The Emperor

by Norman, John;

  “Yet, it seems,” said Otto, “from your foregoing remarks, that you have made some inquiries into such matters.”

  “I have looked into them, a little,” said Iaachus.

  “Insofar as they might be relevant to the interests of the empire?” asked Otto.

  “At least,” said Iaachus.

  “And amongst such matters,” said Otto, “are doubtless certain doctrinal matters.”

  “In particular,” said Iaachus.

  “And might these have some relevance to your plan?” asked Otto.

  “Possibly,” said Iaachus.

  “But you wish to speak to me, do you not,” said Otto, “of matters dealing with the exarch?”

  “Yes,” said Iaachus. “The exarch wishes to have the smudging ceremony of the empress mother take place publicly, with suitable ostentation and pageantry, accompanied by harps, trumpets, and choirs of rejoicing ministrants.”

  “Do you think this wise?” asked Otto. “To allow the empress mother out of the palace?”

  “It is in accordance with my plan,” said Iaachus. “Fear neither that harm will come to her nor that she shall escape. Guards will both protect her and see to it that she is returned safely to the palace.”

  “You wish her to appear in public, healthy and unharmed, to dispel rumors that she has been done away with in the palace, and the body somehow disposed of, perhaps in a carnarium?” asked Otto.

  “That is a part of my plan,” said Iaachus, “but a minor part.”

  “What of Aesilesius?” asked Otto.

  “He must remain in the palace,” said Iaachus. “His appearance in public would be most unfortunate. It would come as a dreadful shock to many, a repulsive and shameful revelation, an offense and reproach to the empire. Little is known of him. Few have seen him firsthand. Much has been concealed. Consider the dismay ensuing if all Telnar were to see their former beloved emperor as what he is, a retarded child in a young man’s body, his eyes unfocused, his voice squeaking and unintelligible, his frame shaking, his head lolling about, his chin streaked with spittle, his hands clutching a toy to his bosom. What if he were to see an insect, a fly about his head or a crawling beetle by his foot, and he became hysterical, rolling about, screaming in terror?”

  “To be sure,” said Otto, “that would detract from the ceremony of holy smudging.”

  “The exarch requests a meeting with you, tomorrow,” said Iaachus.

  “So soon?” asked Otto.

  “Yes,” said Iaachus. “At this meeting he will request your permission for the empress mother’s public smudging ceremony. I advise that it be granted.”

  “I take it that it would be quite a triumph for the exarch to initiate the empress mother publicly, before all the empire, so to speak, into his particular version of Floonianism,” said Otto.

  “It would be an example to millions, an inestimable coup,” said Iaachus, “one suggesting not only an imperial endorsement of Floonianism, but of his particular stripe of Floonianism.”

  “Surely this is not in the best interest of the empire, of harmony, peace, and tolerance,” said Otto.

  “Permit the exarch to proceed,” said Iaachus, “with the permission of the throne, if not its blessing.”

  “Tomorrow seems very soon,” said Otto.

  “The exarch,” said Iaachus, “wishes the ceremony to take place very soon, within the next few days.”

  “But surely,” said Otto, “arranging such a ceremony, with all its details, would require weeks of planning.”

  “The ceremony is already planned,” said Iaachus. “It has been planned, for weeks.”

  “The exarch was then confident that my permission would be obtained,” said Otto.

  “Yes,” said Iaachus. “I assured him of that.”

  “I see,” said Otto.

  “All is in accord with my plan,” said Iaachus.

  “I still do not understand the haste of the exarch,” said Otto.

  “It is not hard to understand,” said Iaachus. “He wishes to make certain that the ceremony takes place before the meeting of the senate, that over which you are to preside, or that in which you are at least to be in attendance.”

  “Why?” asked Otto. “What difference could it make?”

  “The successful completion of the ceremony is important to the ambitions and plans of the exarch,” said Iaachus, “extremely important. He is zealous that it take place, as intended, that there be no postponement or flaw.”

  “So?” asked Otto.

  “Well,” said Iaachus, “after the meeting of the senate, it is possible that the ceremony might not take place. It might be adamantly opposed; it might be strictly forbidden.”

  “I see,” said Otto.

  “After the meeting of the senate,” said Iaachus, “who knows who will be on the throne?”

  “I see,” said Otto.

  “We discussed this earlier,” said Iaachus.

  “I remember,” said Otto.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  “Have we been gathered here for this?” wept Flora.

  “It pleases me,” said Otto.

  “No, I beg of you!” wept Flora.

  “Shackle her,” said Otto.

  The metal clasp was put about her ankle, and snapped shut. Its chain went to the ring at the foot of the emperor’s throne.

  “But Renata and I were women of the empire,” wept Flora.

  “Women of the empire are often made slaves by those whom you call barbarians,” said Otto.

  “You are a barbarian!” cried Flora.

  “They make excellent slaves,” said Otto, “their small, silken, well-formed slave bodies, suitable for the pleasuring of masters.”

  “Barbarian! Barbarian!” said Flora.

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

  “Be merciful,” begged Flora. “Have mercy on us. This is not the high seat in some rude hall, where none but fur-clad marauders are about, ignorant and lustful, singing, drunk at the tables, shouting, casting meat to their hounds, swilling their spiced bror. This is the imperial palace in Telnar. Civilitas, Master, I beg of you, civilitas!”

  “Renata is silent,” said Otto. “She curls nicely in her place. Emulate her.”

  “What if anyone should see?” asked Flora. “What would they think?”

  “Are you concerned for your modesty?” asked Otto.

  “I am not permitted modesty,” said Flora.

  “Do not forget it,” said Otto.

  Flora was chained by the right ankle, and was on the emperor’s left, as he would look forward. Renata, on his other side, was chained by the left ankle.

  “Remember our background, our antecedents,” said Flora, plaintively.

  “You served well, last night,” said Otto, “at the foot of the imperial couch.”

  “That was different,” said Flora.

  “It will do those of Telnar good to see former aristocrat women of the empire, insufferable and pretentious, reduced to helpless, meaningless slaves,” said Otto. “Perhaps it will give some fellows of the empire some ideas as to what such lofty creatures, given their rightful deserts, might be good for.”

  “Civilitas!” wept Flora.

  “Barbaritas,” said Otto.

  As slaves are a form of wealth, and wealth is often displayed, for one reason or another, the display of slaves is common in many cultures. To be sure, Flora was undoubtedly correct, noting, in effect, that the introduction of this practice in the imperial palace in Telnar represented something of an innovation, one of which it seems she disapproved, at least at the time. It should also be noted that Flora and Renata were not the only displayed forms of wealth placed about the throne that afternoon, nor, reckoned in darins, the most valuable. A number of gold coins lay across a stair, seemingly escaped from a bag of
such coins, apparently left carelessly unlaced, on a higher stair. A number of silver and gold vessels were strewn about. Bolts of precious cloth were partly opened. They lay upon ornate, intricately woven rugs from Beyira II. There were several vases, red-figured and black-figured, from Naxos. A basket of pearls, white and black, lay on the third stair, to the side, from some gulf, as though it might be scarcely worth noticing, while, at the same time, placed as it was, it could scarcely help but be noticed. Various seeds, many of state-protected varieties, were in yellow envelopes, bearing the seal and ribbon of the Orchid House, on Inez IV. Illicit dealings in such seeds is a capital offense. Wines, too, rare and expensive, were in evidence, many from the cellars of the palace itself. To be sure, prominent in this plethora of treasures, seemingly casually, but actually artfully arranged, were two slaves. These were doubtless far from the most expensive items in this display of wealth, distributed about the throne, but, from the point of view of the average male, they were likely to seem of special interest. Indeed, few things are likely to be regarded as of greater interest about a throne than a lovely, stripped, chained slave, fastened to its foot. It is not merely that this is aesthetically rewarding, but it is stimulating, as well, with its aspect of biological propriety.

  “Greetings, noble Rurik,” said Otto, from the throne, welcoming the Tenth Consul of Larial VII, who entered the throne room from a side entrance. A leash was looped about his left wrist, which led up to the leash collar of the briefly tunicked, blue-eyed, blond-haired slave, Cornhair. Animals are often kept on leashes, and slaves, as pleasure animals, as would be expected, are no exception. As men are fond of displaying their possessions, it is not unusual to see one walking about, accompanied by a well-groomed dog or slave on its leash. Rurik unwrapped the leash from his wrist, and indicated that the slave should kneel to the side, and he then bent down and tied her hands together before her body with the leash.

  “Please forgive this late notice, drawing you from the undoubted pleasures of the Farnichi enclave,” said Otto, “but matters of state loom.”

  “Pleasures may be obtained anywhere,” said Rurik, “at one’s convenience.”

  “I wish you to be present,” said Otto. “Matters of import are afoot.”

  “I expect, too,” said Rurik, “it will not hurt for one in the livery of the Farnichi to be in evidence.”

  “And prominently,” said Otto.

  “This has to do with an audience?” said Rurik.

  “Very much so,” said Otto.

  As they spoke, and the hour of the audience drew near, several others filed into the throne room, witnesses, officers, guardsmen, various servitors, and four clerks, to record the proceedings.

  “The trustees of the imperial seal,” announced a servitor.

  Following on this announcement, entering through a different entrance, came Julian, of the Aureliani, Tuvo Ausonius, formerly a high civil servant on Miton, and Iaachus, the palace’s Arbiter of Protocol. Tuvo Ausonius was accompanied by a dark-haired slave, Sesella, and Julian by a blue-eyed slave with long, braided, blond hair, Gerune. Julian and Tuvo then took their places, to the right of the throne. Sesella knelt beside Tuvo, and pressed her cheek against his thigh, but was brushed away. Gerune knelt behind Julian, on his left. Both slaves, Sesella and Gerune, were tunicked. Long ago, slaves in the imperial palaces, that in Telnar, as well as others, summer palaces, for example, were commonly clad in long, discreet gowns, though their arms were bared. With the accession of Ottonius, the First, however, a more familiar, and revealing, garb, one more typical of female slaves, was enjoined, save for certain occasions where it might be deemed less appropriate, as, for example, at formal state banquets.

  “Friend Iaachus, dear Arbiter,” said Otto, “welcome.”

  “Your majesty,” said Iaachus, humbly.

  “You are not accompanied by your lovely collar girl, the fair Elena,” said Otto. “Perhaps she is being punished, for failing to obey a command instantly and perfectly?”

  “No, your majesty,” said Iaachus. “But I think, given the audience in prospect, it is better that she remain in my chambers, chained to my couch. I would not risk her smiling at an inopportune moment. To be sure, if she had not once done so, in the chambers of the empress mother, she might never have had my collar snapped about her throat, and that would have been a tragedy, indeed.”

  “There are many ways in which a woman may court the collar,” said Otto. “Surely she knew the dangers of an indiscretion in the chambers of the empress mother, and yet the indiscretion occurred, seemingly inadvertently, seemingly accidentally, seemingly without thinking, but, I suspect, there was thinking, a secret, unrecognized thinking, hiding in her heart, and, of course, you were present.”

  “Rather than have her slain on the command of the empress mother, I requested that she be given to me as a slave,” said Iaachus, “to which request the outraged empress mother, delighted, seeing in this a fitting vengeance on an errant lady-in-waiting, acceded.”

  “And thus,” said Otto, “the girl obtains both the collar, for which she as a female yearns, and the master of her dreams.”

  “I would not trade her for a thousand gold pieces,” said Iaachus.

  “But yet you keep her under discipline,” said Otto.

  “Under the strictest of discipline,” said Iaachus. “Under discipline she juices, thrives, and begs.”

  “Excellent,” said Otto.

  “She knows she is helpless, and a slave, that she is owned, and must obey. She wants it so. She would have it no other way. She is a slave. It is what she is, and wants to be.”

  “She has learned that she is a female,” said Otto.

  “And rejoices in her sex,” said Iaachus.

  “Please approach, noble Arbiter,” said Otto, “and stand near the throne. I may have need of your counsel.”

  “Your majesty,” called a servitor, at the far end of the long, red carpet leading from the state portal to the stepped dais on which the throne was mounted, “His excellency, the noble, glorious, humble Sidonicus, the exalted exarch of Telnar!”

  Otto lifted his hand, that the exarch might approach.

  The large figure of the exarch, with small steps, its paunch swinging, robed in exarchical purple, the small, gold replica of a burning rack slung about his neck, on its gold chain, approached, something like a third of the way down the long carpet and then halted.

  Otto turned to Iaachus. “What is wrong?” asked Otto.

  “He wishes to be met,” whispered Iaachus, standing near the throne.

  “More than half way?” asked Otto.

  “It has to do with his views on the relationship of the temple and the empire,” said Iaachus.

  “He would have, too, the emperor descend from the throne, and welcome him?” asked Otto.

  “Yes,” said Iaachus.

  “I see,” said Otto. “And would he have me take him by the hand, and lead him forward?”

  “Doubtless,” said Iaachus. “Indeed, I think he is disappointed. I think he expected to have a second throne on the dais, perhaps furnished with a higher cushion, that he might, if only slightly, look down upon you.”

  “Down on the emperor?” asked Otto.

  “It has to do,” said Iaachus, “with the deemed superiority of the koos to the body, the temple to the state, and so on.”

  “Surely he does not expect me to accept his pompous fraud at face value,” said Otto.

  “He is powerful,” said Iaachus.

  “I might descend from the throne, gladly,” said Otto, “to greet a herdsman or mariner, a soldier or craftsman, to meet an Otung, even to welcome a Drisriak, but not one who would betray honor and unsettle an empire for gain.”

  “I fear,” said Iaachus, “he will be offended.”

  “Let us struggle to restrain our grief, that he might be discomfited,” said Otto.
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br />   “We shall strive to do so,” said Iaachus. “Yet the moment is sensitive.”

  “He requires some excuse?” said Otto.

  “I think he would find it difficult to move, otherwise,” said Iaachus.

  “Say to him,” said Otto, “that he need not hesitate in terror, to approach the throne, but has our permission to do so.”

  “Is this wise?” asked Iaachus.

  “If,” said Otto, “he must, in his view, needs have the empress mother initiated publicly into his weird, inconsistent ideology before the senate meets, which is soon, he will be cooperative, however unwillingly.”

  “Perhaps,” said Iaachus. “Too, we must be wary of establishing precedents.”

  Iaachus then raised his head, and faced the exarch. “Noble, esteemed, glorious one,” he called out, reassuringly, “magnificent, humble, holy one, do not hesitate. Do not tremble. Do not be afraid. You may, however unworthy you may think yourself to be, or be, do not fear to approach the throne. Do not be intimidated by its awesomeness. You may approach. The emperor, in all understanding and benignity, welcomes you.”

  Furious, but smiling, Sidonicus waddled toward the throne until, suddenly, at the foot of the steps, as though he had first noticed something, he cried out in horror, recoiled, turned away, and threw the broad sleeve of his fine, thick purple robe high up about his face.

  Once another ministrant, Fulvius, before Ingeld, on a hall’s high seat, on Tenguthaxichai, had behaved similarly.

  “How is this?” he cried, turned away, as though aghast.

  “Is the exarch disturbed?” asked Otto.

  “I fear so,” said Iaachus.

  “He seems distressed,” said Otto.

  “I believe him to be so, or seemingly so,” said Iaachus.

  “Why?” asked Otto.

  “The ministrants of Floon,” said Iaachus, “are sworn to a most abstemious asceticism. This attracts attention. It makes them seem different, and notable. They make a virtue of this oddity. They forswear the goods of this world in favor of the goods of another world, a postulated or conjectured world, a world somewhere else.”

  “Where is this other world?” asked Otto.