Arts of Dark and Light: Book 01 - A Throne of Bones (60 page)

Vestremer smiled back, but the smile didn’t quite reach his eyes this time.

Marcus almost laughed at the consternation that the man almost managed to hide. You were hoping for an incompetent or a lazy, vainglorious fool, weren’t you, my provincial friend! I’ll bet you don’t like the idea of the Crow coming after your infant kingdom with eighteen thousand swords as soon as the snows melt.

The Cynothi bowed. “I am pleased my people could serve your father in this manner. In fact, I believe my king would wish for you to convey his congratulations to the new consul aquilae and to express his wish that if he can ever be of future service to him, or any of his House, he would be pleased to do so.”

Marcus affected surprise and pleasure. “How very kind of him! And do you know, it occurs to me that there may in fact be a way in which he could be of service to House Valerius in the future—in the very near future, as it happens.”

“I’m sure that would be his fondest wish.”

“You see, Captain, although we have lamentably found ourselves facing each other with swords drawn in anger, we both appear to have problems for which the other party might be able to offer a solution. For example, I am given to understand that my men and I may be soon facing a winter siege due to what appears to be an inexplicable alliance between your new king and a rogue legion belonging to House Severus. You happen to have a great quantity of horses in your possession, upon which I could feed my men for most of the winter.”

“You want my horses?” Vestremer was clearly puzzled. “If that’s all you want, why not simply kill us all and take them?”

“For one thing, battle can be very hard on horses. Who knows how many would be killed, only to lie there rotting, of no use to anyone? And for another, who said that was all I wanted? I am merely pointing out one area of potential cooperation. Perhaps not even the ideal one, since I imagine your king would be very loathe to lose so many horses. How many do you have, six hundred?”

“Five hundred.”

“That’s more than four Amorran legions’ worth. Horses are expensive, and it wouldn’t surprise me if those five hundred horses amount to half the king’s horses.”

“More like a quarter.”

“Let’s say a third, then. Even if he has another thousand, losing one-third of his cavalry, or whatever you call it, isn’t going to advance his rebellion, is it?”

“More horses can always be acquired. But yes, he’d rather not lose them.”

Marcus nodded and gestured to Trebonius. “Captain, this is Gaius Trebonius, tribunus laticlavius of the legion and my second in command. Gaius Trebonius, it occurs to me that we have been lamentably inhospitable. While we are speaking, would you be so kind as to secure the three of us a wineskin or two? I believe you have already met our primus pilus, who is being hosted by your men for the duration of this conversation.”

“Enchanted, Tribune,” Vestremer said with a smile. “Yes, Tribune Valerius, I did indeed have the opportunity to meet the centurion—Claudios Didios, or something to that effect, I believe—and I hope he is being as well-received as I am. I have to say, I am somewhat amazed by the youth of your legion’s executive staff.”

“Does a star shine any less bright for its youth?” Marcus asked. “We are young, Captain, but does not our very youth testify to our accomplishment?”

“Or potential,” the Cynothi shot back. “And what a true loss to Amorr it would be should that potential be snuffed out unrealized.”

“I could not agree more,” Marcus replied calmly. “Have you any ideas how we might arrange to avoid such a tragedy? You see, Captain, I have no wish to harm you or your men. I will not hesitate to do so, of course, if it becomes necessary in the course of my duties. I am my father’s son. But I fail to see how involving yourself and your self-declared kingdom in the internal affairs of the Senate and People could be of any benefit to the Cynothii.”

“Defeating an invading legion sent to suppress us and keep us under the heel of the empire can hardly be described as interfering in the internal affairs of Amorr, Tribune.”

“I concur. But we are not discussing the defeat of Lucius Andronicus and his legion. That is a tangential matter that will surely merit consideration one day. But today, I am simply attempting to understand why a band of provincial rebels should be moving to attack one Amorran legion in the company of another Amorran legion. I fail to see how I am supposed to interpret that as anything but aggressive interference in Amorran affairs.”

The Cynothi was silent for a long moment as he gathered his thoughts. But before he could speak, Trebonius returned, followed by three legionaries carrying a standing table, several crude silver goblets, and two flagons of wine.

Marcus took the opportunity to sit on the ground, and he indicated that the other two officers should do likewise. Trebonius poured the wine and offered the first goblet to Vestremer. When all three goblets had been poured, Marcus raised his to the Cynothi.

“To your health, Captain.”

“Likewise, Tribune,” Vestremer responded. “And yours, Laticlavius.”

Marcus took a moderate sip of the wine. This far north, the wines were barely drinkable, but it wasn’t quite as bad as he expected. Though it was close. “I hope you will understand we are not actually attempting to poison you, Captain. We merely happen to find ourselves reduced to these desperate straits.”

“I’ve had worse,” the Cynothian admitted. “There is a reason we tend to prefer beer in these parts. Now, am I understanding you correctly if I infer that House Valerius might be willing to recognize King Ladismas if he breaks his alliance with Buteo?”

“Buteo…Falconius Buteo?” Trebonius asked.

“Secundus Falconius is commanding Fulgetra,” Marcus told him, pretending that he had known this already. But there was only one Buteo among the generals of Amorr. “However, it is not Buteo who is our primary concern, Captain. He is merely the puppet in command. His strings are pulled by House Severus.”

The Cynothian nodded. “Aulan did appear to have an unusual amount of leeway with his cavalry. That would explain it. You understand that my grasp of Amorran politics is quite limited.”

“All the more reason to keep your king’s nose well out of it,” Marcus commented agreeably. “And by Aulan, you are referring to the younger Aulus Severus?”

“He’s the only Aulus Severus I know. He was the tribune in command of the legionary cavalry. He is here. Or rather, he was with those knights that made it past your infantry before they cut us off. I was riding next to him just this morning.”

Marcus and Trebonius looked at each other. Marcus had to restrain the urge to curse or otherwise betray his frustration. Any Severan prisoner would be useful to him, but Patronus’s own son and namesake would have been a prize indeed. And here he had ordered his men to let the Amorran riders pass safely before his trap slammed shut!

“I think we may have seen him, sir,” Trebonius said. “There was a tribune who was among the first to ride out of the forest, who then waited with the Cynothii for a while as his men rode out. I saw his helm. I didn’t see what happened to him, but he must have fallen in with the mass of them, because he wasn’t there when Dardanus and I arrived.”

“That was Aulan,” Vestremer confirmed. “Buteo only sent one tribune with the joint force. There was some question as to who was in command, but we reached an understanding. Aulan commanded the Amorrans, and he left my men in my hands.”

“And subsequently in mine, it would appear,” Marcus noted.

As he spoke, the Cynothi met his eyes, and for a moment, Marcus felt they understood each other very well. Neither of them could reasonably doubt that House Severus would not hesitate to treat the Cynothii and their new king in much the same manner that Aulan had treated Vestremer’s infantry.

“Captain,” Marcus said, “I neither want, nor need, your horses. Nor am I asking for your assistance, much less an alliance with your king, which I very much doubt you could deliver in any event. And as I have already said, I have no interest in your lives either.”

“Then what do you want, Tribune?” Vestremer asked it casually, but his hand on the stem of his goblet was shaking, almost imperceptibly.

“I want straightforward answers to a few specific questions. And then I want you to go home. Not only you and your men, but your king and his army as well. Go back to Cynothicum. Go back to your farms and your families. You king should enjoy his reign while it lasts. Let the evils of the day suffice, and leave Amorr to sort out her own affairs, however they might turn out. And most of all, I would very much like to know what House Severus is up to that involves a legion marching through the provinces in the company of a rebel army.”

The Cynothi smiled ruefully. “Would that I could answer the last one for you, but I am a mere captain of infantry, and the king does not invite me to attend his councils. As for me and my men, I will gladly swear that we will return to our homes as soon as you give us leave to do so. And we will swear as well to never draw our swords against House Valerius—against Amorr, rather—again, so long as our borders remain inviolate.”

Marcus raised his glass to his adversary. “A good start, but not enough, I fear. I will need assurances, of course. I assume you have some nobles or young men from influential families in your command?”

“Of course. You shall have your hostages. How many do you require, and when will they be returned?”

“I want ten. None over the age of twenty-five, preferably from families with whatever your equivalent of patrician rank might be. Five will be permitted to accompany the king upon his return to Cynothicum, should he have the good sense to do so, the remaining five will be released by the end of next summer. I will send them back sooner, unharmed and in good health, if the legion is required elsewhere for some reason.”

“Very generous, Tribune. May I ask precisely for what they will stand as security? Their families will want to know.”

“Your withdrawal. I will send five knights with you. If they do not return within ten days with news that you and your men have crossed the provincial border and subsequently remain within it, I will execute them. As I will do if you or your men attempt to engage any Amorran forces in battle outside of the borders of your new kingdom.”

“Ten days? It’s only a two-day ride from Cynothicum to here.”

“I’m giving you time to convince your king to go home instead of joining Buteo in battle against me. Leave Amorr to fight Amorr. Even if the Severans win, joining them could prove to be a very big mistake for him. Defeating one legion can perhaps be overlooked, particularly if the rebellion fever does not spread to other provinces. Defeating two in succession, even if it involves an amount of Amorran complicity, will inspire fear in the Senate and wake all the furies of Hell against your king. Amorr is slow to wrath, but her anger is terrible indeed.”

“Very poetic,” Vestremer said lightly, but the gravity of his expression belied the tone. “Will there be any negative consequences for the hostages if I fail to persuade the king to withdraw as you wish? And what support are you willing to provide if Buteo turns on the king if he refuses to march with the Severans?”

“If Buteo attacks your king, or even threatens to attack him, I’ll provide him with a full legionary cavalry wing and four cohorts. And I’ll prevent Buteo’s cavalry from rejoining his legion as well. So, even if Buteo refuses to respect Cynothii neutrality in this matter, your king should be able to escape him unmolested unless he can’t outride an infantry march.

“As for the hostages, I understand you cannot guarantee your king’s compliance. If he refuses, the only consequence to them is that they will remain the honored guests of House Valerius. There may be more dire consequences to the king himself, of course, as I will defeat him and Buteo together if I must. Which leads to my next question: how many men does your king have under arms with him now?”

“Ten thousand, twelve hundred of them mounted,” the Cynothian answered without hesitating. That was two thousand more than Marcus had been privately estimating, certainly more than enough to cause him some difficulty if he could not separate them from the Severan legion.

“All mounted infantry?”

“The kingsguard is one hundred strong. They are the only real cavalry we possess in the sense that you Amorrans think of it.”

Marcus nodded. The Cynothii commander didn’t know quite as much as he’d hoped, but the information he’d divulged wasn’t entirely useless. Of course, Marcus would forgive him for sharing nothing at all if he could only convince his king to withdraw with him. One day, an Amorran legion or three would likely have to invade Cynothicus in order to bring its proud people to heel again, but if Marcus’s fears were well-founded, it might be a long time before the Senate or the People—or more importantly, the Houses Martial—were free to concern themselves with the provinces again. They might be too occupied with fighting one another.

“What is Aulus Severus like?” he asked Vestremer.

“I was expecting you to ask about Buteo.” He shrugged in response to Marcus’s noncommital gesture. “He’s sharp, he’s brave, and he’s unbelievably arrogant. Not in such a way as to make you angry, though, as you find yourself more inclined to marvel at him in astonishment. He speaks to my king as if he’s giving orders to one of his riders. It’s almost beyond giving offense because it’s so outlandish.”

“So he’s a typical patrician,” Marcus couldn’t help smiling. “I’m more interested in what he’s like as an individual. Is he impulsive? Does he prefer to bide his time? Is he decisive, or does he dither?”

“He’s only got sixty men. I don’t think he is of any concern to you.”

“He isn’t, today. Or tomorrow. But he is Aulus Severus, the second son of Aulus Severus Patronus. He may not always have a mere sixty knights at his disposal. Who is to say he will not one day become a matter of serious concern to me? You haven’t answered my question.”

“Ah, my apologies, Tribune. I understand now. It is a long game you play! I should say he is by nature impetuous, but experience has taught him to rein it in a little. I think with a bit more seasoning he will provide you with a formidable opponent one day. In fact, I think I should rather like to see it. I don’t think he is as well-spoken as you, perhaps, but he might be a bit more ruthless. And almost certainly more reckless.”