The Dark Lord

dragged and at last the Empress turned her head, eyes narrowed to bare slits.

'I haven't given you proper thanks,' she said, 'for suggesting I help the prince with his research.'

'You're welcome,' Gaius Julius said, eyes still closed. 'Is it interesting?'

'Hah!' Martina sat up straight. 'The scraps of the past are interesting, in a dull numbers-and-lines sort of way. Too many documents reflecting the mundane, and too few filled with history. I have found almost nothing about our opponent—the old Greeks and Romans were more interested in themselves than in the doings of Persian and Parthian wizards.'

Gaius Julius nodded in sympathy. 'Have you found anything?'

'A hint,' Martina said, scowling. 'There is a letter, written by a Syrian merchant who traveled in old Parthia, before the rise of the house of Sassan. He relates a tale heard round a campfire in the north, while he was on the road from Roman Armenia to Ecbatana. He describes the rituals of priests dwelling in a great temple at a place called Gazaca. The merchant also describes the lord of light, Ahura-Madza, and his great enemy, Ahriman. He tells of an 'eternal' flame burning in the temple's heart and how this light holds back 'the night' and the might of Ahriman and his servants.'

'Interesting,' Gaius said. 'I have always heard the Parthians and Persians followed a god of light—the more disturbing, now, as this enemy the prince fought is wholly of darkness.'

'There is more,' Martina said, gritting her teeth. 'As you may know, I accompanied my husband on his campaign in Persia and Armenia three years ago. He wished to keep me close by, to ensure my safety from his enemies. During our journey, after the great victory at Kerenos River, he mentioned in passing the careful destruction of a Persian fire temple, a great one, at a town named Ganzak. He had sent his brother, the lamentable Theodore, to destroy the place—hoping to put the fear of Rome into the hearts of the Persians, to deny them the surety of faith and the comfort of their god's favor.'

'Ah,' Gaius said, running a hand over his balding pate. 'The same town? The name distorted by time and changing dialect? In light of later events, you do not think that a wise decision.'

'No.' Martina bit her thumb, attention far away from the party and the glowing lanterns. 'I think... I think the destruction of the temple let something enter the world. A dark spirit. A servant of Ahriman, perhaps...'

'But not the god itself?'

'Don't be a fool,' Martina replied, giving the old Roman a quelling look. 'If the Serpent Lord had burst into the world, we would all be dead, devoured by unquenchable hunger. No... I fear something less awesome escaped from the outer darkness. Some servant of the dark god—and the Persians have turned their faces from Ahura- Madza's light.

'You have not lived in the East, Master Gaius,' she said, still chewing on a thumbnail. 'The West is blessedly free of these dark spirits—but I know the Persians are aware of them, and believe. Their fortunes were abject after Ctesiphon and Chrosoes fell. I think they turned aside from the safe path, seeking victory and revenge at any cost. And look! Constantinople is theirs, Syria is theirs... Egypt besieged, our armies and fleets defeated.'

Gaius Julius rubbed his temples, deep in thought. 'Have you told the prince?'

'Yes,' Martina said. 'He agrees. He has redoubled his labors.'

'Can he defeat a servant of Ahriman? A demigod?'

Martina managed a faint, weak smile. 'He believes he can. He says victory will be a matter of 'arranging proper circumstance.''

Gaius nodded approvingly. 'Very wise. Has he told you what he intends?'

'No. He is being very secretive. I have not pressed him. I know he and Galen have argued about this matter, more than once. They are far from compromise on matters of sorcery. The Emperor refuses to believe such powers walk the earth.'

'I know.' The old Roman's face fell, revealing his own exhaustion and fear. 'Things have changed—our Legions are no longer enough, our bravery and discipline are not enough—this has become a time of gods and monsters.' Martina was startled to hear the weariness in the man's voice—ever before he had been calm and confident, always ready with a witty remark or a well-thought proposal.

The Empress realized, sitting on the bench beside the old man, she was not alone in her fear and uncertainty. She looked up and around, watching the faces of the nobles and courtesans and officers milling on the villa porch. Is everyone afraid, she wondered? Do we all feel a dreadful weight in the air and taste bitter defeat when we eat and drink?

Suddenly, she felt comfortable with the old man, and put her hand over his.

'Gaius, we have more than mortal soldiers to defend the Empire. We have have Maxian and his strength. Soon, the iron drakes will come forth from the forges of Florentina and Rome will rule the upper air. The world has changed, but Rome is changing too. Whatever comes from the east, we will match and overcome.'

'Well spoken,' Gaius said, looking up. A brilliant smile lit his face. 'You cheer me, lady. So many troubles swirl around us, my confidence has been shaken. These intrigues and threats... they sap a man's strength, leave him morose, depressed, defeated before he even takes his place in the line of battle. There is no better antidote than swift, assured action.'

'True enough.' She paused, looking at him quizzically. 'What intrigues depress you, Master Gaius?'

The old man snorted, looking around. His good humor sharpened and he pointed with his chin. 'Rome is an old city, my dear, filled with all sorts of vipers. Our hostess, for example...'

'Anastasia? She has been kind to me, Master Gaius. Don't blacken her name!'

'She is kind,' Gaius said, nodding sagely. He was quite cheerful now. 'Don't you understand her role in all this? You've sat in the same councils I have... she is Galen's spymaster, his hunting hound, his judicious dagger. You mustn't trust her, Empress.'

'Why not?'

'Because,' he said, regarding her with an wistful expression, 'she would have you murdered, and your son too, if Galen did not need you and little Heracleonas so badly. I am, I fear, in the same situation, as is the prince, whom we both love and serve.'

Martina raised an eyebrow, but her color was improving as well. 'Do you love the prince?'

'What recourse do I have?' Gaius laughed, the corners of his eyes crinkling up. 'He is my patron and I his client. You may not know me well, my dear, but I am accounted generous and I do not forget my friends or those who have helped me. I am merciful to my enemies, open-handed to my allies and forgiving of those who do me wrong. Of all men, only young Maxian has won my unswerving, perfect, complete and unimpeachable loyalty. So —I do love him, as a man loves the finest friend of his heart.'

The Empress clapped her hands together softly. 'Well spoken, poet.'

Gaius Julius blushed, running a broad hand over his bare crown, and looked away.

'Do you think the Duchess would have me and my son killed, or do you know this?'

The old Roman bit his lower lip, sighing. 'It is what I would do, were our positions reversed. Indeed, she may be pressed to action by circumstance—or even ordered by the Emperor.'

'The Emperor!' Shock flickered across Martina's face. 'He has proved a good friend, Master Gaius. He has taken me in, afforded me every courtesy, shown me all respect. While I do not enjoy interminable meetings with him and his staff, he has not excluded me from anything touching upon my son's realm. I know him now, Gaius; he is the most honest and forthright of men.'

'I know.' Grief tinged the old Roman's soft words. 'He is truly a noble Roman. Yet...'

'Yet, what?' Martina was becoming irritated.

'...he lies each night in the bed of a woman who looks upon you with hatred, my lady. Who watches your son with gimlet eyes, gauging the length of his life with her own measure.'

'Sss...' Martina hissed reflexively, face tightening in anger. 'Helena.'

'I watch her, my lady, very carefully.' Gaius paused, allowing himself a small chuckle. 'I fancy she thinks I dote on her or harbor some unvoiced devotion. I must admit she is a beautiful woman—elegant, restrained, as purely Roman as her husband—with a sharp wit, an agile mind and a volcanic temper.' The old Roman glanced sideways at Martina, seeing the girl quail inwardly, biting her lip.

'As I observe, Empress, I see her watching you and Prince Maxian. I see her eyes darken with anger, I see her lips draw back from shining teeth, I see her hands clutch as if she crushed the life from a weakling