Their military commanders were all in place when Burke and Ardmore walked into the conference room. They were all familiar with Ardmore and Burke already, as they had sat in on Augustus VI’s meetings with them during the final years of his reign.
Burke and Ardmore sat.
“Be seated, gentlemen.”
“Yes, Your Majesty,” Presley answered for them all.
“It’s your meeting, gentlemen. Proceed.”
“Yes, Milady. We wondered if there were any changes Your Majesties wanted to institute now that you are on the Throne.”
“No, Admiral Presley. We had a lot of input to the policies of Augustus in his later years. They came to be joint policies. So we don’t anticipate making any changes at this time.”
“And staff changes, Milady?”
“The same answer, Admiral Presley. Every one of you was selected for your current position with our counsel and approval. No changes.”
“So, carry on with current plans and initiatives, Milady?”
“Yes, Admiral Presley. For you, that means continue testing and strategic and tactical planning with the new missile frigate and continue to evaluate and shift personnel per the Project 3 plan. For you, General Destin, it means continue to evaluate and shift personnel per the Project 3 plan. For both of you, try to separate the people who should have been separated, and get back the good people who got pushed out. For you, General Hargreaves, it means continue to find and evaluate weaknesses in Palace security, and continue to expand the Guard, sending them out on deployment with General Destin’s people.”
“Very well, Milady,” Presley said.
Destin and Hargreaves nodded.
“Any other questions for us, gentlemen?”
Burke looked back and forth across them and got nothing but head shakes.
“All right, then. Carry on, gentlemen.”
Ardmore and Burke got up – and so did the officers – and left the room.
“You’re awfully quiet in most of these meetings, Jimmy,” Gail said when they were back in her office.
“Well, I much prefer listening to your voice than my own,” Ardmore said. “You have such a rich, mellow voice. Mine is sort of reedy in comparison. And we’ve talked out all these issues already. I don’t have any problem with being the strong, silent type. I like to sit back and watch you run the meetings.”
“Well, just as long as we talk out all the issues behind the scenes, I don’t mind. But I need you for that, Jimmy.”
“We need each other, Gail. Jonah was right about that.”
“Speaking of needing each other, tomorrow’s Saturday, and you haven’t banged me on the lawn yet.”
“Heavens. After five years of the gardens being open, there’s still a spot we’ve missed? That can’t be.”
“By my reckoning, there are two, Jimmy.”
“We shall have to correct that at the earliest opportunity.”
“I was hoping you’d say that.”
The other thing that continued more or less unchanged were their Sunday brunches with Paul and Claire Diener. Of course, Jonah wasn’t there. They talked about it the first brunch after he died.
“I miss Jonah at brunch,” Claire said.
“We miss him all week long, Claire,” Burke said.
“Yes, but I only really knew him from brunch,” Claire said. “Emperor he was, but so human. Such a nice man. I’m glad I got to know him as a person, and not just as some powerful, distant figure.”
That was an interesting perspective for Burke. She had known Jonathan Drake first as the distant Emperor to whom she had sworn loyalty. Then as the man she stood guard over. Then as the man with whom she and Ardmore had colluded to remake the Empire. She had gotten there in gradual steps.
But Claire had known him only as the distant Emperor – just two floors away in the Imperial Palace, but she had never seen him in person – and then had him as a weekly guest at her brunch table. There had been no in-between for her, no gradual transition. He was the distant Emperor, and then it was, ‘Pass the salt, please.’
Ardmore had the opposite reflection as Burke. The Emperor had been the distant powerful figure, and hours later they were sitting at lunch together, telling each other their stories and joking around. His reality was much more like Claire’s.
“I understand that entirely, Claire. I was asked to come to the Imperial Palace to meet with the Emperor, and two hours into the meeting we were at lunch in his private living room.”
Ardmore told the story. Even Burke had not heard the full version of it before. Then Burke told her own story, of being sure Ardmore was the Heir to the Throne as she stood guard over their meetings. Ardmore told the story of being sure Burke was the Heir to the Throne, and then how Jonah told them they both were. And Diener told the story of being plucked from deep within the bureaucracy to be made Co-Consul, and how that had unfolded from his point of view.
That first brunch after Drake died became something of his memorial service, with them all sharing their stories of the man who had been Emperor.
Drake would have enjoyed it.
The Preparations
The coronation of a new Emperor was usually three months or so after the previous Emperor died. There was all the funeral to take care of, and a mourning period. There was all the preparation that needed to be done. Cleaning the Throne room and sprucing it all up for the event. Preparing all the clothes everyone would wear. Planning the event itself.
Every coronation was a bit different from the others. Trajan had been the first Emperor, so some things had to be changed. For his second coronation, he had sworn a pledge to the Galactic Empire, not the Sintaran Empire. Trajan II had his wife, Marie Louise Bouchard in the ceremony. Every one of them had its kinks.
The upcoming coronation had more kinks than usual. For the first time, a couple would be co-rulers. Both had to swear oath to the Empire. Did they do that together, or separately? Who wore the crown? Who sat on the Throne? Did they make a second Throne?
All these preparations were Moody’s job, and he was very nervous about it.
“Good morning, Your Majesties.”
“Good morning, Mr. Moody,” Burke said. “Be seated.”
“Yes, Milady.”
“It’s your meeting, Mr. Moody. Proceed.”
“Yes, Milady. Sire, Milady, we must talk about the coronation. Please. I want to make it a wonderful coronation for Your Majesties, but I need your assistance. There are some things that need to be decided, and I’m at my wit’s end what to do about them.”
Moody was clearly pretty worked up about this. Burke considered. The nanites problem had been wrapped up for the time being. Everything was steady as she goes with the bureaucracy and the military. It wasn’t like they didn’t have a breather at the moment.
Burke looked to Ardmore, who shrugged and nodded.
“Very well, Mr. Moody. We are at your disposal. Pose your problems.”
“Thank you, Milady. First, what do we do about the Throne? Do we build another one, so you can both be seated? Is only one of you to be seated? Which one?”
Burke had no idea on this one.
“Sire?” Burke said to Ardmore.
“Not two thrones, I don’t think, Milady. People swear allegiance to the Throne. It has sat in that spot, unmoved, for centuries. I don’t think they move it even to clean under it. But it is always the Throne. Making a new copy risks turning it into ‘two chairs on a dais.’”
Burke nodded.
“I can see that, Sire. So what do we do? Take turns?”
“No, Milady. I don’t think so. I’m likely to not fit in it very well anyway. I would probably look like a father at his daughter’s tea party, sitting on the children’s furniture. Besides, if we want to signify change, let’s put a woman on the Throne for the first time in three hundred and fifty years. You sit, Milady Empress. I’ll stand.”
Burke nodded.
“Very well, Sire. Mr. Moody, does that solve that p
roblem?”
“Yes, Milady. The next one is, how do we do the oaths? Do you recite them together? Do you recite them one after the other? And if so, who goes first?”
Burke raised an eyebrow at Ardmore.
“Separately, Mr. Moody. My voice is unimpressive, but Milady Empress’s is rich and smooth. I want her oath to be heard by itself.”
“And who goes first, Sire?”
“I will go first, Mr. Moody. Let the more impressive be second. That is what people will remember.”
Moody looked to Burke, who nodded.
“Very well, Sire. We now come to the issue of the crown. Who wears it?”
“That’s a good question, actually, Sire,” Burke said to Ardmore. “I had never considered it before.”
“I had. A bit, anyway, Milady. Mr. Moody, the crown is a circlet and a laurel wreath. Do those two pieces come apart?”
“I don’t know, Sire.”
“As I recall, the circlet was first, the crown of the Kings of Sintar. The laurel wreath was added later, when the first female ruler of the consolidated Sintar changed the title to Empress. Find out if they can be separated.”
“And if they can, Sire. Who wears which?”
“The laurel wreath for him, the circlet for me, I think, Mr. Moody. Sire?”
“Yes,” Ardmore said. “The Roman Emperors – all male – and the Emperor Napoleon Bonaparte wore gold laurel wreaths. And another name for circlet is tiara, which is definitely associated with female rulers.”
“Very well, Your Majesties. Then there is the question of who brings the crowns to the dais, and who brings the crown jewels.”
“We’ll have to think about that one and let you know, Mr. Moody.”
“Very well, Milady. There is also the question of what you will both wear.”
“Another good question we will have to consider and let you know, Mr. Moody.”
“Very well, Milady. One thing to consider is how you will wear your hair, in terms of putting the circlet on your head and clasping the crown jewels behind your neck.”
“My hair is going to be seriously in the way, isn’t it, Mr. Moody?”
“Yes, Milady.”
“Very well, Mr. Moody. We will consider it. Do you have enough to work with for the moment, Mr. Moody?”
“Yes, Milady.”
Moody looked as if he was anxious to get gone and working on the coronation, like he might run from the room if Burke gave the signal.
“Very well, Mr. Moody. That is all.
“Thank you, Milady. Sire.”
Despite his urgency, Moody made a dignified exit from the room.
They were in the private living room of the Imperial apartment after lunch on Saturday. They had both been dressed casual for lunch, but Burke was now wearing a sheer white caftan. She knew Ardmore liked it, because it kept teasing him with glimpses of her body beneath.
“Those were some good questions from Mr. Moody yesterday, Jimmy,” Burke said.
“About what do we wear, and your hair, and such?”
“Yes. The hair is certainly an issue. How are they going to put a circlet over this mass?”
Burke flipped at her hair with a hand. The mass of tight black curls, uncut for over six years, hung all the way down her back.
“And trying to put the crown jewels around my neck will be interesting, too.”
“Probably so.”
“But you don’t think I should cut my hair.”
“No, Gail, I don’t. It’s beautiful, and beautiful is what people want in their Empresses. Strong men, beautiful women – that’s what people want in their rulers.”
“How do we work it out, then?”
“Hmm. Can you put it up? Bind it up tight enough to get the circlet over it? You know, like piling it up on your head?”
“Sure, Jimmy, but then it isn’t hanging down like you want it.”
“Can you bind it up in a way you can let it down once they’ve put the circlet and the jewels on? You know, you pull something out or something, and it all comes undone? Flip it with your hands a couple times. Something like that?”
“Maybe. I’ll have to ask the hairdresser. They’re pretty good here, though they had to take lessons in black curly hair. You prefer that to me cutting it.”
“Yes,” Ardmore said. “A lot, actually. Much better.”
“I can grow it back out for you, you know.”
“No, I’m talking about the coronation. Much better.”
“OK, Jimmy. I’ll ask the hairdresser. So what do I wear?”
“Emperors have worn the Imperial Guard uniform. The MDU. At the second coronation, Trajan just wore black. Empresses typically wore simple, white gowns.”
“Ruling Empresses?”
“Yes. At least Ilithyia II did. That I know. The statue out front is basically her coronation dress. So could be MDU, could be gown.”
“So many decisions!”
Burke jumped up and paced back and forth. She kept walking back and forth across the windows. It was a sunny bright day outside, and when she crossed the windows, silhouetted against the brightness outside, the caftan pretty much disappeared.
Something clicked in Ardmore’s mind.
“Gail, could you come with me a second?”
“Sure, Jimmy. Just let me throw something on.”
“No. Like that. Come with me.”
Ardmore led her out into the hallway, down to the escalator, and they took it up to the Imperial Gardens. Burke gave a signal to the Guardsmen, and they stayed at the cupola.
Ardmore led her down the path, out from under the trees.
“Walk down the path a ways, Gail, then walk back.”
Out in the bright noonday sun, her skin reflected back through the thin caftan. She was nearly naked, a mahogany goddess wreathed about in the barest wisp of white smoke.
Burke walked back along the path to Ardmore, who stood watching her intently.
“What, Jimmy?”
“Wear that.”
“Jimmy, I can’t wear this. I’m naked.”
“No, you’re not. Come on back inside.”
They went back down the escalator to the Imperial Residence and back to the living room. Both lost in their thoughts, they didn’t say anything until they were back in the living room.
“OK, Jimmy. Explain to me what you’re thinking.”
“Right. So look. You could wear the MDU. Ho-hum. Boring. Not to disrespect the Guard or anything, but that would be boring, and not check the beautiful Empress box. You could wear the simple white gown. OK. Beautiful, no doubt. But not powerful. Not Empress Regnant. Oh, sure. Ilithyia II did it, but she had a lot of problems with people who didn’t take her seriously enough.”
“OK, I’m with you so far, Jimmy.”
“That outfit, though. First, it checks the beautiful Empress box about ten times. But the second is it radiates raw power.”
“How do you figure, Jimmy? I think of somebody naked as being vulnerable.”
“Yes, that’s right. But you’re not naked, Gail. That’s the sort of thing a Greek goddess would wear. Or a female Pharaoh, like Cleopatra or Arsinoe, your namesake. It’s a very ancient symbolism. It says, ‘I don’t care what you think, or what your rules are. Your rules don’t apply to me. You don’t sit in judgment of me. I sit in judgment of you.’ It’s the ultimate expression of power.”
“Really.”
“Yes, really. It’s perfect.”
Ardmore started pushing her images of paintings, some dating back thousands of years, of Greek and Roman goddesses. He was right. Psyche, Nemesis, Ceres, Themis, Diana, Aphrodite, Aurora – one after another after another, all dressed in the thinnest of white robes. Why? Because they could. Who was mortal man to judge them?
“It’s very deep imagery, and powerful symbolism.”
“You’re not kidding.”
“No. Not at all. Wear that. No one will mess around with somebody who’d wear that outfit to their coronation. Are you kid
ding me? ‘She could strike me down with a glance.’”
“Well, some people will try me anyway. But what will the public think, Jimmy?”
“They’ll think, ‘We’re ruled by a goddess. OK, that makes sense.’ It fits perfectly.”
“And children, Jimmy?”
“Every little girl will want to be you. Every little boy will want you for his mother or his wife, depending on their age.”
“I already have a husband.”
“And he couldn’t be happier.”
“So what do you wear, Jimmy?”
“I’ll dress in black. Pure black, as Trajan did at his second coronation. I don’t want to do anything to draw attention away from you, to take away from that show of power.”
“Well, I’m not promising anything, Jimmy, but I’ll think about it.”
Burke explained to the hairdresser what she wanted.
“So piled all up and scrunched down so the circlet can go over, but then you pull something out and it falls out, Milady?”
“Yes, please. Can you do that?”
“I think so, Milady. We’ll have to try some things and see what works.”
Her first attempt worked OK. Her second attempt didn’t work at all. The third attempt worked really well. Much like a parachute, how you arranged things packing it in determined how well it would come out when the string was pulled.
“OK, so I think we have a method there, don’t you?”
“Yes, Milady. Let’s try it again and make sure it wasn’t a fluke.”
The hairdresser arranged everything all over again, then Burke pulled the string out and it all fell down. She flicked her hair twice with her hands, and it sorted itself out.
“OK. I think we have something there. Plan on it for the dress rehearsal and the coronation.”
“Yes, Milady.”
Next was the seamstress’s office. Burke had given the dress thing a lot of thought. That Ardmore wanted the sheer caftan was no minor consideration. She had watched all the coronation videos from the past to aid her decision. The more she thought of doing something else, like the MDU or some plain white dress, the less she liked them.
She took her caftan in, and spoke to the seamstress about it. The seamstress had her try it on.
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