Noble Lies

by Gary Inbinder

Chapter 19, part 1
appears in this issue.

Chapter 19

part 2 of 2

Artabazus smiled nervously, bowed and left the room. Ludwig sat on a dark-stained oak bench at a long, unfinished plank table in the dimly lit, half-timbered chamber. The servants, plain-looking girls of about sixteen dressed in short, homespun woolen robes, brought him mutton and roast potatoes, served on earthenware plate. They also brought a jug of beer and filled a silver tankard with the rustic brew.

Ludwig ate with a good appetite, although still angered by the early morning scene of carnage at the village. He wondered if Artabazus and his men were responsible. He intended to discuss the matter with Queen Artemisia.

About one hour after Ludwig’s arrival, a chamberlain entered the room, bowed politely and said, “If you have finished your meal, my lord, the Queen will be pleased to greet you now.” The courtier was a lean, white-haired man in his sixties, robed in clean linen and walking softly in fine calfskin boots.

Ludwig stopped nibbling on a mutton shank; placing the bone on his plate, he took a long draught of beer and then called for a servant to bring him a basin and towel. The girl appeared almost immediately. Ludwig cleaned his hands, wiped the grease from his chin and then studied the chamberlain for a moment before responding, “I’m ready, sir.”

The chamberlain smiled, bowed and then led Ludwig out of the antechamber, along a timbered, colonnaded corridor to the Queen’s throne room. Halting before two armed guards at a pair of massive, twelve-foot high carved oak doors, Ludwig and the chamberlain waited a moment as servants, grasping large iron rings, swung the doors open.

As the portal opened with the noisy creaking of bulky hardwood on huge, iron hinges, Ludwig glanced at the door panel carvings: flying eagles, a rising star over mountains and a group of male and female figures. The resemblance between Ludwig and the most prominent male figure was uncanny.

They entered a large, plank-floored, half-timbered hall with a forty-foot high ceiling, lit by flaming torches in wall-sconces and large, sputtering wax candles in tall-standing black, wrought iron candelabra. Colorful woolen tapestries decorated with scenes of the hunt and battle, covered the off-white, soot-stained plaster walls. Intricately patterned red- and blue-dyed carpets lined the passageway between rows of assembled courtiers dressed in white woolen robes decorated with gold and silver thread and girdled with gem-studded leather belts. Ludwig also noticed that most of the women wore gold necklaces and bracelets, some sparkling with diamonds, rubies, emeralds and sapphires.

Ludwig walked to the right and slightly behind the chamberlain, as they approached the Queen. Artemisia sat on her dark-stained carved mahogany and gold leaf decorated throne raised a few feet upon a dais at the far end of the hall. The ladies and gentlemen, including General Artabazus, who stood near the Queen’s dais, bowed as Ludwig advanced.

After walking forty paces from the entrance, the chamberlain stopped about ten feet from the Queen, bowed and announced, “Your majesty, I have the honor to present Lord Ludovicus, son of Karl Magnus and Princess Aquilia of Algol.”

The Queen rose from her throne and walked forward two steps; Ludwig bowed respectfully from the waist and the Queen acknowledged him with a smile and a nod. Gesturing to a chair to the right of her throne, she said, “Welcome, nephew, please sit here, beside us.”

There was a low murmur from the court, as Ludwig ascended the dais and took the Queen’s outstretched hand as she guided him to his chair. Standing stiffly, next to the throne, Ludwig waited for the Queen to take her seat and then sat to the applause of the courtiers. Glancing furtively at Artemisia, Ludwig wondered at her exquisite, aquiline features, green eyes, red lips and smooth, fair skin. If it weren’t for her white hair, Ludwig would have guessed she was still in her thirties.

Slender and nearly six feet tall, her appearance contrasted markedly to the majority of Algolians, who tended to be dark and stocky. Moreover, unlike the members of her court, the Queen wore an antique stola, like the dress worn by Aurelia and Berenice at Finn’s penthouse; her only adornment, a gold tiara studded with precious gems. Addressing her chamberlain, she commanded, “You may dismiss the court; we wish to be alone with our nephew.”

The chamberlain appeared dumbfounded, courtiers murmured and Artabazus openly questioned, “Your majesty, do you think that wise?”

Looking peeved, the Queen snapped, “We are not afraid of our sister’s child. You may go now.”

The chamberlain turned toward the ladies and gentlemen and gave a signal. They all bowed and began filing out of the hall in orderly fashion according to rank.

Eventually, the great hall emptied and the huge doors groaned and clanged shut. Artemisia turned to Ludwig, smiled and sighed, “Thank the gods. I’m dying for a smoke. You wouldn’t happen to have some good Republican cigarettes, would you, Luddy?”

Startled by the sudden change in the Queen’s demeanor, Ludwig stammered, “Uh... I’m afraid not; I’m sorry, ma’am.”

Artemisia slid back in her throne. Lifting her stola, she displayed a pair of long, shapely smooth legs, put her feet up on a footstool and muttered, “Oh, crap.” Turning to Ludwig, she smiled sweetly, adding, “It’s no big deal, darling, you just have no idea how lousy our tobacco is.”

Taking a golden case and lighter from her stola, she lit a cigarette. After a couple of puffs, she leaned over on the arm of her throne, dangling the cigarette between her slender fingers. Eyeing Ludwig, she observed, “You’re even cuter than I was told. Too bad you’re my nephew.”

Embarrassed and growing impatient, Ludwig said, “We have important business to discuss, ma’am, and not too much time.”

Artemisia interjected, “Please, Luddy; no more ‘ma’am’ while we’re in private; I’d much prefer ‘Aunt Artemisia.’”

“Very well, Aunt Artemisia; I’m here to discuss a peace treaty. I believe Consul Cato may have already contacted you about the reason for my visit.”

“Yes, of course. I’m in constant contact with Cato. Do you want to make me an offer?”

Ludwig studied his aunt. She responded with a seductive and somewhat disturbing grin. He noticed a definite family resemblance. She appeared regal and beautiful, yet Ludwig sensed something corrupt hiding beneath the surface. It was like looking into a mirror and seeing something you don’t like, but not knowing what that “something” is.

“Before I do,” Ludwig replied, “I want to bring a matter to your attention. On the way here, I saw a destroyed village: men, women and children slaughtered. I was able to save one child. That sort of thing must stop.”

Taking another puff on her cigarette, the Queen blew a few smoke rings and then asked with an air of exasperation, “What do you want me to do about it? We’ve been at war for years. The Republic destroyed our industry, infrastructure and most of our agriculture. All we have left is the drug trade, and now Cato wants me to suppress it. The village depended on happy dust for a living. Artabazus made an example of them. You can’t have it both ways, nephew.”

Ludwig stared at Artemisia, for a moment. He decided that his aunt was the sort of woman who liked a hard-core man. “How about offering me a drink, Aunt?” he replied. “And not that piss-water beer I was served earlier.”

Artemisia smiled and rang for a servant. When the girl arrived, the Queen said, “Bring a decanter of my best reserve brandy and two glasses.”

Ludwig added, “And a good cigar.”

The servant turned to Artemisia, awaiting further instructions.

The Queen nodded and said, “Make it two good cigars.”

Later that evening, relaxing over their brandy and cigars, Ludwig asked his aunt, “Can you tell me anything about my parents?”

“What’s there to tell? Your father was a magnificent brute; he ruled this system for two years as Viceroy and he took my elder sister as his concubine.” After taking a sip of brandy, Artemisia smiled, adding, “She was a very willing concubine, Luddy.” Eyeing her nephew with a boozy leer, the Queen lifted her stola almost to her crotch and then nonchalantly scratched a smooth, white well-toned thigh with her long red-polished nails.

Ludwig blushed, looked at his hands and gulped, “What... what about the eagle?”

Pleased with the effect she was having on Luddy, Artemisia pulled down her stola, laughed softly and replied, “Oh, that. The peasants believe that following your parents’ assassination, Aquilia’s spirit returned to these mountains in the form of a beautiful golden eagle.”

Looking back at Artemisia, Ludwig queried, “What do you believe, aunt?”

Sighing, Artemisia answered, “Me, what do I know? I’m just simple Algolian royalty. Ask your friend Consul Cato. You New Earth Republicans are the mumbo-jumbo high-tech wizards.”

Ludwig filed the “mumbo-jumbo high-tech wizard” remark in his memory. After a moment’s reflection, he said, “Here’s my offer: a truce, followed by a peace treaty. The Algolian system will become a member of my New Imperium, with semi-autonomous home rule and representation in the Senate. We’ll provide loans at very favorable interest rates to rebuild your economic base, including industry and infrastructure and promote exploration and development of your natural resources.

“In return, we get most favored nation status and the good will and loyalty of your subjects. Algol will sign mutually beneficial defense and trade agreements with the Imperium and there will be cultural exchanges, including opportunities for bright, young Algolians to attend our universities, work in our high-tech industries and serve us at Court.

“Finally, you’ll continue suppressing the illegal drug trade, without committing atrocities. And you’ll permit Cato’s Church to proselytize, which will be good for Imperial solidarity and public morals.

“Your alternative is annihilation; which, of course, is what happens if Consul Finn has his way.”

Placing her hand on Ludwig’s arm, Artemisia leaned close to him, whispering, “So forceful. You’re just like your father. Now, what do I get, darling?”

For an instant, Ludwig trembled at Artemisia’s touch and then he gripped her hand firmly to show who was in control. “An honorable retirement. As a condition of our peace treaty, your Council will declare me legitimate. I intend to rule this system as both Emperor and King. When the time comes, I’ll make my first-born son and heir Prince of Algol.”

Stroking his cheek with her free hand, Artemisia leaned forward, kissed Ludwig on his lips and whispered, “Sounds like a conflict of interest, to me, Luddy, but I’m sure the Council will approve. As for me, I want a Capitol Hill penthouse and one million Republican a year for life.”

Gently pushing his boozy aunt to a respectable distance, Ludwig answered, “Done. As my last remaining relative, I want to keep you close to me.”

Smiling tipsily, Artemisia hiccupped, “Of course, darling. After all, I’m very sympathetic and you’ll find it’s lonely at the top.”

After receiving commitments from the Queen and her Council, Ludwig used the Aureus, teleporting to Cato’s alternate world fortress. Ludwig met with the Consul in his chamber, forty-eight hours before Finn’s pre-election games. They sat at a table, discussing the terms of the peace treaty and their plans for the coup.

Concerning his trip to Algol 1, Ludwig observed, ‘The territory remaining in Algolian control has been reduced to a primitive state. The people must harvest and sell illegal drugs to survive. The Queen and what’s left of her court seemed secure and well supplied, but I suspect it’s mostly a façade, concealing their desperation.”

Nodding in agreement, Cato inquired, “Tell me your impression of the Queen, my lord.”

Ludwig recalled his lubricious aunt with a wry smile and replied, “I’ll admit I was a bit taken aback, at first, by her behavior when we were alone. War ravaged much of her planet and most is now under Republican control. Her power is largely illusory, yet she affects concern over the quality of her cigarettes and flirts like a society matron at a Capitol Hill cocktail party. Nevertheless, she got what she wanted without much haggling; and the treaty will benefit all concerned, so I consider the mission a success.”

“Yes, of course it was, my lord, and I agree about your aunt; I find her an interesting individual, who I believe will be useful to us in future.” Smiling, Cato poured some wine for Ludwig and then refilled his own glass. Continuing the conversation, he remarked, “You mentioned the illicit drug trade on Algol 1. I’d like to know more of your thoughts on that subject.”

“I’ve seen the effects on both the suppliers and the users; I agree the happy dust traffic must be suppressed. However, I’ve also observed unacceptable methods being used against the Algolian drug farmers.”

Raising his eyebrows in surprise, Cato asked, “What methods are you referring to, my lord?”

“The massacre of a village, Consul; I won’t permit such things in future.”

Obviously disturbed, Cato replied, “I assure you I had no idea such things were happening. I’ll notify the Queen, at once.”

Ludwig stared at Cato for an instant, wondering if the Consul knew more than he would admit. “I’ve already made my feelings known to the Queen. However, another word from you might be appropriate.” Ludwig drank his wine. Looking out through an opening in the wall, he gazed at the alternate world’s moon, lighting the dark sky as it emerged from the cover of drifting clouds.

After a moment, he added, “I must leave soon, Consul and return to Aurelia and my companions. I believe we both understand our roles in the big game, however there is one thing I’d like to ask you, before I go.”

“What is that, my lord?”

“Are you familiar with the third trope of Sextus Empiricus, the one concerning the incompatibility of God’s perfection with the evil of the world?”

In response, Cato swallowed some wine the wrong way; his face reddened as he coughed loudly into his napkin.

Ludwig got up to assist the Consul, slapped him on the back and asked, “Are you all right, sir?”

Cato raised his hand, indicating he was fine. Reaching for a glass of water, he swallowed a mouthful and then wiped his lips with his napkin, as the coughing fit subsided. Ludwig returned to his seat and savored a little more wine, waiting patiently for the Consul to recover and respond.

Eventually, Cato asked, “Would you please tell me, my lord, where you learned that trope?”

Laughing, Ludwig replied, “I assure you they didn’t teach it at the Silver Academy. It just came to me, all of a sudden. I suppose it’s the power of the Aureus. However, you would know more about that, than I. After all, to paraphrase my aunt, I’m just a simple soldier and you’re the mumbo-jumbo high-tech wizard.”

Baffled for a moment, the Consul soon regained his composure. “There’s much we have to discuss, about your Imperium, the re-establishment of the Church and our ancient, Old Earth religion. Until then, please trust in the power of the Creator that guides and protects you under the sign of the Aureus.”

Smiling, Ludwig said, “I’ll do that, Consul. For the time being, I’ll also think in terms of a soldier’s alternatives: victory or death.”

Cato answered, “Of course, my lord. Farewell, until we meet again, in the arena.”

To be continued...