Be polite, piglet. The Senate has been grumpy for a thousand years... putting up with a day of their airs will not harm you. They do not rule, but they do annoy!
"Yes, a matter concerning me will be discussed today." Maxian kept his voice level.
"Very well," the clerk sniffed, looking at the Praetorians. "You and your clerk may enter. Unarmed."
This was expected and the Praetorians stepped aside, opening one side of their ring of spears allowing the prince to enter the Curia itself. The long rectangular hall was illuminated by light streaming down from tall windows set just under the eaves. Colored marble and stone patterned the walls where they were not streaked with soot from lantern sconces. The center of the long room was cleared of chairs or seats; a patterned mosaic of the world, a huge map of the lands surrounding the Inner Sea, covering the floor. The map was relatively new—added in the time of Diocletian the Great. During his reign, a fire had swept the Forum, damaging or destroying many buildings.
Diocletian had rebuilt everything on a grand scale, and in the case of the Curia, the Senate hall had been expanded. In his time, the Senate had grown so large there were no longer enough seats for everyone, so the Emperor widened the hall, installed deep ranks of stepped wooden benches on either side, with a gallery rising behind them supported by marble columns. Alcoves were spaced along the gallery, holding statues of the gods, dressed in fine linens and garlanded with flowers. Only senators and select petitioners were allowed on the ground floor. Aides, ambassadors and guests contented themselves with the gallery, where they stood in a great crowd behind a screen of carved, pierced marble.
The hubbub did not die down as the prince entered—indeed he wasn't even noticed—just one more young patrician come to see about the doings of the Empire. Maxian took his time, moving slowly forward, through and around groups of men, young and old alike. He heard every kind of accent—Hispanian, Gaulish, Briton, even Greek—and all of their words, flowing around him in a muttering river, were of gold and power and land and trade. The prince became amused—no one here knew him—though they would have flocked around his brothers like bees to water in the desert.
"Lord Prince!"
Maxian turned at the sound and smiled warmly in greeting. An old friend, leaning heavily on a cane, approached and the other senators parted before him like the sea wave before the prow of a ship. Maxian extended his hands, clasping the old man's. The terse knot in his stomach began to ease. "Gregorius Magnus! It's good to see you."
"And you, my lord." Gregorius dipped his head, smiling through his neatly-trimmed white beard. "You too, Master Gaius, though we see enough of each other already, I think."
At the prince's side, his lean, gray-haired shadow bowed deeply to the senator. Gaius Julius was very simply dressed in a plain toga, unadorned with gold or silver edging or any kind of flash. With his thinning silver hair and patrician nose, he seemed no more and no less than a man of the city, one among thousands filling the Forum each day.
"Senator, time spent in your company is never wasted." Gaius Julius' voice was a rich baritone, trained and schooled in this very arena. When he spoke, men listened. Gregorius nodded amiably, waving the compliment away with a frail hand.
"Lord Prince, come and sit with me and I will speak for you to this august assembly." The old senator's eyes were twinkling and Maxian felt his apprehension fade away. With Gaius Julius at his side—even half-invisible—and Gregorius to speak for him, Maxian was sure the petition would go well.
Gregorius led them to the front row of the wooden seats. As they approached the end of the room, a wave passed through the crowds of talking men, and many turned to look at them. Then, at some unknown, unseen signal, the Senators began to take their seats. Gregorius sat down on a small cushion set at the end of the first row of seats, very close to the podium dominating the far end of the room.
On the podium was a simple folding stool, quite plain and very old, made of yellowed ivory. Two men stood on either side, dressed in archaic-looking garments, holding bundles of bound rods in the crook of their arms. An axe blade jutted from each bundle. The seat was currently empty. Maxian sat next to Gregorius, in a place held by one of the other senior senators. That man—an ally of Gregorius', Maxian supposed—moved aside, smiling in greeting. A shuffling went down the row as each senator on the bench was forced to move over.
Somewhere a junior senator would be forced off the benches to stand against the rear wall. Gaius Julius disappeared into the crowd—he was no senator now!—and Maxian supposed he would secure himself a good vantage. The old Roman was very good at that kind of thing. Maxian found the seat hard and uncomfortable.
"They are supposed to be that way," Gregorius whispered out of the corner of his mouth. "So some business gets done each day and we hurry home!"
The room quieted, even the chattiest of the senators at last getting the word to shut up, though the sound of so many men breathing and rustling in their heavy robes seemed very loud. Maxian felt nervous again, but Gregorius' heavy, solid presence beside him was a great comfort. A banging sound suddenly came from the entrance doors off to his left. Everyone turned, some craning their heads to see. Outside there was a faint roaring sound and the beating of drums.
"The princeps wishes to sit among his peers, the Senate of Rome." The clerk's voice boomed through the quiet room, echoing back from the vaulted ceiling. "Is he given leave to enter?"
"Aye!" Gregorius said, his old voice—once powerful—carrying in the still, hot air. "Let the princeps enter and sit with the Senate of Rome."
A huge chorus of "Aye!" followed, along with more rustling and shuffling. Maxian saw sour expressions on the faces of the men seated across the walkway from him, but in all everyone seemed to welcome the presence of the Emperor. The center of the room was now clear and after a moment, the swift rapping of a man in boots echoed around them and then the Emperor of the West appeared, striding purposefully along the length of the chamber.
Galen Atreus was a thin, nervous-looking man with a cap of dark hair hanging down over a high forehead. The Emperor looked very businesslike, smiling tightly to his enemies in the seats, nodding to his friends. Today he was wearing a dark cloak and toga, with deep maroon edging. A gold clasp held his cloak at the shoulder and his laced boots were red. This was a new part of the Imperial regalia, added in the past month, as the Emperor of the West had declared himself the Avtokrator of the East. Maxian frowned slightly, seeing the pinched, tired look on his brother's face.
Too many disasters and too little time to react to them, Maxian thought mournfully.
Galen reached the podium and turned, seating himself on the lone chair. He looked out over the huge crowd of senators and nodded, as if to himself. "Senators. I thank you for allowing me to sit among you, in such a noble company. I will not waste your time in idle chatter..."
So don't waste mine, Maxian continued the thought with amusement. His brother was notoriously brisk.
"...are there matters in which the princeps may advise the Senate?"
For a moment there was silence, with Galen sitting at ease in the chair, and the senators eyeing each other with interest. Then Gregorius stood, knuckles whitening on the cane, and cleared his throat. Everyone looked at him and the Emperor raised his chin in acknowledgement.
"Princeps," Gregorius said, bowing, "you honor us with your presence. A matter has arisen, a petition to fill an ancient and noble post, long left vacant. This is not a trivial matter and I think the Senate should consider the situation carefully. Your wisdom and guidance in this matter, my lord, would be of great use..." Gregorius turned, ancient eyes sharp, and the cane made a sharp rapping sound on the mosaic floor. "Fellow senators, you have all heard of the disasters in the East. You have all heard rumors and wild tales from the refugees who daily enter the city or crowd the southern ports, fleeing the advance of the Persian armies. You have all heard a great evil has risen among the Medes, and this foe bends its dark will against Rome."
Gregorius' statement was met with scattered laughter and a general murmuring. Maxian felt a chill, realizing many of the senators did not believe the stories. The prince made to rise, intending to deal sharply with these fools, but the older men on either side of him caught his elbows and held him firmly in the seat. Gregorius did not notice and continued to speak.
"There are poor omens all around us—some say the eruption of Vesuvius heralds a time in which the gods will turn their faces from Rome. Calamities and signs trouble both the heavens and the earth. You are all learned men, you have heard, as I have, of these unmistakable portents: an ape entered the very temple of Ceres in the midst of ceremony and caused great confusion; an owl—in broad day—flew into first the temple of Concord and then the Capitolium, evading all efforts at capture and restraint. The blessed chariot of Jupiter that once graced the Circus Maximus with its golden splendor, has recently been destroyed amid the troubles and riots. Coupled with these distressing signs, a flaming torch has creased the eastern heavens, hanging over Greece like a fiery brand. Even in the south, where Mount Aetna smokes and fumes, the earth has been restless, crying out with the voices of the uneasy dead."
As Gregorius spoke, he moved across the surface of the map, indicating each place in turn.
"Our Legions have been defeated before Constantinople, tens of thousands of our citizens have perished in ash and fire, entire cities in Campania are tenanted only by corpses! Men have reported to me, swearing by the twelve tablets and by the great gods themselves, that a two-headed serpent of no less than eighty feet in length has lately appeared in Etruria and caused great harm, ere lightning struck it down. The serpent's husk now journeys to Rome, so all may look upon the omen for themselves.
"Now, Egypt is threatened by our enemy and with it the corn supply for Rome. Yes! I see your doubting faces—I speak truly, my friends—we are faced with a powerful enemy and one wielding inhuman powers."
There was another murmuring and many of the senators looked at each other in disbelief. A few scattered shouts of "lies!" and "impossible" were heard.
"This the truth!" Gregorius barked sharply, widening the eyes of many senators. They had not seen him so animated or so grim in years. "Rome has slept for a long time, ignorant of the malefic power Persia has harnessed. The nature of our enemy, my friends, has changed and not for the better. For a very long time, the Persian mobehedan served a power they call Ahura-Madza, a deity of light! I assure you they no longer turn their faces to the sun in worship. No, our great victories two years past have made them desperate."
Gregorius paused, catching his breath. A disbelieving murmur rose in the quiet, then fell away again as the old senator glared at his fellows. It was clear to Maxian many of the older men were beginning to wonder what the point of all this was. The younger senators simply did not believe the warning. Why should they? Maxian realized. They've not seen these things for themselves.
Gregorius began to pace along the length of the hall, glaring at individual senators as he moved. Few men met his gaze and none could hold it.
"We have all heard rumors—as children or as adults—of demonic powers who oppose the great gods, Jupiter and Minerva and Juno. Over the centuries our philosophers have claimed these gods do not exist, that they are the superstitions of a credulous, ignorant people. Some men point to the abilities of wizards and sorcerers and say; 'there are your gods of old, the men who first wielded such power.' We have been blind, my friends."
The walking cane rapped sharply, punctuating his words. The senators did not stir, bending all their attention upon the old man.
"There are dark powers, things that should remain nameless, deities desiring only destruction and the enslavement of all human life. I do not know if the great gods exist, or if they will help us, but I do know we are locked in a struggle to the death with the servants of darkness. Rome has never—I say never—faced a more terrible enemy, even in the war against the Egyptian Queen."
Gregorius turned to the Emperor, face filled with foreboding. "Augustus Galen, you are the protector of the state and the Senate and the people. Above all, you are the bulwark of civilization, both against the barbarian tribes and against impious darkness. We are embattled, matching our mortal strength against this supernal power—I beg you, in the name of the people, to raise a shield, an aegis, against these enemies."
Galen stirred, sharp eyes flickering across the crowd. "What more would you have me do, Senator? The Legions and the Thaumaturges are already upon the field of battle, striving to turn back the Persian tide. There are no more men to call up, no more armies to raise..."
"There is an Imperial post, princeps, which has never been filled. I beg you to fill it now."
Maxian was surprised—he knew full well what Gregorius had in mind—yet now he felt his throat constrict. A complete silence fell upon the assembly, and many of the senators tensed, staring at Gregorius as if the old man had become a monster himself. Maxian's eyes drifted over them and he saw calculation and ambition alike shining in their faces. For a moment, he felt sick, filled with revulsion at their reaction.
Where is your love for Rome, the wise city who nurtured you? he cried to himself, heartsick. You see only opportunity and a chance for greater wealth, power, fame... Is this the Rome of my fathers?
"It is," a cultured voice said in his ear. Maxian started, but he did not turn. Instead he berated himself for speaking aloud, or wearing his thought so openly on his face. "These are only men, not gods," whispered the voice.
"What is this post?" Galen leaned forward, intent upon Gregorius, and Maxian swallowed a laugh. Both the old senator and the Emperor had gone over their little speeches to the Senate in past days, yet now, in this electric atmosphere, it seemed each word was new, wrung from circumstance for the first time. "How may a single man aid us in this desperate strait?"
"Princeps, in the first days of the principate, the Divine Augustus in his wisdom established the sacred and honorable post of custos magus imperium, intending for the greatest of the Thaumaturges to not only defend Rome on the battlefield, but to serve as a protection for the Empire as a whole. The magus was to defend the Empire from those threats that come unseen, as the Legions defend the frontier, and the Emperor oversees all, guiding the people as a wise father. My lord, I beg you to fill this post now, for we have great need of such a man, and such a bulwark against the sorcery of the Persians."
In the silence that followed, eager voices began to rise, but Galen raised a hand sharply and everyone subsided. The Emperor remained sitting in the chair, seemingly deep in thought. The moment stretched and Maxian began to fidget, but again the men on either side of him held him in place. Finally, Galen raised his head and looked upon the Senate with a grim expression.
"I am loath to fill such a post," he said, frowning, "for Rome has never placed its faith in wizards or anything but our strong arm, iron will and the blessing of the gods. In this way Rome brought civilization to many benighted countries and raised up a great Empire. The men and women of Rome have always placed their faith in things that can be seen and done by eye and hand." Galen stood up, his face severe, and stepped down onto the open floor.
Maxian suddenly felt a foreboding chill, fearing Galen had decided against the plan without informing his brother or Gregorius or anyone. But we must take this step!
"Fellow senators," Galen's voice was low, but it carried to every ear. "If a wizard is raised to the magus imperium then we will have changed Rome forever. We will turn down a path traveled by the nations of the east—where long ago god-kings and sorcerers ruled over men. This is dangerous, for who can say what a man will do, if given such power?"
Galen turned, seemingly staring right at Maxian. The prince stiffened, but the Emperor's eyes traveled over him without stopping. "This is a desperate measure, but the esteemed Gregorius has spoken truthfully. We are overmatched in the east. Our Thaumaturges cannot stand against the dark powers the Persians have unleashed. We must consider new we
apons if we are to defeat them. I fear Rome has slept too long, ignorant of these matters, relying on our Thaumaturges, yet not giving them rein enough to develop the strength we are now desperate for."
"Understand!" Galen reached the far end of the hall, by the entry doors, and his voice boomed loud from the ceiling as he turned to face the distant chair. "We must find a man, a wizard of great strength. We must give him more power if he is to repel this foe. Many old traditions will be overturned and our Thaumaturgic Legion will be vastly changed. We cannot know where this path will lead, but..." The Emperor paused and Maxian perceived enormous weariness in the line of his body, in his face, in the tenor of his voice. A great rush of fear threatened the prince and again he nearly leapt up to run to his brother, who suddenly seemed so old. Galen shook his head, throwing off the fatigue with a visible effort and stood up straight. "...we must do something. This path, perhaps, offers a hope of victory."
"Is there such a man?" A voice called out from the crowd of senators, though Maxian could not see who spoke.
"If there is," Galen responded, drawing the cloak over his chest. "I will not name him. This is a critical matter, and one that I lay at your feet, Senators." The Emperor looked around again, then walked slowly to the outer doors of the hall. "I will abide by your wishes in this matter. I pray you choose wisely."
Galen stepped up into the threshold of the bronze doors and they opened, flooding the chamber with brilliant sunlight. A solid rank of Praetorians closed around the Emperor and then he was gone, swallowed by the noon sun. The doors swung closed again with a dull boom.
Everyone began to speak at once, in a rush of excited noise and shouting and general clamor. Maxian remained sitting, realizing he was sweating, and found Gregorius sitting beside him once again, smiling quietly, his bushy white beard spilling over both hands clasped on the head of his cane.
The Dark Lord Page 9