The Emperor

by Norman, John;

  “Good,” said Otto. “Few things better impress on a woman that she is a slave than not permitting her to speak when she pleases.”

  “Having her on her knees, naked, and her neck in a collar, as well,” said Ausonius.

  “It is pleasant to own a woman,” said Otto.

  “I have found it so,” said Ausonius.

  “It solves many problems,” said Otto.

  “And for the woman, as well,” said Ausonius.

  “The “same world” seems far behind you,” said Otto.

  “It is,” said Ausonius. “It is incomprehensible how that unnatural insanity could infect a world.”

  “And yet, at one time, you accepted its aberrations unquestioningly,” said Otto.

  “I knew no better,” said Ausonius. “Much depends on how one is raised, how one is taught, what one is permitted to know, and so on.”

  “You were unacquainted with nature, and biology,” said Otto.

  “Clearly,” said Ausonius.

  “Master! Master!” cried Nika, frenzied and distraught, suddenly emerging from a ground-level side passage, rushing forward into the lofty, tiered, deliberation chamber. “My Master, Aesilesius, is gone!”

  Chapter Seventy-Eight

  “Speak!” demanded Otto.

  “I was sent for bread,” cried Nika. “When I returned, my Master was gone.”

  “A ruse,” Julian.

  “Do not be absurd,” said Iaachus. “Aesilesius is incapable of such things. He has wandered off, like a lost dog.”

  “He did not come this way,” said Tuvo Ausonius.

  “We will search the building,” said Titus Gelinus. “We will find him, we will bring him back.”

  “Do not,” said Otto, sharply. “He will not be in the building.”

  “How do you know?” asked Iaachus.

  “He will have availed himself of the secret entrance, the same as that through which we entered.”

  “If he is not in the building, he must have done so,” said Titus Gelinus. “The private entrances, with their panels, are concealed, both inside and outside. He would be familiar only with that through which we entered.”

  “And he would be familiar only with that combination,” said Otto.

  “Do not jest,” said Iaachus. “A mind like that of Aesilesius could not even keep in mind the simplest of combinations, or even understand the nature of such things.”

  “Let me go,” begged Nika. “Let me go, and search for him!”

  “She has a palace collar,” said Iaachus.

  “Few are likely to inspect it,” said Julian.

  “Please, Master,” begged Nika. “Let me go, Master.”

  “Remain where you are,” said Otto. “Perhaps later.”

  “One of us should go,” said Julian.

  “Wait,” said Otto.

  “He cannot have gone far,” said Julian.

  “He may have gone farther than you think,” said Otto.

  “He can hardly walk,” said Julian. “He will attract attention, lurching about the streets.”

  “Perhaps not,” said Otto.

  “I can find him,” said Julian.

  “Perhaps not,” said Otto, “if he does not wish to be found.”

  “I do not understand,” said Julian.

  “It is nothing,” said Otto.

  “He will not know his way, the districts, or the streets,” said Julian.

  “He may be more familiar with such things than we know,” said Otto.

  “How?” said Julian.

  “Do not concern yourself,” said Otto.

  “Few know of his affliction,” said Iaachus. “His relationship to the royal family will not be understood. He can hardly speak. He may not even know his name. He will be regarded as no more than crippled, misshapen simpleton. Guardsmen will pick him up and have him examined by authorities, following which he will be remanded to one of the charity pits reserved for the insane, to be thrown bread from time to time from the spanning bridge.”

  “Perhaps it is all for the best,” said Julian. “When the forces of Sidonicus and Ingeld locate us, as they must, we will all be slain, sooner or later, slowly or more quickly.”

  “Perhaps you are right,” said Otto. “Perhaps Aesilesius is the wisest of us all.”

  “You seem disappointed,” said Julian.

  “Aesilesius, with his childlike mind, does have a large body,” said Iaachus. “In the charity pit, when sufficiently hungry, he is likely to prove a formidable foe. I myself would not choose to challenge him.”

  “You speak of him as though he were a wolf or vi-cat!” cried Nika.

  “Be silent, slave,” said Iaachus, “lest your tongue be cut out.”

  “Forgive me, Master,” said Nika, frightened, kneeling, putting her head down.

  “What are we to do?” asked Titus Gelinus.

  “For now, as we have done for days, wait,” said Otto. “There is little else to do.”

  “And for what are we waiting?” asked Julian.

  “The curtain of the future is not yet drawn,” said Otto.

  “It never is,” said Iaachus.

  “Yet tomorrow becomes today,” said Otto.

  At that moment Andak who, with his cohort Boris, supervised the prisoners Safarius and Corelius, reeled into the deliberation chamber, stumbling toward those gathered in the semicircular well at the foot of the tiers.

  “He is ill,” said Julian.

  Andak, white-faced, stumbled forward and was caught and held, by Titus Gelinus. Andak’s eyes did not focus. His lips moved but no sound escaped them.

  “What is wrong?” demanded Iaachus.

  “Violently, desperately ill,” said Julian.

  Titus Gelinus lowered Andak to the floor, and supported him there, in a sitting position.

  “I think he has gone blind,” said Ausonius.

  The body of Andak begin to tremble and then, slowly, the muscles contracting, stiffen.

  “I have seen this, I am sure,” said Julian, suddenly, “long ago, on Naxos.” He knelt beside the sitting Andak, and, with two hands, spread his jaws.

  A sound of dismay, of revulsion escaped Ausonius.

  “Yes,” said Julian.

  The tongue was black and swollen.

  “What is it?” asked Iaachus.

  “A toxin, eloidial mercury,” said Julian. “It proceeds rapidly, but is not a merciful poison. It paralyzes the lungs and induces suffocation. One suffers terribly. It is like acid in the blood stream. I do not see how he reached the chamber. On Naxos it is used for executions, of those guilty of the most heinous crimes.”

  “I have been a fool, a mindless fool,” said Otto.

  “I think he is dead,” said Titus Gelinus.

  “Quite dead,” said Julian, rising.

  “How could he have obtained the poison?” asked Ausonius. “How could it have been administered?”

  “Where is Boris?” asked Iaachus.

  “He will be dead, in the storeroom,” said Julian. “He may have imbibed more of the compound.”

  “The appearance of madness is not always madness,” said Otto. “Timon Safarius Rhodius planned well. This was prepared for, for days, perhaps weeks. He waited until the opportune time and then struck.”

  “I do not understand,” said Iaachus.

  “The pretense of madness,” said Otto. “The feigning of the terror of poisoning. The refusal to eat until assured the food was free of poisons.”

  “The guards proving the harmlessness of the food by themselves tasting it, one or both, to assure Safarius of his safety,” said Ausonius.

  “And this time, one of the times for which Safarius was waiting, it being tasted by both,” said Otto.

  “Safarius was chained,” said Iaach
us.

  “But not encelled,” said Ausonius.

  “And locks respond to keys,” said Otto, “keys easily available from the wallet or pouch of a dead or dying guard, otherwise the deed would not be practical.”

  “Let us seek Safarius,” said Iaachus.

  “It would be useless,” said Titus Gelinus. “He is primarius of the senate; he would know every foot of this building and its devices. He would have taken his departure within moments of his deed.”

  “How could he have obtained poison, or dispensed it?” asked Ausonius.

  “From a ring, worn,” said Iaachus, “from a sachet concealed about his person, from a raveling on a sleeve, a raveling imbued with the substance, in many ways.”

  “One thing is clear,” said Otto. “Our location is now known, and will be instantly communicated to Sidonicus and Ingeld.”

  “We have run out of time,” said Iaachus.

  “Perhaps not,” said Otto.

  Chapter Seventy-Nine

  “We owe you much, noble Safarius,” said Sidonicus.

  “I did no more than my duty to the state, the throne, and the temple,” said Timon Safarius Rhodius, modestly, he of the Telnar Rhodii, primarius of the senate of Telnaria.

  “Were it not for you we might not now have in custody the usurper and his treasonous associates.”

  “I expected them to die fighting,” said Ingeld.

  “They were cowards,” said Fulvius. “They made not the least show of resistance.”

  “One might have thought them ministrants,” said Ingeld.

  “Ministrants, dear prince,” said Sidonicus, “remember, are forbidden the shedding of blood.”

  Buthar and Grissus, both in fee to the exarch, stood to the side, their arms folded.

  “Why are we in this basement room, below the exarchical residence?” asked Safarius.

  “The throne room,” said Sidonicus, “is being dealt with, freshened, cleaned, recarpeted, refurbished, and such. The stately pomp of office is being restored. Surely you can understand this. Smokened walls, burnt hangings, ruined carpeting, cold droplets of melted metal, rubble, and such, ill befit the majesty of empire.”

  “Of course,” said Safarius.

  “You were very clever in managing your escape,” said Sidonicus.

  “It was well thought out,” said Fulvius.

  Safarius nodded gracefully.

  “And you wisely left the fugitive, your fellow prisoner, Corelius, at the mercy of his captors.”

  “I thought it best, excellency,” said Safarius. “His companionship might have delayed or jeopardized my escape. Too, as I knew he was one whom you had long sought to apprehend, I left him in place, helpless, yours to do with as you pleased, once you had invaded and recaptured the house of the senate.”

  “Excellent,” said Sidonicus.

  “Doubtless, fearing for his life at the hands of the usurper and his villains, he pleaded with you to be released, either to accompany you or to be freed to seek his fortune elsewhere,” remarked Fulvius.

  “Quite so, sweet, holy ministrant,” said Safarius. “And he pleaded most piteously, most desperately.”

  “We had long sought him,” said Sidonicus. “He betrayed us grievously.”

  “He will be dealt with accordingly,” said Fulvius.

  “We do not deal lightly with traitors,” said Sidonicus.

  “Nor should you,” said Safarius.

  “As I understand it,” said Sidonicus, “you feigned an irrational fear of being poisoned, this pretense being credited by your guards, and generating their pity, indeed, to the extent that, as you refused, in seeming terror, to eat, they grew accustomed to assuring you of the provender’s innocence, this done by sampling it themselves.”

  “I had poison, concealed in my tunic, in a clasp at the left shoulder,” said Safarius. “When the usurper left the palace and took refuge in the senate house, an edifice without cells, an edifice muchly deserted, an edifice with which I was intimately familiar, I awaited my opportunity. When it presented itself, I proceeded as I had planned.”

  “You are extremely clever,” said Sidonicus.

  “Thank you, your excellency,” said Safarius.

  “But I wonder if you were clever enough,” said Sidonicus.

  “Your excellency?” asked Safarius.

  “We trusted you,” said Sidonicus.

  “Appropriately,” said Safarius, uneasily.

  “Boris and Andak, whom you poisoned, were your guards, your captors, in the senate house?” asked Sidonicus.

  “He made that clear,” said Fulvius.

  “Is that not interesting?” asked Sidonicus.

  “How so, your excellency?” asked Safarius.

  “We took them to be your bodyguards, attending you at various secret councils,” said Sidonicus.

  “Now, it seems,” said Fulvius, “you were their prisoner, that you were in their custody.”

  “The signal for the planned coup was prematurely issued,” said Sidonicus, “confusing matters, disrupting plans, introducing bewilderment and chaos into what should have been a rapid, smooth, effective seizure of power. Rioting and looting ensued. The city was in turmoil, for days. Only now is the city in our power. The scales could have tipped either way. Who knew how the reed might lean, how the dice might fall? Anarchy is a thoughtless beast. Who knows on what it might turn or whom it might attack? From it a dozen competitive factions might emerge.”

  “It was not I who betrayed the signal!” cried Safarius. “It was Boris or Andak, or both! Unknown to me they were suborned by the foe!”

  “You and they survived the killings beneath the warehouse of Dardanis, in which Abrogastes and Ortog were freed,” said Sidonicus. “Then somehow Boris and Andak became your custodians. It is not hard to guess on what terms your life was spared.”

  “If I had not done the will of the foe, his minions, either one of them, Boris or Andak, would have killed me!” said Safarius.

  “You spied, you revealed secrets,” said Fulvius.

  “I had no choice,” said Safarius.

  “You could have resisted, you could have refused, you could have defied them, you could have denounced them,” said Fulvius.

  “And died?” asked Safarius.

  “Certainly,” said Sidonicus, “and then rushed jubilantly to the table of Karch.”

  “I am not one of your dupes,” said Safarius.

  “But you are ready to obey now, are you not?” asked Sidonicus.

  “Certainly,” said Safarius, sweating, relieved.

  “Excellent,” said Sidonicus. “Buthar, fetch the plate.”

  “I do not care to see this,” said Ingeld. “I take my leave.” He then withdrew, not speaking, from the room.

  “What is going on?” asked Safarius.

  “The food, I fear, is now cold, and dry, and stale,” said Sidonicus.

  “But it will do,” said Fulvius.

  “I do not understand,” said Safarius.

  “You did not finish your supper,” said Sidonicus. “You may do so now.”

  “What supper?” said Safarius.

  “That which Boris and Andak sampled for you, in the senate house,” said Sidonicus. “We had it picked up, and saved for you.”

  “No!” cried Safarius.

  “We do not think lightly of traitors,” said Sidonicus.

  “Eat,” said Fulvius.

  “Ministrants do not shed blood!” said Safarius.

  “This does not shed blood,” said Fulvius.

  “Eat,” said Sidonicus.

  In the dimly lit basement room beneath the temple, Safarius looked about, first at Sidonicus and Fulvius, and then at Buthar and Grissus, and then partook of what lay, hitherto little touched, on the plate.

  Chapter Eighty
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  Julian struck the metal door, again and again, angrily, in frustration.

  “Desist,” said Otto. “You will bloody your fists, you could break your hands.”

  Julian spun about, enraged. “We could have sold our lives dearly,” he said. “That would have been an honorable death, heated, noble, and swift. Now, at the mercy of Sidonicus we can be disposed of as he wishes, shamefully, in prolonged agony.”

  “We will be thought cowards,” said Tuvo Ausonius.

  “Certainly,” said Otto.

  “Why did you not permit us the satisfaction of a worthy death?” asked Julian. “Why did you order us to lay down our arms, and submit, like sheep, offering not the least resistance? I had two cartridges in my pistol. They might have slain dozens.”

  “And they will think us cowards,” said Ausonius.

  “Does that concern you?” asked Otto.

  “Yes,” said Ausonius.

  “It should not,” said Otto.

  “Why not?” asked Ausonius.

  “Because you are not a coward,” said Otto. “To be thought a coward should be of concern only to cowards.”

  A narrow, descending, placid shaft of light entered the chamber by means of a small barred window set high in the wall, some fourteen feet above the straw-strewn floor. In this shaft of light floated tiny, sparkling particles of dust.

  “I am an attorney,” said Titus Gelinus. “I know the law. They cannot just dispose of us. I can argue from a hundred precedents. There must be a trial.”

  “There will be no trial if it is not in the interests of Sidonicus,” said Otto.

  “The law!” protested Gelinus.

  “It can be invoked or ignored,” said Otto. “It exists or does not exist at the will of those in power; it means one thing or another, as those in power choose what they wish it to mean.”

  “I do not think you a coward, my friend,” said Iaachus. “I know better. Yet I acknowledge I am surprised that you did not have us die at the entrance to the senate.”

  “You had us surrender,” said Julian, reproachfully.

  “True,” said Otto.

  “And placed us in gross jeopardy,” said Ausonius, “subject to an ignoble, shameful fate.”