The Empress's Lover: The Empire of Silence, #1

THE EMPIRE OF SILENCE

THE EMPRESS’S LOVER

Paul H.Trembling

Copyrighted 2013 by Paul H. Trembling.

All rights reserved 

Cover art by Tom Trembling

This novel is a work of fiction.  All names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are entirely the product of the author’s imagination.  Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead or to actual events is entirely coincidental.

To Annie.

A love story, with love.

Paul.

CONTENTS

ONE:  The Empress and the Friar.

TWO:  Friar an’Darsio’s Petition.

THREE: The Duchess of Tynam.

FOUR: Trade, Agriculture and the Law.

FIVE: The True History of the Gifts.

SIX: Secrets and Lies.

SEVEN: Forbidden Love.

EIGHT: The Grand Duke.

NINE: Secrets Revealed.

TEN: The Hidden Libraries.

ELEVEN: A Lover’s Farewell.

TWELVE: The Empress and the Scholar.

POSTSCRIPT

ONE:  The Empress and the Friar.

IN THE SEVENTY EIGHTH year of her rule, the Empress Anatarna decided to take a lover.

This was an unusual action for her, though not for her predecessors.  Most of the Imperial family had enjoyed such dalliances at one time or another, and some had changed their lovers regularly.  Anatarna’s own father, the Exalted Emperor Damarl, had had more than a dozen, whilst her notorious great-grandmother, the Exalted Empress Chulain, had gone through hundreds during her relatively short reign.

Anatarna, however, had never shown any inclination towards this particular indulgence.  In her long and distinguished rule, she had had but two consorts.  The first, Ordost, (who pre-dated her ascension to the Imperial majesty), she had married at the wish of her father, for reasons of state.  He then had the poor taste to die in – of all the clichés – a hunting accident!

Her second consort, Marlderene, was her own choice (her father by then having become Exalted, and the Imperial Mantle her own).  The marriage brought a politically valuable alliance with one of the most powerful families in the Empire, and gave her a controlling influence in the Council of Lords.  After some years, however, Marlderene decided that both his own desires and his family’s interests could be better met in other ways: specifically, an intimate liaison with the young Queen of a small (but prosperous) border nation.  He had calculated that the Empress’s need for support in the Council would cause her to overlook the affair.  Anatarna, however, expressed her displeasure by invading the said nation.  The young Queen was required to offer fealty to the Imperial Throne, the Councils compliance was brought with the spoils of war, Marlderene’s family learned that they were not indispensable, and  Marlderene himself was allowed many years in the Imperial dungeons in which to contemplate his misjudgements.

However, though the outcome had been successful, the experience seemed to have dissuaded the Empress from any further unions, formal or otherwise.  A woman of remarkable ability, tremendous character and near total independence, she had no need of such relationships, and saw no value in them.  Councillors soon learned not to raise the matter.

Her sudden and unprecedented change of mind, therefore, set the Imperial Court reeling with consternation and speculation.  But even more shocking than the simple fact was the identity of her chosen.  For he was of the Second Order.

These remarkable events had their origin in a seemingly trivial incident.

It was the Empress’s occasional custom to enjoy a walk through the gardens of the Upper Terrace in her Citadel-Palace of Daradura.  She found the fresh air invigorating and the multitude of exotic plants and blooms stimulating.  It should not, however, be imagined that these walks were in any way intended as relaxation.  Anatarna slept a solid four hours every night and had no need for any additional rest.  The gardens merely gave her a varied environment in which to conduct the business of Empire.

To assist her in this, she was accompanied in her walks by a train of officials, assistants, counsellors, courtiers, delegates, dignitaries, experts, secretaries, scribes, servants, maids, guards and favour-seekers.  The Lord Gardener was also on hand, in order to answer any questions about the latest additions or to note any changes that the Imperial Majesty might call for.  And of course, a large number of his staff would be in close proximity, in order to act on any such wishes with immediate dispatch.

It was as a matter of practicality, therefore, that Her Imperial Majesty tended to avoid the narrower paths through the centre of the garden.  So it happened that on this particular day the entourage was parading along the lawn at the far end of the Terrace, whence it overlooked the Clarmarin Fountains and the Lower Lawns.

The Empress was in particularly fine form that morning.  In one breath she would be discussing tensions along the Morning Border with a diplomat recently returned from the region, in the next she was questioning the Lord Gardener about a variety of flowering bush which did not appear to be flowering.  She was also addressing comments on financial affairs to her Grand Chancellor, as the other topics touched on them and inspired her thinking.  And she continually called for scribes to note down points that had arisen or to take messages to various persons regarding those points.

All this activity came to a halt as they approached the edge of the terrace, and the Empress was interrupted in full flow by a sudden splashing and shrieks of childish laughter, emanating from below.  She halted; listened for a moment, then raised a quizzical eyebrow and strode briskly towards the sound.

The parapet bordering the Upper Terrace was some twenty feet above the Lower Lawns, and so the Empress – herself approaching six feet in height (not unusual for the those of the First Order) – had an excellent view of events below.  Her train spread themselves along the parapet, all eager to see what had interrupted Her Imperial Majesty’s thoughts.  And what she would do about it.

What they beheld, in that section of the Lower Gardens immediately below them, was a group of children, of both sexes and varying in age between about six years old up to eleven or twelve.  There was possibly twenty or thirty of them, but it was hard to tell, as they were all in continuous and rapid motion.  Running, shouting, laughing – darting under bushes, round trees, across the lawns and even through the fountains, going at full speed in all directions at once.  From their clothing, these would appear to be children from the lower ranks of palace servants.

More remarkable yet, however, was that the centre of their activity was an adult – and moreover, a member of one of the Religious Disciplines.  At least, he wore the robe of a  friar – this in a dull brown, trimmed with orange.  Clearly of the Second Order, he appeared to be in his early twenties, stocky, with a shock of red-orange hair that almost matched the trim of his robe.  His features, however, were largely obscured by a piece of cloth tied round his eyes as a blindfold. 

Laughing and shouting as much as the surrounding children, he appeared to be the centre of the game.  With remarkable energy, and at a speed apparently unhindered by his blindfolded state, he rushed round the garden, trying to catch the shrieking boys and girls.

Observing this scene of joyful chaos from his post at Her Imperial Majesty’s elbow, the Grand Chancellor frowned.  A slender, greying man, he was notorious in the Palace for his ruthless efficiency and his total lack of humour.  The activities before him could hardly have been better calculated to arouse his ire.

I will deal with this at once, My Empress, he said coldly. And I will ensure that there is no repetition.

Unlike her Grand Chancellor, Anatarna had a sense of humour.  She took especial pleasure in exercising it at her Grand Chancellor’s expense.  Knowing that she alone in all the Empire could do so added a certain spice.  What her reaction might have been had her chief servant not intervened cannot be said, but once he had done so, she sensed the opportunity for a little fun of her own – though somewhat more subtle than that which continued below.

What exactly requires dealing with? she asked innocently.

The Grand Chancellor’s frown deepened.  This – unseemly – interruption to Your Imperial Majesty’s business!  This trespass on your privacy!

Trespass?  She raised an eyebrow.  Is it not an ancient tradition and a rule of the palace that the Lower Lawns are open to the use of all the Palace staff?

The Grand Chancellor bit his lip.  Your Imperial Majesty is correct, of course.

Then a charge of trespass is inappropriate, is it not?

He gave a stiff gesture of acknowledgment.  I bow to My Empresses’ wisdom.  However, he was not a man to be easily bested, not even by the Empress. None the less, it is not fitting that commoners of the Second Order should show so little respect for the presence of Your Imperial Majesty.

Whilst this conversation was taking place, one of the children below had happened to glance upwards.  Palace born and trained, he recognised his Empress at once – not to mention her entourage – and after only a moment of shock, fell to his knees with his head bowed, in the proper posture of respect for one of the Second Order coming suddenly into the Imperial Presence.

He broke his reverential position only to grab the child nearest him, and point out to her what he had seen, before dragging her down to her knees beside him.  Other children, observing this, looked upwards, and quickly followed the example set.

Well, Lord Gestavin, the Empress commented, It seems that your fears are groundless.  They appear to have respect enough.

The Grand Chancellor acknowledged this with a stiff inclination of his head.  Indeed, my Empress.  Except for one.

All the children were now kneeling.  The friar, however, being blindfolded, had not yet noticed this, and was still blundering about the garden with undiminished vigour.  What was more, the children now being silent, he himself could be clearly heard.

C’m’n, yer litt’luns – Ah’ll ha’ yer yet, I shall!  Think y’can escape by gayin ahl hush on me, ey?  Ha – think aga’n!  Shamra – Deedan – Jacy, yer little sprite – ah’m com’n t’ get yer all....

And so he continued, his voice as loud and energetic as the rest of him.

The ridiculous sight, and the broad accent, combined to make such an entertaining display that a number of the entourage were clearly struggling to contain their laughter.  Only the presence of the Imperial Majesty restrained them, since it would be unthinkable to laugh unless the Empress herself showed some amusement.

In order to give them some respite, and also to further exasperate Lord Gestavin, she expressed her own pleasure by allowing a smile to cross her lips.  The emotions of the courtiers, having thus been given permission, released themselves in an outburst of laughter not dissimilar from that previously shown by the children.  The Grand Chancellor took on the aspect of a man tasting an unpleasant medicine.

The children’s silence meant that the sounds of mirth from above were easily heard in the Lower Gardens.  Alerted by this, the friar raised his blindfold and looked upward.  Spying the royal entourage, his jaw dropped in such a comical expression of shock that a fresh wave of hilarity swept over the courtiers.

Finally appraised of the situation, and belatedly recognising the Imperial Presence, the friar doffed his blindfold completely and dropped to his knees.

There, now, Gestavin, observed the Empress, the proprieties are fully observed.  She held up a hand, and the laughter immediately died away to a few choked giggles.  Good Friar! she called down.  You and your charges may continue your game.  So saying, Anantarna turned away, and proceeded along the Upper Terrace.  Her train scrambled to assume its correct positions.

So then, My Lord, who is that young friar? she asked.

Among the many things that the Grand Chancellor prided himself on was an accurate and detailed knowledge of all the palace staff.  Anatarna was gratified by his hesitancy in replying.  It was not often that she caught him out twice on the same day.

He is of the Arravine Order of Friars, Majesty.  They have the duty of providing schooling for the children of Second Order servants.  The previous incumbent died a month ago, this man is, I presume, his replacement.  Obviously he has only just taken up his post here.  Otherwise I would know his name, his family, his height, weight and favourite food, was the Grand Chancellor’s unspoken implication.

Yes, I do recognise the habit of the Arravines, Gestavin.  Anatarna said, a little acerbically.  Sometimes the Grand Chancellor’s inability to simply say I don’t know was wearing.  And please don’t tell me he hails from the western provinces, either.  I can recognise the accents of my realm well enough.

I seek your Imperial Majesty’s forgiveness.

She waved away the apology.  No need for that, Gestavin.  But you know I don’t like having my time wasted with statements of the obvious.  And speaking of the obvious, that garish purple flower there looks rather out of place just there, does it not... Lord Gardener.... 

The business of the court continued as they returned to the Imperial chambers.

TWO:  Friar an’Darsio’s Petition.

IN THE ESKARIN EMPIRE, all authority resided in the Imperial Majesty.  In theory, any citizen of the Empire could appeal directly to the reigning Monarch.  In practice, of course, this authority was delegated to Judges, Governors, Military Commanders and so on, as appropriate.  However, by ancient custom, members of the Imperial Household could seek a direct audience, and Anatarna had upheld this.  Of course, most such matters were dealt with by the Grand Chancellor or his staff, but she made a point of regularly examining the list of appeals and occasionally selected items for her personal consideration.

It was just a few weeks after the amusing incident on the Lower Gardens, that the list included a petition from one Thylan an’Darsio,  Friar of the Arravine Order.  She indicated the item to the Grand Chancellor.

This, I assume, is our young man of the Lower Gardens?

The Grand Chancellor inclined his head. Indeed so, My Empress.

And what is the nature of his petition?

I understand that he wishes to move his classroom to another location... and that he has requested a sum of money from the Household Purse, for various – ah – ‘educational projects’ I believe he terms them.

The Empress pursed her lips.  Surely this is a matter that could be dealt with by your own department, Gestavin?  Why should it warrant a petition to the Throne?

Gestavin looked a little uncomfortable.  The Friar has indeed pursued the matter through the more normal channels.  On several occasions, in fact.  His requests have been denied, after being given all due consideration.  He then insisted on exercising the prerogative of an appeal to your Imperial Person.  I personally advised against it, in the strongest possible terms, but he – ah – insisted.

Anatarna’s eyebrows rose.  For someone to ‘insist’ to the Grand Chancellor suggested a remarkable strength of character.  Or incredible stupidity, perhaps, but Gestavin knew well enough how to deal with fools.

He insisted? she asked.

He pointed out to me that it was his right, as a member of the Household, to argue his case to you in person. Gestavin said stonily.  So I had no other option but to put his name on the list.  A bleak smile twitched across his lips.  Of course, I did point out that should Your Imperial Majesty decline to consider his petition, then the matter must be considered closed.

I’m sure you did.  Anatarna agreed, and sat back, considering.

It was one thing for her to occasionally tweak the Grand Chancellor’s nose, for her own amusement.  For anyone else to do so, especially such a minor personage as an Arravine Friar of the Second Order, bordered on insult.

Yet the man had done no more than claim his undoubted right.  And it was intriguing.  People with fortunes and titles at stake had stepped back from a confrontation with the Grand Chancellor.  What was there about his little palace school that the Friar would go