The Dark Lord (26 page)

The Duchess turned to Martina, who was slouching in her chair. "Your husband's empire, dear, is still greatly intact. We, however, cannot rest easy—the Persians are sure to occupy as much as they can, as soon as they have the troops and time to do so."

Anastasia looked back at the Emperor. "My lord, we have received letters indicating the
comes
Alexandros has reached Perinthus on the Thracian coast, where the remains of the Imperial armies have gathered. He intends to muster those formations still infused with fighting spirit and to press towards Constantinople. I understand he seeks to forestall any further Persian advance into Thrace and to observe the deployments of the enemy for himself.

"When he has done so, we will know where the Persian army lies. Then, I believe, we will be able to tell where the next blow will fall."

Galen grunted, shaking his head in disagreement. "They will strike at Egypt," he said.

"Their forces in the desert before Pelusium are weak," Anastasia noted. "A dispatch ship has come from your noble brother, indicating a raid was made into the defenses at the edge of the delta and easily turned back."

"Those are only scouts," Galen said, scowling at the Duchess. "Do we know anything about the leadership of these Arabs and Greeks? Do we know if they are firm allies of Persia or only of convenience? Indeed—do we know what they
want
?"

Anastasia hid a sigh behind a pleasant smile and shook her head delicately. "We do not, my lord. But—my apologies, Martina—I believe the spark of the rebellion in Judea and the Decapolis came from the... poor use... of Palmyra in the war against Chrosoes. Queen Zenobia and her city were widely respected in the area, and she had many allies and friends among the Arab tribes, particularly the Tanukh. We have no proof—we do not even know who is in command of the rebellious army—but I suspect they are Palmyrene nobles and they are very angry."

The Emperor nodded, his face drawn and closed. He seemed to be looking back into memory and he did not like what he saw.

"So," he said, after a moment, "we are still fighting smoke. What about the Persians?"

"There, my lord, I can tell you a little more. By good fortune, there are merchants friendly to the Empire plying the Indian trade in the Mare Ethraeyum and they often visit the Persian port of Charax at the mouth of the Tigris and the Euphrates. By these means, greatly delayed, we have learned two daughters, Azarmidukht and Purandokht, survived the lamentable Chrosoes King of Kings. Both are young, of marriageable age, and unwed. Their mother, I must report, was the Empress Maria, Chrosoes' first wife. Apparently, in the chaos following the sack of Ctesiphon, the two princesses fled to Ecbatana in the Persian highlands and declared a new government.

"Now, our agents relate they found little support initially but then two things happened—first, a man named Rustam appeared, claiming to be Chrosoes' younger brother. Second, our old friend Shahr-Baraz arrived at the city, in the company of the remnants of the Persian Imperial guard. Reports of his death at Kerenos River, it would seem, were premature."

Anastasia spread her hands slightly, palms up. "What happened next is confused—there were reports Shahr-Baraz married Princess Azarmidukht, but when an official proclamation was made, the Boar was King of Kings and
protector
of the two princesses. I think the general decided the two girls were worth more to him as marriage tokens than as wives. We have heard nothing to indicate the princesses have, in fact, been married off. The mysterious Rustam has disappeared. He may have been murdered by Shahr-Baraz."

Maxian stirred, head rising and he focused on Anastasia. The Duchess felt a queer prickling sensation wash over her and struggled to keep from shivering. The prince looked to his brother for a moment, then back at the Duchess. "What about the dark man? Have you heard anything about this 'power' who fights on their side?"

"My lord Maxian," Anastasia replied, bowing to him, "we have received many rumors, but you of all our sources, have seen him most closely. Can you tell us anything about him?"

The prince scowled at her, pressing both palms over his eyes in exhaustion. Then he clasped his hands and said: "Though our enemy might seem to be a man of middling height, long hair, Persian features and complexion, there is something entirely inhuman about the creature. It is like... like the man is only a shell hiding darkness... and cold, he seemed colder than ice, or frost."

"Is our enemy a god?" The Duchess' tone made the question seem perfectly reasonable.

Maxian looked up, his eyes desolate. "I have never seen a god, Duchess, but this man might make himself one, over our corpses. I fought the Persian to a draw, so his power is not infinite. I suppose..." He paused, thinking. "It may be the cold spirit was first invoked by a human sorcerer and the summoned power now rules the body, yet is still restricted by its human shell."

"Can you kill him?" Anastasia cocked her head to one side, violet eyes intent on the young man. "Can
we
kill him? Can he be harmed by the spear, the knife, a scorpion stone?"

"I don't know." Maxian shook his head in dismay. "He felt pain and suffering from my blows. But sorcerers can be difficult to kill."

The prince's eyes narrowed as he said this, meeting Anastasia's eyes with a frank, cold look.

"You should," he said, speaking to her—and only to her, she realized with a chill—"leave such things to me. I have some thoughts as to how his power can be contained."

"Not destroyed?" Galen sat up straight, staring at his brother.

"I'm not sure he
can
be destroyed," Maxian replied wearily. "If a summoned power entered this world, and now inhabits—controls—this man, it could be entirely outside of death and even life. It may be the
power
cannot be destroyed, in which case our best hope is to trap and contain him. In this way, we may preserve ourselves, the state and the people from further harm."

Anastasia suddenly remembered something—a fragment heard on Thira long ago—and brought a hand to her mouth to cover a flinch. Neither the Emperor nor his brother noticed, though Gaius Julius' pale old eyes flickered to her, then away. The Duchess made a discrete cough, then forced her hand back down to her lap. Fear percolated inside her like water rising in a field screw, inching higher and higher with each turn of the handle.
Could this be? Could the Serpent have returned? No... that is impossible! My worries about the telecast are clouding my thoughts with old legends.

Galen, meanwhile, was staring at Maxian with a rather sour expression. "What happens if we destroy the man?"

"In that case," Maxian said, slowly, "I believe the power will only retreat and begin looking for a new host to occupy. There are surely many men of low character in the world, some with power and some without, whom it might entice, thereby finding a new servant."

"Very well. We will discuss this further when we know more. Duchess, are we sure the Persians and the rebellious Greeks have separated their armies?"

"Sure? No, my lord, we are not sure. But it is very likely the fighting men of the Decapolis took ship with their fleet and are returning to Judea. It is
possible
, though I think it unlikely, a portion of the Persian army moved with them. Surely, they will not abandon Constantinople, not after seizing a bridgehead in Thrace. This leaves us with two opposing armies—one in the north and one in the south."

Galen nodded, thin lips compressed into a tight slash. "And their fleet is still loose."

"Yes, my lord."

"Gaius Julius, what Legions and fleets can we move East?"

The older man sat up, blinking away pleasant daydreams, but his hands were quick and selected a wooden folder from the pile in front of him without hesitation. He opened the folder, though Anastasia didn't think he read anything from the pages. Like her, he used the moment of action to marshal his thoughts and compose himself.

"Lord and God," he began, "our situation is rather parlous. We have already stripped the Legions in the west of every spare man. The Legions raised last year have been poorly handled in Thrace or are already in Egypt under your brother's command. Those formations remaining in the West are hard-pressed to cover the frontier or to maintain order in the provinces."

Gaius sighed and everyone at the table could see his weariness. Anastasia's nose wrinkled up, but she made no comment. Everyone was stretched thin.

"A letter was dispatched," Gaius continued, "to the Gothic
reik
several months ago, requesting he raise a Gothic Legion to assist the Empire. That force was raised and one portion of it is now in Thrace, under the command of the
comes
Alexandros. The other portion, under the command of Prince Ermanerich, has been engaged in an unexpected campaign along the Danuvius against the Gepids and their Draculis overlords."

The Emperor grimaced and rubbed the side of his head. "And?"

Gaius Julius shrugged. "The matter is still in doubt. I imagine the success of the Avar khagans in the Balkans has inspired the Draculis, and other tribes beyond the frontier, to test our strength. Reports have come from Noricum as well, indicating the Bulgars and Franks in Germania are growing restive."

Galen looked to Anastasia, his face tight. "Duchess? Will Noricum be attacked?"

Anastasia blinked, though she kept control of her expression. Noricum was a roughly rectangular—and the only remaining Roman—province on the further side of the Rhenus and the Danuvius. Rich and prosperous, the region was exposed to attack from north, east and west. Only the southern Alpine border was safe from raids.
I have no idea what passes for thought in the minds of Duke Frigard or the Bulgar khan! How does he expect...
The Duchess felt cold. Of course the Emperor expected her to know—hadn't she always known before?

"Lord and God," she said, keeping her voice even. "Reports from beyond the Danuvius are sparse, though our strength in Noricum is drawn down... If Ermanerich defeats the Draculis soundly, then the other tribes will mind their manners. If he fails, or is openly defeated, they will become bolder."

"Very well." Galen made a dismissive gesture. "Gaius, what of Gaul and Britain?"

"More troubles, my lord," the old Roman said. "The Frankish lords in Gaul are upset by the confiscation of the coward Dagobert's estates and possessions. He was well regarded among them—it seems they do not believe he abandoned his command, or fled from battle."

"What
do
they think?" Open anger flooded the Emperor's face. The abject failure of the Frankish lord Dagobert struck him hard—Galen had trusted the man and promoted his career.

"They think, my lord," Gaius said, keeping his voice very calm, "he was pushed aside so a Goth could command the army in the East. They think
comes
Alexandros stood higher in your favor than did Dagobert. The matter is complicated by Dagobert still being at large... he may even be back in Gaul, now, and I doubt he will admit to defeat and flight!"

The Emperor raised a thin eyebrow, and his eyes narrowed and swiveled towards Anastasia. "Duchess? Have your agents found our missing general?"

The cold tickling in Anastasia's stomach got worse, and the impression of mounting irritation in the Emperor grated on her nerves.

"No, my lord." Her own eyes narrowed, seeing an almost indefinable smugness on Gaius Julius' face. "The Empire's eyes are in every port, every city, every temple. But he has not surfaced since fleeing the port of Perinthus in a commandeered Imperial galley. I have heard these rumors he returned to Gaul, but he has not appeared in public, and he did not contest the seizure of his lands and estates."

"Where else would he go?" Gaius Julius leaned forward, expressing professional interest. "The Goths and the Franks hate each other with a passion, so he won't have found refuge in the East. Italia would be equally hostile to him... this leaves only Spain and Gaul."

"Unless he is dead." Anastasia's voice was cool. "But I fear he has survived, and is in hiding."

"Would you like help finding him?" Gaius Julius smiled, though he did not show his teeth. "I have some acquaintances among the merchant class who could keep an eye out for him."

Yes,
Anastasia thought bitterly,
you are thick with the lords of crime and the underworld... and through them with every grain hauler, merchant ship, bordello and gambling den in Italy.
"That is very kind, Gaius Julius, but my own informants are already on the hunt."

"Of course." Gaius settled back in his chair. Nothing about him suggested anything but well-meaning intentions and a desire to perform his duties with dispatch and efficiency. "So, Lord and God, even Gaul is unsettled while this matter remains unresolved. Now, when the Duchess' men find our wayward general, and he is brought to trial, and confesses his cowardice before his peers—then public sentiment will swing in our favor. But until then—and, Duchess, I hope you find him soon—Gaul is of concern to us."

"And Britain?" Galen continued to sit stiffly upright in his chair, but his frown grew deeper with each word. "I have seen the monthly reports—the efforts to dislodge the Scandians have failed?"

"Yes," Gaius admitted and Anastasia took a pinch of solace from the glum look on his face. "A collection of local militia, Imperial troops and auxiliaries from Germany made an effort three months ago to drive the Scandians out of their enclave at Branodunium. Unfortunately, the Imperial officer in command of the expedition—a veteran named Uthar—was ambushed and killed by Scandian raiders while observing the defenses of the port. His second-in-command failed to press the enemy vigorously. So things remain as they were."

"That is not acceptable," Galen snapped, right hand clenching unconsciously into a fist. "Find another general, a competent one, and dispatch him to clean up this mess."

Gaius Julius nodded, but—wisely—said nothing. The Emperor stared out one of the windows for a moment, his expression forbidding. Anastasia waited patiently, as did the others. Beside her, Martina started to fidget and the Duchess touched her hand softly, shaking her head in warning. Out of the corner of her eye, Anastasia saw a sour look cross the young Empress' face, but the girl hunched her shoulders and stopped tapping her foot against the table leg.