Gemmell, David – Drenai 06 – The First Chronicles of Druss the Legend

Rising, Gorben moved to the window and the balcony beyond. The harbour and the open sea met his gaze. ‘Ah, Bodasen, my brother, where are you?’ he whispered. The sea seemed so peaceful under the clear blue sky and the young Emperor sank into a padded seat and lifted his feet to rest on the balcony rail.

On this warm, tranquil day it seemed inconceivable that so much death and destruction had been visited upon the Empire in so short a time. He closed his eyes and recalled the Summer Banquet at Nusa last year. His father had been celebrating his forty-fourth birthday, and the seventeenth anniversary of his accession to the throne. The banquet had lasted eight days and there had been circuses, plays, knightly combat, displays of archery, running, wrestling and riding. The nine Satraps were all present, smiling and offering toasts to the Emperor. Shabag, tall and slim, hawk-eyed, and cruel of mouth. Gorben pictured him. He always wore black gloves, even in the hottest weather, and tunics of silk buttoned to the neck. Berish, fat and greedy, but a wonderful raconteur with his tales of orgies and humorous calamities. Darishan, the Fox of the North, the cavalryman, the Lancer, with his long silver hair braided like a woman. And Ashac, the Peacock, the lizard-eyed lover of boys. They had been given pride of place on either side of the Emperor, while his eldest son was forced to sit on the lower table, gazing up at these men of power!

Shabag, Berish, Darishan, and Ashac! Names and faces that burned Gorben’s heart and soul. Traitors! Men who swore allegiance to his father, then saw him done to death, his lands overrun and his people slaughtered.

Gorben opened his eyes and took a deep breath. ‘I will seek you out – each one of you,’ he promised, ‘and I will pay you back for your treachery.’

The threat was as empty as the treasury coffers, and Gorben knew it.

A soft tapping came at the outer door. ‘Enter!’ he called.

Nebuchad stepped inside and bowed low. ‘The scouts are in, Lord. The enemy is less than two days’ march from the walls.’

‘What news from the east?’

‘None, Lord. Perhaps our riders did not get through.’

‘What of the supplies?’

Nebuchad reached inside his tunic and produced a parchment scroll which he unrolled. ‘We have sixteen thousand loaves of unleavened bread, a thousand barrels of flour, eight hundred beef cattle, one hundred and forty goats. The sheep have not been counted yet. There is little cheese left, but a great quantity of oats and dried fruit.’

‘What about salt?’

‘Salt, Lord?’

‘When we kill the cattle, how will we keep the meat fresh?’

‘We could kill them only when we need them,’ offered Nebuchad, reddening.

‘To keep the cattle we must feed them, but there is no food to spare. Therefore they must be slaughtered, and the meat salted. Scour the city. And, Nebuchad?’

‘Lord?’

‘You did not mention water?’

‘But, Lord, the river flows through the city.’

‘Indeed it does. But what will we drink when the enemy dam it, or fill it with poisons?’

‘There are artesian wells, I believe.’

‘Locate them.’

The young man’s head dropped. ‘I fear, Lord, that I am not serving you well. I should have anticipated these requirements.’

Gorben smiled. ‘You have much to think of and I am well pleased with you. But you do need help. Take Jasua.’

‘As you wish, Lord,’ said Nebuchad doubtfully.

‘You do not like him?’

Nebuchad swallowed hard. ‘It is not a question of “like”, Lord. But he treats me with . . . contempt.’

Gorben’s eyes narrowed, but he held the anger from his voice. ‘Tell him it is my wish that he assist you. Now go.’

As the door closed, Gorben slumped down on to a satin-covered couch. ‘Sweet Lords of Heaven,’ he whispered, ‘does my future depend on men of such little substance?’ He sighed, then gazed once more out to sea. ‘I need you, Bodasen,’ he said. ‘By all that is sacred, I need you!’

*

Bodasen stood on the tiller deck, his right hand shading his eyes, his vision focusing on the far horizon. On the main deck sailors were busy repairing the rail, while others were aloft in the rigging, or refastening bales that had slipped during the storm.

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