"My lord Maxian," Anastasia replied, bowing to him, "we have received many rumors, but you of all our sources, have seen him most closely. Can you tell us anything about him?"
The prince scowled at her, pressing both palms over his eyes in exhaustion. Then he clasped his hands and said: "Though our enemy might seem to be a man of middling height, long hair, Persian features and complexion, there is something entirely inhuman about the creature. It is like... like the man is only a shell hiding darkness... and cold, he seemed colder than ice, or frost."
"Is our enemy a god?" The Duchess' tone made the question seem perfectly reasonable.
Maxian looked up, his eyes desolate. "I have never seen a god, Duchess, but this man might make himself one, over our corpses. I fought the Persian to a draw, so his power is not infinite. I suppose..." He paused, thinking. "It may be the cold spirit was first invoked by a human sorcerer and the summoned power now rules the body, yet is still restricted by its human shell."
"Can you kill him?" Anastasia cocked her head to one side, violet eyes intent on the young man. "Can we kill him? Can he be harmed by the spear, the knife, a scorpion stone?"
"I don't know." Maxian shook his head in dismay. "He felt pain and suffering from my blows. But sorcerers can be difficult to kill."
The prince's eyes narrowed as he said this, meeting Anastasia's eyes with a frank, cold look.
"You should," he said, speaking to her—and only to her, she realized with a chill—"leave such things to me. I have some thoughts as to how his power can be contained."
"Not destroyed?" Galen sat up straight, staring at his brother.
"I'm not sure he can be destroyed," Maxian replied wearily. "If a summoned power entered this world, and now inhabits—controls—this man, it could be entirely outside of death and even life. It may be the power cannot be destroyed, in which case our best hope is to trap and contain him. In this way, we may preserve ourselves, the state and the people from further harm."
Anastasia suddenly remembered something—a fragment heard on Thira long ago—and brought a hand to her mouth to cover a flinch. Neither the Emperor nor his brother noticed, though Gaius Julius' pale old eyes flickered to her, then away. The Duchess made a discrete cough, then forced her hand back down to her lap. Fear percolated inside her like water rising in a field screw, inching higher and higher with each turn of the handle. Could this be? Could the Serpent have returned? No... that is impossible! My worries about the telecast are clouding my thoughts with old legends.
Galen, meanwhile, was staring at Maxian with a rather sour expression. "What happens if we destroy the man?"
"In that case," Maxian said, slowly, "I believe the power will only retreat and begin looking for a new host to occupy. There are surely many men of low character in the world, some with power and some without, whom it might entice, thereby finding a new servant."
"Very well. We will discuss this further when we know more. Duchess, are we sure the Persians and the rebellious Greeks have separated their armies?"
"Sure? No, my lord, we are not sure. But it is very likely the fighting men of the Decapolis took ship with their fleet and are returning to Judea. It is possible, though I think it unlikely, a portion of the Persian army moved with them. Surely, they will not abandon Constantinople, not after seizing a bridgehead in Thrace. This leaves us with two opposing armies—one in the north and one in the south."
Galen nodded, thin lips compressed into a tight slash. "And their fleet is still loose."
"Yes, my lord."
"Gaius Julius, what Legions and fleets can we move East?"
The older man sat up, blinking away pleasant daydreams, but his hands were quick and selected a wooden folder from the pile in front of him without hesitation. He opened the folder, though Anastasia didn't think he read anything from the pages. Like her, he used the moment of action to marshal his thoughts and compose himself.
"Lord and God," he began, "our situation is rather parlous. We have already stripped the Legions in the west of every spare man. The Legions raised last year have been poorly handled in Thrace or are already in Egypt under your brother's command. Those formations remaining in the West are hard-pressed to cover the frontier or to maintain order in the provinces."
Gaius sighed and everyone at the table could see his weariness. Anastasia's nose wrinkled up, but she made no comment. Everyone was stretched thin.
"A letter was dispatched," Gaius continued, "to the Gothic reik several months ago, requesting he raise a Gothic Legion to assist the Empire. That force was raised and one portion of it is now in Thrace, under the command of the comes Alexandros. The other portion, under the command of Prince Ermanerich, has been engaged in an unexpected campaign along the Danuvius against the Gepids and their Draculis overlords."
The Emperor grimaced and rubbed the side of his head. "And?"
Gaius Julius shrugged. "The matter is still in doubt. I imagine the success of the Avar khagans in the Balkans has inspired the Draculis, and other tribes beyond the frontier, to test our strength. Reports have come from Noricum as well, indicating the Bulgars and Franks in Germania are growing restive."
Galen looked to Anastasia, his face tight. "Duchess? Will Noricum be attacked?"
Anastasia blinked, though she kept control of her expression. Noricum was a roughly rectangular—and the only remaining Roman—province on the further side of the Rhenus and the Danuvius. Rich and prosperous, the region was exposed to attack from north, east and west. Only the southern Alpine border was safe from raids. I have no idea what passes for thought in the minds of Duke Frigard or the Bulgar khan! How does he expect... The Duchess felt cold. Of course the Emperor expected her to know—hadn't she always known before?
"Lord and God," she said, keeping her voice even. "Reports from beyond the Danuvius are sparse, though our strength in Noricum is drawn down... If Ermanerich defeats the Draculis soundly, then the other tribes will mind their manners. If he fails, or is openly defeated, they will become bolder."
"Very well." Galen made a dismissive gesture. "Gaius, what of Gaul and Britain?"
"More troubles, my lord," the old Roman said. "The Frankish lords in Gaul are upset by the confiscation of the coward Dagobert's estates and possessions. He was well regarded among them—it seems they do not believe he abandoned his command, or fled from battle."
"What do they think?" Open anger flooded the Emperor's face. The abject failure of the Frankish lord Dagobert struck him hard—Galen had trusted the man and promoted his career.
"They think, my lord," Gaius said, keeping his voice very calm, "he was pushed aside so a Goth could command the army in the East. They think comes Alexandros stood higher in your favor than did Dagobert. The matter is complicated by Dagobert still being at large... he may even be back in Gaul, now, and I doubt he will admit to defeat and flight!"
The Emperor raised a thin eyebrow, and his eyes narrowed and swiveled towards Anastasia. "Duchess? Have your agents found our missing general?"
The cold tickling in Anastasia's stomach got worse, and the impression of mounting irritation in the Emperor grated on her nerves.
"No, my lord." Her own eyes narrowed, seeing an almost indefinable smugness on Gaius Julius' face. "The Empire's eyes are in every port, every city, every temple. But he has not surfaced since fleeing the port of Perinthus in a commandeered Imperial galley. I have heard these rumors he returned to Gaul, but he has not appeared in public, and he did not contest the seizure of his lands and estates."
"Where else would he go?" Gaius Julius leaned forward, expressing professional interest. "The Goths and the Franks hate each other with a passion, so he won't have found refuge in the East. Italia would be equally hostile to him... this leaves only Spain and Gaul."
"Unless he is dead." Anastasia's voice was cool. "But I fear he has survived, and is in hiding."
"Would you like help finding him?" Gaius Julius smiled, though he did not show his teeth. "I have some acquaintances among the me
rchant class who could keep an eye out for him."
Yes, Anastasia thought bitterly, you are thick with the lords of crime and the underworld... and through them with every grain hauler, merchant ship, bordello and gambling den in Italy. "That is very kind, Gaius Julius, but my own informants are already on the hunt."
"Of course." Gaius settled back in his chair. Nothing about him suggested anything but well-meaning intentions and a desire to perform his duties with dispatch and efficiency. "So, Lord and God, even Gaul is unsettled while this matter remains unresolved. Now, when the Duchess' men find our wayward general, and he is brought to trial, and confesses his cowardice before his peers—then public sentiment will swing in our favor. But until then—and, Duchess, I hope you find him soon—Gaul is of concern to us."
"And Britain?" Galen continued to sit stiffly upright in his chair, but his frown grew deeper with each word. "I have seen the monthly reports—the efforts to dislodge the Scandians have failed?"
"Yes," Gaius admitted and Anastasia took a pinch of solace from the glum look on his face. "A collection of local militia, Imperial troops and auxiliaries from Germany made an effort three months ago to drive the Scandians out of their enclave at Branodunium. Unfortunately, the Imperial officer in command of the expedition—a veteran named Uthar—was ambushed and killed by Scandian raiders while observing the defenses of the port. His second-in-command failed to press the enemy vigorously. So things remain as they were."
"That is not acceptable," Galen snapped, right hand clenching unconsciously into a fist. "Find another general, a competent one, and dispatch him to clean up this mess."
Gaius Julius nodded, but—wisely—said nothing. The Emperor stared out one of the windows for a moment, his expression forbidding. Anastasia waited patiently, as did the others. Beside her, Martina started to fidget and the Duchess touched her hand softly, shaking her head in warning. Out of the corner of her eye, Anastasia saw a sour look cross the young Empress' face, but the girl hunched her shoulders and stopped tapping her foot against the table leg.
—|—
After a seemingly endless moment, Galen's nostrils flared and his breath hissed out. Pursing his lips, he looked around the table. The Emperor did not seem pleased. "We have no reserves to send Aurelian in Egypt, until either Ermanerich settles this Draculis matter, or Alexandros reclaims Constantinople from the Persians. My brother will have to make do with what he has."
Gaius Julius and Anastasia nodded, reluctantly. The Emperor's expression did not improve.
"Lord and God?" Anastasia's throat felt tight, but remaining silent would not improve her situation. Risk was necessary, as was forward motion. "We are stretched thin, and faced with many challenges. Despite the best efforts of our networks of agents and informers, we still know too little about the dispositions and maneuvers of our enemies. Therefore..."
She paused, feeling her stomach roil. An acid taste bit her tongue. What did I just say to Thyatis? What would she say to me, now? She stifled a bitter laugh, then managed to continue speaking: "Princeps, may I have use of the device that sits in the Imperial Library?"
The Emperor frowned, brows furrowing, but then his face cleared and he looked at her with frank approval. "An excellent idea," he said. "With such long eyes you will be able to fill in the gaps in our too-poor knowledge of the enemy."
Anastasia inclined her head in thanks and out of the corner of her eye, saw Gaius Julius' lips twitch and then a disagreeable expression settle over his face. Ha! Gloated Anastasia, he didn't think of the power the telecast might grant, to those willing to use the duradarshan to its fullest.
"Thank you, my lord," she said, smiling at the Emperor. "We will not stint our labors. It is my hope that, by means of such swift and immediate news, we may be able to derive the work of many Legions from those few we own."
"Good." The weight on the Emperor seemed to have lifted, a little. "Good. Now—yes, Maxian?"
The prince stirred himself and Anastasia thought his attention had been far away, as if roused from some waking dream. Maxian rubbed his eyes and focused, slowly, on his brother.
"Before the Duchess has her way with the telecast," the prince said, "I think we should use the device to find the Persian sorcerer. We must devise a means of defeating him if we are to win."
Galen frowned, shaking his head. "Are you ready to face him? The matter of the Persian fleet and the disposition of their armies is far more urgent."
"How can that be?" Maxian sat up straight in his chair, staring at his brother in concern. "While the sorcerer is free to act against us, the Empire is in immediate danger! This creature is more powerful than armies, deadlier than fleets!"
"Is he?" Galen returned Maxian's puzzled expression with his own. "The Persian mage is only one man, true? He cannot hold cities, or provinces, or exact taxes or tribute by himself. While Shahr-Baraz has a fleet and powerful armies, we are in danger, whether this sorcerer is present or no."
"What?" Maxian's face screwed up in astonishment. "Don't you grasp his power?"
The Emperor's eyes narrowed and Anastasia shrank back a little in her chair. The others drew away from the prince as well, but Maxian did not seem to notice.
"This Persian," the prince continued, voice rising, "shattered the walls of Constantinople—the most formidable city in the entire Empire! He smashed the Eastern fleet to kindling! He nearly killed me, never having faced me before in a test of wills."
"Yet," Galen interjected, his voice cold, "you fought him to a draw, all unprepared. Yet, when he broke down the walls of the Eastern Capital, it was Persian soldiers who entered the city, who hold the city. If he scattered the Eastern fleet, it was the Greek rebels who benefited."
"Foolishness!" Maxian broke in, interrupting his brother. "We cannot ignore him!"
"I am not proposing we ignore this Persian," Galen snapped. "We cannot focus upon him as our sole enemy. If we do, then his compatriot the Boar will tear out our gut. The Persian sorcerer is a tool and he can be forestalled, he can be distracted, your presence can neutralize him. He is one part of a larger puzzle. The Persians and the Greeks are the other pieces and they must be accounted for as well."
"You don't understand..." Maxian looked away, slumping back in his chair again.
"I do," Galen said, softening his voice. "This is not a single combat between you and the Persian sorcerer. This is a war between empires. The outcome of a single battle will not turn the balance between Rome and Persia. The victor... the victor will be the empire whose will to fight endures. Exhaustion, not valor, will decide the matter."
The Emperor looked around the table, his visage grim. "Rome will endure. We have suffered worse before and won through. We will do so again. Now, here is my desire: Anastasia, you and your clerks will have immediate and full access to the telecast. You must find the Persians and detail their formations to me. Further, you must discern if these other threats—on the Danube, in Germany, in Gaul, in Britain—are worthy of my immediate attention. Gaius Julius: you carry a heavy load with Gregorius dead. I must ask you to shoulder it a little longer, until the Senate elects someone to replace him. From you, I desire an accounting of every ship, every soldier, every farm, every amphora of oil, every bushel of wheat, every yard of cloth in the empire."
The old Roman grimaced, playing with one of his notebooks. Anastasia was afraid the same sick, grim look was creeping into her face as well. Gaius Julius looked up, staring at the Emperor with a troubled expression. "My lord, you think rationing will be necessary?"
Galen met his eyes with an unflinching look, his face cold and remote. "If Egypt is lost, then Rome cannot feed herself, not without strict regulation. We will be prepared. Maxian..."
The prince was staring into emptiness, head cocked to one side.
"Maxian!" The Emperor raised his voice slightly and the prince turned, brow furrowed. Galen swallowed a sigh and the timbre of his voice changed. He bent close to his brother. "I need you to be able to defeat this Persian sorce
rer, but I must balance many demands. You and the Duchess will share the telecast—but, pray the gods, do not attempt to deal with this enemy without consulting me!"
Maxian's lips, drawn into a tight line, relaxed a little and he shook his head in a nervous tic "Gales, I understand. Don't worry, I won't try anything rash. I just... this sorcerer is the real enemy; I can feel it. If we defeat him, we defeat Persia." Maxian coughed and Anastasia realized he was trying to muster a laugh. "I need to find out who, or what, he is. So—that will be my task, along with the work at Fiorentina—one fitting the custos, don't you think?"
"Yes." Galen tried to smile warmly, but could only manage a shadow of good humor. "Let us know what we face, before we give battle." The Emperor turned back to the others. "That is good advice for all of us... we face a bitter struggle. Let us know what strength we own and what strength is in our enemies' hand."
Galen stood, and his movements were stiff and slow. He gathered up his folder and nodded to them all. "Good day, my friends. May the gods grant us victory."
Everyone rose, bowing as the Emperor strode out of the room.
—|—
"Empress? Is something troubling you?" Gaius Julius bowed slightly to the young Greek woman. Martina was slouched deep in her chair, scowling at the doorway. Such obvious bile did not improve her round features.
"What do you want from me?" Martina's light green eyes narrowed suspiciously, her lip curling slightly. "Don't you already have a position, wealth, power?"
"Ah..." Gaius smiled affably. "Empress, I am not blind. Does the Emperor's plan displease you?"
"Am I allowed to be displeased?" Martina made a sharp flinging motion with her hands. She bared her teeth, though Gaius suspected she didn't realize how feral it made her look. "I'm supposed to sit quietly, perhaps nod approvingly when he acknowledges my presence! How delightful!"
The Dark Lord Page 20
