“That is true,” said Otto.
“And what has this gained for us?” asked Iaachus.
“A day, perhaps two,” said Otto.
“Ah,” said Iaachus, “I see.”
“I thought you would,” said Otto.
“The curtain of the future is not yet drawn,” said Iaachus.
“It never is,” said Otto.
“Yet,” said Iaachus, “tomorrow becomes today.”
“Precisely,” said Otto.
At that moment there was a stirring and a shuffling on the other side of the stout metal door. With a creak it was swung open and a figure, half stumbling and then catching its balance, had been thrust through the opening.
“We are joined,” said Julian.
“But by whom?” asked Iaachus.
The figure, that of young man, was hard to discern in the half-light.
“Who are you?” asked Julian.
“We know him not,” said Tuvo Ausonius. “He is a spy, thrust amongst us to descry plans or acquire information on allies, their dispositions, locations, and numbers.”
“You do not know me?” asked the young man.
“I do,” said Otto.
“He wears not the garb of the Otungen,” said Titus Gelinus.
“Who are you?” asked Iaachus.
“Show them,” suggested Otto.
The figure of the young man, tall, straight, and large, strong and proud, stepped forward.
“Now you know him,” said Otto.
“I do not,” said Julian.
“Nor I,” said Iaachus.
“From Vellmer, from Tangara?” said Titus Gelinus.
“I think not,” said Julian.
“I cannot place him,” said Iaachus. “But I am sure I have seen him. There is an uncanny resemblance to another, some other whom I cannot place.”
“Show them,” said Otto.
Then, in the half-darkness a remarkable transformation took place in the figure before them. It seemed to shrink visibly, in and on itself, and to grow twisted and crooked. Its head wagged back and forth, and intermittent puling noises escaped its lips.
The group in the chamber regarded the newcomer.
“Foul actor,” cried Julian, suddenly, “mocking us, insulting us, disguising himself as Aesilesius.”
“What is the point of it?” asked Titus Gelinus.
“The Aesilesius you knew,” said Otto, “was the disguise, now once more feigned. This is no actor, no counterfeit. This is the true Aesilesius before you.”
“Do not be absurd,” said Julian.
“Do you think I do not recognize you, my allegedly ambitious cousin?” asked the contorted figure, looking up, speaking with clear, aristocratic diction.
It then straightened up, and stretched its limbs. “That is better,” it said. “Muscles held rigid soon grow stiff and cramped. I have known much such pain, and, I assure you, it is far less than pleasant. Indeed, not all my weeping and whimpering was mere pretense. Being oneself entails great risk, but there is at least this to be said for it. It is more comfortable.”
“My emperor,” said Iaachus, going to one knee.
Tuvo Ausonius then knelt, as did Titus Gelinus. Then Julian, too, knelt.
“Rise,” said Aesilesius. “This is no place for the pomp of court.”
“Indeed,” said Iaachus getting to his feet. “We are all fellow prisoners, subject to a common doom.”
“He is truly Aesilesius?” said Julian, rising, wonderingly.
“Yes,” said Otto.
“How long have you known of this?” asked Julian.
“I suspected it for a long time,” said Otto. “I have known it for some time.”
“And you did not kill him?” said Iaachus.
“It slipped my mind,” said Otto.
“Politics prescribes certain actions,” said Julian.
“So, too, does honor,” said Otto, “and they are not always the same actions.”
“I accord greetings,” said Aesilesius. “I hope they will be accepted. I apologize for appearing as I did, perpetuating a hoax of several years’ duration. In cowardice I maintained a façade, one unworthy and deceitful. It was a choice motivated by a fear of dying. I have now chosen manhood, motivated by a willingness to live, or die, as a man should. It is a lesson taught to me by two who did not fear to give lessons to an emperor, a man and a woman, a barbarian and a slave.”
“Your greetings are accepted,” said Iaachus.
“They are accepted,” said Tuvo Ausonius and Titus Gelinus.
“They are accepted,” said Julian, he of the Aureliani.
“And you, Otung, come from arenas and wars, chieftain, captain, and king, defender of an empire not always kind to your people, preserver of an empire once an enemy, an empire alien to your origins, background, and blood, do you accept my greetings?” asked Aesilesius.
“I wonder,” said Otto, “if you well learned the lessons of manhood.”
“I have done my best, little and inadequate as it may be,” said Aesilesius.
“You deserted us,” said Otto. “You fled the senate house. You would not, your guise of imbecility discarded, be recognized as Aesilesius. Few, in any event, would know you. You were much hidden from the public. There are those here, even in this dismal chamber, ones well familiar with the court and palace, who did not recognize you. You would mingle with crowds. You would escape. You would live.”
“I knew you would not permit me to leave the senate house,” said Aesilesius. “For some reason I seemed important, or precious, to you. I sensed you might have in mind a role for me to play. I sensed you might even care for me, as one might a son, a troubled, wayward son. You would not risk me. You would not let me leave. Accordingly, I availed myself of the opportunity to leave when, and as, I pleased.”
“You were not authorized to do so,” said Otto.
“On the contrary,” said Aesilesius, “I authorized it.”
“I feared you were confused, distracted, infantile, and irresponsible,” said Iaachus, “that you had merely wandered away, and that you would be apprehended as one helpless and incompetent, as one ill, or lacking, in mind, and would be consigned to a charity pit, to be maintained at public expense.”
“Dear, kind Iaachus,” said Aesilesius.
“But your scheme failed,” said Otto. “In vain you abandoned your friends, deserted your post, and left others to die, while you sought to save your own life.”
“Indeed,” said Aesilesius, “my scheme failed, but I do not think you know the scheme.”
“The matter is clear enough,” said Otto.
“Perhaps not, hasty Otung,” said Aesilesius. “How is it that I am here now with you?”
“You were recognized,” said Otto.
“No,” said Aesilesius. “They do not know who I am.”
“Then why have you been put in with us?” asked Otto.
“After you abandoned the palace,” said Aesilesius, “you had no way to communicate with Rurik, the consul of Larial VII, your ally in the dock district. Accordingly, he might well be ignorant of how matters stood in the heart of Telnar. I hoped to reach him, to apprise him of the situation, and have him organize a sortie into the city to attempt to extract you from danger, hopefully before your hiding place in the senate house was discovered. Unfortunately, in trying to reach the dock district, I was apprehended by Drisriak guards loyal to Ingeld, troops stationed to seal off the dock district, prior to a planned move by Ingeld to deal with Rurik and his men.”
“How is one to believe this?” asked Otto.
“I was not recognized,” said Aesilesius. “The city is large, and filled with strangers, men unknown to one another. Who would notice me? It would have been easy to avoid the militarized dock district, to pretend sympathy with
the uprising, even leave the city, by a hundred routes. I did not do so.”
“You were not recognized as Aesilesius?” said Otto.
“No,” said Aesilesius, “and I am not recognized as Aesilesius even now. I have called myself Vorn, a name common in the countryside, to the west of Telnar. I am here with you because I am thought a spy, a confederate of the usurper.”
“And now must share our fate,” said Iaachus.
“I fear for the empress mother,” said Aesilesius.
“We all do,” said Iaachus.
“Where are Boris and Andak?” asked Aesilesius.
“Dead,” said Iaachus. “They were poisoned by Safarius, who escaped, and revealed our ensconcement in the senate house. That is how you find us here.”
“And Corelius?” asked Aesilesius.
“Incarcerated, separately, for his own safety,” said Iaachus. “They were afraid we would kill him.”
“Doubtless Safarius now stands high in the ranks of our foes,” said Aesilesius.
“Doubtless,” said Iaachus.
“His place is secure, his fortune is made,” said Julian.
“You risked your life for us,” said Otto.
“And for Nika,” said Aesilesius.
“She is a slave,” said Otto.
“No matter,” said Aesilesius.
“May I now accept your greetings?” asked Otto.
“I would be pleased if you would do so,” said Aesilesius.
“I accept them,” said Otto.
Chapter Eighty-One
The throne room had been freshened, recarpeted, and refurbished. New hangings were in place. The guard doors, blown from their hinges, half melted, lay to the sides of the passage leading inward.
Ingeld, dangling a golden cloak in his right hand, moved to place himself on the throne.
“Do not yet assume the throne, noble prince!” said Sidonicus. “You are not yet regent. The royal infant has not yet been smudged, anointed, and jeweled, nor crowned and invested with the dignities of office.”
Ingeld seated himself upon the throne, adjusting the golden cloak.
“You look an emperor, prince,” said Fulvius.
“I am an emperor,” said Ingeld.
“Soon,” said Sidonicus, “but not in name.”
Ingeld let his glance rove to the entrance to the throne room, the fallen guard doors lying to each side of the passage.
“I do not recognize the livery of the two guards, one on each side of the portal,” he said.
“The guards are Captain Buthar and Captain Grissus,” said Sidonicus. “The livery is that of the newly instituted temple guard.”
“The temple needs no guard,” said Ingeld.
“We must protect ourselves against thieves, dissenters, intruders, vandalism, and such,” said Sidonicus.
“They are armed,” said Ingeld.
“True,” said Sidonicus.
“I thought that ministrants do not shed blood,” said Ingeld.
“They are not ministrants,” said Sidonicus.
“Noble prince,” said Fulvius, “as is our agreement, there must be no impediments placed in the path of the true faith. The true faith is to be the official faith of the empire. All other faiths are not only to be discouraged, but to be denied, denounced, forbidden, and suppressed. They are to be uprooted and exterminated. This is vital. We cannot risk the loss of a single koos to ignorance, neglect, or heresy.”
“I gather so,” said Ingeld.
“A substantial temple tax, a tax distinct from secular revenues, is to be imposed on the populations. This tax is to be instituted by, collected by, and guaranteed by, the state. This will enable the construction of new temples, new schools, and new missions, facilitating the further propagation of the true faith.”
“There are thousands of faiths,” said Ingeld, “and, as I understand it, several Floonian faiths.”
“Yes, but there can be but one true faith,” said Fulvius.
“That there can be but one true faith,” said Ingeld, “does not imply that there is one true faith.”
“Considering the thousands of faiths,” said Fulvius, “surely one must be true.”
“They could all be false,” said Ingeld.
“Without the backing of the temple,” said Fulvius, “your position on the throne is precarious.”
“How do you recognize the one true faith?” asked Ingeld.
“It is the one which rises victorious from the killing and torturing, from the blood and fire,” said Fulvius.
“An unusual test for truth,” said Ingeld.
“Karch would have it so.”
“What of the peace and gentleness, the love, tenderness, compassion, and sympathy of Floon?” asked Ingeld.
“Floon has nothing to do with this,” said Fulvius.
“I see,” said Ingeld.
“Floon is naive, no more than an embarrassment to the true faith,” said Fulvius.
“What of the writings pertaining to Floon and his early followers?” asked Ingeld.
“Reinterpreted, and superseded, by oral tradition,” said Fulvius.
“Who nurses and keeps, and discovers, or invents, this oral tradition?” asked Ingeld.
“Holy ministrants,” said Fulvius.
“I am not a theologian,” said Ingeld.
“Much is likely to be obscure to the profane,” said Fulvius.
“Sidonicus,” said Ingeld. “You are certain you can hold the city?”
“Certainly,” said the exarch. “I can bring thousands into the street at any moment. We can go from house to house, hunting down any who might be partisans of the usurper, who might be loyal to the old regime. Viable opposition does not exist. Those who are uncertain will be moved by the cards of the future. Who does not wish to survive? Who does not wish to nestle in the cradle of safety? Who does not wish to be sheltered in the arms of victory? Who does not wish its wind at his back? We can thrust villainous, cowardly Rurik, the Tenth Consul of Larial VII, aside in an afternoon. The city guard is ours, the temple guard is ours. Battalions of zealous insurgents are armed. We have imported troops. As Telnar goes, so goes the empire.”
“I trust the city is being readied for the coronation,” said Ingeld.
“The festivities will take ten days,” said Sidonicus. “The preliminary ceremonies take place two days from now.”
“Why not tomorrow?” asked Ingeld.
“Tomorrow,” said Sidonicus, “is reserved for executions.”
Chapter Eighty-Two
“I am afraid the handsome features of Corelius are somewhat marred,” said Iaachus.
“He would now be less in demand in a male brothel,” said Julian.
“Back, back,” said a fellow in the livery of the city guard, trying, from the side, to thrust the pressing, screaming, hissing crowd back.
“Way, way!” said another, “give way,” pushing men to the side with the butt of his spear.
Two other guards, with leveled spears held diagonally before them, like wedges or plow shares, cursing, thrusting, were forcing their way forward.
“Let us through,” demanded another. “Let the prisoners pass. You can all see when they reach the platform. Back, back!”
It is not easy to take a line of bound prisoners, derided and abused, through an incensed and demonstrative throng.
Certainly one must pity the guards, of which there were several; one must sympathize with their endeavors.
Crowds are difficult to deal with.
That is well understood.
What is a crowd?
Is it not a beast with many heads and no mind?
Is it not a cloak which conceals assailants, a locale within which all is permitted?
Is a crowd a number of individuals, or a crowd; is
a wave drops of water, or a wave; is an avalanche grains of earth, or an avalanche; is a beast cells, or a beast?
Is nature one or many? She eludes names. She disregards grammar.
Otto, castigated as The Usurper; Iaachus, Arbiter of Protocol; Julian, he of the Aureliani; Tuvo Ausonius, a former civil servant from Miton; Titus Gelinus, a rhetor and attorney; and a young man, Aesilesius, taken by authorities to be a peasant named Vorn, allied with Otto, had their hands tied behind their backs, and were roped together by the neck. Corelius, too, as indicated, was a member of this coffle. This had been seen to by Sidonicus. “I do not belong with these miscreants,” he had cried, “free me, free me,” his voice lost in the raucous cacophony.
Tuvo Ausonius turned his head away, struck by a handful of gravel.
A switch lashed Titus Gelinus across the cheek.
Hands reached out from the crowd to claw or strike at the prisoners. Pebbles had been cast at them, and garbage, and excrement.
Often enough these missiles had struck, spattered, or soiled unintended targets.
“Forgive me, friends,” said Otto. “It seems we should have ended matters at the door of the senate.”
“One casts the dice,” said Iaachus. “They fall as they will.”
“Ai!” said Julian, angrily, his face scratched by a woman.
“How brave they are when supported by a hundred men,” said Iaachus.
“I would not give a darin for her,” said Julian.
“What of the empress mother?” said Aesilesius, agonized, turning, his neck in the loop of rope.
“We do not know,” said Otto.
“It would not be popular to execute an old woman publicly,” said Iaachus. “Presumably she will just disappear.”
“She might be spared,” said Otto, “to give additional credence to the schemes of Sidonicus. The child to be recognized as emperor by the senate is allegedly that of her daughter, Viviana. Thus her public acknowledgement of, and acceptance of, the child would be of political value to Sidonicus and Ingeld.”
“After we have been slain?” said Aesilesius.
“Yes,” said Otto.
“They do not know my mother,” said Aesilesius.
“After that,” said Iaachus, “she could be done away with quietly.”
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