The Emperor

by Norman, John;

“The palace was closed to us!” cried Ingeld. “Were we not to be welcomed by the empress mother? Was the emperor not to be clad in his regalia, and put upon his throne, to welcome us? We were turned back, back! Fools who cheered us approaching the palace, cheered us as heartily on our return to the temple!”

  “I trust you returned in stately fashion, waving, returning the salutations of the crowd,” said ponderous Sidonicus, exarch of Telnar.

  “Scarcely,” said Ingeld. “Plans were obviously awry. We returned in haste, drivers lashing the horses.”

  “I have had word put out,” said Sidonicus, “that your return to the temple had been planned, to acknowledge the final superiority of the temple to the palace.”

  “Burn your temples!” snarled Ingeld. “See if they can resist the torch and sword! What good are they, save as a tool to be used by the palace, a prop to power?”

  “We may discuss such matters later,” said Sidonicus. “In the meantime I am sure each of us will continue to find profit in the friendship of the other.”

  “Treachery!” said Ingeld.

  “Not on my part, I assure you,” said Sidonicus.

  “Would we were on Tenguthaxichai,” said Ingeld. “It would be the Horse Death for you!”

  “Who turned you back?” asked Sidonicus.

  “Officers of the imperial navy,” said Ingeld.

  “Where was the city guard?” asked Sidonicus.

  “Withdrawn, apparently dismissed,” said Ingeld.

  “Naval officers?” said Sidonicus.

  “By their uniforms,” said Ingeld.

  “You submitted?” said Sidonicus.

  “They were armed,” said Ingeld. “One cartridge would burn the horses and carriage.”

  “I see the hand of Julian, of the Aureliani, in this,” said Sidonicus.

  “What is going on?” demanded Ingeld.

  “I have more than a hundred spies in the streets,” said Sidonicus. “We shall soon know.”

  Chapter Three

  “What are the bells for?” asked Lady Gia Alexia, she of the Telnar Darsai, waiting across the street from the home of the rhetor and attorney, Titus Gelinus.

  The air was thundering with the joyful peal of perhaps a thousand bells, their sound rising to the clouds, shaking the sky, falling like bright, shimmering rain on the capital.

  “It is freedom and joy, Lady,” said a guardsman, “signaling the accession of Ottonius, the First, Emperor of Telnaria. Men flock gladly into the streets, assembly now welcome. The curfew is lifted. In the square before the palace, the scented fountains again flow. Food is distributed. Avail yourself of free tickets for the games, the theaters, and races. And the portals of the senate will again open, tomorrow, that august body, guarantor of the majesty of the empire, guardian of law, convening for the first time in weeks.”

  “A monster is on the throne,” said the Lady Gia Alexia. “Little is known of him. Who is he? Some assert that he may even be a barbarian. What of the emperor, of the empress mother? Where are they? Why do they not appear in public? Unruly crowds are easily distracted and bribed. The senate is worthless, waiting only to receive its instructions.”

  But the angry ruminations of the Lady Gia Alexia, however virulently expressed, fell on no ears but her own, for the guardsman had turned away.

  It may be recalled that we have met the Lady Gia Alexia earlier, for it was she, a once-scorned acquaintance of the Lady Publennia, of the Larial Calasalii, who, on a street in Telnar, following the raid of Abrogastes, that raid which had resulted in the abduction of the princesses Viviana and Alacida, had discovered and claimed for her own a loose slave, one blonde-haired and blue-eyed. She had treated this slave rather badly, we fear, though one is scarcely concerned with such things in the case of a slave. To be sure, it is generally recognized that, as the slave is a domestic animal, she, as any other domestic animal, is likely to prove a much better, and more valuable, domestic animal if attention is given to her welfare, seeing that she is well fed and such. This prudential solicitude in no way, of course, compromises the fact that she is to be kept, at all times, under perfect discipline. That goes without saying. She is a slave. In any event, the Lady Gia Alexia soon sold her slave to a merchant, Tenrik, Tenrik of Tenrik’s Woman Market, insisting however, as a condition of the sale, that the small placard hung about her neck, on its cords, advertising her, as such things do a slave, should make clear that she had been of the Larial Calasalii. She had then brought the slave to the attention of a scion of the Larial Farnichi, Rurik, Tenth Consul of Larial VII, who was well pleased to acquire a Calasalii prize, even one now collared. In this way the Lady Gia Alexia received not only twenty-five darins from Tenrik, for her slave, but a gold darin for her aid in locating a Calasalii woman, and one of interest, for a scion of the Larial Farnichi. And it was thus that the former Lady Publennia, of the Larial Calasalii, came into the collar of her current master, Rurik, Tenth Consul of Larial VII.

  The location of the Lady Gia Alexia, where she was, in the Lycon district, waiting across the street from the home of the rhetor and attorney, Titus Gelinus, should not be attributed to accident. It was not a simple matter of casual happenstance, but, rather, of intent. The noble Gelinus, young, handsome, wealthy, and vigorous, and much accomplished for his age, was well known in Telnar, at least in certain circles. His figure, voice, and gestures were familiar to those who frequented the law courts, not only as disputants or participants, who often feared him, but as thrill seekers who looked for entertainment, the curious, idle, and bored, amongst whom we might number Lady Gia Alexia. Perhaps a word is in order at this point, pertaining to the legal culture in Telnar at the time in question. The characteristic which I shall enumerate is, of course, not unique to Telnar, at the time in question, or at other times, for that matter. It pertains, or its flavor pertains, much more broadly. To begin with, we must distinguish between formal sciences, such as geometry, and board games, such as Miton draughts, and the law. In the case of geometry, the criteria for a proof are understood, and a proposed proof is either a proof or not. One can tell. Similarly, in the draughts of Miton, the criteria for winning, losing, and drawing are understood, and a given game is either won or not won, or drawn. One can tell. In law, on the other hand, persuasion is paramount. Who can convince who of what? It would be rather as though, in geometry, it was not really important whether a proof was a proof, or not, but rather whether or not one could convince someone that something was a proof, whether it was or not. And, in the case of draughts, it would not really be important whether or not the game was won, lost, or drawn, but, rather, whether one could convince someone that it had been, say, lost or drawn. Also, in geometry and draughts, the meanings of terms are clear. In law, “interpretation” is often important, which allows one to change rules and reassign meanings in such a way as to favor one or another outcome.

  This characteristic, the paramountcy of persuasion, was particularly prominent in Telnar at the time in question. Rhetoricians, and teachers of rhetoric, flourished. Indeed, as private individuals in Telnaria often pleaded their own cases, the skills and goods provided by the rhetorician, often at considerable expense, were avidly sought. It is clear, then, that the skill to make the worse case appear the better, and even the worst case appear the best, is one of great value, particularly to one who has the worse or worst case.

  One other characteristic might be mentioned, which seems worth noting, though officially it fails to reach the threshold of existence. This has to do with, first, the influence or pressure of the audience, so to speak, at a given trial, and, second, more broadly, the influence or pressure of the environing social milieu. Crowds have their favorites, and want certain results. It is impossible that a judge or jury not be aware of such things, and the possible repercussions, physical, economic, and social, which might follow unpopular decisions. Since one is not dealing with geometry or draughts, prudential ela
sticities are likely to characterize legal rulings and decisions. For example, in Telnar, courts resemble theaters and trials resemble sporting events. The court has its audience, and the trial its spectators, crowds, in effect, which are not reluctant to make their views, and their likes and dislikes, known. Attorneys play to the crowd, for its views are often persuasive, as well as to judges or juries. Indeed, large segments of the crowd may consist of one claque or another. Some individuals hang about the courts, hoping to be recruited for one claque or another. The usual fee is a quarter darin. Sometimes these opposing claques come to blows. In passing, it might be noted that Titus Gelinus, as least as far as was known, had never resorted to the device of hiring a claque. His view in this matter was not so much that such a practice was unworthy, or such, as that, in his case, it was not needed. In any event, as certain actors, dancers, riders, gladiators, and such may have their followings, so, too, in Telnar, certain successful lawyers had their followings. And not the least of these would be the brilliant, flamboyant, and dramatic Titus Gelinus. When he was to appear in court, the tiers would be filled. And one sure to be ensconced somewhere in those crowded tiers would be the Lady Gia Alexia. The mere appearance of Titus Gelinus in the court room would bring applause. Then, when he inverted the sand glass, to measure his time for speaking, the crowd would lean forward, intent, that not a word be missed. It was alleged that he had never lost a case, except, of course, to suborned juries, some of which he actually won over, or prejudiced, hostile judges, jealous of his popularity and skills. He commanded the highest fees in Telnar for his services. Needless to say, such a young, handsome, wealthy, successful advocate would not be long unnoted by many of the free women of Telnar. And certainly one of the most determined and resolute of these many admirers would be the Lady Gia Alexia. Indeed, the blonde-haired, blue-eyed slave, once of the Larial Calasalii, now the rightless property of Rurik, Tenth Consul of Larial VII, had, when the slave of the Lady Gia Alexia, carried various notes to Titus Gelinus on her behalf, apparently petitioning for an assignation. These efforts of the Lady Gia Alexia, mediated by the slave’s erranding, had, however, been unsuccessful. Indeed, a number of times the Lady Gia Alexia had expressed her frustration and disappointment to her slave, that by means of the switch.

  The Lady Gia Alexia suddenly gasped for breath, shaken, and then, deliberately, breathed in, deeply, forcibly. She must appear her elegant, casual, serene self. Her presence here was but a coincidence. She hoped not to swoon. Her heart raced. She felt anomalously warm. She feared that her reaction might be unfitting for a free woman. Surely it was! How very conscious she was then of her body. No longer was it unfelt, inert, ignored, and unnoticed, as though it might be elsewhere or absent. How frightful for her, that it was reactive, despite the care with which it was sheathed, wrapped, and swathed. Fully clothed, she felt exposed. A frightful thought gripped her. If she could feel such feelings within the layers of defenses contrived on her behalf by her society, what might be her weakness, and helplessness, if she were denied such bastions of protection, if all that stood between her and the wind, the air, and sunlight, and the lustful gaze of men was naught but a thin, tiny scrap of cheap cloth? And what if she had a collar on her neck, and knew what it proclaimed, what she was, and what she was for?

  Across that street, in the fashionable Lycon district that morning, the door to the residence of Titus Gelinus had just opened.

  She caught a glimpse of the tall, robed figure in the portal, turned, perhaps addressing some last remark or instruction to a secretary or servant.

  She hurried across the street, that she might encounter him, inadvertently, as each pursued their independent way. It might even be possible, if all went well, to seize a moment to chat, if one could make oneself heard for the bells. After all, the weather was pleasant and much of late had transpired in Telnar.

  Her veil might loosen, she feared, which could happen, such things occasionally did, but surely this calamity would be amenable to an embarrassed, expeditious repair. But it should have slipped far enough, and for long enough, for an alert observer to be startled at the beauty it normally served to conceal.

  One thing pleased her, in particular.

  This morning no petitioners, no cloud of clients, hung about the portal, waiting to accompany Gelinus to the courts.

  This had to do, of course, with the holiday, that of the imperial accession, in recognition of which all official business, that of the courts included, was suspended.

  Might this not provide an opportunity to meet with him alone?

  Surely she hoped so.

  She had not known, of course, that he would definitely take leave of his residence today. But it did seem a plausible day for him to be about, the courts not in session, to attend to postponed errands, to visit friends, or such. She hoped he would not visit the brothels or the woman markets. This was not, of course, the first day that the Lady Gia Alexia had found herself in the vicinity of the house of Gelinus. Her presence in the vicinity had been frequently noted.

  Something crossed her mind, only to be quickly dismissed, a thought as meaningless as the flight of a small bird, passing overhead, somewhat to the side, that the senate would meet tomorrow, after a hiatus of several weeks. The guardsman, she recalled, had said something about the reconvening of the senate.

  Yes, it was he, Titus Gelinus! And he was approaching!

  She stumbled a little, but righted herself, promptly. It would not do to be clumsy. She trusted her legs would not fail her.

  She proceeded toward him, seeming not to notice him.

  But he had glimpsed her and he had stopped, and was looking about. Was he thinking of turning back, of going to the other side of the street?

  But then he resumed his gait, perhaps annoyed, certainly resolved.

  How well he walked, his robes about him.

  Was it not impressive, like an argosy or galleon under sail?

  Why should he seem angry?

  “Oh!” said the Lady Gia Alexia, looking up, startled. Surely she had not meant to block his way. “I am so clumsy,” she said. “Forgive me, noble sir.”

  “The fault is mine,” he said. “I should have been more careful. I beg your pardon, noble lady.”

  It seemed he was intent upon pursuing his way.

  “Why,” she said, amazed, looking up at him, not abandoning her location, “are you not the rhetor, the advocate, Titus Gelinus?”

  “I am he,” he admitted.

  “I once saw you, in court,” she said. “I had a friend who was a litigant. For her sake I thought I should attend. Normally I would not do such a thing.”

  “Certainly not,” said Gelinus. “The tiers are no place for a lady such as you, the matter made clear by your habiliments, the quality and taste of your ensemble. The tiers can be rowdy. Too, attendance being open, that to ensure public scrutiny, it is impossible to deny access to any stratum of the public.”

  “How true,” she acknowledged, wistfully. It is true that there is much in the world which cannot easily be changed, or avoided.

  “If you would pardon me—,” he said, and seemed ready to press past her.

  “You were brilliant,” she said. “You won the case, of course.”

  “One is sometimes fortunate,” he said.

  “It is hard to speak for the bells,” she said.

  “True,” he said.

  “Much depends, of course,” she said, “on the judge, the jury, and such.”

  “It is often thought so,” he said, “particularly by those who are unfamiliar with the matter.”

  “I am the Lady Gia Alexia,” she said, “of the Telnar Darsai.”

  “I thought you might be,” he said.

  “Oh?” she said.

  “Does your business not often bring you to the Lycon district?” he asked.

  “Occasionally,” she said.

 
“I have, over the past several months, received a number of notes, on ribboned, scented paper, from a woman identifying herself as the Lady Gia Alexia, of the Telnar Darsai,” he said.

  “It was I,” she said.

  “I receive many such notes,” he said.

  “Oh?” she said.

  “From women, pleading for a meeting, doubtless having in mind a clandestine assignation,” he said.

  “How dreadful!” she said.

  “It is amusing, in its way,” he said.

  “I have solicited such a meeting, more than once,” she said, “but, I assure you, for no such purpose.”

  “I am pleased to hear it,” he said, but did not seem all that pleased.

  “I wished only to consult with you on certain obscure points of law,” she said, “points which I found of interest.”

  “You are interested in the law?” he asked.

  “Very much so,” she said.

  “What obscure points?” he asked.

  “Points which I found obscure,” she said.

  “I see,” he said. “If you will now excuse me, I must be on my way.”

  “Might we not have lunch together, to discuss the law?” she said.

  “I have an appointment,” he said.

  “Might I not accompany you?” she asked. “We could walk together.”

  “I think not,” he said.

  “Who is she?” asked the Lady Gia Alexia.

  “I undertake a matter of business,” he said, annoyed, “at the house of the senate.”

  “The senate does not meet until tomorrow,” she said.

  “Precisely,” he said.

  “You are to meet with the moderator of the senate, with certain members?” she asked.

  “I bid you, noble lady, farewell,” he said, politely but firmly.

  “A moment,” she said, “the breeze. I must adjust my veil.” Her small hands went to the vicinity of her right ear, to lift and tighten the veil, readjusting the clasp, but her fingers bungled the operation, and the veil, instead of being quickly and safely resecured, as was her intent, dropped about her shoulders, much to her dismay.