Nicoles fell silent, shrewdly leaving Kai alone with his own torment.
Could it be possible? Ecdicius? Well, ambition does strange things to men; I've seen it. Besides, when all's said and done the fact remains that he
is
a Gaul.
And do I really have any choice? With the
Pan-Tarkan
dead and his heir vanished, all that's left to me is the restored empire that we fought for, that
he
wanted. If I don't stay loyal to that, then what will my life have meant?
"Well, Chamberlain," he finally said, "I'll do my best to allay my officers' misgivings. It may not be easy, considering . . . Well, you asked me to be frank. And the fact is, the new Augustus isn't too highly regarded by the army."
Nicoles smiled again. Better and better! Really, the man was like a child—he didn't even have to be maneuvered into incriminating himself. He formed an expression that counterfeited sincerity. "Actually, that unfortunate business in Wilhelmus' youth has been widely misrepresented. Remember, he was a student then, at the university Artorius Augustus had recently founded." Kai remembered the
Pan-Tarkan
's enthusiasm for the project, early in his reign. Theodosius I had closed the old University of Athens for its pagan associations, so Artorius had set out to create a Christian successor, dedicating a new university on the island of Rhodes. "So," Nicoles went on, "he had a legitimate reason for not taking up his family's traditional military calling, being at the time a Rhodes scholar. Also, I assure you he was motivated not by fear for his personal safety but by genuine misgivings about the wisdom and righteousness of the war we were waging with Persia then. So, you see, far from showing cowardice he displayed genuine moral courage."
Well
, Kai reflected,
I thought I'd heard all the forms human hypocrisy can take! At least it's harmless, for no one could ever be taken in by such transparent self-justification. Could they?
But a resurgent caution made him hold his tongue. "No doubt, Chamberlain, no doubt. But for now, let's turn to the actual plan. I see that we're commanded to secure Britain at the same time as Gaul."
"Rest assured, General, that the Augustus does not require from you or your British troops any such display of loyalty as an invasion of your native country. Indeed, I am commanded to suggest that the securing of Britain would best be left to a trusted subordinate of non-British origin, commanding troops from other areas of the empire. Your loyalty is, of course, beyond question. But some of your British troops might experience certain . . . emotional conflicts which would prevent them from proceeding with the full rigor which law and religion alike prescribe for subjects who rebel against their rightful emperor."
Kai made no reply. Instead, he listened to a little voice he didn't want to hear:
Is this what we fought for?
"Also," Nicoles went on, "I am in a position to assure you that your forces' landing in Britain will have the advantage of coinciding with incursions from other quarters into that notoriously rebellious island."
"What?" Kai glared at him. "Barbarians, you mean?"
"Of course." Nicoles was all blandness. "There are innumerable precedents for hiring barbarians, not just to fight their fellow barbarians but also to chastise disobedient provincials."
"So where have the agents of the Master of the Offices been nosing about?" Kai inquired, naming the powerful official who controlled, among much else, the secret service.
"Hibernia, General. I am assured that a large-scale raid by the savages there can be arranged. Also . . ." Nicoles hesitated, and for the first time Kai thought to detect a crack in his courtier's facade, through which could be glimpsed the terrors of a thousand generations of ancestors who had stood naked to forces beyond their understanding. "The agents have been in contact with a tribe in the southwest of that island called the Formorians. In exchange for an additional subsidy, they have undertaken to supply a giant one-eyed monster!"
"
What?
" Kai barked laughter. "Oh, come, Chamberlain! Don't tell me the agent has been listening to some smooth-talking tribal chieftain. They've probably got some very big, very ugly old warrior who lost an eye in battle long ago and now frightens the local children!"
"Ordinarily, General, I'd be the first to agree with you. Only . . . I happen to know the agent in question.
He
wouldn't be taken in by some village bogeyman! I've read his report myself, and I wouldn't have believed it possible that he could have written such a document. I can only suppose that we're dealing with something beyond common understanding."
For a space, they sat in silence, their differences momentarily dwarfed by their common flesh-prickling fear in the face of the great darkness beyond their world's little campfire of the known. Nicoles finally shattered the brittle quiet with a nervous laugh.
"At any rate, General, I'm absolutely convinced of this: anything that can unnerve this agent can certainly terrify the Britons! We don't need the powers of darkness; a normal barbarian ravaging should suffice to remind these provincials where their rightful loyalty lies!"
Kai said nothing. He was still asking himself the same unanswerable question.
* * *
Sarnac leaned on the balustrade of the artificial terrace at the northeast corner of the Palatine Hill, looking out over the Forum. In the future of his timeline when the Palatine had become a place of romantic gardens, grottoes and archaeological digs, the Barberini Vineyards would cover this monumental architectural crag. Here and now, it still supported the Temple of the Deified Emperors (he couldn't remember the new name the Christians had assigned to it) and afforded the stunning view of Rome he'd been enjoying. He turned to look at the temple, and reflected that it was looking somewhat run-down; it had obviously had a low priority in the Restorer's program of rebuilding and repairing the imperial residences. Beyond it rose the palaces themselves like range upon range of mountainous architectural overload beneath whose weight it seemed the Palatine must surely sink into the Earth's crust.
He continued his turning motion and saw an approaching figure. "You sightseeing too?" he called out. "I'd have thought this was all old hat to you."
"Actually," Artorius admitted, "it's as new to me as it is to you. I never saw Rome in my own century. In fact, my counterpart didn't either."
"Huh? Wasn't he Augustus of the West for a few years before the civil war with Zeno?"
"Oh, yes. But the imperial residence was at Ravenna. He never got around to visiting Rome. Later, after the reunification, he ordered the refurbishing of these palaces—which, in our history, Theodoric the Ostrogoth did in the early sixth century. Wouldn't do to have the one-time imperial palace become dilapidated, however little it's used now. So Ecdicius at least has tip-top quarters!"
"I didn't realize you had so much in-depth knowledge about the Restorer's reign."
"I've been making it my business to acquire it. I talked to Koreel, who got to know him better while we were in Britain and in stasis. And lately I've been picking Sidonius' memories. You see, I wanted to learn just exactly how he won his way to the sole emperorship. I think I've gotten a pretty good idea by now—and it may stand you in good stead in Gaul."
"Gaul? Am I going there?"
"I think you can count on it." The man who bestrode legend grinned, took a final look around, then grasped Sarnac's shoulder. "Come on. It's time for our meeting with Ecdicius. Can't stand here taking in the scenery all day, you know!"
They walked south past the temple and entered the
Area Palatina
, the only open space left on this hill whose every cranny was filled with temples, residences, baths and warehouses. To the right were the palace edifices of early emperors. But ahead was the truly colossal labyrinth of colonnaded halls, sunken gardens, cloistered peristyles and polychrome marble walls raised by Domitian, who'd been too paranoid to enjoy it. Looking up at the raised portico which fronted the palace's entire looming facade, Sarnac was suddenly reminded of the Vatican Palaces of his own era's Rome, so magnificent inside and yet jammed together in such disharmonious juxtaposition that their exteriors could hardly even be glimpsed, much less comprehended.
They bypassed the official palace and passed through the private quarters—if the term could be applied to such an architectural wonderland, organized around upper- and lower-level peristyles—to the stadium Domitian had insisted upon. It was almost five hundred feet long, surrounded by double-level porticoes. Here, Tylar had informed them, Ecdicius had wanted to meet. And he was just dismounting from his horse after his daily exercise—he clearly considered the stadium to represent the supreme inspiration of Domitian's architects—as they arrived. Tylar and Andreas were waiting in the shade of the porticoes.
"Ah," Tylar greeted them, "you're just in time. I've gotten word from Koreel that the Army of Germania has already started to move. Of course, it will still be making its way through Germania now." Sarnac, child of an interstellar society whose messages had to be carried by ship, knew all about information lags over long distances; he was less frustrated by this era's state of communications than his twentieth-century ancestors would have been. Koreel could communicate instantaneously with Tylar, but the news he had available to communicate was limited to what couriers had brought to Constantinople. "Of course, we can't tell Ecdicius this. But he already knows that the command to invade Gaul was sent by Wilhelmus. . . ."
"Wilhelmus!" Ecdicius had only heard the last word as he approached, towelling his head free of sweat, and he snorted in derision. "I still can't get used to the idea of him as emperor. He's such a . . . a . . ." Words failed him, and Sarnac restrained himself from suggesting
nebbish
, knowing he'd get a blank stare of incomprehension for his pains. "Let's get out of the heat," Ecdicius continued, and led the way into the passageway that led, via stairway, up to the lower peristyle of the private residence. There they reemerged into a sunlight ameliorated by shade trees. Sidonius waited for them.
"Let's get right to the point," Ecdicius said, pacing in his lionish way. "Unless Kai tells the emperor—and her husband!—to go to hell, which he almost certainly won't, Gaul is looking at an invasion. Now, I think the West is quiet enough that my presence here isn't required." They all nodded. Spain and Mauretania had been informed of the plot against Ecdicius that had brought Wilhelmus to the throne, and of Sidonius' excommunication of the plotters. Those provinces had already weighed in with their support of Ecdicius' claim. "So I think it best that I go to Gaul."
"I think that's wise, Augustus," Tylar nodded. "You can raise your native country against invaders as no one else can."
"Still," Sidonius said worriedly, "Italy isn't safe either. Have we not heard rumors of a major mobilization in Illyricum?"
"Nevertheless, Your Holiness," Artorius spoke up, "the greatest threat is coming out of Germania into Gaul. And Ecdicius is uniquely able to meet it there. I'll do all I can to help organize the defense of Italy—I have some ideas on the subject. Of course I'll stay behind the scenes, in my 'Gerontius' identity, as an obscure kinsman of the Restorer. And you can inspire the people here to rise in the country's defense against an invader behind whom stands heresy and eternal damnation." Sidonius nodded slowly, and Sarnac reminded himself that this elderly, overweight cleric was the same man as that Bishop of Clermont who had, in the other history, led his flock in withstanding repeated Visigothic sieges in the name of a dying empire, with no outside help save Ecdicius and his merry men.
"I'll also remain in Italy, Your Holiness," Tylar added, "to lend whatever aid and counsel I can."
Ecdicius frowned. "I'd hoped to have you with me in Gaul, Tertullian. I don't pretend to understand everything about you. . . . Hell,
anything
about you! But I know you have sources of knowledge denied to most of us."
"I fear, Augustus, that I'd only slow you down on your journey—I'm not as young as I once was. Instead, if you wish, I'll send Bedwyr and Andronicus to accompany you."
Sarnac caught Andreas' stricken look. Ecdicius would naturally leave his family in the relative safety of Rome when he took to the field. But the young transtemporal explorer held his tongue.
Ecdicius smiled. He'd never be accused of handsomeness, but that smile transfigured his face. He placed a hand on Sarnac's right shoulder and another on Andreas' left. "Good! Tertullian, no counsel you could give me could be as great a boon as the companions you're placing at my side! Bedwyr, I understand you knew Kai once."
"I did, Augustus." Sarnac trotted out his story of having been a youth at the Battle of Angers, and Ecdicius nodded.
"Well, I fought by his side at Bourges and Pavia and on to Constantinople. It doesn't sit well to be fighting against him now, I can tell you. But between us, maybe we can read his thoughts and foresee his plans." Ecdicius gave Sarnac's shoulder a final squeeze. "It's settled, then. We'll be leaving as soon as arrangements can be made. And now, if you'll all excuse me, His Holiness and I have business before he returns to the Lateran." He and Sidonius departed, and Tylar restrained Sarnac with a light touch to his sleeve.
"I'll have a number of items for you to take along. But the most important is this." He handed Sarnac what appeared to be a long dagger or short sword.
"Oho! I remember this thing. But are you going to teach me how you get it to do its tricks?"
"I'm afraid that would call for a good deal of background orientation which you have no time to acquire. This is a special model, designed to be useable by—ahem!—one of your background."
"Must have taken some doing," Sarnac deadpanned.
"The key," Tylar went on, oblivious to sarcasm, "is what appears to be a kind of bolt here at the pommel. Twist it clockwise, and the device reconfigures into a communicator." He didn't demonstrate, in case someone should intrude on them. "It has sufficient range to reach me here in Italy—and, incidentally, Tiraena in Britain. As you know, it can trigger the short-range implants into signalling for attention."