Foreign Devils

by John Hornor Jacobs

  ‘A message from the Emperor.’

  ‘And?’

  ‘I don’t know, ma’am. He told me to fetch you. As I said, he was—’

  ‘Adamant. Right.’ She lifted her medical case and said, ‘All right, let’s go.’

  ‘Let me get that for you,’ I said, offering to take the heavy case from her. Miss Livia handed it to me – and I realized that she was no longer a ‘miss’ now that she and Fisk had married and maybe she never was, but that’s how I always thought of her and still do to this day. There are some women who can bear the hardship and ignominy of life and remain blushing, fresh all their days. Livia was such a woman. And so her memory has never become lessened in my mind throughout the years.

  We entered the tent and Cornelius held the letter in his hands, his face a study in concern. Carnelia had joined them and sat silently at the end of the table, slightly behind her father, as if trying not to draw his attention.

  ‘What is it, Father?’ Livia asked.

  ‘A letter from Tamberlaine. You’re involved.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘It seems that our Emperor has heard of your nuptials and has decided to use it against me,’ Cornelius said.

  ‘What does he say?’ Livia’s voice remained calm. Even Tamberlaine could not ruffle her composure.

  ‘Secundus?’ Cornelius said, proffering the parchment to his son. ‘Why don’t you do the honours?’

  Secundus took the letter and read:

  ‘“To Gnaeus Saturnalius Cornelius, Governor of Occidentalia (Or The So-Called Hardscrabble Territories west of the Imperial Protectorate), Proconsul of Rume, Ambassador to Mediera, Princep of the College of Augurs, and in general a Crafty Old Bastard; from your Emperor, Lord and Master, Tamberlaine Best and Greatest, Ruler of Myriad Kingdoms, Wielder of the Secret of Emrys, Sacred God of the Latinum Hills, Master Debator and Adept Rhetorictician, and in general a Crafty Old Bastard As Well—”’

  ‘Well,’ Fisk said, leaning back in his chair. ‘That was chummy.’

  ‘Quite,’ Cornelius said, tightly. ‘He’s just getting started. Go on, Secundus.’

  ‘It begins “Snuffy—”,’ Secundus said. ‘Snuffy? That’s you?’

  ‘We had the same tutor as lads,’ Cornelius said. He did not seem happy with the letter at all.

  ‘That sounds friendly enough, Father,’ Secundus said, smiling.

  ‘It most assuredly is not. Read the blasted thing, boy.’ Cornelius’ moustache quivered. He occupied his mouth with whiskey and tabac.

  ‘“Snuffy, as for the dispensation of the troops in the Hardscrabble Territories, the fifth will of course remain at the fort in New Damnation, and the eighth and sixteenth should be en route by mechanized baggage train to Fort Brust and then on westward, per your recommendations. The thirteenth shall remain with the eleventh at Fort Brust to protect our interests, specifically to ensure the completion of the Dvergar Spur. That avenue of transport must be opened. The Medierans are moving and the blocade in the Gulf of Mageras is building strength. We must be ready should fat old Diegal get his cock hard enough to thrust.

  “The news that Beleth has defected is of great concern to me. My advisors here tell me he was high in the college of Engineers, indeed, he was princep of the organization and wielded great power there – and was privy to all the secrets of the summoners. The events surrounding the Diegal lass are extremely unfortunate. You really screwed the Ia-damned goat in that debacle, Snuffy. In addition to your losing the girl, placing half an empire on war footing and, in general, destabilizing peaceful relations in all of creation, I have been having trouble grasping that this daemonic vestment Beleth created could negate the effects of Hellfire. Thankfully, we still have it in our possession. Please explain to me, in detail, how this could be so. I will, however, inform all commanders in the western theatre to recommence training with pilum and gladii, effectively throwing our military two hundred years into the past.”’

  Secundus paused, cleared his throat, glancing at his father.

  ‘Go on, son,’ Cornelius said. ‘It gets worse.’

  Secundus swallowed, thickly. He took a sip of whiskey and then resumed reading.

  ‘“I am quite vexed with you. I half-way considered issuing an edict demanding your nuts on a platter, Snuffy. However, I am willing to give you another chance to redeem yourself. I advise you to do your utmost to accede to my wishes.

  ‘“By the way, congratulations on your daughter’s nuptials – yes, I have other eyes and ears there in the Hardscrabble Territories. And I even have learned some of her new husband. The son of that bastard Fiscelion Cantalan Iulii, is he not? My wedding gift to them both is that I will not have him – or the lovely Livia – crucified. While I was tempted to do so, word reaches me that there’s a new Cornelian on the way. I’m sure you must be very proud, Snuffy, swelling the ranks of your brood. My great weakness is that I am a romantic; too kind-hearted, and I still believe in love. Why I did not crucify his father instead of exiling him, I shall never know. A passing malaise, perhaps. The influence of malevolent household gods? Nevertheless, I issued the exile edict and he absconded with three hundred talents of silver. But tell me. Is this Fisk ostentatious?

  ‘“I require some things from you. You, your son Secundus, your daughters Livia and Carnelia, will present yourselves here, in Rume, at my court for Ia Terminalia, to present me with gifts due my exalted station – that’s right, Snuffy, exalted – and make obeisance for your failures in the west. Rutilius will act as governor in your stead. We must prepare for war and I need your counsels here, for the time being, so that we can take stock of the resources of the Protectorate and the Hardscrabble Territories. In time – sooner, rather than later – you will have to return there and take command of our legions in the west. I trust Rutilius but he is a peacetime commander, wonderful at training and building legions, but not in commanding them on the field. And Marcellus, while a fine commander, has low blood. So it falls to you. Congratulations. Had you not been such a pedigreed and able commander, your testicles might be adorning one of my altars to Ia.

  ‘“After Terminalia, Secundus and Livia will travel on east, and bear a message to the Autumn Lords for me, becoming my emissaries to Kithai in hopes of finding an avenue toward peace and prosperous trade.

  ‘“Your son-in-law – who I hear is quite able – will remain there in the west and track down Beleth and return him to Ruman custody – or failing that, kill him and preserve his head – appended to this message will be his orders. There will be no more defections from the Ruman Collegium of Engineers. And yet. This must be done quietly and in secret. A blatant and obvious traitor can do more damage to the empire than any loss of knowledge. My heart is heavy that Livia and this Fiscelion must be separated so soon after their wedding but the needs of the Empire are tantamount. And I want traitor Beleth’s head. He cannot leave those territories.

  ‘“It is only fitting, is it not? A traitor’s son shall hunt a traitor.

  ‘“That is all. I shall expect you at Terminalia. Do not fail me. Your old friend, Tamberlaine.”’

  When Secundus finished, the tent remained silent for a long while, each of the Cornelians lost in their own thoughts.

  ‘What does it mean?’ Carnelia asked, breaking the silence.

  ‘It means exactly what it says,’ Cornelius said, outrage pouring off him. ‘He’s pulling me back to Rume! The venomous old sot! He knows how it will appear to the other benchers – it will weaken my position in senate! It’s a public humiliation! As if I wasn’t competent enough to govern! And while I’m gone, all of the skim of taxes will go to Rutilius.’ He quivered in anger, or fear, I couldn’t tell. ‘A public shaming. I would rather he just crucify me.’

  ‘I think you might be reading too much into this, Father,’ Secundus said.

  ‘I wish you were right, son,’ Cornelius said. ‘Tamberlaine revels in mixed messages. He pulls me home, but tells me it’s because he values my advice. He gives congratulations to Liv
ia and Fisk, yet he separates them. He’s a venomous old shit,’ he spat, and then waved Lupina over to refill his glass.

  No one else had noticed, but Livia and Fisk had locked gazes the moment that Secundus had read the name Fiscelion. There was a sadness there now.

  ‘Can you defy him?’ Fisk asked, softly.

  ‘No, love. All I can hope to do is fulfil his orders as best I may,’ Livia said.

  Cornelius, seeming to realize that others than himself might be affected by the Imperial missive, said, ‘Tamberlaine’s a shit, but he will keep his word. When we return to Rume, you must get him to agree to allow you to return to Fisk after you complete your task.’ He looked at Fisk, pointedly. ‘Your reunion with your wife—’

  ‘And child,’ Livia said, touching her stomach.

  ‘Your reunion will be hastened if you can present Tamberlaine with Beleth. Or his head.’

  ‘So that’s it, then? Shoe and I hunt down the Engineer and the rest of you are back to Rume? And then—’ Fisk stopped. His voice remained calm but underneath I could tell fierce currents of emotion churned. ‘And then Livia and Secundus are to voyage halfway around the world to treat with the Autumn Lords. With my child! Why should we not refuse?’

  Cornelius shook his head, sadly. He gestured at Livia’s midriff with his cigar. ‘You’d doom that lad.’ He thought for a moment, his lips pursed. ‘You’re a good man, Fisk. We know it. Tamberlaine doesn’t and whatever his complexities, he won’t be thwarted. Should he send me a missive to take you in chains—’

  ‘You’d do it,’ Fisk said. ‘And if he ordered you to crucify Livia? What then?’

  ‘Let’s make sure it doesn’t come to that.’ Cornelius stood and stumped around the table bearing the maps, to stand between Fisk and Livia. ‘In one sense, it’s a great honour to our family – Tamberlaine wouldn’t trust just anyone to the task of journeying to Kithai. On the other hand, he knows you’re pregnant and the rigors you’ll endure. Long sea voyage, strange land, all that.’

  ‘I don’t like being forced into anything,’ Fisk said, staring at the maps before him.

  ‘Welcome to the service of the greatest empire known to mankind,’ Cornelius said.

  ‘Neither do I, my love,’ Livia said, touching Fisk’s hand. Her neck was straight, and firm, but her eyes bore the pain of coming separation. ‘I swore never to return there. The mark on my name—’ Her voice grew thick and she stopped speaking.

  ‘Secundus will take care of that, darling—’ Cornelius said.

  ‘So we jump to this fiddler’s tune, is that it?’ Fisk asked.

  ‘That’s the shape of things,’ Cornelius said.

  ‘Damnation.’

  ‘Exactly.’

  THREE

  6 Nones, Quintilius, 2638 ex Ruma Immortalis

  The next night Cornelius uncrated cases of whiskey, rum, and claret. He had Lupina, as quickly as she might, pilfer the last stores of sugar and create what sweet dainties she might while Cornelius plied us all with booze and speech-making in the praetorium tent. On the next day we’d reach the Dvergar Spur and, the senator assured us, the Valdrossos – a daemon-fired steam engine – would be waiting there to take Livia and the rest of the Cornelian clan to Fort Brust and further points east, away from us, if not forever, then for a long while. Carnelia wept and embraced Fisk, calling him brother, not through any overt sentimentality on her part, but because, I imagine, she thought she should. Cornelius gave gifts.

  ‘As I mentioned, you will collect these as you rise through life,’ he said to Livia and Fisk, motioning for Rubus to come forward from where he stood awkwardly holding a pair of heavy wooden boxes identical to the one that held the Quotidian. ‘You’ll need to blood them together and have Rubus show you the way to send a message. It’s much less pleasant than receiving one, I can assure you, and even if you have a dwarf –’ He winked at me ‘– or slave present, it will do you absolutely no good because it must be the sender’s blood to activate the damned thing. So there’s that,’ Cornelius said, his voice thick with alcohol and slightly unsteady on his one good leg. ‘At least this way you’ll be able to correspond with each other. “Fill’d her ears with sweeten’d words, dripping from the infernal tongue,” or something like that.’

  ‘Bless?’ Secundus asked.

  ‘No, a new poet I picked up in the printer’s shop in New Damnation. Vintus Mauthew, his name is. I have his folio around here somewhere. The Teats of Fortuna. I shall gift you with it.’

  Livia rose and approached her father. He had the honesty to look surprised when she kissed him on the cheek. ‘Thank you, Father. This will make it bearable.’

  ‘A brave face, my sweet. A brave face.’

  Fisk thanked him solemnly as well and, after Rubus explained to them the workings of the Quotidians, they retired to spend what time they had left together.

  The next day, camp was struck quickly – even the legionnaires and lictors were eager to end the long march through the hardscrabble – and we came within an echo’s distance of the Smokeys before turning north. A great plume of dust was cast against the liquid blue of sky and only when we drew nearer did we see that it was a great horde of workers laying the railway line. As we drew near enough to the terminus – the point at which a flurry of labourers wielding shovels levelled the earth and set massive iron bars with spikes, filling the air with the ringing report of sledgehammers on iron – we heard the call and response chants of the men; be my woman, girl, I’ll – be your man – put that silver money – in your hand – chanted over and over again with one dusky-skinned man leading the chorus, to be answered by the rest of the men, establishing a kind of inexorable, inescapable rhythm that I couldn’t shake until long after we had passed them.

  Secundus and Fisk, both mounted and in Imperial blues, rode over to the nearest optio, stationed at the spur-head, to inquire about the Valdrossos. From where I sat atop Bess, I could see the ranker pull aside the bandana covering his mouth – the dust kicked up from the earth-levelling spiced the air something fierce – and pointed north.

  By late afternoon, we’d come within sight of the steaming iron behemoth that was the Valdrossos. It stood black as midnight and thirty feet tall and was easily the width of eight horses riding abreast, a massive column of black smoke pluming skyward. Looking at that panting black machine, fuelled by malice, I was reminded that war was coming unless we could prevent it.

  I bid my farewells, and even Cornelius was kind enough to shake my hand – though it remained bandaged from when he took my blood. ‘You’re quite an acceptable little fellow. Your society has given me hope for the rest of your kind,’ he said, slipping a silver denarius into my palm.

  My first inclination was to say that I wish I could say the same and throw the coin as far as I could into the hardscrabble, but it was a silver denarius. And that impotent gesture might’ve seen me crucified. So I nodded and thanked the senator, silently praising the old gods that it would be a very long time before I’d have to endure his company again.

  Secundus was more cordial. He gripped Fisk’s and my forearms in turn and, smiling, said, ‘And I was so looking forward to a life out on the shoal plains.’

  ‘Never can tell, young master,’ I said, answering his grin. ‘You could find yourself on the plains again. And if you do, you’ll always be welcome to outride with us.’

  ‘There would be far worse things than that,’ he laughed.

  ‘Let’s not go borrowing trouble, Mr Cornelius,’ I said.

  He turned to Fisk. ‘Good luck, brother,’ he said.

  ‘And luck to you …’ Fisk said, glancing at Livia who stood watching. He swallowed. ‘She can look out for herself. But an extra pair of eyes watching her back couldn’t hurt.’

  Secundus smiled. ‘Of course.’

  Livia came to me and said, ‘I would be absolutely distraught if not for the Quotidian and the knowledge that you will be with my Fisk. I couldn’t ask for a better companion for him, save myself.’ Then she kiss
ed me on my brow. When she was done, she stood back, one thumb hooked in her gunbelt and the other on the grip of her sawn-off and laughed at my surprise. ‘Dear Shoestring,’ she said. ‘Don’t ever change.’

  ‘Don’t think that’s possible, ma’am,’ I said.

  Silence then except for the bellowed orders of legionnaires and the steaming anger of the Valdrossos. No tears fell from Livia or Fisk. That they loved each other fiercely I have no doubt. Does that incorruptible part of us have to writhe and fret publicly to prove it exists? It’s not something that has to be proven to exist except to the one to whom it matters most.

  In the slanting, late afternoon light, they stood near each other for a long while, hand in hand, watching as legionnaires, lictors, and porters manhandled the vardos and wagons up rough pine planks onto flat beds and led nickering horses into the livestock pens. Slaves and servants trucked crates and luggage into the ornate passenger car. The whole world seemed wreathed in dust.

  Finally, Fisk turned to Livia and took her hands in his raw, big ones, and softly kissed her. Then he fell to his knees, placed his head on her stomach and wrapped his arms around her. When he rose, she turned and with quick steps boarded the train, which had begun to smoke and hiss with dramatic vehemence. We watched from our saddles as the massive locomotive began to move, chuffing and steaming, and we continued to watch as it diminished in our vision, the sound fading and the smell of brimstone dissipating on the air until it was lost with one piercing scream from its whistle, a diminution into an infinitesimal speck on the horizon. Then it was gone.

  ‘Well, Shoe,’ Fisk said, when the whole expanse of hardscrabble around us was empty and silent. ‘Let’s go find Beleth.’

  FOUR

  3 Nones, Quintilius, 2638 ex Ruma Immortalis

  The silence that fell upon us at the Dvergar Spur lasted for five days as we pushed west, back across the hardscrabble, travelling much faster than we had with Cornelius’ baggage train. We took on water and feed from the optios commanding the spur’s polyglot workforce and at night we bunked down near our horses and silently ate hardtack and jerky, rolled cigarettes on our knees, and spent our time contemplating the number of stars and the number of coyotes yipping and singing in the distance.