The Emperor

by Norman, John;

  “Your majesty,” wept Viviana, raising a hand to Otto, “your prisoner, Lord Ingeld, prince of the Drisriaks, might have killed me, to protect his designs, to eliminate the threat of exposure, which would have brought his plans to naught, but he let me live, though disposing of me to the markets. Was this not gentle of him, kind of him, merciful of him?”

  “Surely it was a most grievous diplomatic indiscretion,” said Iaachus.

  “I beg mercy for him!” wept Viviana.

  “Who is this slave?” said Ingeld.

  “She was Viviana, sister of Aesilesius, of royal blood, of the house of Aesilesius,” said Otto.

  Viviana, prone, cast Otto a look of wild gratitude.

  “She was your spouse, according to the vacant, false rites of the exarch of Telnar,” said Abrogastes.

  “Thank you, Master!” cried Viviana.

  “Not truly espoused,” said Ortog. “No horses were given.”

  “As a matter of law,” said Titus Gelinus, “all is altered, superseded and abolished, with the affixing of the collar. The state of marriage obviously cannot exist between free and slave, no more than between a free person and a horse, pig, or dog.”

  “I know her not,” said Ingeld.

  “Master!” protested Viviana.

  “Why do you deny, prince of the Drisriaks,” asked Otto, “that this slave who lies before us was once Viviana of Telnar, sister of Aesilesius?”

  “Do you deny it, that she be not shamed?” asked Aesilesius.

  “Of what import would that be, for one such as Ingeld, the Drisriak?” asked Rurik. “Would he not rather gloat in her shame, his foot upon her belly?”

  “He cares for me,” said Viviana. “He did not have me killed.”

  “Who would care for a slave?” said Ingeld. “They are meaningless pleasure objects.”

  “I would be such to you, Master,” wept Viviana.

  “Be silent!” shouted Aesilesius.

  “He pretends not to know me,” said Viviana, “for my sake and safety, that our paths not cross, that our fates be independent, that we in the eyes of worlds be dissociated in all respects, that his faults and stains, as they may be, not mark me.”

  “Who will take this stupid slave away?” said Ingeld.

  “He fears for me, that I would be endangered at his feet,” wept Viviana.

  Ingeld turned away from the slave.

  Viviana rose to her knees, tears in her eyes. She reached toward Ingeld, but dared not touch him.

  “Come away, Viviana,” said Aesilesius. “Stand up, cover yourself with this shawl. There are men here. You are tunicked. They might look upon you.”

  “The free may look upon the slave,” said Viviana. “Her beauty, if beauty it be, is to be patent, clear, and obvious to all.”

  “Like that of a dog?” asked Aesilesius.

  “Yes, Master,” said Viviana.

  “Come away,” said Aesilesius.

  “Am I to be ashamed of my body?” she asked.

  “I shall petition the emperor for your freedom,” said Aesilesius.

  “Your petition would be denied,” said Otto.

  “And rightly so,” said Abrogastes.

  “Your majesties?” said Aesilesius.

  “The Princess Viviana,” said Abrogastes, the Far-Grasper, king of the Drisriaks, “saved my life, at great risk to her own, on Tenguthaxichai, preventing me from imbibing poison, which would have been administered by the slave who now crouches behind my chair.”

  “I was coerced, Master!” cried Huta. “I am guiltless!”

  “Tonight,” said he, “lying slave who misled Ortog, my first son, encouraging him by signs and craft to secede from the Drisriaks—’’

  “The seed, if poisoned, fell on receptive, fertile ground, father,” said Ortog.

  “And would have slain me,” said Abrogastes, “will be stripped and whipped this night, and serve me in a thousand ways!”

  “Mercy, Master,” wept Huta.

  “What is there about having your sleek, well-curved hide about my ankles, your lying lips upon my feet, that so pleases me?” said Abrogastes.

  “Master!” cried Huta.

  “You will have no doubt, worthless, treacherous she-filch, who is your Master,” said Abrogastes.

  “I know who is my Master. I know who is my master, Master!” cried Huta, sinking to her belly on the floor behind her Master’s chair, and touching its foot, carved in the semblance of the paw of a forest lion, with one trembling hand. “He is Abrogastes, king of the Drisriaks, whose frown I fear, for whose merest touch, enflaming me with a slave’s need, I have learned to beg.”

  “If, great king of the Drisriaks,” said Aesilesius, “she who was my sister saved your life, surely you must urge the emperor to grant her freedom.”

  “How naive you are, boy,” said Abrogastes.

  “I do not understand,” said Aesilesius.

  “She is a slave,” said Otto.

  “Free her!” cried Aesilesius to Otto.

  “The collar remains on her neck,” said Otto.

  “No, no!” said Aesilesius.

  “Guard,” said Otto, indicating Viviana, “bring chains for this slave.”

  “Do not!” said Aesilesius.

  “Let him look upon her, and see her as the slave she is,” said Otto.

  “Free her!” cried Aesilesius.

  Chains were brought, suitable for a woman, light, attractive, supple, gleaming, and closely linked.

  “Do not chain her!” said Aesilesius.

  “These are display chains,” said Otto. “But they are superbly effective as custodial devices. Slaves are quite helpless in them.”

  Viviana was snapped into the restraints.

  “See how lovely she is,” said Otto. “What do you think she should bring on the sales block?”

  “Free her!” said Aesilesius.

  And then Viviana knelt, head down, her wrists chained before her, separated by some six inches of chain, her ankles chained behind her, as she knelt, separated by some ten to twelve inches of chain.

  “She is beautiful,” said a man.

  “What a beautiful slave,” said another.

  “You shame her!” said Aesilesius.

  “She is not shamed,” said Otto. “She is a slave. Nor are you shamed, though you may think yourself shamed.”

  “And needlessly, foolishly, and pointlessly so,” said Iaachus.

  “See her,” said Otto. “Look upon her. Is she not an attractive slave?”

  Aesilesius turned away, in rage and tears, and hurried toward the far portal, that leading to the great hall.

  “Close the doors!” called Otto.

  At the portal, Aesilesius found it closed, and blocked by guards. Angrily he returned to his place at the table.

  Viviana, distraught, her cheeks stained with tears, lifted her chained wrists and pressed her lips to the metal, the bracelets and chain, and then knelt as she had, head down, in place.

  “Your majesty,” said Aesilesius.

  “Noble Aesilesius,” said Otto.

  “The doors have been shut against me,” said Aesilesius.

  “They will be opened,” said Otto.

  “Let sentences be passed,” called a man.

  “Wine has flowed, lamps burn low,” said Otto.

  “Public deaths to the prisoners,” said another at the table.

  “Deaths of lengthy, excruciating pain,” said another.

  “The day is gone, the night is muchly passed,” said Otto.

  “We can set upon them with knives, now,” said a man.

  “No!” cried Corelius.

  “Do as you please,” said Ingeld.

  Viviana looked up, wildly, tears in her eyes.

  “A slave may sp
eak,” said Otto.

  “A slave begs mercy for Master Ingeld!” wept Viviana.

  “Take this slave away,” said Ingeld, angrily.

  Otto turned to the guests.

  “Friends,” said he, “pray attend me.”

  All attention turned to the head of the table.

  “There is a time for victory, for feasting, for holiday, for festival,” said Otto. “Let there be another time, a quiet time, a patient time, for deliberation and judgment.”

  “It seems,” said Iaachus, “the horses of state are weary.”

  “It is hours since one once of the Larial Calasalii, nicely curved and now well collared, was enjoyed by one of the Larial Farnichi,” said Rurik, glancing at his slave, Cornhair.

  This remark was met with approval by several at the table whose slaves were in attendance.

  “Noble Gelinus,” said Otto. “I conjecture an adjournment would be acceptable, even welcome.”

  “At the will of the emperor,” said Titus Gelinus.

  “Be it so,” said Otto.

  “It is so,” said Titus Gelinus.

  “Three days from now,” said Otto, “in the morning audience, in the throne room, before scribes, judges, and high men, we will meet again.”

  “Until then,” said Iaachus.

  “Until then,” said Otto.

  Chapter Ninety-Four

  “Allies have departed,” said Iaachus, “Otungs and Heruls, sharing ships but not quarters.”

  “The empire owes them much,” said Otto.

  “Sufficient Otungs remain,” said Julian, “supplementing others, to police the streets and guard the palace.”

  “Private troops from Larial VII, sworn to me,” said Rurik, “are enclaved less than a march away.”

  “The senate will convene within the month,” said Clearchus Pyrides, senator from Inez IV, primarius of the senate, “given the pleasure of the emperor.”

  “It will conduct unexpected business,” said Otto.

  “Your majesty?” said Clearchus Pyrides.

  “But first,” said Otto, “it will be disbanded and abolished, following which it will be reinstituted, at the command of the emperor.”

  “Is that not pointless?” asked Clearchus Pyrides.

  “Not at all,” said Titus Gelinus. “That establishes, and clearly, the priority and preeminence of the throne, and the dependence of the senate on the palace.”

  “I see,” said Clearchus Pyrides.

  “Otto, emperor of Telnaria, king of the Otungs, chieftain of the Wolfungs,” said Ortog, first son of Abrogastes, the Far-Grasper.

  “Speak, prince of the Drisriaks, king of the Ortungen,” said Otto.

  “I speak on behalf of Hrothgar, my brother on Tenguthaxichai,” said Ortog. “His mighty heart has been won by the Princess Alacida of Telnaria, who even now bears his child.”

  “I have heard so,” said Otto.

  “He wishes to wed her,” said Ortog.

  “It is my understanding,” said Otto, “that he and the princess are already espoused, having been wed long ago in Telnar.”

  “Hrothgar is uneasy,” said Ortog. “He cares much for the princess. It is important to him, therefore, that he be properly married to her.”

  “Continue,” said Otto.

  “Therefore,” said Ortog, “Hrothgar offers to Aesilesius, her brother, one hundred horses for the hand of his sister, Alacida.”

  “One hundred horses,” said Otto, “does not seem much for a princess.”

  “It must be remembered,” said Ortog, “she is only a Telnarian.”

  “That is true,” said Otto. He then turned to Aesilesius, who was within feet of the throne.

  “Do you accept this offer?” he asked Aesilesius.

  “What would I do with a hundred horses?” said Aesilesius.

  “Give them to the imperial stables,” said Otto.

  “Is Alacida happy?” asked Aesilesius.

  “Very much so,” said Ortog.

  “Is it her wish that I accept this offer?” asked Aesilesius.

  “Most earnestly,” said Abrogastes, stepping forward, “she entreats you to do so.”

  “Then,” said Aesilesius, “though this business seems pointless to me, given the facts of the matter, I accept the offer, and I wish health, happiness, and prosperity to them and theirs.”

  “He adds ten horses, in gratitude, and for good will,” said Ortog.

  “Thank him,” said Aesilesius.

  “The matter is done?” said Otto.

  “Done,” said Ortog.

  “How high would Hrothgar have bid?” asked Otto.

  “As many as was necessary,” said Ortog.

  “A thousand horses?” said Otto.

  “Easily,” said Ortog.

  “What if no offer was accepted?” said Otto.

  “Then he would have kept the princess, under the aegis of different customs, as a prize of capture,” said Ortog.

  “Aesilesius is young,” said Otto. “He is untutored in the games of negotiation.”

  “I am content,” said Aesilesius.

  “Men wait outside,” said Iaachus. “The hour of the general audience is now upon us. Let us now open the doors to the throne room.”

  “Open them,” said Otto.

  ■ ■ ■

  “Bring forth the prisoners,” said Otto, from his seat upon the throne.

  Those who had attended the victory feast were in attendance, but now standing, as the emperor was seated upon the throne, but there were several others, as well, dignitaries, envoys, ambassadors, department administrators, judges, high officers, and such. Other than the emperor, only four, to the side, were seated. These were four scribes, two imperial scribes, and two city scribes. Each had his own small table, and his own tablet, ink, and pens. Some slaves, at the edge of the throne room, knelt.

  Ingeld and Corelius were brought forward, each still in the chains in which he had been placed at the victory feast.

  Ingeld was permitted to stand, but Corelius, in his tunic of a slave, was forced to kneel. He viewed Abrogastes, with dread.

  “The imperial court resumes its session,” announced Titus Gelinus. “The charges against the prisoners, matters of public record, of which you have been informed, are numerous, clear, and not contested, and their guilt is established, recognized, and accepted. Nothing remains now but the disposition of the prisoners, the deciding of their fates.”

  Corelius moaned.

  Ingeld stood proudly before the throne.

  “The emperor’s court is the highest court in Telnaria, and amongst the Telnarian worlds,” said Titus Gelinus, “and the emperor himself is the supreme and only judge, beyond which there is no right of appeal.”

  “It is so, be it so,” said several in the assembly.

  “It is in session,” said Titus Gelinus.

  “It is so, be it so,” was heard from several in the hall, again, a formulaic utterance taken to be indicative of assent.

  “These prisoners,” said Otto, “are prisoners of the Telnarian state, and are subject to the exclusive jurisdiction of the Telnarian state. Yet, the state, without relinquishing in the least or compromising in any way its jurisdiction, reserves the right to solicit views and opinions of diverse parties, and consult as it will with whomsoever it may please.”

  “This right is acknowledged and is absolute,” said Titus Gelinus.

  “Consider the prisoner, Ingeld,” said Otto. “He is a prince of the Drisriaks. Therefore, it seems meet that he not be subjected to the fates which might be appropriately levied against a common miscreant.”

  Corelius began to shudder.

  “Excoriation, the death by hooks and needles, being eaten alive by filchen, a bit at a time, over several days, and such,” said Otto. />
  “The privileges and gentilities of civilitas,” said a man, “need not cover barbarous royalty.”

  “I am king of the Otungen,” said Otto.

  “But they may, of course, if the emperor wishes,” said the man backing away, losing himself amongst his fellows.

  “Ortog, prince of the Drisriaks, king of the Ortungen,” said Otto.

  “I am here,” said Ortog.

  “The prisoner, Ingeld, would have had you, and your father, slain,” said Otto.

  “That is true,” said Ortog.

  “Would you then, a prince, a fitting peer, be willing to serve as executioner, administering a swift and easy death to the prisoner, Ingeld, the Drisriak?”

  “How merciful is the emperor,” said a man in the witnessing throng.

  “No,” said Ortog. “I will not shed the blood of a brother.”

  “Why?” asked Otto.

  “I am not Ingeld,” said Ortog.

  “Noble Abrogastes, king of the Drisriaks, hegemonic tribe amongst the Alemanni,” said Otto, “you acknowledge, do you not, the gravity of the charges against, and the weight and force of the offenses of, the prisoner, Ingeld, a prince of the Drisriaks?”

  “I do,” said Abrogastes.

  “And you petitioned custody of the prisoner some nights ago, that he be subject to the justice of the Drisriaks?”

  “I did,” said Abrogastes.

  “When petitioning for custody of the prisoner,” said Otto, “you said you had “something in mind.””

  “I did,” said Abrogastes.

  “Might you inform the court, what fate, what penalty, you had in mind?”

  “The court is curious?” said Abrogastes.

  “Yes,” said Otto.

  “I lost one son,” said Abrogastes, “to mutiny and secession, a fine, proud son whom I should have better understood, a son I have now pardoned and regained. I do not care to risk losing another.”

  “Yet the crimes of the prisoner, Ingeld, are unconscionable and fearful,” said Otto.

  “They are,” said Abrogastes.

  “What fate, what penalty, would satisfy the justice of the Drisriaks, the outrage of a betrayed king, and yet the mercy of a grieving father?” asked Otto.

  “Exile to a remote world, one as yet uncharted, one rude and primitive, one far from the routes of commerce, without retainers,” said Abrogastes.