'You know, Conn, this is something I have never understood. You are my brother, and I love you. But how long will you allow yourself to carry this burden? Take a wife, sire sons. You owe it to yourself-and to the people. You must have an heir, Conn.'
Connavar smiled. 'You are my heir, Bran. And your sons will follow you.' Connavar had walked to the window, and stared out over the countryside. Light clouds were casting dappled shadows over the flanks of the mountains.
'You could invite Bane back home,' said Bran.
Connavar swung round, his face once more set, his expression hard. 'We will talk of it no more.'
'As you wish, my king.' said Bran.
Connavar was instantly contrite. 'I am sorry, brother. I had thought the hurt would lessen as the years passed. But it sits like a canker on the soul.'
'Ah, dammit! I am sorry too, Conn. I'll not mention it again. So, what is it you think Jasaray wants from us?'
'It is hard to say. He has many troubles. The war in the east has meant most of his regular troops are far from Stone. Brother Solstice tells me that there are now more Stone Knights in the city than loyal soldiers. Jasaray apparently believes Nalademus is loyal to him – and perhaps he is. But the political situation there is precarious. The arrival of Rigante ambassadors will cause a stir, and perhaps deflect criticism of the eastern campaign. In short, brother, I do not know.'
Bran had now been in Stone for ten days, he and Fiallach quartered at a villa to the south of the city awaiting the call from Jasaray. Now it had come, and still there had been no talks.
A servant came running down the path. 'The bathhouse is ready, sirs,' he said. 'And your clothes have been moved from the villa. I have taken the liberty of having them washed for you. They are currently drying.'
'That is kind of you,' said Bran.
The private bathhouse was some forty feet long, with a sunken bath large enough to take perhaps twenty people. Bran and Fiallach removed their clothes and climbed in, sitting back and relaxing in the perfumed water. Fiallach sighed and ducked his head below the surface. He came up spluttering, water dripping from his braids and his long yellow and silver moustache. Bran chuckled. 'You are being corrupted by such decadence,' he said.
'It eases the pain in my back,' said Fiallach. 'I am not as young as once I was. I do not heal so swiftly.'
They lazed contentedly for some time, then two servants arrived, holding hot towels. The Rigante warriors climbed from the bath and dried themselves, then walked through to the massage room, where two young men waited.
Bran lay on his stomach and felt the warm oil poured to his back. He relaxed instantly, and the masseur expertly stroked and probed the muscles of his neck and shoulders, easing out the tensions. He glanced across at Fiallach, who was lying face down with his eyes closed. When the massage was finished, the oil gently scraped from their bodies with rounded ivory blades, they rose and dressed, and returned to their rooms. Food had been laid there, cold cooked meats and sweet pastries alongside two jugs, one of wine, one of water. They ate, then sat back to await the call from Jasaray.
'One could almost come to like this place,' said Fiallach.
The door opened and two silver-armoured warriors entered. 'Your chariot is here,' said the first, his voice echoing the contempt in his eyes.
Fiallach rose and strode across to tower over him. He looked at the man closely.
'Isn't that remarkable,' he said to Bran. 'Do you remember the first Stone head I rammed on the lance? It was just like his, though I think this man's neck is thicker. Probably take two cuts to sever it.' The soldier blanched, and licked his lips. Fiallach smiled at him. 'Do not concern yourself, little man. Today I am in a good mood.'
Horath bowed deeply as the emperor and his entourage entered the Royal Enclosure and took up their seats overlooking the golden sand of the arena. The sun was shining, and the stadium was almost full – twelve thousand citizens of Stone, waiting to see today's death bouts.
Horath led the emperor to his high-backed, velvet-covered chair. With Jasaray were two tribesmen, one handsome and beardless with golden hair, the other an enormous figure, with a long drooping moustache. The giant looked fearsome, and his bare arms showed many scars. He would have made a fine gladiator, thought Horath.
Six silver-garbed warriors filed in, and stood in a line behind the emperor. Jasaray sat down, leaning his back against a plump cushion. He glanced up at Horath. 'You are looking well, young man,' he said.
'Thank you, Majesty. You honour Circus Occian with your presence.'
'May I introduce my guests? This is Bendegit Bran, a lord of the Rigante tribe, and his aide Fiallach.'
'A pleasure to meet you, sirs,' said Horath, offering a slight bow. 'Have you come to see your comrade in battle?'
He saw the surprise in their faces. 'Bane is fighting today,' he said swiftly. 'He is Gladiator Seven now, a magnificent fighter, and a great asset to our circus. Today he meets Dex, from Circus Palantes. Dex is Gladiator Four and it should be a classic encounter. If you wish to gamble I would be delighted to have your bets placed with the circus bank.'
Bendegit Bran shook his head, and exchanged glances with Fiallach.
'Well, enjoy your day, sirs.' With a deep bow to Jasaray, Horath withdrew to his own seat. Every few minutes he cast nervous glances back towards the door. He had invited Nalademus and the Lord Voltan to the Enclosure, but had received no reply. Even so, chairs had been prepared for them. This had caused him some concern, for Nalademus was a large man, and needed a big chair. Which would have been fine, except that the emperor insisted upon a straight-backed seat for himself, with a single cushion. Horath could not seat Nalademus in a chair more grand than that of the emperor, and had instead placed a wide couch to the rear of the Enclosure.
Unfortunately this would mean that Nalademus, should he arrive, would be sitting behind Jasaray and his guests. Horath comforted himself with the rumour that the Stone elder had been in ill health for some time, and was, therefore, unlikely to attend.
A blare of trumpets sounded and six horsemen rode into the arena. The crowd cheered as the men galloped their white mounts round the perimeter. Then, in unison, the riders lifted their feet and smoothly rose to stand on the backs of the horses. The mounts came into a line. The riders began to leap from one horse to another, landing lightly, timing each jump to perfection. Then they sat back in their saddles and rode from the arena. The crowd applauded their skills. Horath glanced at the two Rigante warriors. They sat, expressionless, arms folded across their chests. At that moment the rear door opened and Horath mouthed a silent curse.
The Stone elder, Nalademus, moved into sight, leaning on a long golden staff. Horath leapt to his feet. 'Welcome, lord,' he said. 'You honour us with your attendance.'
Nalademus nodded, then glanced at the couch. Jasaray rose. 'Good to see you, my friend,' he said warmly. 'Please, come sit beside me. Horath, have another chair brought in.'
Horath hurried out, signalled two servants and gave them instructions. Moments later they carried in a beautifully carved and gilded chair, which was taller and deeper than that used by the emperor. 'You should sit here, Majesty,' said Nalademus, as the chair was placed beside the emperor's.
'Nonsense, my friend. You have been ill, and your well-being is far more important to me than small matters of ego. Sit yourself and be comfortable.'
Nalademus bowed, and lowered his massive frame into the gilded chair.
Horath breathed a sigh of relief and returned to his place. Nalademus was introduced to the other guests, and then the party returned their interest to the events in the stadium. A precision cavalry display was followed by a lion hunt. Two beasts were set loose in the stadium, and two horsemen, armed with hunting bows, galloped out. The first lion was killed swiftly, but the second, wounded and enraged, charged at a rider. The horse reared, throwing the man to the sand. Instantly the lion was upon him, and the beast's talons ripped open his back. The satisfied roar from the crowd startled the lion, which swung its great head just as the second rider bore down, sending an arrow into its heart.