girl, from the Gray Eminence's lands across the sea. He had paid a ridiculously high price for her. She was not a beauty, certainly, but exotic as any foreigner is, and in any case she knew the five fabled arts of seduction and the five erotic dances of Tadesh. He could tell, by her lowered eyes and the set of her chin, that she knew he was studying her. She did not smile. She never did.

"Syrannus," he said abruptly. "There is a slave-boy about her size. Go get his clothing."

"Your eminence?"

"His clothing."

Syrannus looked troubled. "Your eminence, surely, if your most honored uncle said-"

"Are you questioning me?"

Syrannus bowed. "Of course not, your eminence, but in my position as a tutor for many years in the palace school, from which your eminence so graciously elevated me to become your secretary, I beg leave to remind you that while your high spirits and rebellious nature made you a favorite among the tutors at the school, it would not perhaps be wise to go against your uncle's orders."

"I can cut the girl's hair." The concubine's hands halted for a moment, then resumed their rubbing. "With short hair, and loose clothing, she will pass well enough for a boy. By my ancestors, Syrannus, surely my uncle cannot expect me to endure an entire year without female companionship? The First Prophet himself warns against such privations. It is simply too much. She will go in the slave-boy's place. My uncle will not know of it, and the barbarians will neither notice nor care."

Syrannus hesitated. At last, he bowed and left the room. The curtain parted, whispering, to let him through, and with a jangle of beads settled back into place.

Jiroannes sighed. "Something to drink, Samae." The concubine rose and padded in her slippers to the far table and brought him back a cup of melted fruit sorbet. He liked to watch her. She had an unconscious grace, and her slim hips swayed in an enticing manner. He did not think she did it on purpose. She had yet to show the least interest in him, except to perform her duties as ordered and with exacting perfection.

She knelt beside the couch and lifted the cup up to him. He took it, and drank. She wore two layers of cloth, an outer silken gown slitted cunningly to reveal the sheer silk garment beneath and the white curves of her body. The sorbet cooled his throat, but not his ardor.

"My sash," he said.

She undid the complex knot that bound his sash and unwound him from its confines. The emerald cloth studded with jewels and precious stones fell to the floor in a heap. Even as she slid his trousers and blouse off, he was thinking as much of his ambitions as of the expert ministrations of her hands: endure this one year, negotiate a successful treaty with this Bakhtiian, secure Vidiya's borders and perhaps even arrange some diplomatic marriages-the Great King had a daughter by his fifth wife he was willing to offer to the Bakhtiian, and surely this nomad prince had some female in his family to offer the Great King or his heir in turn-and then…

Samae paused in her stroking while Syrannus came in, deposited the boy's clothing in a neat pile at the foot of the couch, and left. As the beaded curtain settled back into place, she dabbed oil on her hands and began again.

Then he could marry well and gain the honor of wearing, instead of a gaudy, jeweled sash, the plain white silk granted only to the Companions. With such a prize within his reach, he could almost look forward to the coming year.

Manifest of the Soerensen Expedition

Compiled by Margaret O'Neill, Assistant to C. Soerensen

Personnel:

Charles Soerensen Dr. Cara Fel Hierakis Margaret O'Neill David ben Unbutu Ursula el Kawakami Rajiv Caer Linn Joanna Singh

The Bharentous Repertory Company:

Ginnaia Lac Arbha Seshat Onn Anahita Liel Apphia Helen Angiras Diana Brooke-Holt Madelena Quinn Oriana Vuh Catanya Yomi Applegate-Hito

Owen Zerentous Dejhuti Joldine Gwyn Jones Jean-Pierre Dasas Henry Bharentous Hyacinth

Phillippe Navarone Joseph Applegate-Hito

Partial Manifest of Goods:

22 Hou-Kohl palm slates thermal mitts

1 Ananda-Cray Modeler

2 frying pans