Марк Ньютон - Drakenfeld

‘Water would be most refreshing, thank you.’

‘Nothing stronger?’

‘Not at this moment,’ I replied.

‘As you wish. I will see one of my slaves brings it to my study.’

Again, he stressed the word ‘slave’ as if he wanted to make a point of owning them. It was rare to see slaves within people’s houses these days – they were illegal unless brought in from overseas. No doubt Veldrum Hecater would be among those seeking to purchase slaves fresh from Maxant’s victory in Mauland.

His study was lined with ledgers, and a large desk stood against a small window that faced across the gardens. The place was a bit of a mess, with piles of paper all over the black and red tiled floor. Veldrum lifted a hand abacus from one wicker chair and asked me to sit while he rifled around in one of his drawers. A milky-skinned young man in plain clothing came in to hand me a cup of water, and I thanked him. Veldrum did not even seem to notice he had come in.

Veldrum drew out a heavy ledger and, with focus and caution, flicked through the pages while muttering about the quality of the paper. It seemed absurd that, for this man, something so profound in my father’s life – these apparent debts – could simply be reduced to another line of information in a book.

‘Here we are,’ he announced, hunching further over the book as if to better understand his own handwriting. ‘Now, your father borrowed twenty thousand pecullas and, with interest, the deal we agreed on was for him to pay back thirty thousand within a year.’

I nearly spilled my water, but managed to place the cup to one side. ‘Thirty thousand pecullas?’

‘That is correct. It is one of my larger loans, but he was in a good position in society and had a stable career, and the rate of interest was very competitive. I don’t always make such pleasant deals.’

‘How much did he pay back?’ I asked.

‘He made regular payments of five hundred pecullas a month, which would have taken him a long time to cover the full debt, and which may well have ended in more interest if the contract became invalid.’ Veldrum followed the lines in the ledger once again. ‘That said, he did make one rather large payment and very nearly managed to clear the debt… Yes, here we go. He made a payment of twenty-one thousand pecullas.’

‘In one go?’

‘That is correct. Three months ago, to be precise. I remember it because it was just before the Festival of Festonia.’

‘How much is left on his account?’

‘He needed to pay four thousand pecullas to settle the debt, which, of course, falls to you to pay. I have all the paperwork here – all signed in the presence of a witness.’

He showed me the documents and, true to his word, there was my father’s signature and the family seal in red wax alongside it.

‘I’ll pay the four thousand,’ I sighed. Taking into account the bribe I’d have to pay from this morning, it meant all of my remaining savings, all the money I had transferred across from Venyn, would be gone. I still hadn’t received any salary payment this month from the Sun Chamber, but it could not arrive soon enough.

‘Oh, that is good news.’ Veldrum Hecater reached for a reed pen to make a note in the ledger. He blew for the ink to dry and set the book on his desk. Meanwhile I started wondering just how under Polla’s blessed gaze I was going to make ends meet. I would have to send urgent messages to a Sun Chamber station post to transfer money in my name to Tryum. Perhaps one day I could sell the villa – I barely had enough use of all the rooms in one house let alone another one standing empty.

‘I’ll have the money sent to you by nightfall tomorrow,’ I said.

Veldrum Hecater nodded and sat back in his chair.

‘There’s just one small matter that I don’t quite understand,’ I continued. ‘Why would my father come to you, a moneylender down-city? I do not mean to cause offence, sir, but there are far more respectable establishments in Polyum and Tradum that he could have sought. Banks themselves, perhaps.’

Veldrum broke into a peaceful smile. ‘He came to me for the same reason anyone would, young man. Shame. Shame certainly helps a person feel humble. Whatever his reason, he was too proud to go to someone in his own neighbourhood who might know him. Gossip does tend to spread like wildfire in Tryum. However, I can’t help you out with the question of why. That is one mystery you will have to solve for yourself.’

‘The debts will be settled. Will you call off your men?’

Veldrum nodded. ‘I am sorry they have been rather rough. Many of them are not in my employment directly – we tend to outsource to private groups from time to time. I don’t like all that nasty business, but people will go about the city believing they can take money from others but not give it back. The world cannot operate in such a way.’

I said my goodbyes to the moneylender and headed back out into the streets, which were bathed in the soft red light of sunset and, pulling my cloak around me, I strolled back along the busy main roads towards Polyum, wondering why my father needed the money and how someone in a position of responsibility could have ended up in this kind of trouble.

Early in the evening I decided to take a bath, and felt all the better for doing so.

A small, private bathroom was such a privilege. The floor possessed a lovely pattern of bold red and blue mosaics, and there was a metal-lined base to the bathtub itself, under which hot coals were placed to warm up the water – though one had to be careful the coals were not too hot, else they might burn.

There were many public baths scattered throughout Vispasia, of course, but they were very social places, where senators, councillors, traders, soldiers and bureaucrats would hatch their plans. This comfort was such a contrast to life on the other side of Vispasia. It was easy to see how wealth might easily spoil someone.

Bellona, Polla bless her, had already heated a few coals and placed lanterns around the room creating a mellow and relaxing atmosphere. In this quiet solitude I could gather my thoughts – and there was no shortage of things to be thinking about.

Lacanta’s death echoed through my mind. Her seemingly impossible murder and the still-burning incense – was that possibly some kind of offering to Trymus? The locked door niggled me incessantly. Then there was the room that suggested she was, at heart, rather a quiet person, and not the scandalous figure portrayed in public. Were her affairs all some kind of act? A way to work her political charms in order to steer Licintius’ policies through the Senate?

The king, too, seemed to be more of a mystery than he first appeared. There was potentially the air of a love affair surrounding his relationship with the deceased Drullus. I still couldn’t work out why someone wanted to hunt down and kill Drullus. Perhaps he had seen something that night, or even been the killer. Was it an act of passion – jealousy driving him to kill the one person closer to Licintius than he? It felt like a long shot. Finally there was that leaf from the poisonous plant henbane, which seemed so out of place in Drullus’ hideout.

On top of all this loomed my father’s mysterious debts. It seemed so out of character for him. What was he doing that required him to borrow so much in the first place? He managed to keep Bellona on staff despite this, though it was well known in our family that he couldn’t cook for himself. I called for Bellona, who briefly made an appearance at the door, though wouldn’t come into the room.