She then returned her attention to the brunette slave who was kneeling in the dancing square.
All eyes were upon her.
“Shall we garb her as a free woman?” asked Otto.
The brunette trembled, for she well knew the dire penalties which could be inflicted on a slave found in the garments of the free.
“Certainly not, your majesty,” said the free woman. “Such would be unthinkable. She is a slave.”
“To do so,” said Otto, “would be an insult to free women?”
“A most grievous insult,” said the free woman.
“Shall we free her?” asked Otto.
“Is that lawful?” asked the free woman.
“The matter has been disputed,” said Titus Gelinus, attorney and rhetor, rising. “Worlds differ. There is no imperial judgment imposing a uniform view on the empire. Let us restrict ourselves then to Telnaria. On this world, Telnaria, the common judgment, upheld by several precedents, and disputed by some, is that a slave can be freed. Some people, to be sure, even judges, do not accept that. The matter seldom comes up as slaves are seldom freed. What is to be done with a freed slave, or, say, a freed horse or dog? To continue, obviously she cannot free herself, but not to allow her master to free her would seem to constitute a limitation or infringement on the power of the master, he who owns her. Such a limitation or infringement is commonly regarded as legally insupportable. Accordingly, a slave can be freed. Indeed, a master can, legally, as suggested earlier, free any animal, a horse, a pig, a dog, or any other animal, and the slave, of course, is an animal, and thus, by deduction, may be freed as well. To be sure, there seems little justification, or point, in freeing a dog, or horse, or such, and so, too, there seems little justification, or point, in freeing a slave. And, of course, it is often regarded as foolish, even reprehensible to do so.”
“What, then, is the legal certitude?” asked Julian.
“That there is no legal certitude,” said Titus Gelinus, “only a presumption and practice, namely, that a slave may be freed.”
“As that is the preponderant opinion,” said Otto, “we shall accept that, at least provisionally.”
“The high court of Telnaria has never ruled decisively on the matter,” said Titus Gelinus.
“So, then,” said Otto, turning to the free woman, “shall we free the slave?”
“Certainly not,” said the free woman. “She is in a collar. Look at her. She is obviously a slave.”
“Noble lady,” said Julian, “many free women have fallen to barbarians, even free women of Telnaria, sometimes of high place and lofty station, even of noble blood. Should they not, if recovered, be freed?”
“No,” said the free woman. “They have been with masters, sported with, clasped in the arms of beasts. They are no longer fit to take their place amongst free women. Their presence in the garb of the free would be an insult to free women. We would not accept them. We would have nothing to do with them. We would despise them and hate them. They have been forever spoiled for freedom. Once a slave, always a slave. If recovered, let them have new masters, be given away, sold, or such. Let the empire not be shamed. Let them remain in their chains and collars, to be used, handled, caressed, and worked as the free may please.”
“To clothe a slave as a free woman would be an insult to free women?” said Otto.
“Certainly,” said the free woman. “Even one who was ever a slave. Once a slave, always a slave.”
“One supposes then,” said Otto, “that some difference in garmenture would be appropriate, to enable the free to be clearly and easily distinguished from the slave.”
“Yes,” said the free woman.
“And slaves are worthless and degraded animals,” said Otto.
“Yes,” said the free woman.
“Then,” said Otto, “it seems that those slaves in the room who are more amply tunicked, those of whom you seemed to have more approved, are wrongly garbed, indeed, shamefully overdressed.”
“Your majesty?” said the free woman, warily.
“As the slave is a meaningless and worthless animal, to be despised and degraded,” said Otto, “it seems the difference in garmenture between the exalted free woman and the lowly slave should be as clear as possible. Accordingly, if the slave is granted clothing, which she need not be, as she is an animal, it seems her clothing should be as plain, simple, and scanty as possible, be the mere mockery of a garment, a rag or a brief, revealing tunic. Thus, of all the slaves in the room the twelve whom you called to our attention are those most appropriately garbed. Thus, you should most approve of those purchased from Varick’s Market. Their garmenture should thus please you most.”
“Yes, yes!” said several of the men.
“Your majesty!” protested the free woman.
“You think little of slaves,” said Otto.
“Of course,” said the free woman.
“Has it ever occurred to you that slaves, in their chains and collars, helpless, rightless, and vulnerable as they may be, so much at your mercy, might think little of you?”
“I do not understand,” said the free woman.
“Although a slave has no say in such matters,” said Otto, “yet we might, as a matter of interest, invite her opinion. Do you, slave, desire to be free?”
“No, Master,” she said. “I have been at the feet of men. I love my collar, and would remain in it.”
“Disgusting!” screamed the free woman. “Disgusting! Disgusting! Slave, slave!”
She then turned about with a swirl of robes, and withdrew from the chamber, followed by the other free women in the chamber.
At a gesture from Otto the brunette who had been kneeling in the dancing square and had so outraged the free woman leaped up, retrieved her tray, and sped about the table, to resume her serving. Several of the guests had already determined to play for her.
Otto looked to the portal.
“Welcome,” he said.
In the portal stood Aesilesius, in a sparkling dinner robe, heeled by his property, small, exquisite, red-headed Nika, modestly tunicked.
“Did you hear?” asked Otto.
“Yes,” said Aesilesius. “I delayed entry. I stood by the door.”
“Aesilesius,” whispered a man, awed.
“Is it Aesilesius?” asked another, quietly.
“It cannot be Aesilesius,” said another.
“Dear friends,” said Otto. “It is indeed Aesilesius, of Telnar. Those of you who did not recognize him in the great square, it was he. And those of you who were acquainted with him in the palace in the past, in audiences or presentations, rejoice to learn that he is recovered.”
“I knew Aesilesius,” said a man softly. “This tall, strong, clear-eyed young man cannot be he. This is an impostor. The true Aesilesius must have been done away with.”
“Greetings, dear Ramos,” said Aesilesius, “I also have keen hearing. Are you still as fond of olives and the game of five cups as always?”
“Forgive me,” whispered the man.
“Where is the beloved empress mother?” asked Otto.
“She preferred to remain in her quarters,” said Aesilesius.
“But it seems she did not persuade you to do so as well,” said Otto.
“No,” said Aesilesius.
“You are here despite her wishes?” asked Otto.
“Yes,” said Aesilesius.
“Welcome,” said Otto, indicating the two empty places at the table.
Aesilesius then took one of the two seats, that closest to the head of the table. Nika knelt beside his chair, a bit behind and to the left.
Food and drink was promptly brought to him. He fed Nika from his own plate. Viviana remained on her knees, back and to the side, remaining as inconspicuous as possible, until one of the governing servitors gestured impatiently that
she should rise and continue serving. As she could, she remained away from Aesilesius. They had never been close and they scarcely knew one another. In the palace, given the hoax of Aesilesius and his general seclusion, they had scarcely seen one another. Normally she had seen him only at state functions, and had seen him then in his twisted pretense of imbecility, had contemptuously viewed him as an embarrassment to the throne. She suspected he would not recognize her, as she now was. Too, he would doubtless have been informed, as had been worlds, that she had perished in childbirth on Tenguthaxichai. At most, he might, as had Abrogastes, note some resemblance.
“Great lord,” said Mujinn, rising, “Hunlaki has a request.”
Chapter Ninety-One
“I, Mujinn,” said Mujinn, “rider of the Heruls, of the camp of the Herd of Chuluun, of the Flats of Tung, herewith, formally, publicly, great lord, chieftain of the Wolfungs, king of the Otungen, Emperor of Telnaria, submit a request on behalf of Hunlaki, rider of the Heruls, of the camp of the Herd of Chuluun, of the Flats of Tung. His request may be easily satisfied. It costs the empire nothing. It means much to him.”
“I know his request,” said Otto. “I do not choose to satisfy it.”
“Your majesty,” said Iaachus, “we owe the Heruls much. Satisfy his request, if at all possible, whatever it may be.”
“No,” said Otto.
“Do so, if possible,” said Julian, he of the Aureliani.
“You know nothing of Otungs and Heruls,” said Otto.
“What is the request?” asked Titus Gelinus.
“Yes,” said Rurik, Tenth Consul of Larial VII, of the Larial Farnichi, “what is the request?”
“It is to die in combat, at the hands of a worthy foe,” said Mujinn.
“I am not his foe,” said Otto.
“Otungs and Heruls are hereditary enemies,” said Mujinn.
“Once, no more,” said Otto.
Hunlaki then stood, and all eyes in that large, bright chamber, those of the free and those of the slave, regarded him.
“Great lord,” said Hunlaki, “I once dipped the blade of my lance in the blood of your father, Genserix.”
“So, doubtless, did many,” said Otto.
“Thereby honoring our weapons,” said Hunlaki.
“It was you, as I learned,” said Otto, “who, long ago, lifted a newborn infant from the snow.”
“The son of Genserix,” said Hunlaki, “as known by the medallion and chain, cold, stained with the frost of afterbirth.”
“A child delivered into the keeping of an Emanationist Brother, Brother Benjamin, of the festung of Sim Giadini, in the heights of the Barrionuevo Range.”
“Who became a great warrior and statesman, ascending to the throne of Telnaria.”
“Surely, great lord,” said Mujinn, “you cannot fear Hunlaki. He is old. His eye is no longer sharp. His muscles are no longer quick and supple, responding instantly to the subtlest glimpse of opportunity.”
“I do not fear Hunlaki,” said Otto. “I fear his request.”
“The emperor,” said Julian, “is swift, strong, and powerful, skilled with weapons, practiced in their employment. He has survived in the arena, in the forests, on the plains. It would be no duel, no small war. It would be a slaughter, a butchery.”
“It is a slaughter, a butchery Hunlaki craves,” said Mujinn.
“I do not choose to accede to his request,” said Otto.
“Consider the matter more carefully,” said Mujinn.
“I decline to do so,” said Otto.
“Very well,” said Mujinn. He then darted forth his hand, reaching under the table to where the lightly-clad dancer was kneeling and dragged her forth by the hair. She screamed and, in a moment, Mujinn was behind her, holding her, with a knife at her throat. Her eyes were wide with terror as she felt the thin blade, like a line of steel, at her throat. Guards stirred, springing forth, drawing weapons, but Otto motioned them back.
“Now,” said Mujinn, “call for weapons!”
“Release her,” said Hunlaki. “Sheath your blade. You are a guest. Do not behave in an unbecoming manner.”
Angrily Mujinn thrust the dancer, Flora, from him, and sheathed the knife. She fled to the other side of the emperor’s chair, and knelt there, wide-eyed, trembling.
“You are serious in this matter,” said Otto to Hunlaki.
“I am Herul,” said Hunlaki.
“Very well, then,” said Otto. “Let weapons be brought. And let none interfere.”
Two swords were brought, furnished by guards, one delivered to Otto, the other to Hunlaki.
“Weapons more familiar to Heruls,” said Mujinn, “would be the lance and bow.”
“These will do as well,” said Otto, “for our purposes.”
Otto then drew his chair away from the head of the table, and placed it on one side of the dancing square. He then sat upon the chair, the sword, ungrasped, across his knees. “I am ready,” he said.
“No!” cried Julian.
“No!” cried Aesilesius, and others.
Guards would surge forward, but Otto warned them back. Flora ran to him and knelt beside him, but he pushed her to the side.
“I am ready,” said Otto.
“Be on your feet,” said Mujinn. “Hunlaki is old. He is not decrepit. You cannot defend yourself as you are. Grasp the sword. Hunlaki is old, but he is not slow. He is still a warrior and could slay many, a great many. Be ready! Lift the sword!”
“I am ready,” said Otto.
Hunlaki came about the table and raised the sword, holding it over his head, grasping the handle in two hands.
“If you will have a death,” said Otto, “let it be mine.”
Hunlaki wavered, and then lowered the sword. He turned away, his body shaking. Keen sorrow, seldom affecting a Herul, manifests itself so.
“Do not turn the blade against yourself,” said Otto, rising, and laying the sword across the table.
“It was a small enough thing to ask,” said Hunlaki.
“Much greater than you understand,” said Otto.
Hunlaki turned to face Otto.
“What shall I do now?” he asked. “How can I be? I could have died. Now I am dead without dying.”
“You are not,” said Otto. “You live.”
“How can that be?” asked Hunlaki.
“You have much to do,” said Otto. “I have need of you, old warrior, old friend. Even now Brother Benjamin, dear to me, friend to you, is on Tangara, assisting in the rebuilding of the festung of Sim Giadini. He puts his tiny body and his small strength to what stones he can, lifting them and placing them as he can, that the festung may rise once more. I fear he may die in this endeavor. Do not let him be unwise in his labors, and in his devotions and exercises. He has in his enthusiasms little sense in such things. He must be watched and cared for. Too, I want you to protect the festung and those brothers who come to join it. Protect them from predatory Heruls, of the camps of other herds, and renegade Otungs. It is to be a place of harmony, peace, and sanctuary.”
“I have no understanding of, or affection for, the competitive, bickering faiths of Floon,” said Hunlaki. “What have they to do with the sky, from which the rain falls, watering the grass, which grows and feeds the herds?”
“Do what you can,” said Otto.
“Very well,” said Hunlaki. “The small salamanderine is my friend.”
“It is my intention,” said Otto, “to see to it that he is first in the festung. I want him to be foremost amongst the brothers.”
“That will not be,” said Hunlaki.
“Who will thwart that aim, who will dare contest my will?” asked Otto.
“Brother Benjamin,” said Hunlaki. “He is humble. He would be, had he his way, the least amongst the brothers.”
“Return to your
place, with Mujinn,” said Otto. “If you must seek death, do so in another place, in another manner, at another time.”
“I will seek life,” said Hunlaki. “I have learned that from an Otung, though none need know that.”
Otto returned his chair to its place, at the head of the table. He then said. “Converse, feast!” and took his seat. He signaled to the musicians and they began, once more, to play.
“I am glad to see you live,” said Iaachus.
“I, too,” said Otto.
Chapter Ninety-Two
“Put her on the table!” cried men.
The comely brunette who had been knelt in the dancing square during the conversation of Otto and the free woman was hoisted bodily and cast on the table, where she stood, laughing, regaining her balance, steadying herself.
She had been fourth in the coffle, and so would be fourth in the playing.
Ramos of Telnar, sportsman and breeder of horses and slaves, had, a short time ago, at the invitation of Otto, an invitation doubtless prearranged, drawn from his pouch the five small silver cups which he commonly carried with him, much as one so inclined would not be likely to be without a favorite paraphernalia of gambling, tops and mats, figured placards, dice, marked stones, and such. He had cleared a place on the table before him, arranged the tiny cups, inverted them, and moved them about with practiced skill. “Behold,” he had said, “I now place one small object, say, an olive, like this, or a pea, or a grape, or such, beneath one cup. You need then only identify the cup covering the object, to win.”
“That is easy,” had said Vandar. “One need only watch carefully.”
“Beware, Vandar,” called Otto.
Six times Vandar failed to detect the proper cup, it lost in the dazzling movements of Ramos’ hands.
“You have removed the olive,” said Vandar at last. “For such cheating many would use your head as a ball in the horse game.”
“It is here,” said Ramos, lifting a cup, revealing the olive.
This feat was applauded by the men who had risen from their places and crowded about the cups.
Vandar threw back his head and laughed.
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