by John Norman
“I am a slave, Master,” whispered Cornhair.
“I do not wish to dally here overlong,” said a man, uneasily.
“No,” said another, looking about.
“Enemy fleets approach,” said a man.
“Surely,” said another.
“If we are caught here,” said a man, “we will be stomped on, crushed like a ten-legged crawler under the hoof of an angry torodont.”
“There is time,” said another.
“Not enough,” said a man.
“Enough,” said another.
“Let the king be about his business quickly,” said a man.
“What is his business?” asked a man.
“I do not know,” said another. “He did not consult with me.”
This remark was followed by laughter.
Cornhair heard a woman’s scream.
“Ho,” said one of the fellows, “we are not the only ones with a bauble.”
“There are two there,” said a man, “stripped, hands tied behind them, with rings in their noses, being led on their cords.”
“And four there,” said another, turning about, “slaves, tunicked, not bound, save for a common neck rope.”
“The two must be free women,” said a man.
“They have not yet earned a rag,” said a man.
“I wonder if they are worth branding,” said a man.
“They had best hope so,” said another.
“They will soon grow accustomed to having their necks encircled with the badge of servitude,” said another.
“What shall we do with our little piece of sleek, well-turned garbage?” said a fellow.
“We can cast lots for her,” said a man.
“She will probably be put in a common bin,” said a man.
“We may leave them behind,” said a man. “We can always pick them up later, with other millions, when the empire is ours.”
Cornhair again felt the boot, the toe nudging her.
“Master?” she said.
“You are a slave, are you not?” she was asked.
“Yes, Master,” she said.
“You want a Master, do you not?” she was asked.
“Must I speak?” she asked.
“Yes,” he said.
“Yes,” she said, “I want a Master.”
“Why?” he asked.
“I am a slave,” she said.
“You do not even have a collar,” he said.
“It was taken away,” she said.
“But you will soon have another, will you not?” she was asked.
“Doubtless, Master,” she said. “I am a slave. I should be collared.”
“You want the collar?”
“Yes, Master.”
“Why?”
“Because I am a slave,” she said.
Chapter Forty-One
“Ho!” cried Abrogastes, seated on the throne of the emperor, “where is the sniveling child, Aesilesius, majestic ruler of worlds, where is the empress mother?”
“They are in the emperor’s play room,” said a trembling courtier, “under guard, the emperor frightened, weeping in his mother’s arms, she holding him closely, sheltering him, trying to comfort him. He is inconsolable, deprived of his playthings.”
“Give him toys,” said Abrogastes.
“Is he not to be brought forth, Lord,” asked a Drisriak officer, “to consign to you the empire, or be slain?”
“Such an act,” said Iaachus, boldly stepping forward, “would be an act performed under duress and thus nonbinding. Similarly, there are rules of succession. If the emperor should perish, Orak forbid, another would step forth, and another, and then another.”
“Who is this fellow?” asked Abrogastes, interested.
“I am Iaachus, Arbiter of Protocol,” said Iaachus. “In the absence of the emperor or empress mother I presume to speak for the throne.”
“And perhaps,” said Abrogastes, lifting a Telnarian pistol, “you and your robes may vanish in a burst of fire.”
“I but speak the law,” said Iaachus.
“And you speak it well,” said Abrogastes. “I like you.”
There were several people in the throne room, both Telnarians and barbarians. Julian, Otto, and Iaachus stood to one side, before a number of cowering courtiers. All were disarmed. Weapons were trained on them. No slaves were present, save one, Huta, tunicked and chained, kneeling at Abrogastes’ left. Most of those of the palace, servitors, slaves, and such, and high officials, and generals, marshals, admirals, and such, were confined elsewhere. There were perhaps a hundred men in the room, some thirty of the palace, and the rest intruders.
“I think I know you,” said Abrogastes, eyes glinting, pistol on his knee, regarding Julian and Otto, from the throne.
“We know you, Drisriak,” said Julian.
“Tenguthaxichai!” said Abrogastes.
This barbarous expression can be variously translated. ‘Tengutha’ is a common male name amongst several barbarian peoples. The expression, as a whole, would seem to signify “the place of Tengutha.” It is most often translated as “Tengutha’s Camp,” “Tengutha’s Lair,” or such.
“Yes,” said Julian.
“You have risen in the world,” laughed Abrogastes. “You were in rags, a prisoner, a tender of pigs, and now you are a neat, well-groomed, well-dressed, clean-shaven fellow, clad along military lines, it seems.”
“I am a lieutenant in the imperial navy,” said Julian.
“How is it I find one of so lowly a rank in so august a milieu?” asked Abrogastes.
“Perhaps you remember me, as well,” said Otto, standing better than a head above the others, his arms folded across his mighty chest.
“He speaks insolently,” said a barbarian, a Dangar. The Dangars were the second largest of the tribes constituting the Alemanni nation. Abrogastes’ party, thus, was not limited to Drisriaks.
Several weapons were focused on Otto. As soon as he had spoken, they had turned toward him, quickly, like beasts of steel, noticing beasts, responsive to an unexpected sound.
“Chieftain of the Wolfungs,” said Abrogastes.
“Chieftain of the Wolfungs,” said Otto, “and king of the Otungs.”
“When the empire is on its knees, or prostrate, awash in its own blood,” said Abrogastes, “we will have time for Otungs.”
“Beware!” said Julian.
“And we for you,” said Otto.
“Little slave,” said Abrogastes, “with your white skin, dark hair, high cheek bones, and your eyes like black and burning velvet, perhaps you remember our friends, from Tenguthaxichai?”
“Yes, Master,” she said.
“And we remember you, as well, false and scheming priestess,” said Julian.
“I am no longer a priestess,” said Huta.
“You look well in chains,” said Julian.
“Thank you, Master,” she said.
“What woman does not?” asked a Borkon.
“True,” said several about.
“I trust you have been marked,” said Julian.
“My thigh has been well marked,” she said.
“You are obviously well subdued,” said Julian. “Are you also mastered?”
“Yes, Master,” she said. “I am mastered, well mastered.”
Abrogastes turned and held the barrel of his pistol to her lips, and she, trembling, licked and kissed the barrel.
“Master,” she whispered.
“Later,” he said, pulling the pistol away.
She knelt back on her heels, tears in her eyes, her small fists clenched in the chains she wore.
“How is it, noble Abrogastes,” asked Otto, “that you bespeak hostility to Otungs and, at the same time, sue for thei
r support in war?”
“I do not understand,” said Abrogastes.
“The medallion and chain,” said Otto, “your intent to enlist Otungs, indeed, all Vandals, behind your banners.”
“I know nothing of a medallion and chain,” said Abrogastes. “Vandals and Alemanni are enemies, to the knife. Who would be so mad as to expose his throat to a treacherous and vile Otung?”
“Forgive me,” said Otto.
“Do you suggest there is treason amongst the Alemanni?” asked Abrogastes.
“He does not, noble Abrogastes,” said Julian.
“In high places?” asked Abrogastes.
“Certainly not,” said Julian.
“Perhaps, Lord,” said a Borkon, a Ledanian, or Coastal, Borkon, “the slave, Huta, is apprised of such a rumor.”
Uneasiness stirred amongst several of the barbarians in the chamber.
“Slave?” asked Abrogastes.
Huta turned white. “I know nothing of such things, Master,” she said.
“Do you think I cannot read the body I know so well?” he asked.
Huta put down her head and clutched her small arms tightly about her body.
“It seems you must be lashed,” said Abrogastes. “Fortunately for you, your flanks are still of interest. Else I might have you cut to pieces and fed to pigs.”
“My friend, Ottonius,” said Julian, “meant nothing.”
“Sometimes,” said Abrogastes, “those who mean nothing say much.”
“Surely,” said Julian. “You know that imperial cruisers hasten even now to Telnaria.”
“Hrothgar,” said Abrogastes, “is a good-hearted, jovial, much-laughing, loyal, hard-fighting, hard-drinking fool; he keeps his heart in his gut and his brains in his scabbard. He would die for me between the courses of a banquet, but not until a certain dish was served. Ingeld is clever and prone to dark thoughts. I am not well served in my sons.”
“You were well served in Ortog, my Lord,” said a Drisriak.
“Ortog was a traitor,” said Abrogastes.
“A secessionist,” said a man.
“He is gone now,” said Abrogastes.
“We could use his sword,” said a man.
“He is gone,” said Abrogastes.
“As my young friend, he in the uniform of the imperial navy, has pointed out,” said Iaachus, “you and your men are in jeopardy each hour you remain on Telnaria, or, indeed, in its vicinity. Imperial war ships approach with great speed. It is certain your forces, trapped in our space, would be grievously dealt with, quite possibly exterminated, to a man, to a ship.”
“You can accomplish little of serious effect here,” said Julian. “You might burn Telnar as a symbolic gesture, but I doubt that one of your perspicacity would see any point in doing so. You might destroy one city, but a hundred thousand would remain. And surely Telnar itself would be of more value as a prize than as a dozen districts of ashes. Too, as the Arbiter has pointed out, an act enforced on the emperor would be unavailing, and the murder of one emperor would mean nothing more than the succession of another, and then another, and so on.”
“I am aware of all this, young counselor,” said Abrogastes.
“And yet you are here,” said Julian.
“So, why?” said Abrogastes.
“Yes, why?” said Julian.
“I am patient,” said Abrogastes. “Succession proceeds immediately through the imperial line, does it not?”
“Yes,” said Iaachus.
“I think we may disregard the senate,” said Abrogastes.
“Possibly,” said Iaachus.
“The empress mother is weary, vain, malicious, unfit, old,” said Abrogastes.
“The emperor is young,” said Iaachus.
“He lives for his toys, but the empire is not a toy. He might surrender the empire, if permitted, for an attractive toy, one he would enjoy.”
“He would not be permitted to do so,” said Iaachus.
“Who knows under what conditions an emperor might abdicate,” said Abrogastes.
“Or die?” said Julian.
“Perhaps,” said Abrogastes.
“This is madness,” said Iaachus.
“Not at all,” said Abrogastes.
“I do not understand,” said Iaachus.
“Have the princesses, Viviana and Alacida, brought into our presence,” said Abrogastes.
Chapter Forty-Two
“Release me!” said blond Viviana, princess of Telnaria, perhaps in her early twenties.
And Alacida, younger, perhaps by a year or two, a brunette, pulled against the grip on her arm, which she could not break.
They were released, with a swirl of their robes, before the throne, on which reposed Abrogastes, king of the Drisriaks.
“How dare you, barbarous ape,” cried Viviana, “sit upon the throne of my glorious brother, Aesilesius?”
“Your glorious brother,” said Abrogastes, “is content, playing with his toys.”
“Depart,” said Viviana.
“Thrones are made to be sat upon, Princess,” said Abrogastes. “The only question is who shall sit upon them.”
“I command you,” cried Viviana. “Go!”
“Commands without power are at best requests,” said Abrogastes.
“Then, noble king,” said Iaachus, “with all gentleness and courtesy, I bid you pay heed to the request of Princess Viviana.”
“I do not request!” cried Viviana. “I command. Go. Depart!”
“We shall depart shortly, Princess,” said Abrogastes.
“Good!” she said, stamping her small, slippered foot.
“May I inquire,” asked Iaachus, “for what purpose the princesses have been brought forth?”
“To inform them of their good fortune,” said Abrogastes.
“I do not understand,” said Iaachus.
“We are standing, you are seated,” said Viviana to Abrogastes, angrily. “This is insupportable. We are regal, of the blood royal, you are base. My sister and I will now ascend the dais and take our proper places, on the princess thrones. And they should be, even if they are not, on a level well above you!”
There were only four seats in the throne room, by design. There was the throne of the emperor, which was broad-armed and splendid, and draped with purple, and, beside it, on the right, but slightly behind it, the throne of the empress mother, similarly splendid. The two princess thrones, somewhat simpler, were to the left of the imperial throne, and set one level beneath it. Such arrangements, levels, the limitation of chairs, and such, are not unusual in situations where rank, distance, and hierarchy are deemed significant. For example, who would dare to sit, unbidden, in, say, the presence of a king?
“Remain standing,” said Abrogastes.
Viviana and Alacida arrested their approach to the thrones. This action was doubtless influenced by the menacing attitudes of the several barbarians who placed themselves between the princesses and their projected destination.
“There,” said Abrogastes, who, with the barrel of his pistol, indicated where they were to stand, on the ground level, so to speak, to his left.
“We will not stand near that despicable beast,” said Viviana, “a chained, unclothed slave.”
“She is not unclothed,” said Abrogastes. “She is tunicked.”
“Unclothed,” said Viviana.
“Forgive us, great king,” said Iaachus, “but slaves in the palace, though commonly bare-armed and barefoot, that their worthlessness and meaninglessness be made clear, are commonly modestly gowned, in ankle-length garments of white wool, white silk, white corton, or such.”
“Slaves should be clad as slaves, as men like to see them,” said Abrogastes.
“It is not the way of the palace,” said Iaachus.
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��Remain where you are,” said Abrogastes to the princesses.
“Very well,” said Viviana, tossing her head, looking away.
“Dear Princess,” said Iaachus, “your boldness well befits a princess, or a fool, but be apprised of the nature of our situation. We are defenseless, we are in the power of these men; our fortunes, our lives, are in their hands.”
“Until our soldiers come,” said Viviana, “until our ships fill the skies!”
“Doubtless,” said Iaachus, “but our soldiers have not yet come, nor do our ships yet fill the skies.”
“I think the princesses need to be instructed,” said Abrogastes.
“Surely not!” exclaimed Iaachus.
Julian moved forward, but was stayed by the hand of Otto, king of the Otungs.
“Do not be concerned,” said Abrogastes. “I do not mean instructed as a slave is instructed, with the switch and whip, with tight ropes, with close chains, with the bit, and such, but as free women of refinement, of gentleness and station, might be instructed.”
“I encourage you to withdraw, great king,” said Iaachus, “time is short.”
“Go forth, into the city,” said Abrogastes, with a gesture of his pistol. “Fetch forth a handful of slaves!”
“There are few easily about, Lord,” said a Borkon. “Our presence in the city is well known. Within the city, men hide; they crouch in cellars; they inhabit sewers; they remain indoors, with bolted portals and shutters; they secrete coins beneath the floors and in the walls; they conceal slaves; outside the city, roads are crowded with refugees, fleeing, laden with goods.”
“Four or five will do,” said Abrogastes, “tunicked.”
Several men rushed from the tiled, high-vaulted throne room.
“Great king,” said Iaachus.
“I hear you, he who would speak for the throne,” said Abrogastes.
“How,” asked Iaachus, “were the two batteries, both well supplied, both potent and lethal, to which the security of Telnar was entrusted, disabled?”
“They should have burned anything out of the sky which came within ten thousand miles of the city,” said Julian, angrily. “How did you obtain the signals, the passwords?”
“Or how did you smuggle dire explosives into the firing enclaves undetected?” asked Iaachus.