In the silence that followed, eager voices began to rise, but Galen raised a hand sharply and everyone subsided. The Emperor remained sitting in the chair, seemingly deep in thought. The moment stretched and Maxian began to fidget, but again the men on either side of him held him in place. Finally, Galen raised his head and looked upon the Senate with a grim expression.
"I am loath to fill such a post," he said, frowning, "for Rome has never placed its faith in wizards or anything but our strong arm, iron will and the blessing of the gods. In this way Rome brought civilization to many benighted countries and raised up a great Empire. The men and women of Rome have always placed their faith in things that can be seen and done by eye and hand." Galen stood up, his face severe, and stepped down onto the open floor.
Maxian suddenly felt a foreboding chill, fearing Galen had decided against the plan without informing his brother or Gregorius or anyone. But we must take this step!
"Fellow senators," Galen's voice was low, but it carried to every ear. "If a wizard is raised to the magus imperium then we will have changed Rome forever. We will turn down a path traveled by the nations of the east-where long ago god-kings and sorcerers ruled over men. This is dangerous, for who can say what a man will do, if given such power?"
Galen turned, seemingly staring right at Maxian. The prince stiffened, but the Emperor's eyes traveled over him without stopping. "This is a desperate measure, but the esteemed Gregorius has spoken truthfully. We are overmatched in the east. Our Thaumaturges cannot stand against the dark powers the Persians have unleashed. We must consider new weapons if we are to defeat them. I fear Rome has slept too long, ignorant of these matters, relying on our Thaumaturges, yet not giving them rein enough to develop the strength we are now desperate for."
"Understand!" Galen reached the far end of the hall, by the entry doors, and his voice boomed loud from the ceiling as he turned to face the distant chair. "We must find a man, a wizard of great strength. We must give him more power if he is to repel this foe. Many old traditions will be overturned and our Thaumaturgic Legion will be vastly changed. We cannot know where this path will lead, but…" The Emperor paused and Maxian perceived enormous weariness in the line of his body, in his face, in the tenor of his voice. A great rush of fear threatened the prince and again he nearly leapt up to run to his brother, who suddenly seemed so old. Galen shook his head, throwing off the fatigue with a visible effort and stood up straight. "…we must do something. This path, perhaps, offers a hope of victory."
"Is there such a man?" A voice called out from the crowd of senators, though Maxian could not see who spoke.
"If there is," Galen responded, drawing the cloak over his chest. "I will not name him. This is a critical matter, and one that I lay at your feet, Senators." The Emperor looked around again, then walked slowly to the outer doors of the hall. "I will abide by your wishes in this matter. I pray you choose wisely."
Galen stepped up into the threshold of the bronze doors and they opened, flooding the chamber with brilliant sunlight. A solid rank of Praetorians closed around the Emperor and then he was gone, swallowed by the noon sun. The doors swung closed again with a dull boom.
Everyone began to speak at once, in a rush of excited noise and shouting and general clamor. Maxian remained sitting, realizing he was sweating, and found Gregorius sitting beside him once again, smiling quietly, his bushy white beard spilling over both hands clasped on the head of his cane.
"Rest your feet, young prince," the old senator said, "this will take some time."
Gaius Julius stepped away from the marble screen, quite pleased with himself. Part of him wished he had delivered the little speeches, but his conscious mind-which learned at least one lesson in his abruptly interrupted life-was content to remain unknown and unremarked. The gallery was crowded with all manner of citizens, though slightly oily-looking men with particularly sharp togas and tunics predominated. There were large numbers of provincial and city representatives-a dizzying array of Nubians and Goths and Gauls and even some Britons-milling about in traditional costume. It all made a colorful scene, but Gaius was not interested in rural politics, not today. With the ease of long practice, he weaved through the crowd and found a man selling wine. The old Roman pressed a few copper coins into the peddler's hand and took a cup. With the chipped clay in his hand, he wandered slowly the length of the gallery, idly watching the discussion on the floor of the Curia.
After a moment he stopped and stepped sideways behind a cluster of Axumite merchants. Their tall feather headdresses made suitable cover and he took another drink from the cup, eyes narrowed over the rim. A woman he recognized entered the gallery and he felt a certain trepidation in being seen by her. They had never exchanged more than a few words; in his guise of a hardworking patrician bureaucrat there was little reason for him to engage in lengthy discourse with an Empress. Helena might not recognize him, but approaching her now was reckless.
Unfortunately, he found her particularly attractive. He knew from palace gossip she was strong-willed, sharp-minded and carried on a voluminous correspondence. Once or twice, he managed to overhear her conversations and she wielded a dagger wit with aplomb. Gaius Julius checked the drape of his toga, then mentally ground down on his ambition.
This is not the time for seduction! He wanted her though, and vivid imagination yielded up delightful, tempting vignettes. He started to step forward, desire convincing his limbs it would be perfectly reasonable for him to go up and speak with her, breathe in the air around her, look into sparkling dark eyes, bandy wit and wordplay with her. Gaius Julius caught himself and turned away, forcing himself to look down onto the Senate floor again.
The senators had gotten themselves into a furious argument. From the raised voices reaching the gallery, Gaius saw the awareness of the possible patronage and graft attendant upon an important new Imperial post was spreading through the white-haired old men like blood on the sea. Gaius suppressed a grin, unconsciously flicking his robes into an even straighter line and checking his hair. The smell of fear and power in the air was heady and he felt his pulse quicken.
Stop this. You're getting jittery. Gaius paused by one of the pillars and took a moment to calm down. He craved this-the lunge and parry and brutal verbal combat of the Curia and the Senate. He wanted to step down on the floor-as was his right! — and set his mind to the influence and control of others. There was a physical pain in his gut, like a rat was squirming among his organs. Against this desire, thoughts of Helena disappeared. Impossible, you old fool! You must be patient. Quiet. Like a mouse.
Gaius breathed out, slowly, and looked around, avoiding the flushed, sweaty faces of the men talking and exclaiming on all sides. He was not sure he approved of the renovations to the Curia-he had taken pains, in his breathing days, to see the building was just small enough. This gallery was new and there were more seats than he remembered below. Gaius frowned, counting rows of benches. There must be room for almost fifteen hundred senators. That, he thought, was too many. Even in his day-so long ago now! — he had ordered the architects and builders to make the Senate house just a little smaller than it needed to be.
The old Roman grinned, forgetting his own advice to remain impassive. With a constant shortage of seats, the junior senators stood in the back of the hall, or even outside. That kept them helpfully out of the debate, and gave them incentive to compromise so they could move inside. Now this expansion had made a muddle of everything, and this too-convenient gallery allowed anyone to watch the Senate at work. How… republican…