The Emperor

by Norman, John;

“No, no!” said Orontius.

  “I fear,” said Otto, looking about, “there are no others to spare, even were I minded to do so.”

  “I do not understand,” said Orontius.

  “And you will continue to serve in the office of the senate’s envoy to the palace, and you will receive certain well-publicized emoluments, villas, lands, and such.”

  “It will be thought I betrayed the plot,” said Orontius.

  “But we know that is not true, do we not?” asked Otto.

  “They will not,” said Orontius.

  “Who?” asked Otto.

  Terror came into the eyes of Orontius, and he turned about and bent quickly down, snatching up a fallen dagger from one of the assassins. He then threw himself violently on the dagger, its hilt braced on the tiles.

  “He is dead,” said Citherix, turning the body over, and rising to his feet.

  “He feared to reveal his principal,” said Titus Gelinus.

  “Yet,” said Otto, “I think there is little doubt as to who it might be.”

  “Have you noticed,” said Iaachus, “that the noble Timon Safarius Rhodius, primarius of the senate, after seating us in our places of honor, seems to have left the chamber?”

  “Yes,” said Otto.

  “Apparently he wished to dissociate himself from what was to ensue,” said Iaachus, “if, perchance, things might unfold contrary to his expectation.”

  “Shrewd,” said Gelinus.

  “The office of the primarius,” said Iaachus, “is an office not easily purchased. One does not expect it to be occupied by a dullard.”

  “Where one is not,” said Otto, “is often as important as where one is.”

  “Now, the noble Orontius dead,” said Gelinus, “we have no envoy from the senate to the palace.”

  “You will do very nicely,” said Otto.

  “It is impossible,” said Gelinus. “I am the envoy of the palace to the senate.”

  “And now also the envoy of the senate to the palace,” said Otto.

  “That is a conflict of interest,” said Gelinus.

  “Not of my interest,” said Otto.

  “The senate is soiled,” said Pyrides. “The tiles are channeled with blood. One cannot walk but on blood. The portal doors are streaked with red. The stoop is drenched. Blood, like rain, drains from step to step. Look at the bodies, heaped on one another. Consider the sopped, discarded robes. Who knew how much blood could be in a single body? The tiers, even the walls, are stained.”

  “You must fetch white sand, and rubbing stones, soap and water,” said Otto. “Let the chamber be cleansed.”

  “We will begin tomorrow, men will be hired,” said Pyrides.

  “No,” said Otto. “This work will be done by senators, those who were absent today.”

  “That is unthinkable,” said Pyrides, aghast.

  “Yet I have thought it,” said Otto.

  “What of the primarius?” asked Pyrides.

  “Having been present, at least for a time, he is exempted, of course,” said Otto. “Too, such char work, with brushes, on one’s knees, little comports with the dignity of a primarius.”

  “How shall we dispose of the bodies?” asked Pyrides.

  “Put them in carts, and deliver them to the exarch,” said Otto.

  “I do not understand,” said Pyrides.

  “He will understand,” said Otto.

  “He will never accept them,” said Iaachus. “It would implicate him.”

  “Is it not incumbent upon him to accept them, in the name of Floon?” asked Otto. “Are they not to be burned or granted burial? Is this not common with a thousand religions? Too, the bodies could be despoiled, of clothing and coins, and such things be distributed to the poor.”

  “I think the exarch would willingly decline such good works,” said Iaachus.

  “Very well,” said Otto. “Let the bodies be taken outside the walls.”

  “And cast into the carnariums?” asked Iaachus.

  “That is the common fate for criminals, is it not?” asked Otto.

  “Yes,” said Iaachus.

  “Then let it be done,” said Otto.

  “They claimed to be patriots,” said Gelinus.

  “That is common with criminals,” said Otto.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  “I heard what occurred in the senate four days ago,” said Ortog.

  “I would have preferred for the matter to have been handled more discreetly,” said Otto, “but it is difficult to conceal broadcast carnage, the disposal of bodies, and such.”

  “Cart loads of bodies, straining mighty horses, were carried to the carnariums,” said Ortog.

  “I trust,” said Otto, “the bodies were relieved of clothing and purses, and that such goods were distributed to the poor.”

  “Yes,” said Ortog, “and many now think more kindly on the state. Indeed, there is an eagerness now in the city that more such miscreants be apprehended, that their goods might be similarly distributed.”

  “My friend, Titus Gelinus, our liaison with the senate,” said Otto, “informs me that there was once a law to the effect that an informer, one who exposed a hitherto undetected miscreant, should the miscreant be convicted, was entitled to a share of the miscreant’s confiscated wealth, as much as a half in some cases, but more commonly a tenth.”

  “Doubtless such an incentive inspired much zeal amongst the righteous,” said Ortog.

  “So much so, I am told,” said Otto, “that the prisons were filled and the courts overwhelmed. Thousands of crimes were charged, mostly to well-to-do citizens, in the hope that something or other might be unearthed, and hundreds of thousands of extortions took place, given merely the threat of such a charge, to defend against which would entail considerable time and expense, not to mention the damage to one’s character or reputation. On certain worlds, where Floonians, of one version or another, controlled the local governments, similar charges were made on the grounds of an alleged lack of orthodoxy or a secret espousing of heresy, charges against which, in any case, it would be difficult to defend oneself. Fortunes were occasionally made in such ways, either civilly or ecclesiastically. These arrangements also resulted in the frequent disappearance of informants, or suspected informants.”

  “Most gods,” said Ortog, “seem little concerned with such matters.”

  “Would you be, if you were a god?” asked Otto.

  “No,” said Ortog. “Being a god would be quite enough, in itself.”

  “I would think so,” said Otto.

  “Gods are tolerant,” said Ortog. “What do they care what humans think, or whether they are believed in or not? If they exist, they are presumably aware of this, and do not need reassurance. If they do not exist, the question does not come up.”

  “Ministrants are not always so tolerant,” said Otto.

  “Particularly those fellows who claim, rather arrogantly, it seems to me, and without proof, that their god is the only god,” said Ortog.

  “Doubtless that would make their god quite important,” said Otto.

  “More importantly,” said Ortog, “it points all the religious gold in one direction and tries to make sure that it all ends up in one pot, their pot.”

  “Perhaps,” said Otto.

  “If one looks at things from a secular point of view,” said Ortog, “many things otherwise obscure and inexplicable, controversies, claims, dogmas, creeds, orthodoxies, disputes, and such, suddenly become clear.”

  “Perhaps,” said Otto. “But I prefer to leave such things primarily to Iaachus, my Arbiter of Protocol.”

  “I do not trust him,” said Ortog.

  “He would be pleased to hear it,” said Otto. “He is a diplomat. He would be crushed if he thought he were trusted.”

  “I take it,” said
Ortog, “that the law of which you spoke, remunerating informers, and such, was abrogated.”

  “Yes,” said Otto, “after only two years. It was incompatible with law and order, the very pretexts on which it had been brought about. It did away with trust, peace, and harmony. It divided the empire, and fostered hatred and fear. It put the empire itself in jeopardy.”

  “And it put those who had the power to make laws, the rich and powerful, the most in jeopardy,” said Ortog.

  “It seems so,” said Otto.

  “The relationships of gold to justice and right are intriguing,” said Ortog.

  “One fears they are relatives, sometimes even brothers,” said Otto.

  “Concerning gods, and such,” said Ortog, “these things dividing men and threatening empires, how are such disputes to be resolved?”

  “I do not know,” said Otto. “I prefer rocks and trees, clouds and rain, even vi-cats and arn bears.”

  “Men are the most dangerous of animals,” said Ortog, “more so than the vi-cat and arn bear.”

  “Too, no vi-cat or arn bear has ever killed for a meaningless idea,” said Otto.

  “It is easy to lie oneself into doing what one wishes,” said Ortog.

  “If such disputes were genuine,” said Otto, “one supposes the gods would step in and decide them.”

  “Yet one does not hear from the gods,” said Ortog.

  “One supposes there is an explanation for that,” said Otto.

  “What could it be?” asked Ortog.

  “One speculates,” said Otto.

  “How could such disputes be resolved?” asked Ortog.

  “Apparently with hot irons and edged weapons, with confiscations, exiles, and murder fires,” said Otto.

  “The fellowship of such things with reason is obscure,” said Ortog.

  “Partisans decide what they will deem reason,” said Otto.

  “The attack of the self-styled patriots in the senate,” said Ortog, “was surely at the instigation of the exarch of Telnar.”

  “One supposes so,” said Otto.

  “You should have burdened him with the bodies,” said Ortog.

  “The exarch did not wish to be involved,” said Otto.

  “An error,” said Ortog. “He could disclaim responsibility, and then, as an act of charity, distribute the clothings and goods to the poor, presumably retaining most for the temple’s coffers.”

  “Even so, he declined,” said Otto.

  “I see that as an admission of guilt,” said Ortog.

  “I suspect,” said Otto, “he understood that an acceptance of the bodies would, on the other hand, seem an admission of guilt.”

  “I see his refusal as such an admission,” said Ortog.

  “I hope others will so see it, as well,” said Otto.

  “Did you know,” asked Ortog, “that many of the assailants in the senate had a gold darin in his purse, no common gold darin, but a weighted darin?”

  “Banks exchanged each, before smaller coins, a thousand of each, were distributed to the poor,” said Otto.

  “A gold darin!” said Ortog. “So much gold is seldom offered even for the most dangerous and notorious of outlaws.”

  “A humble Otung is flattered,” said Otto.

  “It seems those sworn to poverty are not without resources,” said Ortog.

  “Some purses are heavy, some coffers are deep,” said Otto.

  “I wished I had seen the missing senators, those surprisingly absent from the session, replaced by assailants, on their knees, with rubbing stones, rags, powders, and water, cleaning the senate chamber,” said Ortog.

  “No secret was made of this in Telnar,” said Otto.

  “You have many enemies,” said Ortog.

  “Presumably no more than before,” said Otto.

  “They will never forget such humiliation,” said Ortog.

  “Rather,” said Otto, “let them rejoice.”

  “How so?” asked Ortog.

  “I left them their lives,” said Otto.

  “Surely, your majesty, chieftain of the Wolfungs, king of the Otungs, holder of the medallion of the Vandalii, you have not summoned me to the palace to engage in the pleasures of incidental conversation,” said Ortog.

  “Indeed not, prince of the Drisriaks, king of the Ortungs, dearest amongst my enemies,” said Otto.

  “I await your words,” said Ortog.

  “You are not easy to summon,” said Otto, “nor to invite.”

  “I shaved my beard, I cut my hair in the Telnarian fashion, I wear Telnarian garb, I speak little, I walk humbly, I affect diffidence, I change my dwelling frequently,” said Ortog.

  “You have been a shadow amongst shadows, a phantom in crowds, visible but not seen,” said Otto. “It was for that reason that I sent men to the delta of the Turning Serpent, and seized on your behalf two slaves, called for convenience Delia and Virginia, both once apparently of Telnar, one the former Lady Delia Cotina, of the Telnar Farnacii, and the other, the former Lady Virginia Serena, of the lesser Serenii.”

  “I know them,” said Ortog. “I obtained them, with several others, at a private villa near the Turning Serpent itself, at a secret meeting of proud, young, arrogant, rich free women who hated slaves for their attractions to men, free women who had been spurned or rejected in favor of the excitements and charms of slaves. In their hatred of slaves, they had planned revenge games, blood games in which several slaves were to be destroyed. I, contacted surreptitiously by several rich men of Telnar, who knew these women and had discovered their intent, was hired to raid the villa and foil their plan, seeing to it, if possible, that the slaves were spared. Surely there were better things to do with female slaves than expend them in diverse sports of slaughter for the enter­tainment of free women, for example, awarding them as shackled prizes to the victors in such sports.”

  “Of course,” said Otto.

  “I would be twice paid,” said Ortog, “once by the free men amused to frustrate the intentions of the free women, and once by the free women themselves.”

  “By the free women?” said Otto.

  “Yes,” said Ortog, “become goods.”

  “I see,” said Otto.

  “They who had been intent on the amusing destruction of slaves instead found themselves stripped, chained, branded, and collared, slaves themselves.”

  “Excellent,” said Otto.

  “It was clever of you,” said Ortog, “to have the criers, amongst their other announcements, in the lower, more illiterate districts, announce amongst listings of stolen goods, the theft of two slaves, Delia and Virginia.”

  “I knew them yours, from the delta,” said Otto, “slaves reserved for you, not transported upriver for sale in Telnar.”

  “Slaves easy to recognize, from their collars,” said Ortog.

  “Yes,” said Otto, “the collar identifying the owner, and bearing the slave’s name.”

  “Few knew of those slaves,” said Ortog. “Naturally, hearing both names together, surely a matter of neither chance nor accident, I was intrigued, and suspected a signal. I reported to the house specified by the crier, for those who might have information pertaining to their whereabouts.”

  “The house of Titus Gelinus,” said Otto.

  “And was informed to report to the palace.”

  “In the future, I trust we can arrange an easier, more reliable way to keep in touch,” said Otto.

  “You are Otung,” said Ortog. “Surely you do not expect me to place myself frequently within the reach of your sword, or those of your men. And I preferred to avoid the palace, that I be less noticed, and my identity might remain more secure.”

  “I understand,” said Otto. “He who comes and goes through golden portals is unlikely to do so unnoted.”

  “I was dire
cted to a minor gate and was discreetly admitted,” said Ortog. “Did you actually steal two slaves?”

  “It was necessary,” said Otto. “A false claim is easily discovered, and an undone ruse lacks profit.”

  “Where are the slaves?” asked Ortog.

  “Safe in the palace,” said Otto.

  “Do they know they are here?” asked Ortog.

  “No,” said Otto. “They were brought here hooded, bound, gagged, in tied, leather slave sacks, in enclosed conveyances, and such.”

  “I see,” said Ortog.

  “It seems you have taught them their collars well,” said Otto. “They are miserable with slave need. It is more than ten days since they have been caressed. They are now ready to crawl on their belly to any man. One merely touches them on an arm in putting their plates on the floor, and they whimper, and their eyes plead, speech, of course, forbidden them.”

  “They were displeasing as free women,” said Ortog. “Let them now suffer in their collars.”

  “You may use them whenever you wish, of course,” said Otto. “It is what slaves are for.”

  “I shall do so,” said Ortog. “I am tired of striking aside street women, and am wary of taverns and brothels. A turn of speech might give me away, or an allusion I failed to grasp. Otungs are about, ancient enemies of the Alemanni, and imperial guardsmen. Stray Alemanni, unprotected, such as myself, I fear, are at risk in Telnar.”

  “Considering ancient enmities, that of the Vandalii and the Alemanni, and the predations of the Alemanni at the imperial borders, their intrusions into the empire, sometimes deeply, the hazards they pose to shipping, and such, you should not find that hard to understand.”

  “Why did you summon me, or invite me, or wish to see me?” asked Ortog.

  “I have heard nothing of you for too long,” said Otto.

  “There is little, or nothing, of me to hear,” said Ortog. “I have watched, I have listened; I have seen nothing; I have heard nothing.”

  “I had hoped,” said Otto, “you would have discovered the secret prison of Abrogastes; and then I feared you might have done so, and had perished in the doing.”

  “If I am successful, you would furnish men?” asked Ortog.

  “If need be, a thousand,” said Otto.