Inversions

2. THE BODYGUARD

This is the story of the man known as DeWar, who was principal bodyguard to General UrLeyn, Prime Protector of the Tassasen Protectorate, for the years 1218 to 1221, Imperial. Most of my tale takes place in the palace of Vorifyr, in Crough, the ancient capital city of Tassasen, during that fateful year of 1221.

I have chosen to tell the story after the fashion of the Jeritic fabulists, that is in the form of a Closed Chronicle, in which — if one is inclined to believe such information of consequence — one has to guess. the identity of the person telling the tale. My motive in doing so is to present the reader with a chance to choose whether to believe or disbelieve what I have to say about the events of that time — the broad facts of which are of course well known, even notorious, throughout the civilised world purely on the evidence of whether the story "rings true" for them or not, and without the prejudice which might result from knowing the identity of the narrator closing the mind of the reader to the truth I wish to present.

And it is time the truth was finally told. I have read, I think, all the various accounts of what happened in Tassasen during that momentous time, and the most significant difference between those reports seems to be the degree to which they depart most outrageously from what actually happened. There was one travesty of a version in particular which determined me to tell the true story of the time. It took the form of a play and claimed to tell my own tale, yet its ending could scarcely have been wider of the mark. The reader need only accept that I am who I am for its nonsensicality to be obvious.

I say this is DeWar's story, and yet I freely admit that it is not the whole of his story. It is only part, and arguably only a small part, measured solely in years. There was a part before, too, but history allows only the haziest notion of what that earlier past was like.

So, this is the truth as I experienced it, or as it was told to me by those I trusted.

Truth, I have learned, differs for everybody. Just as no two people ever see a rainbow in exactly the same place — and yet both most certainly see it, while the person seemingly standing right underneath it does not see it at all — so truth is a question of where one stands, and the direction one is looking in at the time.

Of course, the reader may choose to differ from me in this belief, and is welcome to do so.

"DeWar? Is that you?" The Prime Protector, First General and Grand Aedile of the Protectorate of Tassasen, General UrLeyn, shaded his eyes from the glare of a fan-shaped plaster-and-gem window above the hall's polished jet floor. It was midday, with Xamis and Seigen both shining brightly in a clear sky outside.

"Sir," DeWar said, stepping from the shadows at the edge of the room, where the maps were kept in a great wooden lattice. He bowed to the Protector and set a map on the table in front of him. "I think this is the map you might need."

DeWar: a tall, muscular man in early middle-age, darkhaired, dark-ski

He was dressed, as ever, in black. His boots, hose, tunic and short jacket were all as dark as an eclipse-night. A narrow, sheathed sword hung from his right hip, a long dagger from his left.

"You fetch maps for my generals now, DeWar?" UrLeyn asked, amused. The General of generals of Tassasen, the commoner who commanded nobles, was a relatively small man who by dint of the bustling, busy force of his character made almost everybody feel that they were no taller than he. His hair was brindled, grey and thi

"When my general sends me away from him, sir, yes," DeWar replied. "I try to do whatever I can to help. And such actions help prevent me dwelling on the risks my lord might be exposing himself to when he has me leave his side." DeWar tossed the map on to the table, where it unrolled.

"The borders… Ladenscion," UrLeyn breathed, patting the soft surface of the old map, then looking up at DeWar with a mischievous expression. "My dear DeWar, the greatest danger I expose myself to on such occasions is probably a dose of something unpleasant from some lass newly brought in, or possibly a slap for suggesting something my more demure concubines find excessively rude." The General gri

"The General puts us younger men to shame in many ways," DeWar murmured, smoothing out the parchment map. "But it is not unknown for assassins to have less respect for the privacy of a great leader's harem than, say, his chief bodyguard."

"An assassin prepared to risk the wrath of.my dear concubines would almost deserve to succeed," UrLeyn said, eyes twinkling as he pulled at his short grey moustache. "Providence knows their affection is rough enough at times." He reached out and tapped the younger man's elbow with one bunched fist. "Eh?"

"Indeed, sir. Still, I think the General could=

"Ah! The rest of the gang," UrLeyn said, clapping his hands as the double doors at the far end of the hall opened to admit a number of men — all clad similarly to the General — and a surrounding flock of aides in military uniforms, frock-coated clerks and assorted other helpers. "YetAmidous!" the Protector cried, walking quickly forward to greet the big, rough-faced man leading the group, shaking his hand and clapping his back. He greeted all of the other noble generals by name, then caught sight of his brother. "RuLeuin! Back from the Thrown Isles! Is all well?" He wrapped his arms round the taller, thicker-set man, who smiled slowly as he nodded and said, "Yes, sir." Then the Protector saw his son and bent down to lift him into his arms. "And Lattens! My favourite boy! You finished your studies!"

"Yes, Father!" the boy said. He was dressed like a little soldier, and flourished a wooden sword.

"Good! You can come and help us decide what to do about our rebellious barons in the marches!"

"Just for a while, brother," RuLeuin said. "This is a treat. His tutor needs him back on the bell."

"Ample time for Lattens to make all the difference to our plans," UrLeyn said, sitting the child on the map table.

Clerks and scribes scuttled over to the great wooden map lattice on one wall, fighting to be first. "Never mind!" the General called after them. "Here's the map!" he shouted, as his brother and fellow generals clustered round the great table. "Somebody already…" the General began, looking round the table for DeWar, then shaking his head and returning his attention to the map.

Behind him, hidden from the Protector by the taller men gathered about him but never more than a sword length away, his chief bodyguard stood, arms casually crossed, hands resting on the pommels of his most obvious weapons, u

"Once there was a great Emperor who was much feared throughout what was then all the known world, save for the outer wastelands which nobody with any sense bothered about and where only savages lived. The Emperor had no equals and no rivals. His own realm covered the better part of the world and all the kings of all the rest of the world bowed down before him and offered him generous tribute. His power was absolute and he had come to fear nothing except death, which comes eventually for all men, even Emperors.