The Usurper Page 11

  “An excellent plan,” said Otto. “May I see this portrait?”

  Julian reached within his furs, and, from the inside pocket of his naval jacket, handed the putative likeness of the Lady Publennia to Otto.

  “Interesting,” said Otto.

  “We feared she might be here, in the camp,” said Julian.

  “Have you seen her, captain?” asked Tuvo Ausonius.

  “One similar,” said Otto.

  “Beware!” said Julian.

  “Look,” said Tuvo Ausonius, pointing to Nika, kneeling behind the men, to their left.

  “Brush your hood back,” said Otto.

  The slave complied. A shake of her head spread the wealth of her bright hair about her face and shoulders.

  “Pretty,” said Otto. “Where did you buy her?”

  “We acquired her by the right of imperial seizure, exigency of the empire,” said Julian. This right, apparently, authorizes a suitable imperial authority, by fiat, to acquire any given slave for the empire, and, interestingly, well beyond this, to reduce free women to bondage. We may speculate that this was the fate of Elena, a brown-haired, gray-eyed former lady-in-waiting to the empress mother, Atalana. She apparently, in some way, a careless action, an unwise expression, or such, had displeased the empress mother. Iaachus may have suggested the discipline. In any event, Elena, it seems, soon learned what it is to be a female collar-wearer, having received this instruction at the foot of the couch of Iaachus.

  “She was the serving slave of the Lady Publennia Calasalia in Lisle,” said Tuvo Ausonius. “Interrogated, it was determined, as we had feared, that the Lady Publennia was no longer in Lisle. We brought her with us, then, in case an explicit identification of the mysterious Lady Publennia should prove necessary, or appropriate. I, for example, had never seen the woman in question.”

  “I understand,” said Otto.

  “If we should suspect deception or subterfuge,” said Julian, “she will be killed on the spot.”

  “Come into the bedding chamber,” said Otto, turning about. “There is a slave here you may be interested in meeting.”

  “Mistress!” cried Nika.

  She then resumed her kneeling position, appropriate for a slave in the presence of free men.

  “I gather,” said Otto, “the identification is made.”

  “Indisputably,” said Julian, with satisfaction.

  “Hold position, you collared slut,” warned Otto.

  “One seldom finds women of the honestori, of the patrician class, even of the senatorial class,” said Julian, “so positioned, naked, and neck-ringed.”

  “It is not unusual, in the halls of those whom you would speak of as barbarians,” said Otto.

  “I feared we might not arrive in time,” said Julian.

  “She was suspected, even on the Narcona,” said Otto.

  “Who enlisted her?” asked Julian.

  “Iaachus,” said Otto.

  “Of course,” said Julian.

  “I fear,” said Tuvo Ausonius, “there will be no way to prove that.”

  “I fear you are right,” said Julian.

  “It is dangerous to levy charges against powerful men,” said Otto.

  “It could be death,” said Julian.

  Otto regarded Filene, or Cornhair, the former free woman, Publennia Calasalia.

  “She is pretty in her nasty way, is she not?” asked Otto.

  “Indeed,” said Julian.

  “Shall I have her split her knees before you?”

  “No,” said Julian.

  “Why not?” said Otto. “She is less now than a tavern slave, or brothel slave.”

  “She is unworthy to spread her knees before a free man,” said Julian. He then unslung his rifle. “I have one charge left,” he said. “Draw her out into the yard, into the snow, and I will do justice.”

  “Do not waste a charge on her,” said Tuvo Ausonius.

  “True,” said Julian. “Such things on Tangara are valuable. We will take her into the yard and throw her across the wire.”

  “Hold position,” Otto warned Filene.

  She remained in position, that position in which Otto had placed her, one common for female slaves.

  Otto turned to the exquisite, kneeling, red-haired slave.

  “What is your name?” he asked.

  “I have been named ‘Nika’, Master,” she said.

  “Rise, and stand here, beside me,” said Otto.

  “I am uneasy to stand,” she said. “Free men are present.”

  “Here,” said Otto, indicating the spot.

  “You are sure this is your former Mistress?” he asked.

  “‘Former’?” she asked.

  “Yes,” said Otto. “She is now a slave.”

  “Yes, Master,” said Nika. “She is my former Mistress.”

  “Doubtless she was a kind, patient, thoughtful Mistress?”

  Nika trembled. She did not speak.

  “Not at all,” said Tuvo Ausonius. “Inquiries were made. The Lady Publennia Calasalia was an unusually demanding and exacting Mistress. She was noted for her short temper and lack of patience. Frequently did she subject this slave to needless castigations and gratuitous torments. The slave was frequently demeaned, mocked, berated, and ridiculed, even publicly. No matter how desperately the slave sought to please, the Mistress was never satisfied. Fault would somehow be found. Any pretext, or no pretext, would serve to elicit reprimands. The slave was frequently and well acquainted with the admonitions of her Mistress’ switch, openly, publicly, even in the marketplaces, in the squares, and streets. Her life was made a veritable misery.”

  “But now,” said Otto to the exquisite, red-haired slave, “you have priority. You are as first girl. That is why you are standing.”

  “Master?” asked Nika, frightened.

  Otto then turned to Filene. “It seems,” he said, “you abused your freedom.”

  “No, Master!” protested Filene, frightened.

  “Perhaps you did not realize that the collar would one day be on your own neck.”

  Filene regarded him, wildly.

  “On your belly!” snapped Otto. “Crawl to this slave who is as Mistress to you, and cover her boots with kisses. Now! Again and again, more, more, as the worthless slave you are! Now, tongue work. More! Lick, and whimper! Kiss those boots, head down, again and again! Cover them with your tears of fear and contrition!”

  “Forgive me, pretty, lovely Nika,” wept Filene.

  “Oh!” cried Filene, kicked by the barbarian.

  “Do you dare soil the name of one who is to you as first girl, letting it escape the portal of your slave lips?” he inquired.

  “Forgive me, Mistress!” begged Filene. “I was intemperate and cruel! I muchly wronged you! Be kind! Forgive me! I am afraid! Do not hurt me, Mistress!”

  “Shall I call for a switch?” asked Otto.

  “No, Master,” said Nika.

  “The whip is at hand,” he said. “You could use it, with two hands on the staff.”

  “No, please, Master,” said Nika.

  “Forgive me, Mistress!” begged Filene.

  “I forgive you,” said Nika, “poor, neck-ringed slave.”

  Weeping, Filene pressed the side of her face on the fur of Nika’s boots.

  “You must be hungry,” said Otto to Julian and Tuvo Ausonius. “Return down the corridor. Make your wants known. If it is in the camp, it will be prepared for you. Take your lovely red-haired slave with you. She will kneel beside you, and see if you choose to feed her.”

  “First,” said Julian, bending down and seizing Filene by the hair, and yanking her up, she crying out with misery, to her knees, “we will take this slave into the yard and throw her upon the wire. I know such things, the wires will slice thro
ugh her, burning, leaving little but shreds of tissue on the snow. Such wire would resist the charge of a torodont.”

  “Seek the kitchen,” said Otto. “Feed.”

  “The slave!” said Julian, angrily.

  “She is my prisoner,” said Otto. “I have a suitable disposition in mind for her.”

  “As you will, my friend,” said Julian. Tuvo Ausonius, heeled by Nika, had withdrawn. Julian paused in the threshold. “The comitatus?” he asked.

  “It will be formed,” said Otto.

  “The matter is arranged?”

  “Yes.”

  “You can speak for the Otungs,” said Julian.

  “The voice of the king is the voice of the Otungen,” said Otto.

  “You have bargained with the king?” said Julian.

  “I am the king,” said Otto.

  “How is this possible?” asked Julian.

  “It has come about,” said Otto, “in the ways of the Otungen.”

  “In dark ways, I suspect,” said Julian.

  “Civilized folk need not inquire too closely into such things,” said Otto.

  “The Otungs is the largest and most formidable tribe of the Vandal nation, the Vandalii,” said Julian.

  “I have heard so,” said Otto.

  “Will not the tribes of the Vandalii follow the lead of the Otungs?” asked Julian.

  “I do not know,” said Otto.

  “Have you heard,” asked Julian, “of the medallion and chain of the Vandal council?”

  “No,” said Otto.

  “I had thought you would await me in Venitzia,” said Julian.

  “I did not think it advisable,” said Otto.

  “After my arrival on Tangara,” said Julian, “I did not proceed immediately to Venitzia. I went, instead, to the festung of Sim Giadini, situated in the heights of Barrionuevo.”

  “I was raised in the festung village, at the foot of the pass,” said Otto.

  “I know,” said Julian.

  “And what did you seek there?” asked Otto.

  “The origins of a friend,” said Julian.

  “Then you heard of a human child, a newly born infant, rescued from the plains of Barrionuevo, after a battle, delivered by a Herul rider to the festung, many years ago,” said Otto.

  “Yes,” said Julian, “an infant, suckled by a dog, an infant who would be called ‘Dog’, who would grow to manhood in that place.”

  “It was I,” said Otto.

  “I met there,” said Julian, “Brother Benjamin, a salamanderine.”

  “I remember him with fondness,” said Otto. “He was kind to me, much as might have been a loving father. I am told it was into his arms that I was given by the Herul rider.”

  “Found near the infant,” said Julian, “was a medallion and chain.”

  “I know nothing of that,” said Otto.

  “Both were given to the salamanderine,” said Julian.

  “Did you see this medallion and chain?”

  “Yes,” said Julian.

  “What do you think it is?” asked Otto.

  “The infant may have been of royal blood,” said Julian.

  “Unlikely,” said Otto. “Tell me of this medallion and chain.”

  “It is of rich stuff, of gold,” said Julian. “It is large, heavy, and loose, and closed, with five great links, each link fastened to others, with no opening, no catch, or lock. It bears an emblem.”

  “What do you think it is?” asked Otto.

  “I do not know,” said Julian. “I think it may be the symbol of the union of the Vandal tribes.”

  These tribes, it may be recalled, are five in number, the Otungs, the Darisi, the Haakons, the Basungs, and the Wolfungs.

  “Brother Benjamin would not give it to you?”

  “No,” said Julian. “He may hold it for you. He may destroy it.”

  “Why would he do that?” asked Otto.

  “The brothers are gentle creatures, creatures of peace,” said Julian. “The Vandals, like the Aatii, or the Alemanni, as we know them, are feared. Security in the empire largely hinges on the jealousies and divisions of its enemies. Who knows what might ensue if, say, the medallion and chain were found, if the tribes of the Vandals were to become once more, after a thousand years, a single nation?”

  “Then let the chain and medallion rest easy, forgotten, undisturbed, in the festung,” said Otto.

  “The festung itself may be destroyed,” said Julian.

  “It has stood for centuries,” said Otto.

  “Sects grow numerous and powerful,” said Julian.

  “I know little of such things,” said Otto.

  “The festung may be threatened,” said Julian.

  “The festung is a holy place, a retreat,” said Otto. “The brothers are holy creatures.”

  “Few holy creatures are regarded as holy creatures by other creatures who think themselves holy,” said Julian.

  “I do not understand,” said Otto.

  “The brothers of the festung are Emanationists,” said Julian. “By many, Emanationism is regarded as a heresy.”

  “What is a heresy?” asked Otto.

  “A view with which one disagrees,” said Julian.

  “I do not understand,” said Otto.

  “The empire is tolerant,” said Julian. “Fanatics are not tolerant.”

  “What is involved here?” asked Otto.

  “Power has many faces,” said Julian. “Too, it may wear many masks.”

  “It is hard to understand you, my friend,” said Otto.

  “You understand the ax, the sword,” said Julian.

  “Yes,” said Otto.

  “Not every sword is seen,” said Julian. “Not every ax is visible.”

  “Do not speak strangely,” said Otto. “I am a simple man, with simple thoughts, raised in a festung village.”

  “You are not simple,” said Julian. “You are cunning and your thoughts are deep, and secret. You have the strength of a torodont, the quickness and agility of a vi-cat, the mind of a mover of men. Sometimes I fear you.”

  “And I the empire, and what is hidden in its thousand lairs,” said Otto.

  “Civilitas is the hope of the empire,” said Julian.

  “And yet,” said Otto, “you would recruit a comitatus.”

  “Allow me to take this slave,” said Julian, “and I will cast her on the wire.”

  “She is my prisoner,” said Otto.

  “She is nasty, disreputable, vicious, shallow, treacherous, and heinous. She would have killed you.”

  “She tried,” said Otto. “She did not succeed.”

  “The wire,” said Julian.

  “I have another disposition in mind for her,” said Otto. “Go, join Tuvo, and the little, red-haired slut. Get her out of those furs, and into a tunic. To see her so should improve the digestion. You could probably get good coin for her.”

  Julian, angrily, seized the kneeling Filene by the hair, and contemptuously threw her to the floor.

  She looked up, from her side, frightened.

  “You look well, fine lady,” he said, “with a chain on your neck.”

  She averted her head, fearing to look into his eyes.

  “She is at your feet,” said Julian.

  “That is where women belong,” said Otto, “at our feet.”

  “We shall discuss the comitatus later,” said Julian.

  “In the morning,” said Otto.

  The men then clasped hands, hand to wrist, wrist to hand.

  “I am pleased that you live, my friend,” said Julian.

  “And I am pleased, too, that you live, my friend,” said Otto.

  Julian then withdrew from the chamber.

  Otto turned back to the slav
e who, trembling, lay prostrate at his feet.

  “Master?” she said.

  “You realize, lovely conspirator,” he said, “that you have been discovered and apprehended, that you have failed in your murderous project, that you have been caught, like a pig in a trap, that you are alone, without succor, here in the remote, cold wilderness, far from civilization, that you are wholly and helplessly at the mercy of he whom you sought to treacherously slay.”

  “Yes, Master,” she whispered.

  “You were a high lady of the empire,” he said.

  “Of the Calasalii,” she said, “of the patricians, even of the senatorial class.”

  “How came you to this, lying naked, at the feet of a free man?”

  “I was wayward and reckless,” she said. “I misspent resources. I abused my position and station. I lived extravagantly, wildly. I accumulated debts. I courted ruin. I defied creditors. I fled. I betrayed friends. I scandalized my family. I was cast out.”

  “You have betrayed the honor of your class,” he said. “You stooped to accept a charge which might have been rejected by the most worthless churls of the humiliori.”

  “What was I to do?” she wept.

  “Surrender yourself to your creditors, for the collar,” he said.

  “No, no!” she wept. “I fled worlds!”

  “You continued to live your profligate existence,” he said, “doubtless trading on the dwindling and ever more precarious credit of the Calasalii.”

  “Yes,” she said, “until it was denied to me.”

  “I regard you at my feet,” he said.

  “Mercy!” she said.

  “Where now are your robes, your gowns, your jewels?” he asked.