An elderly man, his long face pinched and sour, pushed his way through the crowd of citizens to the edge of the Praetorians. Maxian stepped forward, schooling his face to polite impassivity. His brother Galen tended a careful relationship with the Senate, while Maxian had always taken pains to avoid the actual mechanisms of Imperial rule. Everyone knew the Senate was a snake pit of awesome proportions, filled with sly and cunning men, where treachery suckled fat on corruption and vice.
"Caesar Maxian," the clerk growled, squinting in the sunlight gleaming from the marble porticoes of the Forum buildings. "You wish to address the Senate?" The man's tone of voice made it seem Maxian was nothing but a lowly petitioner, little more than a barbarian or slave. The prince's nostrils flared, but he remembered Galen's parting admonition.
Be polite, piglet. The Senate has been grumpy for a thousand years… putting up with a day of their airs will not harm you. They do not rule, but they do annoy!
"Yes, a matter concerning me will be discussed today." Maxian kept his voice level.
"Very well," the clerk sniffed, looking at the Praetorians. "You and your clerk may enter. Unarmed."
This was expected and the Praetorians stepped aside, opening one side of their ring of spears allowing the prince to enter the Curia itself. The long rectangular hall was illuminated by light streaming down from tall windows set just under the eaves. Colored marble and stone patterned the walls where they were not streaked with soot from lantern sconces. The center of the long room was cleared of chairs or seats; a patterned mosaic of the world, a huge map of the lands surrounding the Inner Sea, covering the floor. The map was relatively new-added in the time of Diocletian the Great. During his reign, a fire had swept the Forum, damaging or destroying many buildings.
Diocletian had rebuilt everything on a grand scale, and in the case of the Curia, the Senate hall had been expanded. In his time, the Senate had grown so large there were no longer enough seats for everyone, so the Emperor widened the hall, installed deep ranks of stepped wooden benches on either side, with a gallery rising behind them supported by marble columns. Alcoves were spaced along the gallery, holding statues of the gods, dressed in fine linens and garlanded with flowers. Only senators and select petitioners were allowed on the ground floor. Aides, ambassadors and guests contented themselves with the gallery, where they stood in a great crowd behind a screen of carved, pierced marble.
The hubbub did not die down as the prince entered-indeed he wasn't even noticed-just one more young patrician come to see about the doings of the Empire. Maxian took his time, moving slowly forward, through and around groups of men, young and old alike. He heard every kind of accent-Hispanian, Gaulish, Briton, even Greek-and all of their words, flowing around him in a muttering river, were of gold and power and land and trade. The prince became amused-no one here knew him-though they would have flocked around his brothers like bees to water in the desert.
"Lord Prince!"
Maxian turned at the sound and smiled warmly in greeting. An old friend, leaning heavily on a cane, approached and the other senators parted before him like the sea wave before the prow of a ship. Maxian extended his hands, clasping the old man's. The terse knot in his stomach began to ease. "Gregorius Magnus! It's good to see you."
"And you, my lord." Gregorius dipped his head, smiling through his neatly-trimmed white beard. "You too, Master Gaius, though we see enough of each other already, I think."
At the prince's side, his lean, gray-haired shadow bowed deeply to the senator. Gaius Julius was very simply dressed in a plain toga, unadorned with gold or silver edging or any kind of flash. With his thinning silver hair and patrician nose, he seemed no more and no less than a man of the city, one among thousands filling the Forum each day.
"Senator, time spent in your company is never wasted." Gaius Julius' voice was a rich baritone, trained and schooled in this very arena. When he spoke, men listened. Gregorius nodded amiably, waving the compliment away with a frail hand.
"Lord Prince, come and sit with me and I will speak for you to this august assembly." The old senator's eyes were twinkling and Maxian felt his apprehension fade away. With Gaius Julius at his side-even half-invisible-and Gregorius to speak for him, Maxian was sure the petition would go well.
Gregorius led them to the front row of the wooden seats. As they approached the end of the room, a wave passed through the crowds of talking men, and many turned to look at them. Then, at some unknown, unseen signal, the Senators began to take their seats. Gregorius sat down on a small cushion set at the end of the first row of seats, very close to the podium dominating the far end of the room.
On the podium was a simple folding stool, quite plain and very old, made of yellowed ivory. Two men stood on either side, dressed in archaic-looking garments, holding bundles of bound rods in the crook of their arms. An axe blade jutted from each bundle. The seat was currently empty. Maxian sat next to Gregorius, in a place held by one of the other senior senators. That man-an ally of Gregorius', Maxian supposed-moved aside, smiling in greeting. A shuffling went down the row as each senator on the bench was forced to move over.
Somewhere a junior senator would be forced off the benches to stand against the rear wall. Gaius Julius disappeared into the crowd-he was no senator now! — and Maxian supposed he would secure himself a good vantage. The old Roman was very good at that kind of thing. Maxian found the seat hard and uncomfortable.
"They are supposed to be that way," Gregorius whispered out of the corner of his mouth. "So some business gets done each day and we hurry home!"
The room quieted, even the chattiest of the senators at last getting the word to shut up, though the sound of so many men breathing and rustling in their heavy robes seemed very loud. Maxian felt nervous again, but Gregorius' heavy, solid presence beside him was a great comfort. A banging sound suddenly came from the entrance doors off to his left. Everyone turned, some craning their heads to see. Outside there was a faint roaring sound and the beating of drums.
"The princeps wishes to sit among his peers, the Senate of Rome." The clerk's voice boomed through the quiet room, echoing back from the vaulted ceiling. "Is he given leave to enter?"
"Aye!" Gregorius said, his old voice-once powerful-carrying in the still, hot air. "Let the princeps enter and sit with the Senate of Rome."
A huge chorus of "Aye!" followed, along with more rustling and shuffling. Maxian saw sour expressions on the faces of the men seated across the walkway from him, but in all everyone seemed to welcome the presence of the Emperor. The center of the room was now clear and after a moment, the swift rapping of a man in boots echoed around them and then the Emperor of the West appeared, striding purposefully along the length of the chamber.
Galen Atreus was a thin, nervous-looking man with a cap of dark hair hanging down over a high forehead. The Emperor looked very businesslike, smiling tightly to his enemies in the seats, nodding to his friends. Today he was wearing a dark cloak and toga, with deep maroon edging. A gold clasp held his cloak at the shoulder and his laced boots were red. This was a new part of the Imperial regalia, added in the past month, as the Emperor of the West had declared himself the Avtokrator of the East. Maxian frowned slightly, seeing the pinched, tired look on his brother's face.
Too many disasters and too little time to react to them, Maxian thought mournfully.
Galen reached the podium and turned, seating himself on the lone chair. He looked out over the huge crowd of senators and nodded, as if to himself. "Senators. I thank you for allowing me to sit among you, in such a noble company. I will not waste your time in idle chatter…"