The bone fields, p.16
The Bone Fields, page 16
After their rushed flights, they had each spent the night in the best apartments of the Legion’s Domus Aurea complex. Some would be more jetlagged than others, but they were all well accustomed to an international lifestyle and they each made their way across the marble courtyards and around the Palace’s fountains in good time for Jupiter’s scheduled start.
They gathered in the awesome basilica at the centre of the complex, with its colonnaded exterior, cross-vaulted ceiling and giant marble supports. Caesar had raised it from the ruins of the site when he first planned the construction of his new Palace, and it had been designed with such an eye for detail that it looked as if it had been magically transported from the glorious age of the Roman empire.
The Caelestia greeted each other over coffee, making small talk in smart-casual attire like delegates attending a finance conference. At a given signal, however, the waiting staff retired, phones were switched off, doors were closed and guarded, and real names abandoned. This was Pantheon time now and each of the five men remaining in the vast room ruled a Palatinate, so they would use only their celestial titles.
When they were seated around a large circular table at the centre of the basilica, Jupiter entered. They heard her heels on the marble floor and turned to watch her walk to her place in front of a giant frieze of the Roman gods. She wore a black trouser suit, set off with diamonds hanging from her ears and a simple brooch depicting the Imperial Eagle. She did not smile. Her jaw was set firm and her eyes betrayed no emotion.
She knew that, to them, she was an outsider. When Ballantyne – founder and architect of the Pantheon – had dramatically forfeited his position as Lord High Jupiter and declared he would instead lead his Legion in the field as Caesar, they had been shocked, but they had also admired his decision to be what he wanted. It was his damn Game after all. Let him stand with his Eagles and feel the throb and thunder of real battle.
But they had never expected Marcella to be his replacement. They had known her for many years as Julian’s wife. A formidable operator in her own right, a party organiser of extraordinary flair and a sufferer of no fools. But Lord High Jupiter, most senior of the Pantheon gods? That was a step they had found hard to countenance.
In truth, she had done a tremendous job. The Pantheon was stronger than ever, the Legion supreme, he rivalry of the Palatinates as intense as it had ever been and the professionalism of the support units unsurpassed. Technology was ensuring the Vigiles’ camera feeds were more and more extensive and the increasing use of drones meant the Battles could be watched in super hi-res around the world. Law enforcement and media were bought and muffled. The fan bases were more vociferous than ever. And, most important of all, money was rolling in as rich punters clamoured to join the Curiate.
Jupiter had justified her position, but on a personal level, she had kept herself removed from the other Caelestes. They disliked how she had sidelined her husband and ensured his voice was rarely heard amongst his old Caelestia brethren. They knew her increasingly fractious marriage influenced her politics in the Pantheon. And they unanimously resented how she had groomed and installed her son into one of the most senior roles in the Legion. They all had children – some more legitimate than others – but none of them had ever brought them into the Pantheon. It was simply not the way. Some around the table in the Domus Aurea suspected Jupiter impatiently awaited the day when Caesar dwindled and Augustus could take his place.
One other individual entered the basilica and sat quietly at a table separate from the others. Atilius, Praetor of the Pantheon, would record proceedings and speak if he was directed.
‘Welcome,’ said Jupiter, in a far from welcoming tone. ‘Thank you for getting here at such short notice, but I think we all agree a meeting in person was necessary. A Palatinate has fallen and one of our own has been murdered.’
It was lost on no one that a seventh seat had been placed around the table and left empty – a simple, emphatic gesture that Odin was gone.
‘Has the killer been found?’ Kyzaghan demanded without preamble.
‘His arrest is inevitable; it is only a matter of time.’
‘How much time do you need? It’s Edinburgh, barely a village by the standards of most cities.’
‘I can assure you we have our security teams at full stretch to apprehend the culprit and it will not be long.’
‘What do you have to add?’ said Ördög, pointing a finger at Zeus. ‘It’s your damn city too.’
Zeus opened his palms in supplication. ‘I’m hardly best placed to know the circumstances of Odin’s death when it took place in his Valhalla offices.’
‘But it’s your antics on the Battle Field that led to his death, of that we must be certain. You played fast and loose with the Rules.’
There was a murmur of agreement.
Zeus objected. ‘I earned my Blood Funds in the Nineteenth and I spent them fairly and within our agreed guidelines at the start of the Twentieth. I simply chose not to reveal how I spent them. There is nothing in the Rules to suggest I have acted inappropriately.’
Tengri spoke up, his accountant’s mind focused on the details. ‘You introduced a new force towards the end of the Battle Hour and from a direction that was not your agreed end of the Field. That’s like a twelfth man in a soccer match running onto the pitch from the sidelines and scoring a goal because the opposition’s defence did not see him.’
‘Again, there is nothing in the Rules that explicitly states an entire Palatinate must be openly at one end of the Field at the start of Battle Hour.’
Tengri harrumphed and Kyzaghan swore quietly beneath his wheezing.
Xian had remained silent, but now he angled his slight figure towards the giant Ördög on his left. ‘I question your assertion that Odin died because of our colleague’s creative interpretation of the Rules.’
Ördög raised his arms and growled in exasperation. ‘What are you saying, man? Do you think it’s a coincidence that Odin was knifed minutes after his King was killed on the Field?’
‘I’m saying, my friend, that there is no logical reason for his murder to be directly linked to the death of King Sveinn. In the moment of his King’s demise, Odin lost his Palatinate, his status in the Pantheon and his reputation. There was no need to kill him. So we cannot discount that the timing was indeed coincidence.’
Ördög heaved a sigh, but bottled a response.
Kyzaghan shifted his bulk to stare first at Atilius in one corner and then at Jupiter. ‘Find who did this,’ he rasped, his voice dripping with venom. He pointed a stubby finger at Jupiter. ‘Beat a confession out of him or her and then string them up.’
‘I can assure you,’ Jupiter responded, ‘the culprit will feel the full force of Pantheon reprisals.’
‘Don’t bandy words at me. Death! That is the only reprisal for the murder of a Caelestis. We will accept nothing less.’
‘Indeed,’ said Jupiter solemnly.
‘And make sure you film it, Praetor. I want to see this execution.’
‘My lord,’ Atilius inclined his head.
There was a pregnant silence, then Jupiter sat forward and marshalled their attention. ‘And now to matters more strategic.’
‘Indeed,’ muttered Xian.
‘We have a Palatinate without a foe. A hole in the third tier of our pyramidal structure.’
Ördög glared at Zeus. ‘Don’t you dare even think you can prepare a Challenge to Tier Two. Your little games with the Rules give you no right.’
‘I most certainly do have the right,’ exclaimed Zeus, affronted.
‘This is Tier Three business,’ Kyzaghan agreed with Ördög, their rivalry briefly put to one side. ‘Let them sort it out and don’t bother the more powerful Palatinates.’
Zeus frowned. ‘With Valhalla incorporated into my lines, along with the extra Blood Funds I have earned this Year, I will soon be able to field four hundred troops.’
‘And seven cavalry.’ Ördög smiled and Kyzaghan guffawed.
‘Eleven, actually.’
The basilica echoed to the bellowed laughter of the Tier Two Caelestes.
‘This is unhelpful,’ Jupiter interrupted sharply. ‘I have not summoned you here to make light of the situation.’
‘No one has summoned anyone,’ Tengri answered, with warning in his tone.
There was a tense pause.
‘I have a Battle to prepare for,’ Kyzaghan wheezed, ‘against this man Ördög here. We fight for the right to face your Legion in a few weeks, Jupiter, so I don’t care what the others decide to do in Tier Three.’
‘Let them fight it out,’ Ördög growled. ‘Loser gets bumped from the Pantheon.’
This time it was Tengri’s turn to be affronted and for a moment the basilica’s calm was broken with shouts. As the heat of the words died, Xian spoke up.
‘I must remind everyone that the Rules are specific about the situation we find ourselves in. A King has been killed by a foe with a sword in their hand. That results in the fall of the losing Palatinate and its incorporation into the winning Palatinate. The Rules then state that this enlarged Palatinate may Challenge the Palatinates in the Tier above. There is no ambiguity about this.’
‘But it’s preposterous,’ Kyzaghan retorted. ‘Zeus and his Titans are no match for us.’
‘But it’s the Rules,’ Xian said with quiet steel.
Ördög swore and threw out a hand at Zeus. ‘All right, make your Challenge, Zeus. It will be a bloodbath.’
‘But which of you does he Challenge?’ Tengri asked and this stalled the debate.
‘Ördög’s Palatinate is the smaller,’ said Kyzaghan. ‘It must be his Huns who face Zeus.’
‘Like hell!’ Ördög rose from his seat and the full hateful intensity of their rivalry came storming back. ‘I own six hundred of the finest mounted troops in the Pantheon, each at a cost of ten Blood Credits. That dwarfs your budget.’
‘Yet you have failed to rack up a single convincing victory in eleven Seasons!’
‘I have swarmed over your Janissaries in every Battle we have waged.’
‘Your Black Cloaks are dirty, ill-disciplined bandits who have no right to call themselves an army!’
Ördög thumped the table. Kyzaghan struggled to his feet and squared up to him, while Xian sat stone-faced between them.
‘Gentlemen,’ said Jupiter and her rigid tone cut through the noise. ‘I have a proposal.’
Eyes turned to her.
‘Well, spill it,’ said Ördög angrily.
‘Sit down,’ she replied, and with such authority that after a few moments, the men complied.
‘I assume this is a proposal that Caesar has also considered?’ asked Tengri archly.
Jupiter worked her jaw. ‘He has been briefly consulted.’
‘We are all ears,’ said Xian.
‘A three-way Battle,’ Jupiter announced briskly. ‘The Sultanate, the Huns and the Titans.’
The hall was silent. The Caelestes glanced at each other.
‘A three-way Battle,’ Kyzaghan parroted. ‘In just one hour?’
‘No time limit,’ Jupiter said sharply, as though it were a mere morsel she cast into the conversation.
Again, there was a long pause as each man grappled with this.
‘No limit?’ Ördög questioned quietly, suspicious that there was some trick afoot.
‘You fight until one King is killed with a sword. The end of another Palatinate. Then we reshape the five remaining Palatinates into a simpler structure. We do away with the pyramid. Going forward it can be two in the bottom tier, two in the middle tier, and the Legion at the top. Problem solved.’
It was Zeus’ turn to be perplexed. ‘But… but… three of us on one Field?’
‘What’s the matter?’ laughed Kyzaghan coldly. ‘Worried we’ll destroy you?’
‘If I were you,’ interceded Xian softly, ‘I’d be more worried about who forms an alliance with whom. Friends come and go on a battlefield.’
This stoppered Kyzaghan’s goading and he and Ördög glanced at each other with renewed suspicion.
Xian focused on Jupiter. ‘The destruction of another Palatinate. Are you sure this is wise? We would be reduced from seven to five in just one Season. Could the Pantheon come through it intact?’
‘Of course it could,’ Jupiter replied dismissively. ‘Nothing is set in stone. We will adapt.’
‘And what of the Curiate? Could they bear the loss of another Palatinate?’
‘They will adore the drama of it all.’ Jupiter signalled to the Praetor. ‘Atilius, speak.’
The Praetor rose from his place at the separate table. ‘My lords, wagers from the Curiate are off the Richter scale since the fall of Sveinn. Others clamour to join. Interest has never been at such levels. Our friends and supporters are mesmerised by what may happen next and the news of a three-way fight with the certain death of a second King will send them into raptures. Fortunes are there to be made. We will be awash with blood wagers.’
The Caelestia digested this. Tengri scribbled some notes on a pad. Xian ran fingers over his chin. Ördög and Kyzaghan still glared at each other, weighing up the risks and opportunities.
And Zeus sat dumbstruck, his heart thumping.
‘If one King falls,’ Tengri said eventually, looking up from his pad. ‘How will the defeated Palatinate be divided between the others?’
Jupiter had already prepped the answer to this question with Caesar. ‘If the two victorious Palatinates share an equal part in the victory, the troops and funds of the fallen foe will be divided up between them. If one Palatinate plays a much more significant role in the downfall of the losing force, that Palatinate will receive all the troops and funds.’
There was logic in this and the Caelestes accepted it without comment.
‘And what of us here today?’ Ördög asked carefully.
‘What of you?’
‘One of us will lose their Palatinate and their place around this table.’
‘Of course. One of you will depart the Pantheon. You will lose your troops, your Blood Funds and your rights. But, if you leave with dignity and silence, you will not end on the point of a knife as Odin did.’
The gods bridled at her words, but they held their tongues and so she gave them time to consider. The hush was broken only by Kyzaghan’s wheezing. Eyes shifted around the table. Minds calculated risk; imagined scenarios. Some already thought of alliances and double-dealing. Promises that could be made, then broken. Opportunity. Glory. Treachery.
‘So where will this Battle be?’ Kyzaghan rumbled.
‘We already have a location,’ answered Ördög with contempt. ‘Your Sultanate is due to meet my Palatinate on the Hungarian steppe, so I say we stick to that plan and invite Zeus to the party.’
‘That gives you home advantage.’
‘As you had it last year.’
‘But this time the stakes are much higher.’
‘Gentlemen,’ Xian interrupted, holding his palms up for calm. ‘I suggest you continue this debate later, but if logistics are already well underway for a confrontation in Hungary, then this should remain the preferred plan. Atilius, do you have anything to add?’
‘My agreement, lord. I have transport, accommodation, security and camera units already preparing in situ, so keeping to this location would be the least complex scenario.’
The others accepted this proposal in silence, although Ördög and Kyzaghan continued to exchange glares. Before anyone could frame further questions, Jupiter spoke. ‘So I think we have a firm proposal before us and I suggest we vote.’ She turned to her left. ‘Tengri.’
Tengri pushed his glasses up his nose, consulted his pad, then rocked his head. ‘I am not convinced that the death of another King is an attractive objective, but I agree the wagers of the Curiate alone will more than make up for this. So you have my support. I say aye.’
‘Kyzaghan.’
The Lord of the Sultanate looked blackly around the table. ‘Aye, dammit. I will still be standing at the end of it and we won’t need the extended time. We will roll over Alexander and his Titans in less than an hour.’
‘Xian.’
The Warring States Caelestis looked small between his two neighbouring colleagues, but his word was always held in high regard. ‘There are risks. Nothing goes to plan on a battlefield and we cannot predict the ramifications of such a fight. It may not be as clean-cut as you suggest, my lord Jupiter, nor as rapid as Lord Kyzaghan thinks. Events will bite us in some way, mark my words, and we may come to regret the conclusions of this meeting.’ He held their attention. ‘But… this is not my fight. My Palatinate will wait in Tier Three beside the Kheshig and observe the outcome. So, aye. May the gods not toy with us.’
Jupiter turned her eyes to Ördög. ‘And you?’
Ördög glowered around the table. ‘My Huns have never shrunk from a challenge. I have never shrunk from a challenge. My Black Cloaks will destroy whoever dares take to the Field against them. They will bathe in the blood of their foe.’
‘So you agree?’
‘Of course I agree. Aye.’
Finally, she looked at Zeus. ‘It is the actions of your Titan troops that have brought us to this table today. You have defeated Valhalla. Are you now prepared to make your Challenge for Tier Two and face the blades of the Sultanate and the Huns on one Field?’
Zeus’ calm, handsome features betrayed no emotion, but his insides roiled. He had never expected a dramatic proposal such as this and he wished he had time to consult Hera. But Jupiter was correct; the entire situation was down to his own scheming, the creation of his little Companion Cavalry and the man called Hephaestion who had plunged a sword into Sveinn and become the Pantheon’s exalted King Killer.
He could not step back from the brink now.
‘Aye,’ he said quietly.
Jupiter smiled grimly. ‘Then we have our decision. At the first feasible opportunity, the Hun, Sultanate and Titan Palatinates will meet on the Hortobágy Plain in Hungary and none will withdraw until one King has fallen to a sword blade. Atilius, consult your teams and furnish us with the earliest date by which you can have preparations ready. We will then feed out details through our usual channels, giving our many valued supporters time to assess odds and place bets. Thank you for your time, gentlemen. If there is no further business, I will close the meeting.’
