“You are familiar, perhaps,” said Otto, “with my slave, Flora?”
“The one who was an officer of the court, on Terennia?”
“Yes,” said Otto.
“Of course,” said Rurik.
“I am having her trained in dance,” said Otto. “I am going to include her in the entertainment. I think it will be amusing to see her dance, to entertain us, as a slave.”
“Preparations for the great feast are well underway,” said Iaachus.
“Musicians, dancers, singers, jugglers, acrobats, rope walkers, eaters of fire?” said Otto.
“And magicians, and knife dancers, and others,” said Iaachus.
“Good,” said Otto.
“Markets on a dozen worlds will be ransacked for delicacies,” said Iaachus. “The palace chefs will be joined by others, from amongst the finest in the city.”
“There should be a thousand guests at the tables,” said Julian.
“Even the great hall will be crowded,” said Titus Gelinus.
“Gifts and prizes are to be abundant and lavish,” said Otto, “worthy the bestowing hands of an emperor.”
“Gold, silver, rings, jewelries, slaves, villas, estates, and such,” said Iaachus.
“To the noblest the richest of prizes, the greatest of gifts,” said Rurik, “the most esteemed and best remembered, will be the gratitude of an emperor.”
“They shall have that, and more,” said Otto.
“It will be strange to have an imperial feast attended by Abrogastes, king of the Drisriaks, and Ortog, prince of the Drisriaks, and king of the Ortungen,” said Julian.
“They have graciously delayed their departure from the city, to join us in the fete,” said Otto.
“They are currently housed in the palace,” said Tuvo Ausonius.
“Stranger yet,” said Rurik, “to have Heruls indoors, and in a palace.”
Men laughed, save Otto.
“I gather that certain high men from the city will be in attendance,” said Julian.
“Yes,” said Iaachus. “That seems in the best interests of the throne.”
“And some common folk, as well?” said Julian.
“A selected handful, a token,” said Iaachus.
“Well publicized?” said Julian.
“Of course,” said Iaachus.
“That, too, in the best interests of the throne?” said Julian.
“Of course,” said Iaachus.
“What of free women?” asked Julian.
“Some,” said Iaachus, “spouses of high men, ambassadors, dignitaries, wealthy merchants, and such.”
“They can avert their eyes, whenever they wish,” said Titus Gelinus.
“There will be many tables,” said Otto, “and not everything need be the same at every table.”
“In a way,” said Iaachus, “there will be many feasts.”
“But only one emperor’s table,” said Julian.
“Of course,” said Iaachus.
“Presumably it will be large and well attended,” said Julian.
“Naturally,” said Iaachus, “but with its places reserved for particular guests.”
“There will be too many in attendance,” said Rurik. “I fear for the safety of the emperor.”
“Precautions have been taken,” said Iaachus. “There will be a public feast, to be sure, but a private one, as well. The emperor will be seen, appear amongst the tables, accept salutations, welcome guests, and such, but will then retire to a more secluded venue, a reserved dining area, one ample, but better secured.”
“One in which the business of the banquet, its purposes and paramount considerations, may be better pursued?” said Julian.
“Precisely,” said Iaachus.
“That seems wise,” said Julian.
“It was deemed so,” said Iaachus.
Chapter Ninety
Viviana, seventh in the coffle, her hands braceleted, fastened behind her, made her way, in her place, weeping, miserable with shame and fear, in her tiny, degrading tunic of clinging silk, through the jubilant throngs in the great square, toward the steps of the palace. Men greeted the coffle’s passage with cries of interest, laughter, hootings, unsolicited appraisals, and lewd noises. Even if it had consisted of the captured women of a hated enemy little would have been different. The coffle was flanked by guards, that its contents not be accosted, seized, and fondled in its course.
Viviana lifted her head and saw before her the broad steps of the palace.
Beneath her feet she felt crushed flowers.
She, no more than the others, now wore the emporium collar of Varick’s Market. Her neck, and those of the others, was now encircled with a palace collar. How the others had been delighted at this change; how she had been filled with a sense of distress and dread as this change had been effected!
The palace, blazing with light, furnished by dozens of lamps and mounted torches, was strung with ribbons, banners, and streamers.
She then, in her place, obedient to the chain, began to climb the broad steps leading to the now-rebuilt, great portal, the central entryway into the palace.
Many times before she had ascended these same steps but never as she did now, scarcely clad, helpless, and on a chain. She, with the others, had originally expected to be entered into the palace by an obscure side entrance, as would be common with slaves, denied, as other animals, the prestige of a portal better reserved for the free, but she had learned while in the House of Varick, the Market of Varick, that many valuables, weighty chests, bound with gold bands, silver standards hung with jewelry, elaborate candelabra, large precious vessels, rugs from Beyira II, and such, were to be ostentatiously introduced into the palace, evidencing the wealth of the city, the regime, and the empire.
“Oh!” she cried, for a hand had dragged at her arm.
“Back,” said a guard, brandishing his spear.
The coffle hurried on.
A free woman hissed and spat, and sputum struck the cheek of Viviana, mingling there with the tears streaming from her eyes.
Viviana recalled the contempt in which she herself had once held female slaves, worthless beasts so fascinating to, and desired by, strong men.
Shortly thereafter Viviana had entered the palace.
“I must try to be unnoticed,” thought Viviana to herself. “I must be unobtrusive, be so much a slave that none will note me.”
In her days of freedom Viviana had frequently been served by slaves whom, an hour later, she would have been at a loss to recall.
A servitor, in a vestibule to the side, had received the coffle. The captain of the coffle guard had turned the key pouch over to the servitor, and then he, with his men, had withdrawn.
The servitor inspected the coffle.
He wiped Viviana’s face with a soft cloth, removing the stains of tears and the traces of the free woman’s displeasure. “Why do you weep?” he asked. “Forgive me Master,” said Viviana. “Weep no more,” he said. “Yes, Master,” she said. He then, as he did with the others, straightened and adjusted her tunic, pulling it downward, a bit, and then more back, more tightly against her body.
The coffle then, the guards having retired, followed the servitor.
In the great hall, Viviana’s head began to swim, dazzled by color and movement, by crowding and merriment, by dozens of tables filled with laughing, jesting, conversing guests, by scurrying slaves and servitors, with the swirl of music, with the movements of mountebanks and acrobats performing amongst the tables. The odors of succulent viands, many of them unfamiliar to Viviana, permeated the hall. Never in her days in the palace had she experienced anything like this, so seemingly momentous an affair, so busy with noise, crowding, light, and commotion. She looked up and saw a rope walker cavorting yards above the tables. She cried out in fear, while men laughed
, as a torrent of fire burst forth beside her, emitted from the mouth of a turbaned fire eater.
The coffle continued to follow the servitor in whose charge it was.
Threading through the tables Viviana was heartened. She began to grow cautiously optimistic, and then, as they continued on their way, even more so, and ever more so.
“There are many here,” thought Viviana to herself. “I do not know them, and they do not know me. In such a gathering who pays attention to a slave? In such crowds who truly sees a slave? I have little, if anything, to fear.”
She wondered how long the feast, or banquet, had been in progress. It was clearly much underway. Surely it had not just begun.
Then, to her surprise, the coffle was turned to the right, and then, a bit later, to the left, where there was a carpeted aisle amongst the tables. The coffle, following the servitor, was conducted up this aisle, tables on both sides. Viviana felt the deep nap of the rug beneath her bared feet. At the termination of this aisle there was a closed portal, flanked by guards. Viviana, though raised in the palace, was not familiar with many of its precincts. She had, for, example, never been in the kitchen, the servitors’ quarters, the guard rooms, various store rooms, or even the great library. She was familiar, of course, with the great hall, but she had never seen it so busy, so strewn with tables and crowds. She recalled it largely as an imposing, spacious, empty area, presumably designed to impress visitors with the vastness of the palace, a place where general audiences might be held. She had seen the portal at its termination, but had never been behind it. She did not know if a large or small chamber, perhaps a robing room, lay behind it, or, possibly, merely a corridor, by means of which the great hall might be discreetly reached from inner recesses of the palace.
It was before this portal that the coffle was halted, tables on each side.
Suddenly Viviana was very frightened.
She saw the chain on her neck looping up to the back of the collar of the girl before her, and sensed its weight, as well, going to the girl behind her.
She jerked at the close-linked metal circlets which confined her wrists behind her.
“You slaves are special,” said the servitor to the coffle.
Viviana, in the passage amongst the tables, in the tumult of the feast, seeing hundreds of strangers, and busy servitors and slaves, had cautiously discounted the apprehensions which had so disturbed her in the rear court of Varick’s Market and outside the palace, and on the steps. She would be unremarked, one slave amongst many, even were she to be given to, or won by, a guest. Who knew what guests were high victors or heroes? Were not all the guests favorites of a generous emperor?
“You slaves,” said the servitor, “with others, private slaves, will serve at the emperor’s table, after which you will be gambled for, or distributed, to the guests.”
“The emperor’s table!” cried a girl, delightedly.
There were cries of joy from the coffle, save from its seventh occupant, a blue-eyed blonde who shook with fear and misery.
“Oh, let the room be large,” thought Viviana to herself, “and let the guests be many. Let there be light, noise, and good cheer. Let entertainers charm the guests, engaging their attention. Let inebriating beverages flow, heating the blood, instilling contentment, dulling perception and clouding the mind. Let me be unnoted!”
Keys were inserted into the bracelets confining the girls’ hands behind their backs, and their hands were freed. One of the portal guards took the impediments from the servitor and dropped them into a basket situated to the left of the portal, as one would enter. Viviana rubbed her wrists. The bracelets had not been cruelly tight, as might have been those inflicted on women of the enemy shortly after capture, but they had been snug, and, as one would expect, unslippable. Next the coffle was crowded before the closed portal, with its two stout panels, and the coffle chain was removed. Viviana began to tremble, and feared her legs would give way beneath her. The coffle chain was deposited in the same basket as contained the now-removed bracelets. Viviana might have turned to run, back, amidst the tables, but she feared she would, in her weakness, fall. “What is wrong?” asked the girl beside her. “Nothing, nothing,” Viviana whispered.
“‘Nothing’!” she wept to herself. “In the affairs of Telnaria, were my abasement known, the house of Aesilesius would be wrought with scandal. It would be dishonored, shamed, and perhaps ruined. A hundred noble families, such as the Orsini, the Aureliani, the Veii, the Farnichi might spring forth and eye the throne. Order might totter and civil war rage. The empire itself, a thousand worlds, might tremble. How could I bring that about, such disruption, scandal, shame, and peril? And what fate would be mine? Might I not, to prevent such misery and chaos, be hastily done away with in one fashion or another, slain and disposed of, perhaps in some carnarium, or sold on some remote world, perhaps to an alien form of life? But who would risk selling me? Or might I be simply hidden away, say, in one palace or stronghold, or another, on one world or another? And how could I be restored to liberty, if that was to be my fate, without affronting public opinion and custom, and even the law? There has been a collar on my neck. How could I take my place amongst free women? What an insult to them! How could they endure my presence, as though I might be an equal? I would be shunned, avoided, despised, and scorned. But, too, how I could I endure to be amongst them, trapped in their robes, prejudices, and conventions, knowing what I now know of myself, that I desire to be on my knees before a master, that I rightfully belong to men, that I wish to be owned, possessed, and dominated, that I am a needful slave!”
Viviana could hear music from within. At the moment, though the instruments were doubtless similar, it was quite different from the music of the main concourse, that in the great hall itself. In the great hall, the music was designed to enhance the pleasures of dining and provide an unobtrusive background for conversation. Here, from behind the door, could be heard music intended not only to delight the ear but stir the blood. Odd, thought Viviana, how similar instruments in the same hands can effect such incredible varieties, subtleties, and nuances of sound, sinking to the depths of night and pain, soaring to the heights of cloud and sky. How is it, she wondered, that men can draw from simple, silent, mechanical objects, bowls, boxes, strings, bits of metal, tubes of wood, placidity, despair, hope, resolution, fury, ecstasy, and passion, the gamut of sensibilities without which a species could not be itself?
As the slaves were grouped before the panels of the portal, it seemed they would be introduced into the area behind the portal as a whole.
“Forgive me, Master,” whispered Viviana to the conducting servitor, “but I trust that we will not be introduced individually before the guests within.”
She received the response for which she had hoped.
“Certainly not,” he said. “Do you think you are important?”
“No, Master,” said Viviana. “Thank you, Master.”
“There is hope,” thought Viviana. “Let there be many guests, let there be many distractions. Who notices a slave as other than a slave? Are we not all the same, identical in our collars, meaningless, purchasable work and pleasure beasts?”
“Too,” she thought, “what have I to fear, truly? All, or most, believe that Viviana died in childbirth, or, I suppose, was somehow done away with. I know this sort of thing from my former Master, Urta, the Otung. Who then would recognize the royal princess, Viviana, in a common slave, tunicked, marked, and collared? To be sure, there might be a resemblance. But how could I help that? Thus, if questioned, I need only deny being Viviana. It would be simple to feign ignorance of the royal princess, her background, and such, to whom I might accidentally bear some resemblance.”
The music within the room surged to a climax and suddenly ceased, and, a moment later, there could be heard an odd mixture of sounds, ranging from the raucous, ardent cries of men, accompanied by the rude pounding of fists on wood, t
o the light, restrained, perhaps reluctant, tapping of metal on metal or glass.
The guards then pressed open the two panels of the portal, revealing what lay within.
Gasps of delight, soft cries, scarcely suppressed exclamations of pleasure coursed amongst the slaves, save for one of their number, but even she, too, to whom the room was as new as to the others, was startled and impressed. Within that portal, beyond the opened doors, lay a large, rectangular room bright with color and light. Lamps were many, both mounted and suspended. The room was dominated by a long table, white with linen, laden with festive provender, resplendent in a service of crystal and gold. This table was set parallel to the long sides of the rectangular room. About the table were at least a hundred guests, women and men, most robed in finery appropriate for the occasion. There were many slaves in the room, some attending on the guests, others kneeling to the sides, unobtrusive, but ready, in a moment, summoned, to serve. Wary guards were in evidence, as well. The walls of the room and its high, domed ceiling were covered with murals depicting scenes from dozens of worlds, forests and jungles, rivers and lakes, deserts and mountains, varieties of plants and animals, scenes pastoral and urban, scenes of clearing land and building homes, scenes of ships under sail and scenes of soldiers on the march. The character and condition of the murals, and their nature, bespoke a room’s long history, the waxing and wanings of fortunes, the shifts and interests, the victories and defeats, of a thousand years. The music had surged to a climax and suddenly ceased, following which the dancer, a slender dark-haired slave of medium height, in her bit of flaming silk, had sunk to the floor and knelt, her head down. As the new slaves, amongst whom was Viviana, were ushered into the room, the dancer, breathing heavily and sheened with sweat, leapt up and fled to the head of the table where she inserted herself beneath the table, at the robed knee of the individual who occupied that place of distinction.
“Noble guests,” called the servitor, “amongst the many gifts, grants, emoluments, and tokens of the emperor’s generosity, previously or later to be distributed, behold twelve exquisite properties, obtained from Varick’s Market, well-known in Telnar for the quality of its merchandise.”
The Emperor Page 63