“Chamber of filchen,” said Rurik, under his breath, “chamber of self-satisfied, entrenched hypocrites, cowards, and sycophants.”
“Noble senators,” said Julian, lifting his head, turning to better face the steep semicircle of tiers, housing the five hundred and one senators, some of whom were exhibiting visible signs of agitation, “I bring you cordial greetings from your emperor, Ottonius, the First. He expresses profound respect for your noble body, its undying concern for the welfare of the empire, and its history and traditions. He is cognizant of its invaluable work in the past and present, and hopes that it will enjoy a future no less important and glorious.”
There was a half-hearted ripple of applause from the tiers.
“Furthermore,” said Julian, “though this is an irregular, indeed, an illegal, sitting of the senate, it not having been authorized by the emperor, I have been instructed by the emperor to waive the requirement of authorization, which I now do.”
“I do not understand,” said Timon, the primarius, uncertainly.
“This meeting of the senate,” said Julian, “is now authorized; it is now legal.”
“The emperor is a fool,” said someone in the tiers.
“We do not need such an authorization,” said Timon.
“In any event,” said Julian, “you now have it.”
“A fool, indeed,” said someone else in the tiers.
“Moderator,” said the primarius, “proceed. Let the shards be cast.”
“The question on the floor, I take it,” said Julian, “though it may have been occasionally lost in the forensic richness of the former speaker’s eloquence, had to do with the ratification of the accession of Ottonius, the First.”
“That is correct, noble representative of the would-be usurper, Ottonius,” said the primarius.
“How do you think the vote will go?” asked Julian.
“The shards have not yet been cast,” said Timon.
This announcement was greeted with some laughter from the tiers.
“But I would anticipate,” said Timon, “that five hundred and one shards will be cast against ratification, which, ratification denied, precludes any claim to legitimacy. In this way, usurpation is confronted, order is restored, and a pretender is removed from power.”
This remark brought applause, and enthusiastic, even boisterous, exclamations of approval from the tiers.
“It is unfortunate,” said Julian, “that you lack men and ships, an army and navy.”
“We have the backing of the empire!” said Timon.
“I was unaware you had taken a poll,” said Julian.
“We stand for the empire,” said Timon.
“Another point at issue,” said Julian.
“Proceed,” said Timon to Clearchus Pyrides, the moderator of the senate.
“Surely,” said Julian to the primarius, “you do not think the emperor has authorized this sitting of the senate for the purpose of putting an end to his reign.”
“Let the shards be cast!” demanded a senator in the fourth tier, rising to his feet.
At that point, a servitor of the senate, uniformed, distraught, rushed into the chamber, halted, and pointed back, wildly, to the exit. “The senate is surrounded!” he cried.
“A thousand Otungs,” said Julian.
At the same time, a dozen men in the livery of the Farnichi entered the chamber, armed. Two others followed, and placed a large box on the table of the moderator.
“What is the meaning of this!” cried Timon.
“Open the box,” said Julian.
Clearchus Pyrides, the moderator of the senate, thrust back the lid of the box, and then stepped back, white-faced.
“For those of you in the higher tiers, who might find it difficult to see,” said Julian, “the box contains five hundred and one daggers, each small, short-bladed, and razor sharp, of the finest steel, adapted for the opening of veins. On each ivory hilt, from the tusk of the torodont, incised in purple, symbolic of the senator’s white robe with purple trimming, is the name of a senator. There is, accordingly, such a dagger for each of you. You are, I take it, familiar with the meaning of such articles. They provide a means whereby one may serve the empire. There are many ways in which the empire may be served. This is one. When such a dagger is delivered to a public official, or prominent person, he has the option of putting it to use, or not. It is up to him. He has the option of willingly putting it to use and honorably willing his goods to the state or declining to make use of it, and being seized for death by torture, followed by having his goods confiscated by the state, and his family sold into slavery. The choice is his.”
“Surely you jest,” said Timon.
“One dagger has your name upon it,” said Julian. “Shall it be delivered?”
“I think,” said Timon, “it will not be necessary to cast the shards. Let us move, rather, that the accession of our beloved emperor, Ottonius, the First, is herewith ratified, by acclaim.”
“Not at all,” said Julian, sternly. “We will have no precedent established here, that the ratification of the senate is in any way relevant to an imperial accession. It is not.”
“I do not understand, esteemed scion of the Aureliani,” said Timon. “What are we to do?”
“You may,” said Julian, “withdraw the question of ratification, and substitute a new motion, one of rejoicing, a motion warmly and enthusiastically celebrating the accession of the emperor.”
“The question of ratification,” said Timon, “is withdrawn. Let it be noted, further, that the senate warmly and enthusiastically celebrates the accession of our new emperor, our beloved Ottonius, the First.”
“Perhaps, too, three days of holiday might be urged,” said Julian.
“It is the hope of the senate,” said Timon, “that the emperor will agree to our request of three days of holiday.”
“I am sure he will be agreeable,” said Julian.
“Well,” said Rurik, rising. “The business is done. Let us go. I am hungry.”
Chapter Six
“You are a fool!” cried Ingeld! “A fool!”
“Beware,” said Sidonicus, “how you address the exarch of Telnar!”
“What can you do?” inquired Ingeld. “Denounce me? Remove me from the brotherhood of Floon?”
“Beware!” said Sidonicus.
“What is it to me, to be denounced by a pompous, obese, unctuous, purple-robed fraud?” snarled Ingeld. “Who cares if you denounce me? Where is your army, your navy, your ships? Are your words backed with weapons? If not, they are no more than the tooting of horns, a shaking of air, and the pounding of drums, all noise, and empty inside. And how can you remove me from a brotherhood which I despise, and to which I do not belong, and would not belong!”
“The time will come,” said Sidonicus, “when even emperors will tremble at the words of the exarch of Telnar! A pronouncement of the exarch will void the oaths of subjects, free them from pledged loyalties, dissolve all bonds of allegiance, nullify all obligations and duties. Subjects will fear to obey, lest they anger Karch. Commands, issued, will not be obeyed. Armies, ordered to march, will not move. Who would dare to put his koos at risk, serving a benighted sovereign, one denied the approbation of Karch? Unobeyed, an emperor is only another man, a weak, frightened man, alone and helpless. Confusion will ensue. Paralysis will obtain. The state will totter.”
“Live in terms of such an egregious nightmare,” said Ingeld, scornfully. “It is absurd.
“You are clever, Drisriak,” said Sidonicus, “but you do not know the mind and its power. You have a brain, but you would find it of little use, if your hands and arms, and your legs and feet, did not obey it.”
“Please, noble spouse,” said Viviana to Ingeld, “be at peace with the exarch. He is our ally.”
“If you were a collared slave
,” said Ingeld, “I would put you under the whip for daring to speak without permission!”
“I am not a slave,” said Viviana. “I am a princess of the royal blood, and I am germane to your ambitions, and perhaps mine.”
“In collars, dear sister,” said dark-haired Alacida, “we would be quite useless.”
“It is only in a collar,” said Hrothgar, “that a woman is useful.”
“Noble spouse!” protested Alacida.
“A woman does not know what it is to be a woman,” said Hrothgar, “until she, in chains, has crawled to a man’s feet.”
Alacida, her eyes wide, shuddering, shrank back from Hrothgar, alarmed by unfamiliar sensations.
He would no longer permit screens, gold or otherwise, between himself and Alacida, but, at the insistence of the exarch, an insistence abetted by Ingeld, he and his brother stood apart from the two princesses.
“I understand the plan,” said Hrothgar. “It was the plan of my father, Abrogastes, the nuptials, and such, to ally our blood with that of royal Telnaria, and produce sons, and, this done, to sweep aside the boy emperor, and rule.”
“Yes, dear Hrothgar,” said Sidonicus. “And, for my part in this, my version of Floonianism is to be denominated the official religion of the empire, and the empire will see to it, with all its might, that all other religions, including all other versions of Floonianism, will be outlawed, crushed, and extirpated.”
“There will then be only one temple, so to speak,” said Viviana, “and only one bowl for coins?”
“As it happens,” said Sidonicus, “that is a mere consequence. The important thing is that there is only one true faith, mine, which is fitting, as there is only one true god, mine, Karch.”
“When did Karch become the only god?” asked Viviana.
“He has always been the only god,” said Sidonicus. “It is merely that this was not always clearly recognized.”
“There are many Floonian sects,” said Ingeld, “differing amongst themselves, which base their beliefs on a large number of Floonian texts.”
“False texts,” said Sidonicus. “We will have a council and separate the many false texts from the true texts, thus establishing a definitive list of true texts.”
“Which favor your version Floonianism?” said Viviana.
“As they are the true texts, certainly,” said Sidonicus.
“My father,” said Hrothgar, “devised this business of nuptial alliances, to have a key to the empire, a key of law and blood, but he did not intend to install a religion, not even one of the religions found amongst the Alemanni, let alone that of a particular Floonian sect.”
“Let us not discuss the matter, brother,” said Ingeld.
“Where is dreadful Abrogastes?” asked Viviana.
“He is on Tenguthaxichai,” said Hrothgar.
“Your plans, noble exarch, those of which you were so sure,” said Ingeld to Sidonicus, “failed, abominably.”
“Much went awry,” said Sidonicus, fingering the small replica of a gold burning rack on its chain about his neck. “We did not anticipate the coup, the seizure of the throne by the barbarian, Otto, a miserable Otung. In that I see, too, the hand of Julian, villain of the Aureliani. I was making excellent progress with the empress mother, instructing her in the holy truths of Floonianism. I could have ruled through her, by means of her influence on the young Aesilesius. She was almost ready to be smudged with the consecrated oil from the one of the sacred pools of Zirus, one in which Floon himself might once have waded. Now I lack access to her. She has either been done away with, or sequestered. Indeed, as far as I know, young Aesilesius may have been done away with.”
“The bells pealed,” said Viviana. “The people accepted the accession. They are fed, and entertained. What more concerns them? They cheer mindlessly and hasten to the imperial pantries, and the theaters, games, and circus.”
“We could have turned it all back,” said Sidonicus.
“Oh, yes,” said Ingeld, “the reliable, glorious senate, guardian of the empire, champion of liberty, another one of your brilliant plans.”
“It was all arranged,” said Sidonicus. “I do not understand what happened. Our plans were drawn with such care. Timon Safarius Rhodius, the primarius of the senate, our natural ally, was enlisted. The senate, unquestioning, even enthusiastic, was in total agreement. In a secret meeting the vote was organized, set to take place yesterday. We had even arranged, for the sake of appearance and seeming deliberation, for a local jurist to supply the legal and forensic finery expected on such occasions. There were to be five hundred and one votes against ratification, which would delegitimize the coup, bring the empire to the point of civil war, and force the usurper from the throne, to stand trial, a shackled prisoner, in the courts, which the senate controls.”
“Instead,” said Ingeld, “the senate unanimously celebrated the accession, and called for three days of holiday.”
“I do not understand what happened,” said Sidonicus.
“The senators seem reluctant to make clear what occurred in the senate chamber,” said Ingeld.
“Sooner or later,” said Sidonicus, “it will all come out.”
“They dare not reverse themselves,” said Viviana. “They would face disgrace if they did so, or admitted that they had yielded to some form of intimidation.”
“Perhaps they were bribed,” said Hrothgar.
“Doubtless they were,” said Viviana. “I suspect they were offered a bribe which was most persuasive.”
“What bribe?” asked Hrothgar.
“Their lives,” said Viviana.
“You boast power,” said Ingeld to Sidonicus. “Use it! Summon fury. Call for an uprising, fill the streets with angry crowds, vocal and unruly, demanding right and justice.”
“Opinions differ as to right and justice,” said Viviana. “What have a thousand conflicting claims and views in common but the words? Are they not vessels into which anything may be poured?”
“Enflame men,” said Ingeld to Sidonicus, ignoring the princess, Viviana. “Hand them torches, point at that which you wish burned.”
“And how is he to bring war into the streets?” asked Viviana. “The city is content, well fed and entertained. Shall they abandon the free theaters, refuse the games, ignore the races? And the bells have pealed. The senate itself celebrates the accession, holiday reigns!”
“Call then to your darker cohorts,” said Ingeld to Sidonicus, “your discontented and rabid, the violent and simple, ever eager for an excuse to steal and destroy. They ask only the cloak of anonymity. License them with a prayer. They live for blood and spoil. Get them, the nameless and unknown, into the streets, looting and burning.”
“And they would be slaughtered,” said Sidonicus. “We are not now dealing with civilized guardsmen, subject to political constraints, fearing to strike a blow, knowing they might be punished for doing their duty. Otungs are about, barbarians. They do not stand aside; they act. My darker cohorts, as you call them, would not long be my cohorts, if they knew themselves in jeopardy. They enjoy their carnivals, surely, but only insofar as they may be enjoyed in safety. Too, I do not wish to risk them. I may need them sometime.”
“Then,” said Ingeld, angrily, “it seems you are without resources.”
“Not at all,” said Sidonicus. “There is a time to act, and a time to bide one’s time.”
“I do not understand,” said Ingeld.
“Some,” said Sidonicus, “have access to the palace, for example, guards, servants, and slaves, and, of course, certain high officers and certain high officials, even the moderator of the senate, and the primarius of the senate.”
“So?” asked Ingeld.
“Both the grandfather and the father of the emperor died of poison,” said Sidonicus.
Chapter Seven
“We know nothing of
the empire,” said Flora. That was her slave name and, being a slave, she had no other. Slaves have no names in their own right, which is to be expected, as they lack rights. As other animals they are named by their masters. Flora had once been an arrogant and beautiful officer of a court on Terennia, which had sentenced a peasant from Tangara, named Dog, to the arena. She had later fallen into the hands of the same peasant, who later rose to the chieftainship of the Wolfungs, on Varna, the smallest tribe of the Vandalii. In his arms, on Varna, helpless and spasmodic, in a naming tag, she was subjected to lessons which she had no choice but to learn, that she was a woman, and a slave. Later, no longer hers, but his, she lived for his glance, and his least touch.
“Were we not on Vellmer,” said Renata, another slave, touching her collar, “but on Inez IV, or even Tangara, we might hear something.” Renata had been a free woman on a summer world, on which was found one of the summer palaces of the emperor. The name of that summer world does not appear in the records. On that world, overwhelmed with understanding and need, she had exercised the right of a free woman, that of petitioning bondage. Her petition was accepted and she was enslaved. No longer then were the options of the free at her disposal. She was then a slave, and utterly incapable of altering her condition. The man before whom she had knelt and petitioned bondage was he who had been known as Dog, and was then Otto, or, as now, at least in the common parlance of the empire, Ottonius.
“Vellmer is not isolated,” said another slave, ruefully, a slender, dark-haired slave, whose collar identified her as ‘Sesella,’ another slave name, and her owner as a Tuvo Ausonius. “It is we who are isolated, as slaves. It is not that Vellmer is without news. It is we who are without news.”
The particular location of this conversation was in one of the villas of Julian of the Aureliani. It was from this very villa that, long ago, Otto had departed, at the behest of Julian, for Tangara, to recruit barbarians, Otungs, for the auxiliary forces of the empire.
“I have listened in my serving,” said Gerune, “but I learned nothing.”
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