Out Of The Waters — Snippet 10
The vision disappeared as suddenly as a lightning flash, leaving nothing behind but memories. Hedia was so cold inside that she continued to sit in numb silence, oblivious of the change.
The spectators, all the many thousands of them, were going wild. That’s dangerous! she realized. Fear for her husband and family broke her out of the gray chill that had bound her.
Hedia got to her feet. She wasn’t fully herself–she knocked the stool over behind her–but nobody would notice in this confusion. Alphena glanced up as Hedia walked toward the back of the Tribunal. The girl looked as though she wanted to say something, but Hedia had no time for chatter.
Servants waited in the rear of the box. Though excited, they didn’t seem worried–or anyway, not more worried than could be explained by the fact that their mistress was approaching with a hard expression
Hedia ignored her personal maid, Syra, and instead stepped close to Candidus, a deputy steward and the senior servant present. She gestured him to bend over so that she could speak into his ear and be heard.
I’ll probably have to shout anyway. Shouting was undignified, but Hedia supposed that under the circumstances she couldn’t complain about a minor indignity.
She smiled. She couldn’t change how she felt, but she was too self-aware not to be able to view herself clearly.
“Candidus, find the impresario Meoetes and tell him in the Senator’s name to draw the curtain at once,” she said, holding the lobe of the servant’s left ear between her thumb and forefinger. “At once, do you understand? And go yourself; don’t pass this off to an underling who might be disregarded.”
She wasn’t pinching him, but her touch reminded the servant that he was dealing with Hedia, not her gentle, diffident husband. Candidus would obey, without question or hesitation.
The fellow made Hedia want to slap him. Well, cane him; she certainly didn’t want her bare hand to touch his greasy skin. She had decided when she took charge of Saxa’s household that so long as the servants obeyed her instantly, she would ignore any behavior that didn’t directly touch the honor of her new family.
“At once, your ladyship!” Candidus said. He went down the stairs at the back of the Tribunal, taking each step individually but quickly.
Though a slave, Candidus affected a toga at public events like this one. The thick wool made him sweat like a broiling capon. In Hedia’s present mood, the fellow’s mere presence seemed an almost unbearable provocation.
She turned and almost cannoned into Alphena, who must have followed her. Hedia stifled a curse–she’s following me to help, but this isn’t the time for it!–and hugged her daughter by the shoulders and swung around her.
“Give me a moment, dear,” Hedia said. “I must speak to your father.”
Saxa sat with his hands on the arms of his chair, beaming and blinking. He no more understands the situation than a bull being led to the altar does! Hedia thought, then muttered a prayer that the metaphor might not be a prophecy.
Syra had righted the stool, Hedia leaned across it, graceful despite her hurry, and touched her husband’s upper arm.
“Dearest,” she said, hoping that concern wouldn’t give her voice the whip-crack edge she knew it got at times. “Get up and thank the emperor. Raise your hands for silence. When things quiet a little, say that this was done by the emperor’s gift. Make sure that at least the orchestra hears you. Do you understand?”
“What?” said Saxa. He looked at her, blinking. He seemed surprised to hear words in the midst of applause that had as little content as a crashing thunderstorm. “The emperor, my dear? No, Meoetes did all this, but he was doing it for me.”
“My lord and master,” Hedia said, chipping the words out and no longer trying to hide her frightened anger. “Tell Carce that it owes this entertainment to the emperor. Otherwise you and Meoetes and your family will be entertaining the city from the tops of crosses!”
Saxa looked blank for an instant. “Oh!” he said. “Yes, this was… this was….”
Apparently he couldn’t decide how to describe the vision any better than Hedia could have, so he lurched to his feet instead of finishing the sentence. He raised his arms. For a moment the cheers increased, but Saxa turned his palms outward as though pushing the sound away.
Hedia sank onto her stool, feeling unexpected relief. She couldn’t do anything about the glass figures of her dreams, but at least she had gotten Saxa–gotten her whole family–out of the immediate trouble. At any rate, she had done what was humanly possible to avoid immediate repercussions from this vision, this waking nightmare.
The curtain was canvas and split ceiling to floor down the middle. Ordinarily only half was used at a time, concealing set changes on a portion of the long stage. Now both right and left portions began to move toward the center, but they jerked and stuttered instead of sliding smoothly as they had before. By leaning over the railing, Hedia could see that three and four men were manhandling the heavy curtains rather than the dozen stagehands in each of the original crews.
Candidus must have carried the message successfully; that, or Meoetes had come to the same conclusion on his own. The actors still on stage looked like casualties of a gladiatorial show that the doctors and Charon–the costumed slave who drove the dead wagon–hadn’t gotten to yet.
“My fellow citizens!” Saxa said. “Hail to the noble and generous Emperor who has granted you this gift. Carce rules the world, and the Emperor is the soul of Carce!”
His voice was pitched too high to command authority, but he was managing good volume; he would be heard. Hedia nodded approvingly.
“Long live the Emperor!” Saxa said. “Long live the Emperor, our father and god!”
Cheers and the banging of sandals on stone again overwhelmed the theater. Hedia noted wryly that her husband’s fellow senators were the most enthusiastic, capering like monkeys in the orchestra. Nobody wants word to get out that he was behind-hand when everyone around him applauded the Emperor.
Hedia started to relax, but now that the immediate danger was past, memory of the dreadful glass figures returned. The memory gripped her like a hawk sinking its talons into a vole. She felt dizzy for an instant; she felt Alphena take her arm to steady her on the chair.
She recovered, straightening like the noble lady that she was. She patted her daughter’s hand affectionately.
There was something very wrong going on, but there had generally been things wrong in Hedia’s life–before her first marriage to Calpurnius Latus and most certainly ever afterwards. She had seen her way through those troubles, and she would see her way through this one also.
She had to, after all. What would poor dear Saxa and his children, her children now, do without her?
Tomorrow she would visit Anna, Corylus’ housekeeper and his former nurse. Anna was the wife of the boy’s servant Pulto–and she was a Marsian witch.
And if Anna couldn’t send away those glass nightmares, Hedia would find another way. It was her duty as a wife and mother, and as a noblewoman of Carce.
But oh! She wished Corylus was holding her now in his strong young arms!
â€œMy lord and master,â€ Hedia said, chipping the words out and no longer trying to hide her frightened anger. â€œTell Carce that it owes this entertainment to the emperor. Otherwise you and Meoetes and your family will be entertaining the city from the tops of crosses!â€
It is my understanding that crucifixion was reserved for slaves and non-citizens of the empire. Saxa is a Senator, hence, a citizen, and his family are citizens as well. While I could see the slaves being crucified, I don’t understand why Hedia thinks that Saxa and his family would be cruified. Beheaded, yes; crucified, I doubt it.
Well, Carce isn’t Rome, so Roman execution laws do not necessarily apply. If Eddisonâ€™s Carce permitted crucifixion of citizens then Drake’s logically should. Of course that begs the question of whether any citizens of Carce were crucified in â€œThe Worm Ouroboros.â€
I guess i’m not following what’s going on. Why would Saxa, his family, or anyone be punished for this fantastic occurrence, which everyone seemed to enjoy and approve of? Is it because the performance seems too lavish for one in Saxa’s position to put on without higher authority (the Emperor) being involved? Would he be seen as presumptuous?
Summertime, apparently the Carcean Emperor (like many Roman Emperors) was concerned if a Rich and Powerful Senator was “more popular” than himself.
Many of the Roman Emperors were very concerned that powerful people under him were looking to become Emperor in his place.
It isn’t just this “fantastic occurance” but Saxa being seen as using this “fantastic occurance” to inflate his importance *over* the Emperor’s importance that is the problem.
Crucified is probably an exageration applied to Saxa and his family. Tortured to death is not. De Jure law applied to the emperors when and as the emperor chose to let it apply.
The date is given as 30 AD or so, so the emperor is the Tiberius analog (probably Tiberius given how close the parallels are), he’s in his 70s, at least semi-retired from public affairs, and more than a bit grouchy. He’s left Rome (Carce) and his deputies are putting on a terror/purge right about now. Which included the deaths of a fair number of members of the Senatorial class.
Putting on a show substantially better than the Emperor’s show, and then not telling the Emperor’s people how you managed it (i.e. trying to make SURE that your show not only was better than the emperor’s shows, but remained better) would be a very un-good thing. Neither the Emperor nor his people have any reason to know or believe that this was a vision or image that wasn’t created by Saxa’s people.
I’d STILL expect a bunch of the actors and other people involved in the actual production to be asked some hard questions, but publicly and immediately crediting the emperor is about the only way any of them get to live.
@2 (Mark L) Thanks for mentioning Eddison, I had not heard of him before. The plot of The Worm Ouroboros seems to me to be so far from what we know of the plot of this book and it’s predecessor that it seems to me that comparing two cities who simply almost share the same name (Carce and CarcÃ«) is going a bit too far into speculation. Oops, I remember: it’s fiction so anything can happen. I’ll go and see wether I can fit Ouroboros in this long weekend. A writer praised by Tolkien and CSLewis can be interesting. Thanks again.
R.H.W., in the historical Rome, there would have been two options. Saxa would have received a visit from a tribune and escort of the Praetorian Guard and he would have been given the option of suicide or being executed. executions were rarely public events, so if he didn’t choose suicide, he probably would have been beheaded in his own atrium. Suicide was an option, especially if it occurred before being publically accused, that many would choose. Under the law, a suicide’s property and family had certain protections. Few imperators/princips would step over that line. If executed, the entire estate would be confisticated and the family disposed. Rarely would the family also be punished, unless there was distinct “proof” in participation of the “treason”. Only at times of crisis, like the coup that deposed Caligula was “execution” extended to the immediate family. Freemen and slaves would rarely be executed, first because they weren’t very politically active or threatening, the second becuse they had value as property. They might, however, be tortured for confessions and testimony.
Now, the fact is, the similarities between Carce and Rome are not exact. Even Tiberius, despite his own proclivities and personality tried to continue the policies of Augustus toward the Senate and the patricians and equestrians. Thus, his proper title would have been Caesar or Princips in social and political situations and Imperator in military situations. And he would still not have either acted publically as a emperor/king/dictator or acted to far outside the law before the late Empire, say by the time of Severus but definitely by Diocletian. Those that did, like Caligula, Nero, Domitian, found themselves deposed and/or assassinated.
@6 willem meijer — I asked David Drake (in an e-mail) why he did not call his city Rome. His response was that it was based on the city in Eddison’s book, not Rome. So I don’t think my claim is speculation. And that is also why it is dangerous to state that “such-and-such” did (or did not) happen in Rome, so it should (or should not) be happening in Drake’s Carce.
@8 Thanks, that I did not know. Another reason to read Eddison’s book. Sorry for my remark.