by John Norman
“Of course,” said Rurik.
“Your troops, of the Farnichi, are prepared,” said Julian.
“They are in position,” said Rurik.
“The Farnichi,” said Iaachus, “owe the empire much.”
“The bargain was struck,” said Rurik. “The Farnichi abide its terms. My presence here is an attestment to that fact.”
“But unofficially, covertly, of course,” said Iaachus.
“Of course,” said Rurik.
“Cohorts loyal to me await our signal,” said Julian, “elements of the guard, chosen army units, selected landing units of the imperial navy.”
“But much, locally, I fear,” said Iaachus, “depends on comitates, brought from Tangara, ostensibly to witness and assist in the celebration of the royal nuptials.”
“I would think, dear Arbiter,” said Rurik, “you would view the presence of Otungs in Telnar with apprehension.”
“I do,” said Iaachus. “One gambles.”
“The comitates are allies,” said Julian, “auxiliaries in the imperial forces.”
“They are barbarians,” said Rurik.
“So is our noble Ottonius,” said Iaachus.
“I am aware of that,” said Rurik.
“It behooves you to pretend confidence and trust, dear Rurik,” said Julian, “even if it does not exist. Beware of offending allies, or their commander.”
“More is at issue here,” said Rurik, “than the loyalty of Captain Ottonius, with whose secret thoughts I am perforce unacquainted. There are others, as well.”
“Each company,” said Otto, “is commanded by a pledged man, each an Otung, Vandar, Ulrich, or Citherix.”
“Barbarians, all,” said Rurik.
“I am sure of them,” said Otto. “I am less sure of Telnarians.”
“I am a Telnarian,” said Rurik.
“I am aware of that,” said Otto.
“Crossroads will be seized, guard stations, public buildings, the house of the senate,” said Julian. “The new order will be publicly announced.”
“We can hold the palace only briefly,” said Iaachus.
“If we can hold the palace,” said Julian, “we will hold Telnar, as well.”
“Not against the summoned, marshaled forces of the empire,” said Iaachus.
“As the palace goes, so goes the empire,” said Julian. “Many a coup has overturned a dynasty and was scarcely noted in the empire. One need not have generals marching on Telnar, foreign armies in the streets, cities sacked, worlds burned, alien fleets overhead. Many revolutions are quiet, moving on soft feet in the night, taking place in bedrooms and halls. Daggers and goblets of poison have emptied more thrones than wars. In time new names are sung, and new statues, scarcely noticed, appear in public places. Life continues as it has, and will. What ambassador from far worlds, what bureaucrat from afar, recalls vanished flags and banners? What master of what trading commission, what visiting potentate, questions what he finds?”
“I fear it is true,” said Tuvo Ausonius. “I was employed on Miton, in the financial division of the first imperial quadrant. I often suspected our work would go on much as usual regardless of what might occur in Telnar, let alone in the palace.”
“Much would be different,” said Iaachus, “if the empire collapsed.”
“Surely,” said Tuvo Ausonius.
“I fear,” said Iaachus, “we will soon hear the bells, the music, the acclaim of the crowds.”
“There will be jubilation,” said Julian. “There will be singing, and dancing, in the streets.”
“And, the marriages done, the great triumphal procession, on flower-strewn streets, will approach the palace in stately pomp,” said Rurik, “bringing the brides and grooms, in royal carriages.”
“Should the ceremony not be done by now?” asked Otto.
“I suspect, soon,” said Iaachus, “but we must not disallow our friend, the exarch, his hour of glory. He will draw from it what he can. Consider the prestige, the fame, the renown, the esteem, accruing to his office, his post, and faith. Is this not subtle, potent wealth in the sacred strongbox? Will not his Floonian cult now reign over other Floonian cults? Will it not seem to be endorsed by the empire, to represent the empire? Indeed, the empress mother is in attendance, and prominently enthroned. That will much please her. Will not this deed set a precedent for future claims and demands, for future control and power? Consider the spectacle, the impressive pageantry. The great temple is decorated, lit, and filled. A choir of a thousand ministrants sings. The very walls and windows of the edifice will rattle with their impressive blaring. The wafting of incense will linger for days.”
“I regret that the empress mother is present at the ceremony,” said Julian.
“It is natural,” said Iaachus, “the brides are her daughters. Fear rather that she, who is currently taking instruction from the exarch, be converted, be anointed with the holy oil, imported from the sacred oil pools of Zirus, would that someone put a match to them. She should then, as a devout Floonian, submit herself to the will of Floon and Karch, who are the same and yet different.”
“I take it,” said Rurik, “that the will of Floon and Karch is made clear by the exarch.”
“That seems to be the arrangement,” said Iaachus.
“It would be an invisible emperor,” said Julian.
“It would seem so,” said Iaachus.
“What if there are other exarchs?” said Rurik.
“There are other exarchs, but not of Telnar,” said Iaachus. “Telnar is the capital of the empire. Thus, the Exarch of Telnar has a certain advantage in possible competitions. One emperor, one exarch, and so on.”
“It seems there could still be trouble,” said Rurik.
“In the future, doubtless,” said Iaachus. “But I think such things could be managed. Those who lose out can be accounted false exarchs. Perhaps it could be done by extermination, too, rather as one Floonian cult seems willing to exterminate other Floonian cults, the losers being accounted heretics, or such.”
“Where is the emperor?” asked Otto.
“He is in his quarters, playing with his toy animals,” said Iaachus.
“He is eighteen years old, is he not?” said Rurik.
“He was born eighteen years ago,” said Iaachus.
“The ceremony must be nearly done,” said Tuvo Ausonius.
“Yes,” said Iaachus.
“Time is short,” said Tuvo Ausonius.
“Yes,” said Otto.
“I am uneasy,” said Tuvo Ausonius.
“Be eager,” said Otto.
“I tremble,” said Tuvo Ausonius.
“Tremble,” said Otto, “but not like the fleet one, with fear, but like the vi-cat, who prepares to pounce.”
“I have heard little of Abrogastes,” said Julian.
“It is peculiar,” said Iaachus. “My spies made it clear that he accompanied his sons, and the princesses, to Telnar. But he seems to have disappeared. Surely it seems he should be present at the wedding. But it seems he is not. And, as far as we know, he has not left Telnaria.”
“Interesting,” said Julian.
“As I understand it, my dear Ottonius,” said Iaachus, “you have met this Abrogastes.”
“Yes,” said Otto.
“Perhaps you have a sense of him?”
“I think so,” said Otto.
“What is he like?” asked Iaachus.
“He would stand aside for no man,” said Otto.
“Not even the Exarch of Telnar?” asked Iaachus.
“No,” said Otto.
“Perhaps that is why he has disappeared,” said Iaachus.
“Dear Ottonius,” said Julian. “Much culminates. We trained long, and well. The hour is near. Comitates are at your side.”
“
It would not be so,” said Otto, “save for a small, gentle creature.”
“One guarded by, and protected by, a savage monster,” said Julian.
“Not a monster,” said Otto, “a Herul.”
“Clarify this,” said Rurik.
“You know something of the medallion and chain which Ottonius brought from Tenguthaxichai,” said Julian.
“Yes,” said Rurik. “Vandals would rally to it.”
“Yes,” said Julian, “if it were believed to be the one, true medallion and chain. Its guardian was an Emanationist brother, the salamanderine, Brother Benjamin. It was stolen from the festung of Sim Giadini, and Brother Benjamin left the festung, pursuing the thief, though unsuccessfully. Shortly after his departure from the festung, it was destroyed. He, much later, starving and ill, was found by Heruls on the Plains of Barrionuevo, and nursed back to health. He, and a Herul, Hunlaki, by name, on various grounds, suspected that the medallion and chain had been transported to Telnar, eventually to be received by the Exarch of Telnar. They journeyed to Telnar to confront the exarch and demand the return of the medallion and chain. The exarch, after denying knowledge of the medallion and chain, or of its theft, and curtly dismissing Brother Benjamin and his servant, the Herul, Hunlaki, from the temple precincts, set thugs on them, to follow and beat them, perhaps to kill them. Four of these six thugs, much to the dismay of Brother Benjamin, were killed by his servant, the Herul, their throats bitten through, and the other two fled. Our colleague, the Arbiter of Protocol, learned of this incident by means of the report of guardsmen, who took the pair into custody. He investigated, and was intrigued, having heard something of the medallion and chain. He arranged for their release from custody, and concealed them in a private dwelling in the city, to protect them from the attentions of the exarch. What then occurred was that the medallion and chain taken by Ottonius from Tenguthaxichai was shown to Brother Benjamin, who identified it as the true medallion and chain. It was then only necessary to transport the medallion and chain, Brother Benjamin, and his Herul servant, Hunlaki, to Tangara, where contact was made with Otungs.”
“And comitates are now with us,” said Tuvo Ausonius.
“Where is the medallion and chain?” asked Rurik.
“On Tangara,” said Julian, “where it remains, to be kept in safety.”
“I think,” said the Arbiter of Protocol, “while we are waiting, a light collation, with kana, might be in order. The wine is at hand, atop our table, and I shall send my lovely Elena to the next room, to fetch some readied viands.”
Elena slipped from the room, and soon returned, bearing a tray, which she placed, beside the wine, already on the table.
“Eating,” said Rurik, “is always more pleasant, and food tastier, in the presence of slaves.”
“True,” said Julian. “Slaves stimulate the blood, and whet the appetite. Who can enjoy food so much as a Master, with a naked, or half-naked, slave at his feet? How the sight of a woman in a collar, on her knees, in her place, stimulates the appetite! The nerves come alive, the digestive juices flow. Let nature reign. Let the world be rightly ordered. Let there be Masters and slaves!”
“Master?” said Elena.
“Retain your gown, lovely Elena,” said Iaachus. “If we should survive the day, you may crawl to me in my chambers, as is your wont, whimpering, a switch in your teeth, and serve me at the foot of my couch.”
“Yes, Master,” said Elena.
“Pour the wine,” he said.
“Yes, Master,” she said.
Rurik, turned about, and faced the door to the chamber. “Cornhair!” he cried.
The door was flung open, and Cornhair stood there, unable to kneel, held erect from behind, by the arms, by a guardsman, who then flung her to all fours in the portal, and she looked across the room, at Rurik, of the Larial Farnichi.
She was briefly tunicked, in what was little more than a rag.
Her Master had not yet seen fit, since the delegation to Tenguthaxichai, to accord her a suitable tunic, however brief.
She was content.
It was the will of her Master.
“Crawl here, collared Calasalii bitch, and get under the table,” said Rurik.
Soon Cornhair was on her knees under the table, looking up.
Rurik dragged a chair near her, but did not take his seat.
The other guests, too, Otto, Julian, and Tuvo Ausonius, drew chairs near the table, but, like Rurik, remained standing.
“Gentlemen,” said Iaachus, lifting his glass, “I propose a toast—to the brides and grooms, to the Princesses Viviana and Alacida, and to the princes, Ingeld and Hrothgar!”
This toast was drunk.
“Now, gentlemen,” said Iaachus, “I propose a second toast, one to this day, a day which is public and a day which is secret, a day which is visible and a day which is invisible.”
This toast, too, was drunk.
The guests then seated themselves about the table.
They ate little, they spoke little.
“I fear,” said Iaachus, “our repast is insufficiently festive, even with slaves about.”
“There is a time for the doings of men,” said Otto. “There is another time for the grasping and handling of females.”
From time to time, Rurik put a bit of food into Cornhair’s lifted mouth.
“Listen!” said Iaachus, raising his hand.
“I hear it,” said Otto, pushing back his goblet of kana.
“The bells,” said Julian.
“I hear, far off, the shouting, the cries of gladness,” said Tuvo Ausonius.
“The ceremony is done,” said Iaachus. “The guests, the brides and grooms, will be issuing from the temple.”
Otto, Julian, Rurik, and Tuvo Ausonius, with the Arbiter of Protocol, rose to their feet, and regarded one another.
“It is not too late to disengage,” said Iaachus.
There was silence.
“I take it,” said Iaachus, Arbiter of Protocol, “we are resolved.”
“Yes,” said Otto.
“Yes,” said Julian.
“Agreed,” said Rurik.
“Yes,” said Tuvo Ausonius.
“I shall order the signal given,” said Iaachus.
“Few are likely to notice the unfurling of another banner, amongst the many celebratory banners adorning the palace walls,” said Tuvo Ausonius.
“Some will notice,” said Otto.
Bells were pealing throughout the city.
“The sounds of the crowd, the cheering, grows louder,” said Rurik.
“Street by street,” said Tuvo Ausonius, “the procession, the wedding party, the carriages, grow ever nearer.”
“Perhaps they will be surprised, when they are turned back, at the palace steps,” said Julian.
“I think, my dear Ottonius,” said Iaachus, the Arbiter of Protocol, “it is time for us to go to the throne room.”
“And I think it fitting, friend Ottonius,” said Julian, “if you should lead the way.”
“Will this act save the empire, or destroy it?” asked Tuvo Ausonius.
“We do not know,” said Iaachus.
Rurik turned back to the table, and snapped his fingers, and gestured to his side. Cornhair then emerged from beneath the table, and hurried after the men.
In the throne room, Otto took his place on the throne.
Acknowledgments
It is interesting, and flattering, that an author is commonly given the credit for one book or another. As an author, I suppose I should welcome this practice, but, as an author who tries to see the world as it actually is, at least occasionally, wisely or not, once in a while, for better or for worse, I think it would be a bit more honest, at least on some occasions, of which this is one, to recognize the debts, never to be well repaid, which an auth
or owes to others, many friends, most of whom he will never meet or know. First, novels are, clearly, a collaborative enterprise, as, in their way, every reader is a coauthor, creating, from a set of marks on a page, a vivid, marvelous, personal world, replete with its own colors, passions, winds, seasons, and weathers. Many roads lead from Rome. Beyond this, there are always the countless contributions, too often unremarked, without which a book, as it is normally thought of, would not exist. These far transcend the technologies of reproduction, involving an awesome compass of skills and talents, both artistic and practical. One thinks of such things, in particular, as artwork, packaging, marketing, and distribution. I have been very fortunate in many ways, and I am very grateful. I would also like to use this brief occasion to express my gratitude, however inadequately, to many individuals who have for years, with diligence and affection, largely by means of the internet, supported me and my work. Their commitment, and that of their sites, has been unapologetic and determined. Attention has been called to my work, and, in many instances, it has been honestly and salubriously promoted. Their aid, in various cases, has ranged from the friendly but exacting review of manuscripts, which is much appreciated, to galleries of artwork and platforms for research and discussion. These people understand diversity as diversity; integrity as integrity; and a free market as a free market, which is refreshing. Amongst these individuals, most of whom are unknown to me, I would like to cite three in particular, Mr. Mark Collins, Mr. Jon Ard, and Mr. Simon van Meygaarden. I would also like to take this occasion to thank my friend, and agent, for many years, Mr. Richard Curtis. To all my friends, known and unknown, with respect and affection, I wish you well.
John Norman
All rights reserved, including without limitation the right to reproduce this ebook or any portion thereof in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of the publisher.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, events, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.