The Red Warrior: The Warrior Race, Book Two Page 15

  Now, however, such things were becoming harder. Whispers could be ignored, but the shouts that were now starting to spread from across the Tiber were harder to disregard. As Dom stepped from the carriage alongside Claud, and began making his way across the plaza and towards the steps of the Imperial Palace, he wondered if the current issue of Southside was why he'd been summoned.

  Reaching the main doors at the summit of the steps, he found them opening as always by the attendant beyond. The guards stood to one side, furnished in their fine silver armour, and Claud and Dom entered the enormous, echoing hallway beyond.

  A further servant of the household was on hand to give additional directions, standing awaiting Dom with his hands neatly held behind his back.

  "Prince Domitian, the Empress is awaiting you in her personal chambers. Do follow me."

  "Her personal chambers?" asked Dom.

  Recently, she'd taken to conducting all business from the throne room. Personal chambers suggested to Dom that this wasn't business at all.

  "Yes, my Prince," said the servant. "Follow me, please."

  "No need," said Dom impatiently. "I know my way around the palace, thank you very much."

  The servant bowed his head and slipped away, leaving Dom to depart with a word for Claud to wait there in the hall for his return.

  He began moving up the main stairway, climbing through the levels of the palace. It was a sprawling, opulent place of several hundred rooms, though carried the feel of a museum now to Dom, rather than the home it was. Its magnificence was only matched by the coldness of its interiors, and though colourfully adorned with dark red carpets and drapes, and luscious golden embellishments, Dom still saw the place as a lonely shell in which a woman he once loved so dearly dwelled. And she, too, was nothing but a shell of what she once was.

  Split over many floors, it took Dom some time to meander along the corridors, seeking the summit down the quickest path he knew. There were several ways to get to each floor, the place a maze for those who hadn't learned its secrets. Those secrets were well known to the prince who once lived here, and he swept along through the halls at a pace that went parallel with the quickening of his heart.

  His mother's chambers were found at one of the loftiest points of the palace, a penthouse that looked over the city from all angles. Like his own private floor within his villa, the Empress took the entire level of the palace for her own, and rarely allowed anyone to venture that far. Only her most trusted servants would attend her there, and only Dom, among the aristocrats of the city, would ever visit.

  Reaching the floor, he wandered through the sitting rooms and living spaces, calling out as he went.

  "Mother, it's me, Domitian. Where are you, mother?"

  Even here, on this single floor, it could take him some time to track her down. Yet he didn't need to search for long, as he was confident of where he'd find her. Moving through towards her main bedchambers, and the courtyard beyond it that offered the most fabulous view upon the city, he saw her shape looking down over the balcony, draped in luscious robes of maroon and dark blue.

  "Ah, mother, there you are," he said, wandering out into the fresh air and the smell of pine that occupied the place.

  She didn't turn first of all. She merely stood, looking out, her eyes fixed on the distant streets. From here, the central roads of the city were clearly visible below, the many squares and plazas full of revelry. And beyond, the blue of the Tiber could be seen, sparkling under the setting sun and marking the dividing line that gave access to Southside beyond.

  And that's where she was looking.

  Still staring out, her words drifted on a strangely peaceful voice.

  "They don't much like me out there, do they," she said.

  Dom worked his way towards the edge of the balcony. His mother's eyes stayed rooted on the maze of lanes and alleys on the horizon, the place a festering mess the further away you looked.

  He didn't know how to respond. Vesper could go from calm to quite manic in the blink of an eye, and Dom had taken to placating her ire by often just telling her what she wanted. But doing so only made him as bad as all the rest, party to her crimes, just another frightened sheep among her flock. She needed to hear the truth. And Dom was the only one who could truly give it.

  He took a breath, and spoke with an authority infused within his words.

  "They don't like being ignored," he said, looking out upon the view. "They are suffering, mother, and can only take so much."

  She turned to him, her expression hard to place as it so often was before going one way, or the other.

  "And I've ignored them, have I?" she asked.

  Dom set his eyes on her, and nodded.

  "There are problems there that haven't been fully taken care of. Disease. Terrible poverty. Crime has been on the rise for years. They look to the palace to make things right, mother. They look to you. And...they don't get what they need."

  "What they need?" she asked, raising her eyes. "I have assigned such tasks to the appropriate lords and nobles, Domitian. I cannot be expected to dirty my hands with such unsavoury business."

  "The needs of the people is not unsavoury business, mother. It is a priority that all good rulers should see to...personally."

  "So...I'm not a good ruler then? Is that what you're saying?"

  She peered close, and Dom was forced to divert his eyes. His lungs slowly emptied, and he said, "You were. Once, you were a great ruler, mother. But you've grown blinded. You are too consumed by the past, and by your games. The people are being forgotten."

  "Forgotten? Ah, no, not by me, my boy. The games are for the people. I do a lot for them that they do not see. Lots of money is put into the games. Lord Pontius diverts greats streams of it to the purpose of entertainment..."

  "But they don't need entertaining, mother," said Dom, his voice firming. "They need food and better sanitation. They need more guards on the streets to help them, and not trick them into thinking ill thoughts about you..."

  She frowned.

  "Tricked? No one is being tricked," she growled.

  Dom took a long breath, and could see her facade cracking. He'd made a few points, but knew they weren't getting through her thick hide. His being here was pointless, and he saw no further end to trying to persuade her of what she was.

  He stole a second or two, and then decided to steer the conversation away.

  "Of course, mother," he said. "You're right. So, why did you wish to see me?"

  She turned to him fully now, and looked deep into his eyes. He was caught there, compelled to maintain eye contact. Her mind, her powerful, dangerous mind, was creeping into his own, surveying his thoughts. And his thoughts were as others' were, as the likes of Merk, taken to the arena to die, thinking ill of her state of madness.

  He tried to repel her, but her hold was too great. And the snarl that worked up onto her lips was a horrible sight to see.

  She began shaking her head, slowly and methodically, as her scowl deepened. It seemed to go on for a lifetime, and then her lips parted, and she merely said, "Oh, Domitian, I'm so very disappointed in you."

  22

  Upon the balcony at the summit of the Imperial Palace, the weak tethers that still held Vesper and Dom's relationship together were fraying more than ever. Her grip on him was strong, and she knew just how he felt about her. Only when she decided it, did she withdraw her gaze and stop shaking her head. Then her lips went from a snarl to a smirk, and she meandered over to a table to pour herself a drink.

  She didn't offer him one. She turned, with a glorious silver goblet in her hand, and took a sip of red wine that left a thin film of crimson upon her lips. The sight appeared as blood, that of the city, of the people, sustaining her power and increasing her madness.

  "I know the people don't like me," she said, her smile inane and horrible. "I know that full well. And I've suspected for some time that you don't either. Thank you, Domitian, for giving me confirmation this evening. It has vind
icated a decision I made some time ago."

  Dom's pulse pumped harder. Her words sent a tremor through him.

  "What do you mean by that?" he asked.

  Her gaze lifted a little, and moved over his shoulder. Then her voice grew in volume as she called out.

  "Julia, would you come out here please?"

  Dom turned, quickly, utterly perplexed, as a door leading into the main bedchambers opened, and a young, beautiful girl walked out. She was wearing white, silken dress robes, hanging comfortably off her diminutive body, and as she moved into the light, Dom's eyes were fixed on a specific portion of her frame.

  The girl was slim, her arms and legs slender, and yet her belly was distended. Dom knew immediately that she was pregnant, and quite heavily so.

  He turned back to his mother, whose smile grew larger. She stepped a little towards Julia as she came, and moved a hand towards her swollen stomach, cradling it gently.

  "Isn't she gorgeous," she said, now looking at Julia's face. "I chose her for her beauty and youth. She's perfect, wouldn't you say, Domitian?"

  Dom's expression hadn't changed. He still looked upon the scene before him in shock and confusion.

  "What is this?" he murmured. "Who is this girl?"

  "I told you, Domitian. This is Julia. She is the girl I chose to give me a son."

  Vesper smiled wider, and gently leaned down to kiss Julia's belly. The girl looked a little uncomfortable, but didn't say or do anything without command.

  Dom's heart-rate was now pressing harder at his chest. The pieces were quickly coming together, and the puzzle those pieces made was ugly to behold.

  "Your son," he whispered. "I...don't understand."

  Vesper huffed.

  "Oh, Domitian. You never were the brightest spark." She looked to Julia again. "You can go now, my dear. I want you off your feet as much as possible."

  Julia smiled nervously and moved off the way she'd come from, her bare feet tapping quietly on the marble floor. Vesper watched her go with a soft expression, before sending malicious eyes back to her son.

  "For many years now, I've tried to persuade you to do your duty, Domitian," she started. "I had such hopes for you as a boy. But you have continued to disappoint me at every turn. I know I can no longer trust you to take up my mantle when I'm gone, not in the way I wish you to. And I'm no longer capable of bearing children myself." She looked towards the shadows where Julia had just disappeared. "Julia is my surrogate, and she will give me a son who will do as I command. I have given you more than enough chances, but you have forced my hand. When my second son is born, you will no longer be my heir. And then, you can live your life as you please, bedding servant girls and indulging your base and pathetic desires. But, you will do so away from this city. These will be your last days here, Domitian. And my mind will not be turned."

  Dom listened as she spoke, and yet her words barely registered. There was so much to take in, so much to compute. In some ways, what she was saying was music to his ears. He was being untethered from his duty to her, and to the city. He was being given a way out of here, away from the games, the bloodshed, the awful life he now knew he led.

  And yet, there was something behind her words that he didn't trust. A subtext that wasn't spoken. A part of him knew that she was merely telling him what he wanted to hear. And that, in truth, the birth of her second son would be his death warrant.

  She no longer looked at him as her son, as he didn't her as his mother. There was no love there anymore, only an animosity and resentment that grew, year on year. Dom had long believed that his station as her son, as her only heir, was the single thing keeping him armoured against her insanity and the awful things she might do.

  Now, that armour was gone.

  And Dom was being cast out into the cold.

  For a little while, a silence fell, Dom's eyes turning again to the view of the city below. Then Vesper spoke, her words cutting the quiet.

  "Well, do you have anything to say?"

  Dom's eyes stayed off her. A grimace rose as his eyes ventured away to the horizon, to the world beyond the city, so far off. Maybe he should just leave right now? Maybe he should set his gladiators loose, gather up his most faithful servants, and abscond from this city once and for all. It would be easy enough to do, perhaps, as long as he did it quick. But it would be the cowards way out, and that he couldn't abide.

  No, he'd stay and see this out. It was his duty to do so.

  He turned back to her, and shook his head.

  "And who's the father?" he asked. "Lord Pontius, I suppose. I wouldn't put it past either of you."

  "Oh no, not Lord Pontius," laughed Vesper. "There is no one father, Domitian. I would never do such a thing. My geneticists have managed to create a unique cocktail, mostly me, of course, but with some additional enhancements added to the brew. My second son will not be a disappointment like you. He will have my mind, and many other gifts too. And his children will be the same, and theirs after them. My progeny will rule for a thousand years, and my legacy will be complete."

  Dom's eyes sank at her words. They were mad, power hungry, all semblance of her sanity totally abandoning her now. He took a step back, still shaking his head.

  "Disappointment," he whispered. "You're disappointed in me?"

  Now it was his turn to snarl and laugh, despite the precariousness of his situation. He didn't care at that moment. He wanted, even if such a thing were possible, to hurt this shell of a woman he once loved.

  "You are a disappointment, mother, to this entire city," he said as emotionlessly as possible. "And soon enough, they'll show you just how much of a disappointment you are."

  Her eyes grew in flame.

  "Is that a threat, Domitian?" she growled.

  "No threat, mother," Dom said. "Just an observation. You've ignored Southside for too long. What's happening now has been a long time coming, and it's only going to get worse from here."

  Vesper nodded.

  "Oh, and I totally agree," she said, laughter simmering. "And while you remain my heir, it is your responsibility to help."

  "Help?" Dom huffed, incredulous. "I'm afraid there's not much I can do. This is a problem you've created, and I'm fairly sure of how you'll look to fix it. I've no doubt the streets and squares will see plenty of severed heads in the days to come," Dom bit.

  "If such a thing can be avoided, that would be preferable," countered Vesper swiftly. "Wouldn't you agree?"

  Dom's answer wasn't quickly forthcoming. This seemed like something of a trap.

  "Obviously," he muttered.

  "Well then, perhaps you can prove yourself to me. I hear that this servant of yours, Merk, is wildly popular down there. I have been true to my word, and have allowed him to stay safely in your villa for now. Perhaps he can be put to good use."

  "No," Dom said suddenly. "This has nothing to do with Merk."

  "Oh, but it does. He defied me, along with that horrible Kira girl. Much of this recent trouble has come in the last few days and on the back of this commoner who lived through the cull. It is a story to fuel the fire of revolt, that is for sure. And having this man hiding away isn't helping."

  She drew her cup to her lips and indulged in a long sip of wine. Dom knew, before her words came, what she was asking.

  "I wish for this Merk to go to Southside, to show himself," she said. "He will quell this revolt before it gains any traction. I will offer certain concessions to both him, and the people, if he does so. For a start, the man will be free, and well rewarded for his loyalty. This immunity he won during the cull will be held up, I assure you. And I will promise to work more closely to ensure the needs of Southside are prioritised in future. Do this, and bloodshed can be avoided. If not, then my soldiers will have no choice but to step in."

  It was a catch-22 for Dom, an awful dilemma. He stared blankly at his mother, and knew she was speaking some sense. But he also knew that she could not be trusted, and that Merk's presence in Southside would have li
ttle impact upon many years worth of built up hate and resentment.

  No, the people were growing restless, and Merk couldn't possibly stifle that.

  There was, however, little option before Dom but to give his mother something. If he flat out refused, he could expect a visit from the Imperial Guard, possibly that very evening. It might even be the legendary Ares sent forth to take Merk away. She'd snatch him up and set him to this purpose herself if she needed to. Truly, Dom had very little room to manoeuvre.

  But what room he did have, he would employ to the best of his ability. So he offered his own concession, and agreed to his mother's plan.

  "I will speak with Merk," he said finally, after a long pause. "I wish for the people of Southside to be treated fairly, and if Merk can help to avoid bloodshed, then I suppose I'll have him try. But, I can make no promises, my Empress," said Dom, using her title when he so rarely did. He saw a slight change in her eyes as he spoke it, his detachment to her so clear now. Was there something left inside her, some light? He let the thought fade away. Honestly, he didn't care anymore.

  She nodded silently, and the hate in her seemed to drift. Her lips opened and shut, and delivered a few quiet words.

  "Thank you, Domitian," she said. Then she turned away, and looked back over the city, and he heard her whisper, "I'm sorry it's come to this."

  23

  Merk's first full day as a spy within Prince Domitian's household wasn't bearing much fruit. He'd spent it beyond the boundary of his room, wandering about the place and trying to get a good feel for the layout.

  He did so carefully, of course. After all, for a guard or servant to catch him snooping would quickly end his tenure as a spy before it had even begun. He had to stay within the bounds he'd been set, and operate as casually as possible.