And among them, taller standards, winged and gold, sending a chill through the blood, a gathering of Eagles that flung their winged shadows about the room.
About the walk, rectangular shields, legion shields worked not in leather but in gold, hung one after the other in their precedences, the thunderbolt of the Tenth, the Jupiter and Bolts of the Twelfth Fulminata center-most to the Eagles and the standards. A single space was vacant. A set of standards and an Eagle would be with it: Victoria Vietrix, it might be, which was on duty on the southern coast.
Napoleon Bonaparte knew what it was he saw, to which outsiders were not admitted; and the Emperor of France felt his shoulders tighten as the legionary-guide brought his rifle to rest with an echoing rattle of modern weapons. Why am I here? he started to ask; and heard the second set of footsteps clicking from behind those sounds, saw the officer advance down the hall from which they had come-a man he would see in the legions as identical to a dozen others, as Roman, as stem and hawk-nosed and lean as a wolf in winter.
No display of brass, no panache at all. But when that man walked in, the guard braced up stiff; and when that man lifted his hand that guard brought his rifle up and took himself outside, closing the door behind him. At this range
Napoleon knew him very well indeed.
"Decius Mus," the Roman said.
The redoubtable Mouse. Caesar's personal shadow.
"Napoleon," Napoleon said, for courtesy's sake. "Bonaparte. To old times, is it?"
Mouse's face hardly varied. But he walked further into the room, so that it was the legion shrine which backed him, and the fires that leapt and flared on gold did the same about Mouse's figure.
This was a Roman older than Caesar.
This was the man who had volunteered for Hell, and chose to be here, having sent a good part of an enemy army ahead of him. This was the man-they said-to kill whom was worth a deeper hell than this, and Napoleon thought of this as he looked into that old-young face, among the fires.
"Caesar sent me," Mouse said. "I speak for him." It was English the Roman spoke, with an Italian accent.
"I don't doubt," Napoleon murmured, and there was the most terrible feeling of a call-to-arms, that summons which he had most zealously avoided. "But I have expressed to your emperor that I am retired, that I remain most ardently retired, m'sieur le souris, and a man who bumps my car in traffic and murmurs assignations and gives me rings with his apologies is not the way I prefer my mail, m'sieur, which you may tell to Julius, with my profound regards. How am I to know who asks me out on a deserted road, how am I to know whose Romans they are who expect me to get out and undress in the dark?"
The least humor touched the hawk-nosed face. "The ring, m'sieur. Julius does not often part with it."
Napoleon scowled and slid the heavy gold signet from his last finger. Easy done. His ring size was smaller. Mouse supped it on. Figure of Venus intaglio on that ring, Venus Genetrix, patron of clan Julia. God knew he had seen that ring and its impressions through the centuries. And there was no question, no question that he had to come, or why he had come on dlis fool's venture, alone, on dlis outer edge of town, beyond which was wilderness and worse.
"Retired," he said.
"There was a set-to in the hills," Mouse said, "very recently. Che Guevara has taken the Trip."
"Good riddance."
"Louis XIV is planning an event. A grand ball, you would say. A very elaborate affair."
"A damned-" Tedious stuck in his throat. Tedious, looking into the Roman's implacable face, did not seem the probable word.
"Exactly your consocii. Your associates."
"I have nothing, nothing, in common with that crowd. I maintain no contacts, none whatsoever-"
"You will receive an invitation. Accept it. You will not be compromised."
"Not be compromised."
The Roman walked a pace or two and looked at him again, faceless against the light and the glitter of ancient gold. "There is a delicate situation. Say that a well-placed source is in possession of papers. He wishes to change allegiances. East to West, shall we say?"
"Then, dammit, let him bang my car and pass the damned paper!"
The shadow bent its head. Locked its hands behind it. "M'sieur, I would much prefer it But this is a very well-placed source. This is a very cautious source, with a great deal to lose. He wants to do this very indirectly. A
third party to our third party. He has known Julius. He wants to be courted."
"Well-placed."
"One name is Tigellinus."
"Mon dieu! Nero's pet!" Napoleon flung up his hands. "I refuse. The man is filth, is-!"
"-is doubled. Considerably. He may achieve cabinet rank. He's presently up for appointment. Do you see? Tigelmms is the key Mithridates is using to Tiberius' villa; he already has agents in the ministries. The murderer of Romans is courting certain Romans, is establishing ties within Tiberius' household-"
"I don't want the names!"
"-and in Louis' society. Very close to home. But the debacle in the hills has left a certain paper-fallout, I believe in the expression. Certain papers are in the hands of a very disillusioned man. Whose agents will find you there, to pass you a certain original document. Suffice it to say, Tigellinus will not want that to come to light."
"I don't want to know these things."
"Without these things you will be vulnerable. Be assured: Caesar is detaching Attila to your assistance."
"Dieu en del." There was a sinking feeling at Napoleon's stomach. A small lurch of panic.
"The contact will come. You have only to receive the paper and take your leave, all very smooth.
You'll have a string on you all the way. No problems.
You'll find your drop where your car is now. And you will have done Caesar a great favor."
Napoleon clenched his fists. But the damned arrogant Roman turned his back and walked away, to stand before the standards, shadow still. As Mouse's speech went, it had been a major oration. And now Mouse was done. Stood there, facing the Eagles, leaving the emperor of France to find his way from the room.
"I take it you are done with courtesies."
"Caesar has done you a favor." Not a twitch. Not an inflection. This servant of Caesar's had delivered his speech and was out of courtesies. Republican Roman, Caesar had warned him about Mouse. Not tolerant of outsiders. Nor of emperors.
"Attila will contact you."
"Mon dieu, the man has no discretion!"
"More than you would imagine, m'sieur l'empereur. But you do not need to know that part of our operations. I would not advise it."
Shadow before the fires, broad-shouldered and modem in its outlines, against the shields and the standards. Devotions? Napoleon wondered. But this was a man who had delivered himself to Hell, a willing sacrifice to the darkest of his gods.
Napoleon drew in a sharp and furious breath, and turned and strode out; but he was glad to be back in the light, back in modem surroundings, more akin to his age than" what lay behind those doors. He rubbed his finger from which something only moderately ancient had parted.
Something which belonged to a man he had thought he knew. He had thought all these years that he had known.
But the smell of fire and antiquity stayed with him, out the doors and into the keen night air.
"There, there," Hatshepsut said, leaning across the glass and wire table to pat Klea's hand. The interception, for which Niccolo was profoundly grateful, had been swift and sure, and the distraught latter-age pharaoh sat with a glass of excellent Piesporter before her, the stem in one listless hand, the strong, darker hand of Hatshepsut holding the fingers of the other. Sargon had come. The short, stocky Akkadian had a beer in hand, his broad face all frown: an ancient of the ancients, bare-chested, kilted and with a dagger at his belt, while Hatshepsut of Egypt wore a silver jumpsuit, most distractingly transparent here and there in shifting patterns as the light hit it. Gold and brass and silver adorned her wrist and circleted her black, bobbed hair, uraeus-like, but the serpent wound its tail right round beneath that coiffure and into her ear-not engaged, now, Niccolo thought: mere decoration. But one never knew.