Chapter sixty-four

Ortia

 

They met in front of the main city gate on foot; General Titanius with his small personal guard and Dictator Aurelian with Gaius and two other members of his staff.  

‘Sir’ said Aurelian, standing stiffly to attention and saluting.

Titanius returned the salute and smiled as warmly as he could manage.

 ‘I’m not quite clear who outranks who here, to be honest, general... but I am assuming that I am still your commanding officer’

Aurelian nodded with relief. He felt far too worried to respond to Titanius’s smile.

‘Of course you are, sir – I’m just trying to avoid any further strife. I find myself in a difficult position...’

Titanius walked over and grasped Aurelian’s shoulder. The Ortian was shocked by the familiarity, but also strangely comforted.  He had a surprisingly gentle touch.

‘We must try to stop this spiralling out of control’ said Titanius.

‘And how will we do that, sir?’

Titanius took his hand away. He frowned, the still youthful flatness of his forehead creased into a series of ridges.

‘I’m not entirely sure, but I suggest that we have a number of meetings to discuss it; I really need to play for time until the Emperor arrives. Those were my explicit orders. I just hope that Senator Antonius doesn’t get restive too rapidly’

As if on cue, Antonius and Carolius rode up with a small band of adherents. Titanius was shocked – he’d given strict instructions that the senator should be invited to have breakfast with his colonels and that they should flatter and delay him for as long as possible.  During that time he had hoped to sneak away and make contact with Aurelian in secret.

‘I’m disappointed’ said Antonius as he rode up to them, ‘your attempts to keep me away, Commander, were a little...feeble’

 He stopped his horse and climbed down. Carolius dismounted too, along with the rest of their party. They evidently believed that it was time for Antonius to take charge. He pointed extravagantly at Aurelian.

‘Anyway, I see no reason not to deal with this turbulent ‘dictator’ according to his own coarse ways. Disarm him, Carolius!’

Carolius stepped forward and removed Aurelian’s sword before he had had time to react. Titanius was equally surprised – it felt like a coup. He recognised this young lieutenant, he was the youngest son of senator Cicero, Antonius closest political ally. He was certain that his name had not been on the officer’s roster.

‘Thank you General – you have delivered the traitor into my hands’ said Antonius

His smile was as cold as frozen river. He addressed Aurelian in a clear, oratorical voice.

‘Aurelian Ortiensis, I hereby exercise my right as Proconsul of Ortia under Section five of the Civil Unrest Statute to remove you from all your posts, actual and fictitious, and to make summary judgement of your crimes. I find you guilty of high treason’

Aurelian said nothing – this was far beyond him. He would accept whatever his superiors demanded. He could well believe that he was some sort of traitor, if you looked at it from the right angle. Titanius, however, could smell betrayal and spiteful hate. There was no way that he would stand for it.   

‘You exceed your authority, Senator’ He turned to the senator’s posse. ‘Stand down, all of you’

Every one of them except the two patricians took a step backwards, torn between the two conflicting poles of authority. Carolius dew his sword first and then Antonius. They moved together to attack Aurelian.

Titanius leapt out on front of the Dictator. He faced Carolius directly in front and Antonius at the side. Neither of them were proficient with their swords, but they were attacking an unarmed elf, so they seemed fair game.

Carolius lunged forward with his sword. Titanius, unusually agile for such a tall elf, bent backwards to avoid the blow. Carolius’s sword fell wide of its mark, Titanius countered – he brought his sword down firmly, but not quite with full force, on to his opponent’s sword hand. The bones crunched. Carolius screamed, a high pitch combination of pain and indignation. His sword dropped from his hand and he fell down.    

Titanius stepped forward. He brandished his sword at Antonius. The senator backed away with a terrified look on his face.

‘Take your useless assassin and go’ commanded Titanius

Something snapped in Antonius. He felt his world collapsing around him. He had always been taught that when one’s back was against the wall, one counter attacked.  His face became redder and redder.

‘I am the proconsul of Ortia – how dare you defy me! You were nothing before you seduced the Emperor and you’ll be nothing again – just a jumped up debaucher. Your family aren’t fit to be my family’s cobblers ’

Antonius words made his own terror retreat in the face of fury and his fury made him foolish. He ran towards Titanius waving his sword, without any control; an amateur gentle-elf assailing a professional scoundrel.   Titanius’s reflexes moved to parry the blow, but Antonius had no experience of running with a sword and he stumbled, pitching forward. His weapon slipped out of his hand.  His opponent’s sword, however, moving to block a blow that never came, struck him full across the temple. There was very little blood, just a sickening crunching sound as Antonius’s head caved in. The Commander’s sword was very heavy and the fall was grave. The seventeenth proconsul of Ortia, who had had the misfortune to be the Emperor’s favourite, died instantly. 

There was a silent commotion as Antonius’s elves ran to try to save him. But it was too late; whatever had been inside his body was now departed.

‘What an extraordinarily foolish man’ whispered Titanius, his face grim and tired. He looked down at Carolius who was still very much alive. He held his shattered right hand in his left. He was weeping.

‘My father will not let this rest’ he sobbed, ‘you will both pay for this’

‘Shut up, boy!’ shouted Titanius, ‘You cannot make things any worse with words; I know exactly what I have done’

Aurelian called for a healer and Carolius was carefully removed from the scene; his followers clustered round him as he went. There was no healing for Antonius, however.  Aurelian had his elves remove the body with as much dignity as was possible and take it into the city. Titanius cleaned his sword.

He watched the body being stretchered away for as long as seemed decent. He knew that he would have to mobilise whatever of the troops were loyal to him, just in case the senatorial party attempted an instant coup against Ortia. Aurelian knew that too – he had ordered several squads of his troops out to protect their two generals. Archers began to swarm over the rebuilt city walls.  

Just as the corpse was being taken through the main portal of the city Titanius felt a jolt of power. It was as if a voice somewhere deep in his psyche was saying I am grateful, commander. He staggered slightly, but then in some odd way, felt stronger.

He turned to Aurelian and pointed at himself.

‘What was that?’

Aurelian studied him for a few seconds and then showed him the palm of his left hand. At the base of his middle finger was a series of small red dots. He pointed at Titanius’s left hand. Without thinking Titanius turned it over. He drew in a breath rapidly – he had the same pattern of spots at the base of his middle finger.  It had not been there when he had washed his hands that morning. He looked up accusingly.

‘What is that?’

‘it’s the Salvelinus, the mark of the Lady.  It is said that it represents the markings on the skin of the deep water char, the fish that are said to swim inside the sacred lake. All of the priestesses have it and so does Marthian. I acquired mine when I became dictator, and now you have one’

‘What does it do?’

‘It confers a special status on you, sir... You have won the favour of the Lady.’ He waited a second, ‘for better or worse’

Titanius looked back at the city, where they were just pulling the main gate to. A giant kite was drifting on the high thermals, its wings were utterly still; he briefly wondered if it had been sent to keep an eye on him. He shrugged off that strange thought and turned back to his general.

‘I serve no-one but my liege lord. I did not ask for this benison...’

Aurelian laughed a small, bitter, laugh.

‘Can I respectfully remind your, sir’ he whispered, ‘neither did I’