But the clever skeens acted quickly. Banding together, they placed their shields side by side and over their bodies, creating a dome that would provide them cover. Knowing that he had little time to lose, the chariot archer loosed his arrow. It pierced a skeen shield but did not reach its owner.
Still the driver charged his chariot onward, directly toward the fragile house of shields. It seemed that he was intent on driving his team straight into it regardless of the outcome. Then the lance thrower tried, but his weapon skidded harmlessly across one of the angled shields and fell to the sand.
The three charioteers immediately drew their swords. As the chariot charged ever nearer, the turtle of shields defiantly stood its ground. Just then Vespasian realized that the defiant skeens surely had a plan. They must act soon, he guessed, or they will be mowed down.
Sensing that a great collision might occur, Vespasian quickly stood and cheered his centurions onward. Seeing their beloved emperor rise to his feet caused the crowd to shout even louder as they too anticipated the crash.
Just as the chariot was about to mow them down, the skeens abandoned the turtle tactic and formed two straight lines on either side. Unable to change direction quickly enough, the chariot charged straight through the gap. But three of the skeens hadn’t been quick enough. Although they tried to jump aside, the axle spikes found them, slicing each of them through at the waist. Spurting blood, the grotesque halves tumbled to the thirsty sand.
As the horses tore between the skeen lines, the surviving slaves plunged their swords deep into the stallions’ chests and struck out at their front legs. Screaming wildly, the two horses went down, the stumps of their severed front legs burying into the sand. As the crowd roared, the horses flipped forward onto their backs. Still harnessed to the team, the chariot also launched into the air, turning upside down and crashing ahead of the tortured horses. The three charioteers went flying onto the sand some distance away.
The tables had been turned, and the centurions were now at the mercy of the skeens. Because the other nine chariots and their riders were busy elsewhere, Vespasian realized that this trio was done for. Before they could rise to their feet, the jubilant skeens were on them, hacking them to pieces. Starving animals then rushed in to pounce on two of the busy skeens and to devour the scattered corpse halves.
Vespasian took a deep breath. So much blood and violence, he thought as he again sipped his wine. But that part of our nature must remain if we are to defeat the Shashidans. We must stay hard, brutal, and unyielding, for the price of our freedom is constant vigilance. Looking down, he used an index finger to thoughtfully trace the rim of his wine goblet.
Perhaps if the Vigors are defeated we can someday forgo all violence, he mused. That is my secret dream. But I fear that brutality might be forever ingrained in our blood signatures. After aeons of cultivating violence, it will not be easily dismissed, even if I can secure a lasting victory.
He turned to look at Persephone again. Flushed with excitement, she watched eagerly as the fighting raged on. More centurions were being let into the arena to take the place of their fallen comrades, while the exhausted skeens could do nothing but watch and wonder how much longer it would take them to die. As Vespasian’s attention focused ever more on Persephone, he was reminded of the great request he had made of her the day before…
“WHAT BOTHERS YOU SO, MY LOVE?” PERSEPHONE ASKED.
Dipping her sponge into the warm water again, she soothingly used it to rub Vespasian’s naked back. Closing his eyes, the emperor luxuriated in his wife’s loving gesture.
There were only two places in the world where Vespasian felt that he commanded total privacy, and they were both in the royal residence. The first was in his and Persephone’s vast and luxurious bedchambers. The other was here in their private bath.
Like attending the games, bathing—both public and private—had become something of an addiction in Ellistium. Most people used the public baths, but some of the wealthiest citizens possessed private baths. The public baths were often linked to other facilities such as massage rooms, meeting places, exercise areas, eateries, and shops. Sometimes the water was heated by the craft, but most often it was warmed in underground boilers connected to wood-burning furnaces and was then piped into the bathing pools. As would be expected, the royal bath was a sumptuous affair. Unless Vespasian and Persephone deigned to invite guests, this place was for their use alone.
The room was large and beautifully appointed. Measuring thirty meters square, its walls and ceiling were made of the finest turquoise and onyx. The floor was a subtly patterned mosaic of white marble squares. A large rectangular skylight in the center of the ceiling allowed sunlight to flood in. A dozen fluted columns stretched from the floor to the ceiling to support the four sides of the massive skylight. The rest of the ceiling was comprised of a series of indented squares, each one bordered by ornate gold moldings and painted with a different scene from Rustannican antiquity. Shaped like the dark blue mosaic pool lying directly beneath it, the skylight let in not just sunlight but also rainwater, reducing the need to continually add more water.
The bath walls were covered with colorful frescoes, separated every few meters by decorated pilasters reaching from floor to ceiling. Scented water burbled from a golden spout in the center of each wall to fall into another stone pool. Luxuriously upholstered sofas and chairs and ornately framed mirrors had been placed about the room, and a host of handmaidens stood by to serve every need of the Blood Royal and his wife. Two of the handmaidens provided lyre and flute music, and caged birds added a soft chorus as sunlight streamed down through the atrium to shimmer in the pool water. Vespasian’s personal masseur, a stout skeen who had served the emperor for two decades, stood ready to employ his strong hands and exotic oils.
As Persephone gently rubbed his back, Vespasian flexed his naked body. He loved the royal bath, but his mind remained troubled. His recent night terror had shaken him and he feared that another might come. But even more worrisome was the thought that he might somehow be struck down by one of these terrifying visions during the day for everyone to see. He knew that he could not afford such an occurrence—especially with the advent of his new campaign.
He turned to look at Persephone. Only she understands me, he thought. Not even Lucius knows me so well. Nor does he know about my secret weakness. How I need this woman…
Reaching up, he removed the elegant diamond clasp that collected her long blond hair. Tossing it across the floor, he shook her tresses free, letting them slip into the warm water, and pulled her naked body to his. Persephone smiled knowingly as she playfully laid her wet forearms on his shoulders and looked into his eyes.
Smiling, she touched the tip of one index finger to the end of her husband’s nose. “You still haven’t told me what troubles you,” she said. “Arousing me won’t stop me from asking, you know.”
Vespasian nodded. “Come,” he said. “Let’s talk.”
Looking across the chamber, he snapped his fingers at the handmaidens and the masseur. At once they gathered up their things and left the room, bowing as they went.
Vespasian led Persephone through the shoulder-deep water toward the pool steps. As they walked up he reached out to a nearby table and took up a heavy white robe, which he draped around her wet body. Smiling, she squeezed the water from her hair.
Vespasian donned a matching robe, then led her to one of several lounging sofas and bade her lie down. After filling two wine goblets resting on a nearby table, he handed one to her. As he sat down beside her, the look in his eyes became searching.
She reached out to touch his face. “It’s your night terrors, isn’t it?” she asked. “That’s what you need to talk about. I understand, my love. They would frighten anyone. But the two guards have been killed. Only I know your secret, and it will never leave my lips.”
Looking down at his goblet, Vespasian shook his head. “It’s more than that,” he said. He took a deep breath. “There is someth
ing that I must ask you to do for me. It will be dangerous, but I hope that you will consent.”
“I would do anything for you, you know that,” she answered softly.
Vespasian put down his goblet. “I want you to accompany me on the new campaign,” he said simply. “We leave in one week.”
Persephone was overjoyed. Her eyes widened and she took a quick breath.
“You know that I will!” she said.
Tears started welling up in her eyes. She had desperately feared watching him go to war, just as she had done all the times before. But this time was different. This was to be an all or nothing campaign, and the greater dangers involved had been driving her nearly mad with worry. As Vespasian brushed away her tears, a short laugh of relief escaped her. At least if he dies I will die with him, she thought.
“But why this time?” she asked. “I have never accompanied you before.”
As Vespasian sipped his wine his eyes took on a thoughtful, faraway look.
“There are several reasons,” he answered. “First and foremost, I have not been convinced by the Pon Q’tar that the Jin’Sai won’t somehow find his way into our side of the world. He is amazingly resourceful, as are his mystics. If that happens you will be far safer afield with me and the legions than here in Ellistium, protected only by the Home Guard.”
“What leads you to worry that he can cross over?” Persephone asked. “If it is impossible for us to do so, then surely the Jin’Sai and his mystics cannot. After all, their powers in the craft pale when compared to ours.”
“That’s true,” Vespasian answered. “But Tristan has surprised us before. And remember, we still cannot know the full extent of what he might have learned from the traitorous Crysenium Envoys. But there is something more…something tugging at my heart since experiencing my first night terror. It is almost as if he and I are connected somehow, despite the mountain range that separates us. I can almost see him trying to reach us.” Shaking his head, he gave Persephone a reassuring smile.
“But do not worry, my love,” he said. “If he should come we will deal with him and his flying monstrosities.”
“And your other reasons?” she asked.
“I no longer trust Gracchus as I once did,” Vespasian answered. “I haven’t done so for some time. I do not brand him a traitor, but I sense that he has some personal mission that does not entirely match mine. Like my suspicions about the Jin’Sai, these are feelings that I cannot justify. But my instincts are strong enough to tell me that should I be killed on this campaign, Gracchus might not continue it in the way that I have planned—and our victory is vital. Four days ago, his scheme to sacrifice so many skeens in the arena without my consent only added weight to my convictions. While it’s true that Lucius might protest a change in the battle plan that Gracchus engineered, even the First Tribune is outranked by the lead Pon Q’tar cleric. But you outrank them both. With you in attendance, my wishes would be carried out. To override you, Gracchus would first have to kill you while deep among Lucius and the combined legions. Lucius would immediately become suspicious. Even the Pon Q’tar’s powers in the craft could not overcome their combined strength, and Gracchus knows it. He would have no choice but to honor your commands.”
“I understand,” Persephone said. “But there is more to all this, isn’t there? I suspect that your need to have me near also has something to do with your recent night terror.”
A grim look came over Vespasian’s face. “Yes, my love,” he answered. “I must admit that it does. You are the only person that I dare trust with my secret. I have considered confiding in Lucius, but even he needs to remain convinced that his emperor is totally fit and able to conduct this campaign. And I am fit, aside from these strange and terrifying episodes. But there remains something else about them that worries me even more.”
Reaching out, she lifted his chin and turned his eyes toward hers. “And what is that?” she asked.
“That someday one of these awful visions will overtake me while I am awake, for everyone to see,” he answered. “I have no proof that such a thing will occur. Again, it’s only a feeling. But should it happen I will need you by my side. You might be able to spirit me away before anyone realizes that I am in such terrible distress. Should I suffer such a daytime attack in public, Gracchus might well have me declared mad. According to Rustannican law, that is his right, but only if he has reliable witnesses of my supposed incompetence. A day terror would provide him with more evidence than he would ever need. With you by my side, should I fall ill, you can make the needed excuses. Such explanations will be far more commanding coming from the empress than from the First Tribune.”
As she listened to Vespasian’s words, Persephone realized that her husband was right. She would gladly accompany him to the ends of the earth if it meant helping him win this new campaign—to say nothing of keeping him in power.
“How will you explain this to the Pon Q’tar?” she asked.
Vespasian gave her a wry smile. “You need to stop thinking in those terms,” he said. “If something happens to me, you will become the new ruler of Rustannica. You must quickly put your personal grief aside, no matter how overwhelming it might be, and immediately take charge. Gracchus and the others will start appraising your performance from the first moment. Stop worrying about how you will explain things to them. Rather, it is their task to worry about whatever orders you might give. To answer your question, I am the emperor. I will simply command that you come, and I will do so without giving my reasons. To be forced into explaining myself would be seen as a sign of weakness. That is something that we cannot afford—especially now.”
“And what of Rustannica?” Persephone asked. “If the campaign fails and we die, who will oversee our beloved country?”
“After I announce that you are joining the campaign, I will ask Lucius to recommend a tribune who commands his full trust,” Vespasian answered. “He will remain here and oversee the nation. It is the most that we can do.” Vespasian sighed and took another sip of wine.
“But if the campaign fails, given the state of the treasury there will surely be a citywide riot,” he added. “It might not be immediate, but it would surely come eventually. As the news of the defeat and the treasury collapse spread, anarchy will devour the nation. With most of our forces destroyed, we will be wide open for attack. The Borderlands will become useless, and the Shashidans will be able to walk into our country unimpeded. The Vagaries will be destroyed and the Vigors will rule forever.”
Persephone gave him a somber look, then lowered her face. “If I had been able to give you an heir, some of our troubles would be solved for us,” she said softly. “The child would be young, but at least someone of our bloodline would rule after we were gone. I’m so sorry, Vespasian. I wanted a child more than anything in the world. But it was not to be…”
Vespasian put his hands on her cheeks and looked into the eyes that he so loved. “We haven’t failed,” he said with a smile. “We simply have yet to succeed. We are far from the day when there will be no more reason to try.” As he looked at her, his gaze suddenly became hungrier.
“I suggest that we waste no more time talking,” he said. “Actions speak far louder than mere words.”
Standing, he removed his robe. As he did, Persephone looked up to see his muscular body still wet and glistening with bathwater. She parted her robe, readying herself for him.
As Vespasian took her, the empress trembled and cried out as never before…
AS ANOTHER TERRIBLE SCREAM REACHED HIS EARS, VESPASIAN’S thoughts returned to the present. A Rustannican Heart Wolf freshly conjured from the arena walls was rooting about in the innards of a fallen skeen. For a moment the dreadful creature paused its feasting to look around the huge crowd. Fresh blood dripped from teeth and muzzle. As expected, the mob cheered and stamped, begging for more.
Vespasian took a quick count to find that only five skeens remained standing. For the sake of moving on toward the next act, the
last skeens would be dispatched quickly. Then would come a brief intermission while the fabricated mountain was dismantled and taken away. Another act of today’s games would soon follow, then more after that until nightfall. When Vespasian reached over to take Persephone’s hand, she turned and gave him a short smile.
This morning the emperor had publicly issued his order regarding Persephone’s attendance on the impending campaign. As a precaution he had also handwritten the proclamation, then commanded that the heralds shout it from every tower in the city even before the news was made available to the Tribunes and the Pon Q’tar.
Vespasian had little doubt that the public would receive the news favorably. They loved their empress, and he rightly guessed that seeing her go to war alongside her beloved husband would only endear her to them more. He was quickly proved right when Persephone’s name was soon being joyfully shouted aloud both in the city streets and amid the mayhem that was the coliseum. But it had not been only for Persephone’s benefit that Vespasian had done this. Rather, if the public widely approved, the Pon Q’tar would be harder pressed to accept his terms.
So far Vespasian’s gambit was working. He had heard rumors of some minor grumbling among the Pon Q’tar and of surprise among some of the Tribunes. Even so, no formal protest had been lodged. Vespasian knew that the longer the public rejoicing in this matter reigned, the better his council would come to accept his edict.
Even so, despite the overwhelming agreement among the populace, Vespasian remained somewhat worried that the Pon Q’tar had accepted his new order so gracefully. The surprising lack of discourse usually accompanying so unexpected an order had unnerved him, forcing him to again question the clerics’ motives.
Rise of the Blood Royal Page 22