We start going through manoeuvres. The young men in the phalanx do everything wrong. They drop their long spears when advancing and get their shields tangled when retreating. The temperature drops. Senator Marius barks orders at us, liberally sprinkled with abuse. He keeps us at it even when the snow starts falling from the overcast sky. I'm as cold as the Ice Queen's grave. The whole day is a nightmare. I always hated being in the army.
When manoeuvres finally come to an end the afternoon light is fading. I'm chilled to the bone. I wrap my cloak around me but all the heat is gone. The men are silent as we trudge away from the field. The older soldiers are probably thinking much the same as me - as a phalanx we're hopeless, and we don't have enough time to get better. Probably these youngsters will break and run at the first sign of danger, leaving me to be mown down by an enemy dragon. What a pointless way to go.
Between the Stadium and the city walls I pass by the retinue of Consul Kalius. He's here to check on today's progress. I smell the pleasant aroma of cooking coming from a small tent. I swiftly duck inside and find Erisox the chef laying out some warm pastries on a silver platter, fresh from the small field oven he's brought with him. Trust Consul Kalius not to travel without some home comforts.
The chef recognises me, and grins.
'Still carrying on my investigation,' I lie. 'Been busy with the Consul.'
Erisox probably knows I'm lying but he doesn't try to prevent me as I scoop up several pastries.
'Best not let the Consul catch you,' he says, but he's still smiling. I depart quickly, eating as I join the throng re-entering the city through the East Gate. Excellent pastries, it has to be said. The Consul's chef can really turn them out, even in adverse conditions.
With so many men heading south there's no chance of finding a landus. I'm about to start off on the long walk home when I catch sight of Praetor Samilius's official carriage parked just inside the city gates. Praetor Samilius is head of the Civil Guard. I've been trying for two weeks to make an appointment to see him at the Abode of Justice. I'm quite certain the Praetor would have some interesting things to tell me regarding Lodius's arrest, but, in line with every other official in Turai, he has been unwilling to see me.
'It's your unlucky day, Samilius,' I mutter. 'When
Thraxas wants to see you, you get seen, one way or another.'
I can hear voices inside the wagon as I reach for the door handle. I'm well aware that the Praetor is going to be furious when I barge unannounced into his carriage and start interrogating him, but I'm so cold, fed up and frustrated at recent events that I'll welcome a confrontation with authority. I wrench open the door and haul myself in.
'Don't bother protesting, Samilius. I've got some questions for you and you're going to answer them whether you like it or not. Resistance is futile—'
I stop. Inside the carriage - a luxurious eight-seater - there doesn't seem to be any sign of a Praetor. No Prefects or Senators either. Not a single high-ranking official, in fact. Just Makri, Morixa, Hanama, Lisutaris and four other women huddled over some scrolls and a basket of food.
'What the—?'
'Thraxas!' exclaims Makri. 'What are you doing here?'
'How dare you disturb us in this manner!' says Lisutaris.
'He keeps doing this!' says Makri, agitated. 'Every time I get my reading group going he bursts in and interrupts us.'
Lisutaris regards me with a quite frigid stare.
'Do you have some objection to Makri's tutoring the women of Turai?'
'Tutoring? In the Praetor's carriage?'
'The Praetor and I were examining troop manoeuvres,' explains Lisutaris. 'I am looking after it for him while he is still on the field. We simply took advantage of the space while he was gone, not that it's any business of yours.'
'So get the hell out,' adds Makri.
'But you already know how to read,' I say to Lisutaris, rather weakly.
'I have no objection to aiding Makri in her patriotic endeavours. Morixa, you've spelled Samsarina incorrectly again.'
With the carriage already occupied by eight women and a large Investigator there's not a lot of room left inside. When someone opens the door behind me and tries to climb in there's a good deal of confusion accompanied by some raised voices.
'What is the meaning of this?' demands Praetor Samilius, forcing his way into his carriage. 'Who are all these people?'
'All right, that's enough for today,' says Makri, and leaves briskly by the other door. She's swiftly followed out of the carriage by six women, leaving me and Lisutaris facing an angry Praetor.
'Were the troop manoeuvres satisfactory?' enquires Lisutaris.
'Never mind that,' replies Samilius. 'Who were all those people?'
'Some guests of mine,' answers Lisutaris smoothly. 'I took the liberty of showing them your official carriage. They were most impressed by the upholstery. It does you great credit.'
'They said that?'
'Certainly. Most impressive.'
The Praetor seems pleased. He nods, then looks at me.
'Is he one of your guests?'
'No,' says Lisutaris. 'I really don't know why he's here.'
By now I'm no longer in the same belligerent mood I was when I hoisted myself into the carriage. Makri and her damned reading group has completely taken the wind out of my sails. When I tell the Praetor I'm here to ask a few questions it comes out in a very awkward manner, far removed from the merciless interrogation I had in mind. The Praetor informs me that I've got three seconds to get the hell out of his official carriage before he instructs his guards to haul me off to a cell at the Abode of Justice. I look to Lisutaris for support.
'We do have important war business to discuss,' says the Mistress of the Sky.
I give up. My taste for interrogating has vanished. I get the hell out of the carriage. As I take the long walk through the still-falling snow back to the Avenging Axe I rehearse a few harsh words to say to Makri. The woman's craziness has now reached new heights and has started to severely interfere with my work. I can't believe her reading group had the audacity to invade the official carriage of Praetor Samilius. It's among the most uncivilised acts I've ever heard of.
I march through the doors and head straight for the bar. Or what I believe is the bar. It's hard to tell. It appears to be covered with flowers. I'm puzzled. Up till now, Gurd has never been big on floral decorations. He's usually stuck with a more manly motif. A few axes on the wall, that sort of thing.
Makri appears.
'What's this?' I demand.
'Toraggax, mainly.'
'What?'
'Toraggax. Viriggax's nephew. He brought me flowers. To apologise for his uncle ruining the bunch Horm sent me.'
'But you didn't want the bunch from Horm.'
'That doesn't mean anyone was free to destroy it,' , says Makri. Anyway, I thought it was a nice gesture.'
'This is starting to make me ill.'
Makri shrugs.
'How were the manoeuvres?'
'Never mind how the manoeuvres were. What's the idea of infesting Samilius's carriage when I wanted to talk to him?'
'Reading group,' says Makri, as if that explains everything.
'But why there?'
'Lisutaris invited us in.'
'I mean why that part of the city?'
'It was convenient. Morixa had food to sell at the troop manoeuvres.'
'This all sounds very strange. Why were there Senators' wives there?'
'You think I shouldn't teach Senators' wives?'
'I think you should teach in a place where I'm not investigating.'
'Is that right?' says Makri. 'You've already tried to chase us out of Twelve Seas. Is there anywhere you'd approve of? Maybe I should take the group to Samsarina?'
An excellent idea.'
I'd prolong the argument but find myself in urgent
need of a beer, so I let it drop. Makri hands over a tankard. I drink it in one and take a swift refill.
'So how were the manoeuvres? Is the army in good shape?'
I shake my head.