Wolf’s Empire: Gladiator (26 page)

“Now listen, Accala,” the being that was both Crassus and my father said. “I'll tell you something very important. Each of the precepts has been constituted not from some impractical theory but from Proconsul Aquilinus' direct experience.”

*   *   *

W
HEN
A
QUILINUS WAS A
young man on Sertorius Primus, he raged about the sybaritic overindulgence of the ruling members of his house. He championed a theory that there were two predominant streams in House Sertorian—those who were genetically fierce and capable of grasping power with their bare hands, and those who were inherently weak. The latter had become fat and lazy, reliant upon their family's past prestige and the armies of slaves they commanded to carry out their orders. Aquilinus longed to cut these withered branches from his genetic tree, but there was nothing he could do without his father's permission. As the head of the household, his father held the power of life and death over him, and in a Sertorian household, it was not uncommon for a father to kill a disobedient son. Then a fateful day arrived.

Aquilinus' father became inflamed with lust for a priestess of Vesta—one of the sacred Vestal Virgins—and raped her, destroying her virginity. The priestesses of Vesta were thought to uphold the cohesive integrity of the empire but only as long as they retained their purity. The virgin herself was thrown into a cellar beneath Vesta's temple on Sertorius Primus and entombed alive so as not to bring misfortune on the empire, the ancient customs making this foul act unavoidable, and Aquilinus' father was castrated before his throat was cut by the priests of Vesta. Aquilinus saw his opportunity—he was now the head of the household, and although it would ruffle the feathers of his natural enemies within House Sertorian, it would not be considered unusual for a son to seek revenge for his murdered father. Therefore, in retaliation, Aquilinus marshaled together the members of his immediate family and convinced them to aid him in destroying and sacking not only the temple of Vesta but also the temple of every god on the planet that wasn't a patron of House Sertorian. Priests were castrated and killed, priestesses were raped before being slaughtered, the statues and shrines were crushed. Aquilinus spurned the gods and dared them to punish him. Afterward, he suffered retribution and loss as his enemies imprisoned him and stripped him of his power, his wealth, and his allies, and finally threatened to kill those closest to him if he didn't stand down.

*   *   *

I
T WAS ABOUT HALFWAY
through the story that I realized the machine was having a kind of hypnotic effect. I was totally engaged, on the edge of my seat waiting to hear how it ended, like a child listening to a bedtime story. I wasn't going to give in so easily, though. The overlay of my father vanished. Cheap tricks, just like the flashing red and purple lights.

“Let me guess, he let his friends and family be killed,” I said to Crassus.

My resistance surprised Crassus, I could see it in his eyes.

“He did let them die,” he said, “and with good cause. His mission was of greater value than any personal relationships. He demonstrated his strength.”

“Or supreme selfishness.”

“His destruction of the temples codified the first precept, the first link in a chain of personal revelations that Proconsul Aquilinus has used to shape the empire toward its ultimate purpose.”

“If the gods are real, then it takes more than the delusion of one man to supplant them. The gods don't punish immediately,” I said. “Hubris is paid back in kind when the gods judge the time to be right. Minerva will take her due, have no doubt.”

“You are no follower of Minerva,” he scoffed. “I saw dark potential in you the moment we first met. Why do you think I approached you? Admit it, you have already spurned your gods. You're adrift, looking for something to help you make sense of the universe, something more mature than childish beliefs. You're ready for these precepts, Accala. Now, please, read on,” he said. “You are permitted negative thoughts for now, but please restrain yourself from expressing them out loud.” He motioned for me to continue.

I wished I had my discus at hand so that I could express exactly what I was feeling.

“Two,” I continued. “Man is the preeminent species in the universe. All other species are inferior and subject to man's will.”

“This precept should be self-evident after your time in the maze fighting off monsters. Do you pity them?”

“How can you tell the difference between a monster and an angry barbarian? Maybe the barbarian has good cause to attack. It's sentience. A monster reacts violently without any ability to consider its actions,” I said. “The Sauromatae, the Ichthyophagi, the Leonii, they're self-aware.”

“So you think they're the equal of a Roman citizen?” he asked with an amused smile. “Or even an exiled human who lives on the galactic rim, beyond civilization?”

“No, of course not.”

“Precisely so,” he said.

“But we should be generous and liberal in our attitude to irrational creatures, for we have reason and they have none,” I said.

“That is like asking us to be compassionate toward ants,” he said. “Do you think about the feelings of an ant as you crush it underfoot?”

“What about people? Are they to be crushed without thought as well?”

“Some. The weakest, those who contribute the least, who have no economic or personal power drain the strength, like leeches, from those who drive a society forward, and if they're not burned off, they will eventually cause it to collapse.”

“Some people think that helping the weak makes for a more robust and well-rounded society.”

“I've never heard such poppycock,” Crassus said, laughing. “It flies in the face of reason. I'll have an intelligent debate with you, but we must stay within the bounds of common sense. Read on.”

“Three. Men can acquire divine power through the exercise of their will. Four. Inferior men who lack the will to seize what they want in the face of opposition are weak and can be recognized by their talk of mercy and compassion.”

“So true, so true,” Crassus said. “You see it is not much of a leap to realize that, as all barbarians are inferior to all humans, so some humans are inferior to other humans. You don't know it yet, but the precepts will shape you. They can seem obvious, but there is more to them. They are like a river that appears still and shallow, but once you start to cross, it reveals deep currents.”

“Five,” I continued. “The Virtus Optimus Magnus—the strongest and greatest of men—will lead us into a new golden age. Six. All men, even inferior men, can benefit from these precepts and find their place in the universe.”

Finished, I put the book back on the table as if each page were dripping with plague, and gently sat, making an effort to maintain my composure. “Listen, Crassus, I'm not here to embrace your philosophy, only to endure it for the sake of my countrymen. We both know what this is, so why pretend any different? Do you know what I believe? Marcus Aurelius says that in death, Alexander the Great's end differed not a jot from his stable boy's. It will be no different for you and me. We are not gods, you are not fundamentally better than me, and I deserve no more or fewer rights than any other citizen.”

“And what of the emperor? Is he not above others? And proconsuls, consuls, senators, nobles, and so on?”

“I'll admit we do not have the democracy of the ancient Greeks, but the current system sounds better to me than what you're suggesting. Hang on. It's supposed to be seven precepts, right? But there were only six listed in the book.”

“The seventh is yet to be revealed,” he replied. “It is a teaching for those of us who are chosen to usher in the golden age.”

“So your Proconsul Aquilinus is your strongest and greatest of men, then? Isn't he a bit short and unattractive? You know, the big nose and beady eyes?”

I took another shock. It hurt as badly as the last one, except now my mouth tasted like glue.

“I advise you to take this process seriously,” Crassus warned. “I have my conditions as well as Licinus. If you want to pass my test and ally yourself to me, you must be able to recite the proconsul's precepts by heart.”

“My mother taught me the art of memorization. I could recite them for you again now, if you like.”

“I would like to see more quality than quantity,” he said. “A hundred stale recitals are not worth one heartfelt reading. I want to hear your voice filled with conviction. Take some tisane if you feel you need it to steel you,” he said, indicating Alba should pour the same quantity as before.

My redhead bunkmate had advised me to choose my battles, and right then I couldn't see the point in denying him this one little thing. What was the point of digging my heels in? But the stunt he had pulled with the swirling lights, which were still spinning around the room, had irritated me, and I couldn't bring myself to please him or accept the steaming drink.

“I can't do it,” I said. “Maybe my mother's had too much influence over me but I just can't get excited about a political system that prizes raw power above all else. It's not the basis for a philosophy; it's just schoolyard bullying on a galactic scale.”

“I don't disagree but why is that a flawed concept? Is it not honest and true? The strong always defeat the weak. I noticed that you quoted Marcus Aurelius before.
Liberal in our attitude to irrational creatures.
I enjoy him also.” He searched his memory before reciting, “‘If anyone can show me, and prove to me, that I am wrong in thought or deed, I will gladly change. I seek the truth, which never yet hurt anybody. It is only persistence in ignorance and self-delusion which does harm.'”

“Ignorance and self-delusion. Funny, I've thought of that exact quote in relation to House Sertorian. It makes me think of those billboards back in Rome. The ones with you lit up as the savior of the universe, javelin in hand, fighting off the evil barbarians.”

“You see it that way because in the arena back in Rome you were engaged in a propaganda fight. I, on the other hand, sought only to spread the truth,” he said with the utmost sincerity.

“You're joking.”

“I most certainly am not. This is not a game. I believe in the proconsul's vision with all my heart and mind, and all I ask is that I be permitted to state our case and that you give it due consideration. Nothing more,” he said as he rose from his seat. “We'll try again tomorrow. Each day after you've recited the precepts, we will engage in debate. You're welcome to express your opinions as long as you refrain from insulting the proconsul or his precepts.”

“Well, that was productive. Can we go back to the gymnasium now?” I asked. “All of a sudden I have a burning desire to punch a Sertorian.”

I stood and was immediately struck by a powerful dizzy spell that caused me to stumble. Crassus' strong arms wrapped about me before I hit the floor. It must have been the effect of the room—the spiraling lights and spinning images of Sertorian glory.

“Come. You've had enough and it's late afternoon,” he said.

I pushed him away at once. “Don't be ridiculous. It's been no more than an hour and a half since we finished in the gymnasium.”

He showed me his armilla as proof and I checked my own and found it the same, though I still couldn't believe it. What had felt like thirty minutes at most had in fact been three hours.

“I warned you. The precepts are very powerful. They affect the deep mind.”

“It was nothing, I just lost my balance,” I said, keeping a hand on the table to stop myself falling over. I had to get out of that room.

“Isn't she perfect, Gaius? I want to snatch her up and play with her all day.”

Mania. My slight jump was involuntary, and I hoped she didn't notice. The girl with bone-white hair sauntered up to the table and, with a little jump, sat on its edge. I forced myself not to pull away. Had she been watching the whole time? The door was directly in my line of sight. How could she have entered without me noticing?

“You're very patient with her, Gaius,” Mania said. “I don't think I could be so patient. But it makes me happy that you're so nice. I want her to be our friend.”

“Where did you come from?” I asked, as casually as I could manage.

“From the world of dreams,” she said, smiling at me like we were best friends. “From the lands of hydras and gorgons.”

“You're as mad as a cut snake,” I said.

“Mind your manners,” Crassus said. “Mania is a hunter and tracker, but she is also an auspex—she divines the future through signs and sacrifices.”

Just like in my dreams.

“I thought you didn't believe in sacrifices to the gods.”

“I sacrifice to the New Gods,” she said.

“So in essence you worship yourselves?” I asked.

“Don't be silly. We acknowledge our own enlightenment and potential in public ritual. It's not the same thing at all.”

“I'm sure it's not,” I replied sarcastically.

“Speaking of divination, tell me, Accala, what have you been dreaming about?” she asked.

“None of your business.”

“You know we can divine a great deal about ourselves and our destiny from dreams. For instance, I wonder if you dream of your mother? And your brother?” She peered at me like my skull was made of glass. “He was very precious to you, wasn't he? I think you must dream of them very strongly,” she said sweetly. “Of the bombs falling, of the atomic fire.”

“I told you it's none of your business!”

“Don't be upset,” she said. “Crassus asked me to help him teach you. You should feel you can be completely candid with me.”

“I don't dream of that at all,” I said. “I dream of a flock of hawks being eaten by wolves, devoured by lions, their bones picked clean by ravens.”