The Emperor

by Norman, John;

  “Be silent, and sleep,” had snarled Urta, “lest I treat you to an entertaining lullaby of leather.”

  Later that night in the very early hours, she had pleaded once more with him, but this time she had received two peremptory strokes of the whip, after which she had remained silent, red-eyed, clutching the chain which held her head down, to the floor ring.

  Urta mixed some water with meal in a pan and put it on the floor next to Yana. “As before?” she asked her Master. “Of course,” he said. As she now had the memories extending from the room with the red carpet to those of imbibing from the goblet of yesterday’s evening with its foaming contents, she went to her knees, her head down, close to the floor ring, and, the palms of her hands down on the floor, fed from the pan.

  Urta then went back to the window, to look down into the street.

  It did not take Yana long to finish the gruel as there was little of it. Urta was sparing of the gruel. Such parsimony was common in the feeding of female slaves. Whereas most female slaves are well-nourished, for one wishes one’s animals to be well fed and healthy, they are seldom overfed. In this way the Master assures himself of an attractive, well-figured beast. An obvious concomitant virtue of this practice is that less money needs be spent on slave feed.

  “May I be told what is occurring?” asked Yana.

  “No,” he said.

  Suddenly Urta jerked back from the window, and, almost at the same time, a rock struck the side of the window, gouging the wood. Yana screamed.

  A bit later Urta returned, warily, to the window.

  Lying on the floor, Yana had drawn the small blanket about her.

  The bells were still ringing.

  “Master,” said Yana. “I smell smoke!”

  “It is elsewhere in the city,” said Urta. “It is carried by the wind.”

  “Fires can spread,” said Yana.

  Her apprehension was not ill-founded. Within the last year a terrible fire had ravaged several sections of Telnar. Estimates varied, but it seemed clear that at least a fifteenth of the city might have been destroyed. The fire had supposedly begun in an Illusionist Temple, one of the several sects or versions, or views, within Floonianism, one not to be confused with that of Sidonicus, the exarch of Telnar, which maintained the identical-but-­different view of the nature of Floon.

  “The city is not to be destroyed,” said Urta. “Certainly not the entire city. That is no part of the plan. The city, seat of the empire, is the prize. Of what value are ashes, cinders, and charred wood?”

  “Fire, Master,” said Yana, “seldom acknowledges the plans of others, seldom responds to instructions.”

  “It must not get out of hand,” said Urta.

  “It is heedless and voracious,” said Yana. “If it had its way it would burn forever.”

  Urta turned about, angrily, went to the prone Yana, and jerked away her small blanket. He then, with a long thong, looping it several times about her ankles, tied them together, tightly. He then relieved her of the neck chain, so that she would no longer be chained in place. He turned her and drew her up to a sitting position. “Sit there,” he said, “and do not touch the thonging on your ankles. If the fire approaches I will free your ankles and you will accompany me to safety.”

  “A slave is grateful to her Master,” she said.

  “You might prove of value,” he said.

  This form of tying is not that unusual. As long as her ankles are tied, she is, in effect, kept in place. This also frees her hands, so that she may do handwork, groom herself, feed herself, and so on. Needless to say, this arrangement is normally in place only when a master or mistress is about and the slave, thus, is under supervision.

  Urta went again to the window.

  “There is unrest in the streets?” she asked.

  “There is little action here,” he said.

  “Elsewhere?” she asked.

  “Doubtless,” he said.

  “I still smell smoke,” she said.

  “The signal should not have been given early,” he said. “It disrupts plans and phases. Leaders do not know whether to act upon the signal or wait until the proper time. Confusion obtains.”

  “Things, I gather, are awry,” she said.

  “Possibly,” said Urta.

  “Crowds are dangerous,” said Yana. “Like fire, they can go where they wish and do what they want.”

  “Leaders were to be put in place, shortly before noon,” said Urta. “The crowds, like stampeding cattle, were to be guided, directed to planned streets. Now the leaders will not have been at their posts. And now the crowds are loose.”

  “All is in jeopardy?” asked Yana.

  “Not at all,” said Urta. “Do not hope so. The coup may be delayed, but it is not foiled.”

  “Unwanted fires must be fought,” said Yana.

  “True,” said Urta. “And that will divert resources, which should be directed on the palace.”

  “And valuable time is lost,” said Yana.

  “It will make no difference in the long run,” said Urta, “for the palace has been taken unawares by this movement and will have had no time to call for assistance. Success will be secured before help can arrive, even if help should be offered, which I doubt. What help would be offered to a usurper, a barbarian, when victory already blazes upon, and crowns, the silver standards of legitimacy?”

  “I understand little of this,” said Yana.

  “All was in place,” said Urta. “Rioting and arson were to be strictly controlled, limited to poorer districts, performed under the guise of justice, objecting to privilege and power, to wealth and success.”

  “Wickedness thrives best under a moral cloak,” said Yana.

  “Of course,” said Urta.

  “But now?” she asked.

  “Now wolves are loose,” he said. “The privileged and powerful, the wealthy and successful, those of your former sort, those who were to profit by the coup, may themselves be at risk. That will not do at all.”

  “But you are not afraid?” said Yana.

  “No,” said Urta. “Fire burns out when there is a lack of fuel, crowds grow weary, and bored, when there is nothing left to burn, break, and steal. Then legitimacy will be welcomed, and will mercifully prevail, and Prince Ingeld, who was your husband and lord, will reside in the palace and sit upon the throne as regent.”

  “If there remains a palace and a throne,” said Yana.

  “The smell of smoke grows stronger,” said Urta. “I fear the wind has changed.”

  “You are a bold Master,” said Yana.

  “Of course,” said Urta, “but how so?”

  “Suppose we must flee the domicile,” she said.

  “So?” he said.

  “In a time of unrest, possibly lawlessness,” said Yana, “it is a bold Master who will take a naked slave into the streets. Might he not be slain, and robbed, and the slave be raped and stolen?”

  Angrily Urta turned from the window, and went to the side, seized up a bit of cloth, and hurled it at Yana.

  She gratefully, quickly, slipped the loose, brief tunic over her head, drew it down about her thighs, and tied the knot at her left shoulder. The knot in such garments is almost always at the left shoulder as most masters are right-handed. The knot is also such that it may be easily undone, with so little as a light tug. In this way the girl is reminded that she is not a free woman, but a property, a slave.

  “The signal sounded too soon,” said Urta, returning to the window, “too soon.”

  The cacophony of the bells, which apparently had constituted a signal of sorts, continued unabated. Had it not been clear that a signal was involved, one might have taken the sounding of the bells as, given its nature, an alarm, signifying, for example, an invasion or fire.

  Chapter Seventy-One

  “It
has begun,” said Iaachus.

  Even in the throne room of the imperial palace, one could hear the bells, as though from far off, across the great plaza, through the mighty walls.

  On his knees, at the foot of the throne, Timon Safarius Rhodius, of the Telnar Rhodii, primarius of the senate of Telnaria, struggled against the ropes that swathed his upper body. Behind him, on either side, stood two dark, strong figures, the guards, Boris and Andak.

  “Shall we kill him now?” inquired Boris.

  “Hold,” said Otto.

  He sat upon the throne, the great sword across his knees.

  “He attempted to escape,” said Boris.

  “But failed to do so,” said Otto

  “I beg you to stay your hand, great majesty,” said Safarius. “I have served you well, however unwillingly.”

  “It must be admitted,” said Otto, looking down on the bound Safarius, “that your presence, accompanied by guards loyal to me, at the secret councils of our enemies, your standing in high regard with them, they taking you into their confidence as a fellow conspirator, has been a boon to our party. The conspirators might as well have reported to the throne in person.”

  “Be merciful,” said Safarius. “I even gave you the signal and time.”

  “We received the signal and time,” said Otto, “from our informants, Boris and Andak. You were merely present.”

  “I have been their prisoner,” said Safarius, “day in and day out, in constant danger of having my throat cut, if I gave the least sign of waywardness.”

  “And it would have been, had you done so,” said Otto.

  “What is to be done with me?” asked Safarius.

  “I am thinking,” said Otto, “of having you chained and returned to Ingeld and Sidonicus with a placard wired about your neck, detailing your services to the throne.”

  “Mercy!” begged Safarius.

  “It is true,” said Otto, “that we should be grateful to you for having ordered the signal for the insurrection to be sounded unseasonably, indeed, several hours before expected.”

  “You forced me to do so,” he said. “Otherwise I would have been killed.”

  “A consideration, to be sure,” said Otto.

  “Disruption has doubtless occurred,” said Safarius.

  “I trust so,” said Otto.

  “Last minute preparations and orders would not be issued,” said Safarius. “Leaders would not be in place. Explanations would be sought. Hundreds of men would not know whether to spring into action, or wait upon clarification and new orders.”

  “We shall hope so,” said Otto.

  “All this will do you no good,” said Safarius. “At best it will buy you time, but far from enough, and for what? You are without recourse and assistance. What does it matter whether you are destroyed today, or tomorrow, or the next day? It is uncertain that forces will be loyal to you. Many will quail and desert. You are a barbarian, a killer, a usurper. There is now a legitimate heir to the throne. Tremble! Even if handfuls of guards or soldiers remain loyal to you, they will be outnumbered, by hundreds to one. Resistance could be no better than token resistance, and it will be crushed like a varda egg under the nailed foot of a torodont, swept away like dried leaves before the wind of Umba, shattered like the vance tree by the bolt of Orak. Free me, and I will plead with Ingeld and Sidonicus to permit you and selected followers, a limited number of your choice, passage to some remote world, to enjoy the lenience of honorable banishment.”

  “You are most generous,” said Otto.

  “Free me,” said Safarius.

  “Take him away,” said Otto, “and chain him in some remote cell.”

  “Do not keep me here, not in the palace, helpless!” cried Safarius as Boris and Andak pulled him to his feet. “The mobs will be mad for blood. Sidonicus has made them so. The palace will be stormed. You do not understand their hatred. They will kill, destroy, or burn everything in sight, even dogs and filchen.”

  Otto made a small gesture, dismissing Safarius.

  “No, no!” screamed Safarius, as he was dragged from the room.

  Iaachus approached the throne. “The city is in danger,” he said. “Looting and rioting already takes place. Night will be terrible. It will be red with blood. Ravaging will be unabating. Districts will blaze.”

  “Many citizens,” said Tuvo Ausonius, “board their domiciles and conceal themselves within.”

  “One cannot expect them to challenge unbridled, hostile mobs, to risk criticizing their carnival of destruction, robbery, and arson,” said Julian. “It would be worth their lives. The reed of reason fares ill in the gale of passion.”

  “Against passion,” said Iaachus, “naught can prevail but passion. It is a war of lions.”

  “Surely,” said Tuvo Ausonius, “some attempt to restore order must be offered.”

  “The emperor is unwilling to sacrifice men in futile gestures,” said Titus Gelinus.

  “There are, proportionally, few on whom we can depend,” said Julian. “Rurik has secured the dock district, which accounts for his men. Ortog is in the delta of the Turning Serpent, and has, surely, no more than a hundred or a hundred and fifty men, the remnants of the Ortungen. I have some twenty officers from the imperial navy. Guardsmen and soldiers of the city garrison barricade themselves in their guard stations and barracks. We do not know where their loyalties lie, if anywhere. The emperor has ordered most Otungs away, putatively on missions of reconnaissance, of patrolling, and the pacification of supposed unrest in the countryside, that they not be overwhelmed in the deluge of rising, enflamed mobs.”

  “Tens and hundreds cannot stand against thousands,” said Titus Gelinus.

  “Mobs rule,” said Iaachus. “Who can challenge their sovereignty?”

  “And so,” said Tuvo Ausonius, “we wait here to die?”

  “I granted freedom to depart, to all who desired it, days ago,” said Otto.

  “I would not leave my emperor,” said Tuvo Ausonius.

  “Nor would those here,” said Julian.

  “I think,” said Titus Gelinus, “we should have spirited away the boy, Aesilesius, and the empress mother. They are not involved in these dark and terrible matters.”

  “The young, noble Aesilesius,” said Otto, “chose to stay and his mother would not leave without him.”

  “Young Aesilesius,” said Titus Gelinus, “is a pathetic retardate, a tragic, idiotic simpleton. He is incapable of even understanding what is going on, let alone making a judgment on the matter.”

  “He chose to stay,” said Otto.

  “I discovered that several of the servitors,” said Iaachus, “perhaps Floonians, of one sort or another, before departing, fouled water and contaminated food.”

  “Filchen,” said Julian.

  “Some private stores are untouched,” said Iaachus.

  “Used sparingly,” said Otto, “how long will they last?”

  “Some days,” said Iaachus, “presumably longer than it will take murderous swarms to force their way into the palace, looting and killing.”

  “Word has been sent to Tangara,” said Otto.

  “You should not abandon Tangara to savage Heruls,” said Julian.

  “Perhaps I have not done so,” said Otto.

  “I do not understand,” said Julian.

  “In any event,” said Iaachus, “there is insufficient time for aid to reach us from Tangara.”

  “All is lost,” said Tuvo Ausonius.

  “How many cartridges have you?” asked Otto of Julian.

  “Four,” said Julian, “for the pistol.”

  “Iaachus?” asked Otto.

  “Two,” said Iaachus, “too, for the pistol.”

  “Six cartridges are of great value,” said Otto. “And the enemy may fear we have more. Judiciously fired, they may give pau
se to even a mob.”

  “True,” said Julian.

  “And we may rest assured,” said Otto, “given the rarity of cartridges, that our foes lack even one.”

  “The mobs are busy in the city,” said Iaachus. “I doubt that they will turn their attention to the palace until tomorrow or the next day.”

  “There are fires, too,” said Tuvo Ausonius. “They may hold back mobs.”

  “Hopefully,” said Iaachus, “even insurgents, determined as they are, will have the common sense to address themselves to fire, their enemy as much as ours. What has one won if one’s prize is consumed in flame?”

  “We may survive for a time,” said Julian. “This is not fifty thousand, or a hundred thousand, years ago, a time of greater resources. Few weapons of power now exist, and some that do might tilt the axes of worlds, affect orbits, even shatter planets. Both we and our enemies are largely confined to weapons of steel and wood, arrows, spears, the knife and sword. Indeed, the depletion of resources lending themselves to destruction may account for the survival of civilization.”

  “Our walls are high and thick,” said Otto. “Even unguarded they will mock for a time the pounding of rams, the blows of hammers.”

  “And,” said Julian, “the throne room, from centuries ago, was shielded with steel. The walls of the throne room can withstand the impact of a cartridge, they were designed to do so, perhaps even two cartridges.”

  “Perhaps then,” said Tuvo Ausonius, eagerly, “we may be able to hold the palace until help arrives.”