Kalvan was too angry to sit still. He jumped up from the throne and grabbed the third parchment from the tray and tore it open. This document denounced the words of the traitorous dupes of the Usurper Kalvan, the so-called Archpriests Zothnes and Krastocles who had fraudulently disparaged the other True Gods except for the False Dralm, god of bilge-cleaners and latrine-diggers. Kalvan was glad Xentos wasn't there when he read that aloud to an accompanying chorus of "Down Styphon!" and "Death to Sesklos!"
"I know it stinks," Kalvan said when he could make himself heard. "But consider where it comes from. Would anything from the Lord of Flies and his servants not stink?" That drew laughter, reminding those in the Audience Chamber of the endless peasant jokes made to explain why the priests of Styphon's House were always demanding more cow and horse dung for their saltpeter mills.
Kalvan was privately sorry to see that someone at Balph had the sense to see what the result of a One-God, One-Way schism might lead to here-and-now-especially considering all the mercenaries who took the worship of Galzar Wolfhead as seriously as the Roman Legionnaires took the Cult of Mithras. There went the holy crusade against Styphon-at least for now.
When he opened the fourth parchment, Kalvan began to laugh. "Sesklos seems to think he has some hope of proving his case and provides a great many words on demons, oaths, fireseed devils, prophecies, divinations and such matters.
Kalvan sat back down and looked at Menephranos. "Nonsense does not become less nonsensical by being repeated in more flowery language, or did no one ever teach Sesklos that?"
Menephranos seemed to feel that he had to reply. "I cannot judge the thoughts of Styphon's Voice. Yet, I know that Prince Araxes is greatly concerned, not only for his own lords and people, but also for others who have been-whom Styphon's House sees as having being led astray by the Great King Kalvan. Surely, even your Majesty must see-"
"Little man," Rylla replied in a voice that lowered the temperature of the Audience Chamber by about ten degrees. "The word 'must' is not used when addressing Great Kings." Rylla's hand was very close to the hilt of her dagger, and Kalvan did not like the expression on her face. The last time he'd seen one like it, she'd thrown the lid of a stone chamber pot at him and would have thrown the pot itself if he hadn't made a strategic retreat in the face of overwhelmingly bad temper.
Kalvan decided the situation needed defusing before some hothead took his cue from Rylla and turned the audience into a brawl or worse. Kalvan did not care to be known as a ruler who could not keep order in his own court or worse still, allow the envoys of allegedly friendly Princes to be lynched before his eyes.
He stood up, ostentatiously wiped his hands on his breeches, then drew his own dagger and thrust it through one corner of the Edict of Balph. "Will someone please summon the Steward of the Privies?" he called. "Have him bring one of the buckets. I believe he is the man among us most skilled at dealing with such filth."
Several people promptly dashed for the door. Even the green and black liveried guardsmen burst out laughing. Menephranos tried to join the laughter but wasn't very successful since his face was turning the color of the coals in the braziers.
When he could make himself heard without shouting, Kalvan went on. "Baron Menephranos. Like a good dog, you have barked as you master taught you. It is not your fault that you bore a shameful message that does your lord no honor. Therefore, We will not violate the laws of hospitality sacred to Allfather Dralm and Yirtta Allmother by bidding you to leave Hostigos at once. However, We would consider it a courtesy if tomorrow's sunset did not find you within the bounds of Hostigos Town."
"As you-Your Majesty commands." Menephranos said. His face was still flushed but his voice was almost steady, and he bowed himself out with as much dignity as anyone could reasonably expect under the circumstances.
"Someone ought to make that little cockerel a capon before he gets too fond of crowing," Rylla said to no one in particular. Kalvan hope nobody at all had heard. Otherwise, he might end up like Henry II, who'd lost his temper before some of his more hotheaded knights and wound up being held responsible for the death of Thomas a Becket in his own cathedral.
"Baron Klestreus," Kalvan called.
"Your Majesty?" The barrel-shaped former mercenary captain-general who was now Chief of Internal Intelligence lumbered over to the throne.
"Do any of your people have old friends among Menephranos' retinue?"
"Not that I know of. Why, Your Majesty?"
"It doesn't matter. Send some of your most trustworthy men to Menephranos' lodgings tonight with enough money to make new friends. Men who can hold their wine and keep their eyes and ears open."
Klestreus nodded and lowered his voice to nearly a whisper. "Not friends of Skranga, either." Duke Skranga was head of the Hos-Hostigos Secret Service and Kalvan had fostered a rivalry between the two services as a way of keeping them both relatively honest.
He stopped Klestreus as he backed away. "Before you go, Baron we don't need any more surprises such as this Edict of Balph. Hasn't the Royal Treasury been spending gold on agents in Balph?"
"Yes, Sire. However, the results to date have been poor, I fear to say. Balph is far away and some agents take the gold and don't bother to report back-or are caught. Others have trouble obtaining reliable information since the highpriests are leery of outsiders, even those of high birth and wealth. Balph is a city of priests and so far we've only been able to bribe several highpriests, but none of any real stature and, of course, no one within the Inner Circle."
"By Dralm, get someone inside the Inner Circle if you have to bankrupt the Royal Treasury! If you don't have any news within a moon, I'll have Duke Skranga stick his nose into it."
"Yes, Your Majesty," Klestreus voice was a little shaken.
"Now, put your men on Menephranos. Klestreus withdrew calling for his messengers. Anyone the Chief of Intelligence sent out tonight could be trusted to remember anything Menephranos' men spilled, not sell it to the highest bidder and guard Menephranos from any Hostigi hot-heads. Kalvan wasn't prepared to trust Duke Skranga's secret servicemen that far, although the former horse trader was a natural intelligence officer. Unfortunately, Skranga was so crooked that he probably saw playing both ends against the middle as sort of an indoor sport to keep the winter from getting to dull.
Kalvan hoped Klestreus wouldn't call his bluff and force him to use Skranga to crack Balph. It was good strategy to keep both intelligence agencies mistrusting each other; he paid a price, however, when it interfered with their real work.
He turned to the advisors nearest the throne. "I want a message taken to Chancellor Xentos that the Great King and Queen would like to seek his help in drafting a response to this-he paused to hold his nose-this Edict of Dung from Styphon's Foul Den."
Everyone of suitable rank within hearing immediately started arguing about who should have the honor of doing the Great King's bidding. Kalvan a slipped an arm around Rylla's waist, although it felt like embracing a suit of heavy-cavalry armor. The Zarthani were a long way from the "I say to one, come, and he cometh; I say to another, go, and he goeth," of the Roman Legions. In the Great Kingdoms at least, they tended to regard that sort of obedience as fit only for serfs, barbarians and the Middle Kingdoms of the Missouri/Mississippi Valley.
"Why must we take council with Xentos?" Rylla asked, but apparently at the world in general and Styphon's House in particular rather than at him.
"First, for the same reason we made Xentos Chancellor, he's the top highpriest of Hos-Hostigos and everybody respects and kowtows to his opinions. Besides, he'll know the right tone to take when we answer this piece of offal."
"What's a kowtow?"
"In the Great Kingdom of China, back in my homeland, the vassals would kneel before their Great, Great King and touch their heads on the floor to show their submission and deference to his authority. They called it kowtowing."
"Oh, something like what King Theovacar would like his nobles to do?"
"Exactly, but if the Greffan nobles are as hard headed as the traders, such as Colonel Verkan, he will have a tough job of it! But getting back to the point at hand, I want to write a Writ of Denunciation before everyone has had a chance to read Styphon's propaganda sheet. I also want to hold a Great Council for the same reason we held one before the Battle of Fyk. Styphon's House has stolen a march on us, we may have to move fast to catch up, and I don't want everybody and his uncle complaining they weren't consulted."
"Answering Styphon's Edict, I can understand, but for a Great Council to meet, it will take the better part of a moon to have all the Princes of Hostigos assembled in Hostigos Town. Can we give Styphon's House a gift that big?"
"We can't and we won't," Kalvan answered. "What I want to find out is how much I can safely do by way of appointing men to represent each Prince and telling the Princes themselves afterward. Also, if I can do that at all, Xentos may have good advice about which men we can trust. Finally, all the priests of Dralm in Hos-Hostigos look up to Xentos, and many of the other priests as well. If we have his support for what we do in advance, we'll be more likely to have the priests on our side if any Princes make a fuss."
Rylla giggled. "You have a devious mind, Kalvan. A wise one, though. If you were not a prince in your own land, you should have been."
Kalvan tightened his grip on her waist and felt some of the stiffness go out of her spine. Devious? Maybe I look that way, but if it makes my job easier, I don't mind. What he really wanted to be was intelligently cautious about this business of setting up a Great Kingdom to make war on Styphon's House, while learning how to rule it as he went along.
Maybe he did have some natural talent for ruling. Right now, though, it looked as if it would be mostly on-the-job training that would make the difference between keeping or losing both his throne and his head.