At the slave wagon, the ramp at the rear was lowered, and they were assisted into the wagon. A link toward the center of the chain was padlocked into a ring forward in the wagon bed. In this way, two girls were on each side of the wagon, and no slave could leave the wagon. The ramp was then raised, and bolted shut. They could see one another, as some light filtered through the cracks and slats of the wagon sides.
The keeper gathered up the tunics, watched for a time, until the wagon exited the villa grounds, and then withdrew.
The house master and the civil servant returned to their drinks.
Chapter Thirteen
“We are here,” had said Otto, stopping before a sturdy portal, and lifting the heavy, hinged knocker from its metal plate to the side.
“The house of Titus Gelinus,” had observed Julian.
Otto then smote the heavy metal knocker against the metal plate, again and again, decisively, even violently.
“Open,” he had said, loudly, authoritatively, “open in the name of the emperor!”
After a short time, some two or three minutes, the door opened, revealing a worn, disconsolate, haggard Titus Gelinus. “I have been expecting you,” he said. “You need not deliver me the dagger. I will use my own knife. I prefer it. I have already prepared the vessel, set by the couch. Indeed, had you been an hour later, your visit would have been unnecessary.”
“Titus Gelinus?” said Julian.
“Surely you know me,” he said.
“Titus Gelinus?” said Julian, uncertainly.
“Yes,” said Gelinus. “Forgive my vanity. I thought myself well-known. I flatter myself that I was once well-known.”
“You are Titus Gelinus?” asked Julian.
“Yes,” said Gelinus. “I understand now. I so certify the matter. You want the admission, the certification, for legal purposes, before delivering the imperial dagger.”
“I did not recognize you,” said Julian. “Forgive me. I was not sure. Perhaps it is the light, the shadows. You seem much changed.”
“I have eaten little of late,” he said. “I have not slept well. I am unsteady, and distracted. My work fails. I am absent from the courts. Men shun me. I am despised and mocked.”
Julian thrust back the hood on his cloak. “Do you know me?” he asked.
“Julian, Julian, scion of the Aureliani?” said Gelinus.
“Yes,” said Julian. “Doubtless you remember me from the recent sitting of the senate.”
“I find this hard to believe, you here,” said Gelinus. “How can it be you? How is it that one of your stature, one of the Aureliani, is involved in these dark calls, fit only for lackeys, that one such as you would consent to undertake so menial and cruel a delivery, the dreaded dagger of supposed mercy, rightfulness, and honor? And I see, from the giant at your side, that all precautions have been taken, that, should I falter or bungle, or dally, I will be assisted, or the desired result, in one way or another, will be obtained.”
“And why,” asked Julian, “do you expect the dagger?”
“In the senate,” he said, “I spoke against the emperor.”
“And you spoke well, as I understand it,” said Otto.
“We do not bring the dagger,” said Julian.
“I see,” said Gelinus. “I am so hated, that I am to perish in a less noble, less honorable manner. I am to be demeaned and humiliated even in death. Doubtless your friend, the giant, will arrange a noose, fit for a coward, that I may be discovered hanging in a closet, dangling like a varda in a poultry dealer’s stall.”
Julian turned to Otto. “I may speak your identity?” he asked.
“Surely” said Otto.
“Noble Gelinus,” said Julian, “May I present to you your emperor, Ottonius, the First.”
“Here,” said Titus Gelinus, startled, his eyes wide, “here, abroad, so alone, in the night? Come inside, quickly!”
Julian and Otto were ushered within, and Titus Gelinus closed the door and bolted it, securely, with two beams.
“There is little light here,” said Julian.
“Lamps require oil,” said Gelinus, “and oil costs money. I lived foolishly, at the edge of my means, and then the means vanished.”
“Light more lamps,” said Otto.
“You have not come to bring the dagger?” asked Gelinus.
“No,” said Julian, “nor lamp oil.”
“Forgive me,” said Gelinus, and hastened about, lighting four lamps, to better illuminate the atrium.
“Your basin needs cleaning,” said Julian. He was referring to the long, rectangular basin in the center of the room. It was muchly bereft of water, and contained some debris.
“I no longer have slaves,” said Titus Gelinus. “Indeed, I do not know how much longer I can keep the house, nor, indeed, if I can sell it. Many seem reluctant to bid upon it. I think they would fear to own it.”
“Why is that?” asked Otto.
“Because it is mine,” said Titus Gelinus.
In a few moments Julian and Otto had been introduced into a stately reception chamber adjoining the atrium, in which chamber, once lamps were lit, they were seated on two of four large, intricately carved, high-backed chairs, these arranged about a large, lacquered, thick-topped, circular table, similarly carved.
“There were six chairs,” said Titus Gelinus. “I managed to sell two through a dealer. Could I bring you some wine? I have a little left, but it is not of high quality.”
“I have not come here to drink,” said Otto.
“Of course,” said Gelinus. “There is no taster.”
“You would do,” said Julian.
“Of course,” said Gelinus.
“It is my understanding,” said Otto, “that your fortunes have declined.”
“Muchly so,” said Gelinus. “I have been ruined. Men will no longer retain me. Some I thought friends now avoid me. I am held in contempt. My reputation vanishes. It is fog and smoke. My finances collapse. It is cinders and ashes. Banks will not advance me a darin. Men fear to deal with me, even to be seen with me. Amusingly, no longer am I even besieged with notes from free women, begging for trysts, hoping for assignations.”
“And to what do you owe these ill fortunes?” inquired Otto.
“In the last sitting of the senate,” he said, “I spoke against the emperor.”
“Perhaps,” said Otto, “you spoke in favor of the emperor, your eloquence swaying a committed, hostile senate to reconsider, to alter its position, to yield to your view.”
“I do not understand,” said Titus Gelinus.
“Did the senate not acclaim the accession and even urge days of holiday?” asked Otto.
“Yes?” said Titus Gelinus.
“I think,” said Julian, “I see the road of the emperor, the route he follows. Given what the senate did, who in the senate would dare to question your role in their decision?”
“But,” said Gelinus, “I am out of favor with the emperor.”
“I am the emperor,” said Otto.
“And you are here, at night,” marveled Gelinus.
“Some business,” said Otto, “is not best handled in the palace, in the throne room.”
“I attend,” said Gelinus, wonderingly.
“How,” asked Otto, “would you like it to be made clear that you stand high in the favor of the emperor, indeed, that you were never out of favor?”
“I would be restored,” said Gelinus, “I would be healthy, I would be esteemed and sought.”
“You would be higher than ever before,” said Julian.
“There is an envoy from the senate to the palace, Orontius, of the Telnar Rhodii,” said Otto. “I think it appropriate then that there should be an envoy from the palace to the senate.”
Titus Gelinus regarded the seated emperor, just across the table from h
im, with amazement.
“You could, of course,” said Otto, “independently continue your normal legal practice, representing clients, consulting, accepting and refusing cases, and such.”
“A general understanding that you stand high in the favor of the emperor, even to being the palace’s envoy to the senate,” said Julian, “would not be likely to harm your legal practice. It might even be of interest to judges, of some concern to juries, and such.”
“You would offer me such a post?” said Gelinus, disbelievingly.
“It is in my mind,” said Otto.
“Why me?” asked Gelinus.
“That I am here to learn,” said Otto.
“I do not understand,” said Gelinus.
“The boy, Aesilesius, and the empress mother live,” said Otto.
“I am pleased to hear it,” said Gelinus.
“I do not wish to kill them in the palace,” said Otto.
“I trust not,” said Gelinus.
“It would be awkward, injudicious, even embarrassing,” said Otto.
“Doubtless,” said Gelinus.
“Too,” said Otto, “such a private action, however convenient and practical, would deny us a public action which might have enormous political value, one which might reduce possible resistance and serve to assure the stability of our regime.”
“I do not think I understand,” said Gelinus.
“I think you do,” said Julian.
“One charges Aesilesius and the empress mother with treason, a capital offense, even amongst barbarian tribes,” said Otto.
“I see,” said Titus Gelinus. “One then arranges a sham trial, complete with incriminating letters, compromising notes, and traitorous documents, all cleverly forged, and then abets the farce with overwhelming, if meretricious, testimony, following which one obtains the desired verdict, and then proceeds to carry out the inevitable, preordained sentence.”
“Following which,” said Julian, “the current regime is seen as legitimate, vindicated, and justified.”
“Can you initiate, and carry through, such a proceeding?” asked Otto.
“Of course,” said Titus Gelinus.
“Proceed,” said Otto.
“No,” said Titus Gelinus.
“‘No’?” inquired Otto.
“No,” said Titus Gelinus, “better the dagger, the knife, the cutting of veins, the thrusting of the blade into my own heart.”
“You spoke of your knife,” said Otto. “Fetch it.”
Titus Gelinus, moving stiffly, unsteadily, as though made of wood, went to a chest, set on a small table at the side of the room, and brought forth a knife, presumably the one he had mentioned earlier. He then returned to the table, the knife in hand.
“So,” said Titus Gelinus, “you have brought the knife, after all.”
“Beware,” whispered Julian to Otto.
“Am I to plunge it into my own heart?” asked Titus Gelinus.
“Would you do so?” asked Otto.
“I would have no choice,” said Titus Gelinus.
“Do you wish to die?” asked Otto.
“No,” said Titus Gelinus.
“Perhaps,” said Otto, parting the garments covering his chest, “you would prefer to plunge it into mine?”
“No!” said Julian, leaping to his feet, but Otto, with a motion of his arm, thrust Julian back.
“I am not an assassin, I am not a murderer,” said Titus Gelinus, and dropped the knife to the surface of the table.
“Am I to understand,” said Otto, “that you refuse to undertake the project I have described, the prosecution of Aesilesius and Atalana, the empress mother?”
“Yes,” said Titus Gelinus.
“What now,” asked Otto, “do you think your life is worth?”
“Now that you have confided your plan to me, now that I have learned of it, and have declined to be of service, nothing,” said Titus Gelinus.
“You will not undertake the proceeding?” asked Otto.
“No,” said Titus Gelinus.
“Your decision is absolute and final?” asked Otto.
“Yes,” said Titus Gelinus.
“Splendid,” said Otto. “I have discovered what I wished to know.” He then lifted the knife from the table and returned it, handle first, to Titus Gelinus. “You will not be needing this,” he said.
“I do not understand,” said Titus Gelinus.
“What would you have done if he had struck at you?” asked Julian.
“Broken his arm, and then his neck,” said Otto.
“What is going on?” asked Titus Gelinus.
“You asked earlier,” said Otto, “why you, of others, would be chosen for a post such as that of the palace’s envoy to the senate, and I told you that I was here to learn that. I have now learned it.”
“I do not understand,” said Titus Gelinus.
“You would die before you would compromise your honor,” said Otto. “It is the Otung way, the Drisriak way, the way of the Vandalii, the way of the Alemanni.”
“And once the way of the empire,” said Julian.
“And may once be its way again,” said Otto.
“What am I to do?” asked Titus Gelinus.
“No one is to know of this meeting,” said Otto. “In the morning, you are to come to the palace. You will then be invested with suitable credentials, designating you the emperor’s envoy to the senate.”
“What if the senate will not accept such credentials?” asked Titus Gelinus.
“Then,” said Otto, “the senate will not meet.”
“But I spoke against you,” said Titus Gelinus.
“How is that possible,” smiled Otto, “given the senate’s action?”
“But I did speak against you,” said Titus Gelinus.
“Emperors, as well as chieftains, captains, and kings,” said Otto, “have need of men who do not fear to speak against them.”
Otto and Julian then, accompanied by Titus Gelinus, left the reception chamber and made their way through the atrium to the door. Titus Gelinus removed the two beams with which he had barred the door.
“Be careful in the streets,” said Titus Gelinus.
Otto laughed.
“I shall be careful for us both,” said Julian. “The emperor is in a good mood. It will be more dangerous in the streets than some might realize.”
“Until morning, envoy,” said Otto.
“Until morning, your majesty,” said Titus Gelinus.
Otto turned about, in the doorway.
“Your majesty?” asked Titus Gelinus.
“I restore your fortunes,” said Otto. “I am pleased. I would do more. Is there anything else I might do for you?”
“Well,” said Titus Gelinus, “—there is a woman.”
Chapter Fourteen
The tall, sturdy, bearded figure struggled in his ropes, violently, before the throne.
“Shall we throw him to his knees?” inquired a guardsman, one of four who accompanied the roped figure.
“Let him stand,” said Otto.
“You!” said the roped figure, looking up.
“I have long sought you,” said Otto. Then he said to the guardsmen. “Unbind him.”
“He is dangerous, your majesty,” protested the guardsman.
“I am more dangerous,” said Otto. “Now leave us.”
“Your majesty?” said the guardsman.
“Now,” said Otto.
The two men were then left alone in the throne room.
“Am I not to be slain?” asked the figure.
Otto descended from the throne, and stood before the prisoner. The man was large, but Otto was better than a head taller.
“You are Drisriak, are you not?” asked Otto.
“
Ortung,” said the figure.
“Good,” said Otto. “I had hoped it would still be so.”
“I remember you from Tenguthaxichai,” it said.
“Most think you died there, at the hand of your father, Abrogastes,” said Otto.
“I thought he meant to kill me, but failed, missing his intended stroke by an inch,” said the figure. “It was only later I realized he had spared me.”
“But had succeeded in giving the impression of meting out a deserved punishment to a dissident son, a secessionist from the Drisriaks.”
“I recovered, gathered some followers. I am sure there must be others about.”
“I thought you would still be in the delta of the Turning Serpent,” said Otto, “not far from your four, concealed Lion Ships.”
“You know of them?” said the figure.
“They are safe,” said Otto. “I sent agents to contact you. I had hoped to invite you to the palace.”
“I would decline such an invitation,” he said, “as I would an invitation to dine with a hungry vi-cat.”
“But you were nowhere to be found,” said Otto. “Then you were apprehended at the Telnar river wharves, questioned, and set upon as an Alemanni spy.”
“Two guardsmen I flung into the river,” he said, “three I smote unconscious, and then all went black.”
“Perhaps then you can understand the advisability of the ropes,” said Otto.
“How did you know it was I?” he asked.
“I did not know,” said Otto, “but I thought it likely from the description. Too, when my people could not locate you in the delta, and the river ships were moored, and the Lion Ships slept in their sheds, I thought you might venture to Telnar.”
The figure crossed his arms on his chest and faced Otto, regarding him boldly.
“Good,” said Otto, “you have the look of a king.”
“I am a king,” said the figure, “king of the Ortungen, son of mighty Abrogastes, the Far-Grasper, king of the Drisriaks, high tribe of the Alemanni.”
“A rebel king, a break-away king,” said Otto.
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