Paul Kearney - Corvus

In their midst, Rictus trudged silently at the head of his men, and his black armour reflected not a gleam of the autumn sun. He did not look back.

Karnos ran his fingertip down the spine of the girl from her nape to the silky crease of her buttocks. She was wet there, and she shifted slightly under his touch, her white body arching up like a cat being stroked. His fingertip moved upward again, traced the geometry of her ribs, touched the side-swell of one breast. He brushed her ear-lobe where the dark tresses of shining hair fell over it.

“I don’t care what Polio said, you were worth every obol,” he murmured.

A knock on the door.

The girl smiled as Karnos kissed her delicate ear. His hand ran down her body again, more urgent this time. A flare of base delight as she lifted her rump up in invitation.

Again, the knock – not so discreet this time. A rapping of knuckles.

“Fuck you, Polio!” Karnos shouted. “I was not to be disturbed!” The girl stiffened beside him, and her eyes took on the blank slave-look. Duty had replaced arousal in a moment, though she remained stock still with her white buttocks up in the air.

“Master, my profound apologies, but there is news here that cannot wait. Kassander himself is here, and awaits you in the court.”

“Kassander? Ah, shit,” Karnos said. He rose to his knees in the bed, pushed the slight pale-skinned girl to one side and reached for his chiton.

“Get him some wine – have Grania bring it.”

“I have already done so, master. He demands to see you at once.”

“Of course he does,” Karnos snarled, pulling his chiton over his head. To the girl he said, “Get out and clean yourself up.” She scampered naked from the bed, leaving by a side-door. The hanging that half-hid it was still twitching as Karnos rose barefoot and said, “Tell him I’m on my way. And it had better be important – Phobos’s arse, it’s the middle of the night.”

Polio came in bearing a bronze lamp, shielding the wick with his long fingers. “Shall I call for the cook?”

“No, let’s see what we have first. Light the way for me, Polio. Kassander is an impatient son of a bitch, but even he doesn’t turn out at this hour on a whim.”

The two men walked along the passageway in a fluttering globe of yellow lamplight while their shadows capered around them. Polio was a spare, elderly man with a broad grey beard. He wore a slave-collar, but it was chased with gold, and from his shoulders hung a himation of fine white linen.

Karnos wore a food-stained chiton of plain undyed wool. He was a broad, beefy man with a round paunch and a close-cropped black beard. His hair, worn long, was dressed with oil and he bore several rings on each hand. His bare feet slapped on the stone floor.

“Was he alone?”

“He came with an escort of spearmen, master, but they remained outside.”

“Fuck – then it’s official. Rouse the household and lay out my council robes, and a good cloak.”

“Some food, perhaps -”

“Wine – lots of it. The good stuff. It must be bad news; no-one ever brings good tidings in the dark. We’ll have it in the study. And have some sent out to the escort.”

A wide space surrounded by pale-pillared colonnades, open to the sky. Karnos gritted his teeth against the cold. There was the rill of water from the courtyard fountain, the glow of the solitary lamp kept burning by the gate-shrine, and a brazier for the doorman, the coals dull and almost dead. Beside it stood a large shadow, red-lit by the charcoal, and to one side the slim shape of a shivering slave-girl, a glass jug in her fists.

“Leave us, Crania,” Karnos said crisply. The girl fled, feet pattering on the chill stone.

“Kassander?”

The shadow resolved itself into a massive cloaked figure, as broad as Karnos but taller.

“You keep buying up all the pretty girls, Karnos. How many do you have stashed away here now?”

“If you want one, I’ll lend her to you – now what’s the news that has me shivering like a spent horse here in the night with Phobos leering down at me?”

Kassander drained his cup. “Word from the east. Hal Goshen has surrendered to him.”

Karnos leant against a marble pillar, the last of the bedroom’s warmth sucked out of him. “Ah, hell.” He rubbed one hairy-knuckled hand over his face, and seemed to feel the weight of his years and the loom of the winter weigh down his very bones.

“I told them, didn’t I?”

“Yes, you did,” Kassander said. “You have been proved right at every turn. There’s good in that – it means they may pay heed to you now.”

Karnos raised his head sharply, a sneer splitting his beard. “You think so? Brother, you have a faith in the rationality of men that makes me wonder whether to laugh or weep.”

“If this does not unite the League, nothing will. This could be good news, Karnos – it may be the turning point.”

“Ever the optimist, eh? Who else knows this?”

“It’ll be all over the city by dawn. I’ve already sent couriers to the hinterland, and the Kerusia is being waked as we speak.”

“Come inside with me. My prick has shrivelled up like a raisin in this cold – or maybe it’s your news has done it.” Kassander followed him like an obedient bear, tossing his cup into the courtyard pool with a silver splash.

“Light, light!” Karnos roared. “Am I to stagger around in the dark in my own home? Bring a lamp there!”

Polio appeared again. He bowed to Kassander, who nodded curtly in reply. “Master, your study fire has been lit, and -”

“Have my clothes laid out there, Polio, and rouse out the stables. I want the black gelding warmed up and shining, my best harness. I’ll be going to the Empirion with the dawn.”

Polio bowed again, handed his lamp to Karnos, and glided away.

The household was coming to life, slaves scurrying everywhere with lamps in their hands, unintelligible shouts emanating from the kitchens at the back of the house. Karnos and Kassander strode along the corridors, oblivious, until a heavy door was swung back to reveal a firelit room, littered with scrolls and papers, and a wide-eyed slave who bowed deeply, placed a tumble of clothing on the desk and fled, mumbling inanities.

“You’ve too many slaves,” Kassander said, unlooping the end of his cloak from his arm. “They’re underfoot like damned cockroaches. Can’t you hire some free-men to light your fires and groom your horses?”

“Free men have loyalties and families and worries of their own,” Karnos said, sweeping the piled papers from two iron-framed chairs. “Slaves only have to worry about their job. They do that well, and they have no other worries in the world.” He threw off his woollen chiton and stood naked in the firelight, then began to dress in the clothing the slave had abandoned.

“You’d have been Speaker far sooner if the world did not look askance at the harem you have here. There’s jokes about you and your insatiable prick scrawled across every wineshop wall in the Mithannon.”

“Insatiable, eh?” Karnos said with a grin. His head emerged from the neck of a black linen chiton. “I like that. The people love a politician whose vices are out in the open, Kassander – they know he has less to hide. Me, I love women -”

“Then marry one.”

“Are you insane? No, no. I flirt with power and I fuck slaves. Good decent women are too dangerous for a man like me. And I’m near forty now – too old to be learning the ways of a wife. Have a seat. No, you make my blood run cold merely by mentioning it – and you know the regard I have for your sister -”