"We discussed," Gaius said, thumbing the loop away from the hilt of his gladius, "sending you into exile, to tend a plot in some remote province, far from Rome and the centers of power."
"Cabbages?" Galen turned slightly, tension draining from his shoulders as the air in the room grew sharp. "I detest them, fresh or boiled, though I appreciate the thought." The Emperor tilted his head slightly, watching Gaius Julius directly, though Ermanerich remained in his peripheral vision.
"There is an air of tradition to such a fate," the old Roman said, sliding his blade from the sheath. "But I am afraid simple mutilation would not keep you from trying to reclaim all…" Gaius swept the gladius around in a sharp arc, "…this. We cannot afford any disorder, not now."
"What is this treachery, then, but chaos unbound?" The Emperor's voice was sharp. "Do you expect mutiny and murder to save you from the Persians? To reclaim our lost provinces?"
"This is already over," Gaius Julius replied, trying to keep his voice level. "You, sir, though a noble Roman and a fine gentleman, are too blind and shortsighted to be allowed to rule. You have sent the State rushing toward oblivion by appalling judgment. Our only hope to succor the Empire is to set you aside!"
The Emperor laughed, unable to believe his ears. "And you-the new Emperor, I'm sure! — will conjure victory? How? Where are your armies?" Galen made a violent motion with his sword and Gaius and Ermanerich both stepped back in alarm. "You will grapple with the same constraints of men, time, ships, taxes… every burden that has weighed upon me, will weigh on you threefold. The Legions will not accept you as Augustus and God, dead man, and there will be civil war. Then how will you keep the Persians from marching through the Forum in triumph?"
Gaius sighed, casting a sidelong glance at Ermanerich. "There will be no civil war," Gaius said, turning his attention back to Galen. Now the old Roman felt tired-drained by the rush of events-and he was in no mood to explain himself. Yet, he thought, I do owe this man something for his courtesy and trust. "Within the hour, there will be a new Emperor, acclaimed by the Senate and accepted by the army. Life will go on. Taxes will be collected, tribute given to the gods… all as it was, and shall be."
Galen started to speak, but Gaius Julius moved-quickly! — and his blade was at the Emperor's throat, the shining tip pressed against the side of Galen's carotid. Ermanerich flinched, his spear rising reflexively, but then the iron point wavered.
"What is going on?" he asked plaintively. "Who is this man?"
"I wanted to wait," Gaius Julius said, ignoring the Goth's question. "There seemed no reason to rush-twenty years could pass without inconveniencing me-but you…" Trembling anger finally cracked the old Roman's controlled tone. "…you have become such a dangerous, meddling fool! You've stripped the German frontier bare, abandoned an entire province to the Gaels and Picts! What in Hades were you thinking? To send more Legions to the butcher's mill down in Sicilia? To give the enemy more corpse-soldiers!" A finger stabbed at Ermanerich, who almost flinched in reaction. "You ordered the Gothic Legion to Catania, to oppose the Persian invasion. Are you mad?"
Understanding flared in the Emperor's eyes. "I did not summon the Rhenus Legions to Rome to fight the Persians, you ass!" A sneer curled across his face. "The Goths were ordered to Messina, to stand in reserve in case the Persian fleet broke past Maxian and his flying machines! I hoped they would be reliable in the face of the enemy, giving my brother support on the land if his efforts in the air failed."
Gaius Julius blinked. The Emperor's eyes narrowed. "The Rhenus Legions were called home because I feared a conspiracy-and now I can guess whom you suborned on my staff…" Galen spit on the floor. "Bastard of a Greek… I freed him myself. A pity I didn't know the Eighth was already here or our situations would be reversed." He sighed. "I should have listened to Anastasia."
"You ordered those Legions to Rome to suppress… me?" Gaius Julius licked his lips. The point of his gladius dropped away from the Emperor's neck.
"I should," Galen said in a brittle voice, "have had you and Alexandros killed as soon as I knew of your existence." The Emperor nodded politely to the young Goth, who had stiffened at the threat to his friend and sword-brother. "Your pardon, Prince Ermanerich. I fear you've fallen into the company of traitors…"
"Why didn't you?" Gaius Julius feel a queer pressure in his temples and tiny black dots swam in the corners of his vision. He felt unaccountably grainy, as if the air itself were wearing against him. "The Duchess, at least, must have told you who I was if you'd not guessed yourself."
The Emperor's face changed, revealing deep melancholy. "You were my heroes," he said, voice thick with emotion, "Daydreams of youth remain even with the old, and you are both here-giants out of history-throwing down all enemies, conquering nations, driving back the darkness of barbarism. When I learned who you were, Gaius, I was… so pleased. Here is my idol in living flesh, and I can speak with him; discuss literature, history, politics! What a joy!"
A faint, bemused smile flickered across the Emperor's haggard face. "No greater surety has a king, than knowing Alexander of Macedon commands his armies in the field. I worried about Aurelian every day, but never about the Gothic Legion, never! My faith was unshakable, for he is Alexander!"
Gaius Julius started to speak, then felt a trembling at his chest. His hand clutched on the prince's amulet, still on a silver chain around his neck and found the metal burning hot. "Ah!" He stared around the room, suddenly cognizant of a black mist filling the corners and darkening the shadows. "The Oath!"
Ermanerich's eyes were quick, darting from the old Roman slumping towards the floor to the Emperor to the spreading discoloration on the floor around Gaius' feet. Sorcery! his mind screamed, flooding with fear.
Without thinking, the Goth lunged forward, powerful arms thrusting and the leaf-bladed spear plunged into Galen's side. The Emperor gasped, face draining of color, and Ermanerich felt the spear point scrape between bone. For a moment, everyone was transfixed, a tight little tableau of a dying man and two murderers looking on. Then, with a sigh, the Emperor slipped from the spear and crumpled to the floor at the foot of his bed. A thin stream of blood fluted from the spear point.
Gaius Julius staggered, clawing at the air, then fell down himself. The Goth leaned over him in concern-nothing seemed to have touched the old Roman-but his face and hands and neck were withered with age. A hot, bright spark glowed on his chest and smoke curled up from the prince's amulet. Ermanerich's fingers moved towards the peculiar object, then jerked away.
"It's burning!" he blurted, stunned. Reflexively, the Goth made a sign against evil.
A grain passed, then two. A cough wracked the old Roman's body and his eyes fluttered open. "Ermanerich…" he wheezed. "Carry me to the Senate building, to the Curia. There is work to be done."
"Not dead, are you?" The young Goth approached Gaius Julius cautiously and prodded him with the tip of his boot. "What happened?"
"Help me up!" The old Roman tried to lift a hand and failed. He closed his eyes. "While we were each certain of our cause, the Oath let us settle things ourselves and neither Galen nor I intended anything but the best for Rome." Gaius coughed wetly, scowling at fresh spots of blood on his sleeve. "By the gods, he nearly had me with pretty speech… I'd almost changed my mind."