‘My thanks,’ I made myself say instead, and I held my peace while the doctor checked Bakrylov’s pulse and his temperature and did all manner of other things that are no fucking help whatsoever to a man suffering a bout of battle shock. Not much is, save for friends and patience and understanding. Bakrylov seemed to have none of those on hand, and for that I felt sorry for him. The other great helper of course is brandy, which I relied on heavily myself. There at least he was taken care of, in my company.
‘It’s all right, Major,’ I said to him eventually, for all that it made my guts clench to do so. ‘Our Lady has heard your confession, and She forgives you your actions. In the end you were only following orders, as you say. In Our Lady’s name.’
It didn’t have to be fucking true, did it? It just had to sound like I meant it, and if there’s one thing I’m good at, it’s sounding like I mean it. That was a large part of why the captain had made me a priest in the first place. Bakrylov put his head on the table and wept, and his shoulders shook as Doctor Almanov met my gaze above the major’s shuddering form.
‘What is it you do at the palace, exactly?’ I asked him. ‘I don’t think I recall seeing you there.’
‘Oh, I’m quite new to the palace,’ he said, ‘but I came very highly recommended from the Grand Duchess of Varnburg. I’m the Princess Crown Royal’s new personal physician.’
Very highly recommended. Aye, I was sure he was at that.
By the Dowager Duchess of Varnburg.
There couldn’t possibly be anything wrong with that, could there?
Chapter 45
It didn’t take very long for the ice to form between Lord Vogel and me, and it didn’t surprise me one little bit when it happened. Vogel summoned me to his office one morning, a few weeks later, and Ailsa and Iagin were already there waiting when I arrived. I had attended three or perhaps four meetings of the governing council by then. I can’t truly remember now but it was only on the days when I really couldn’t get out of it, although after my somewhat conspicuous entrance to the council chamber I had maintained a fairly low profile. Most of the debate had been around the ever-growing civil unrest in the city, and I wanted no part of that. Even so it was enough that I was known, a real councillor like all the others.
Councillor Lan Drashkov quite publicly hated me, but that was just politics and I didn’t take it personally. He worked for the house of law himself anyway, although I had no idea if he knew that I did. Or even if he knew that he did, for that matter. In truth, I doubted it. Many of the recipients of our bribes and blackmail had no idea where they really came from.
I had become casually close with Councillor Markova over the last few weeks, and we had enjoyed spending some social time dining together outside the council chambers, discussing matters of policy and our shared interest in the ownership of racehorses. She understood the technicalities of horse breeding, which was more than I did, and I learned a lot from her. In truth I liked the woman.
Such only served to make Lan Drashkov hate the both of us even more, of course, and that in turn ensured we both voted against any motion he put before the council, however sensible it might be. The only time all three of us voted the same way had been when my motion to rebuild the city walls was put before the council, and I knew fucking well that was Vogel’s doing. The motion passed, of course, as at least two thirds of the council were to some degree in the pay of the house of law by then. I had received a very handsome gift from the guild of masons for my proposal and their subsequent contract, which swelled my coffers nicely. I could only imagine how much more handsome Lord Vogel’s had been, for making sure it got voted through. That was how government worked, in those times we lived in.
The whole system was fucking ridiculous, I realised, and could never work. Lady’s Grace, it wasn’t supposed to work. That was the whole point of it. The governing council was the stranglehold the house of law maintained over the country, a veneer of democracy that ensured nothing could ever get decided that the house of law didn’t want to be decided.
I stepped into Lord Vogel’s office and gave him a short bow.
‘What can I do for you, Provost Marshal?’ I asked him.
He gave me a look then, and for a moment I wondered if perhaps I had overstepped the mark, but I thought fuck it.
I had phrased the question as though I was considering doing him a favour rather than preparing to receive his orders, and I knew that wouldn’t be lost on him. That was the first feint in my long, drawn-out fencing match with Dieter Vogel, and I will record it here as the point at which things began to change between us.
I was beginning to dig my heels in even then. I may not be an educated man but I like to think that I’m not a fool, either. There’s another thing that has to be understood about me too: I will not be bullied.
Not fucking ever.
Not since my da, never again. Back down to a bully once and you’ll never stop doing it, my da had taught me that well enough. Never again. Vogel intimidated people for a fucking living. As Our Lady is my witness I will admit that he had intimidated me, to begin with, but I was done with that now. He was just a man the same as any other, and fuck how important he thought he was. I wasn’t
