Return to Me - By Morgan O'Neill Page 0,30
of Rome after his defeat and capture by Alaric.” He pulled off the cover, revealing a bronzed leather breastplate, along with a warrior’s skirt. “But Magnus did not wear one of his old uniforms, nor did he acquire it by stealth or deception. In fact, the origin of this uniform is a mystery.”
Honorius rose from his throne and came over, his gaze narrowing as he touched the breastplate with his foot. “It does not look mysterious to us,” he sniffed.
“There are mysteries as to the methods used in its manufacture, Venerabilis. There is also a strange inscription inside.”
“Show us that.”
Africanus pointed to one of his soldiers, who took the breastplate and opened it, revealing the interior. Honorius motioned to one of his advisors. The man wore a blue silk robe covered with elaborate embroidery, stars and crescent moons. The two bent their heads to examine the swatch of cloth affixed to the breastplate’s inner surface.
Africanus waited a moment longer, then said, “As you can see, the writing is strange, but the words can be deciphered, although their meaning is unfathomable, for the tongue is a foreign butchery of Latin and unknown to any who have studied it thus far. It says, ‘Nero. Scion Productions. Legatus. No. 1 Exterior Palace’, followed by the letter D and a series of numbers.”
Honorius turned to his magician. “What has Nero to do with Magnus? Do you understand any of this?”
The man nervously wiped his hands on his robe, before making a show of examining the breastplate again. “It might be an old uniform, from Nero’s era. Perhaps it came to Magnus from an ancestor.”
“Ridiculous. This is not three hundred years old!” Honorius glanced at Dipsas. “Come here, woman. Prove your worth. Let us see if you can discern what others cannot.”
She hobbled forward and examined the breastplate, then the leather skirt. She closed her eyes and brought the skirt to her nose, breathing in and out, until, at long last, she said, “O Great One, I believe this came from a faraway land, where men dress as soldiers, but they are not soldiers.”
With a deep frown, Honorius shook his head. “We told you we don’t want riddles. We want answers.” Turning, he addressed Africanus again. “What else was found?”
Africanus sensed doom in the emperor’s mood. Go straight to the last and best, he told himself. He walked over to the fifth object. “The other items are interesting, but this one is remarkable.” He uncovered it and carefully held it up for Honorius’s inspection. To others, it would appear to be a simple black box, but he knew the power it possessed.
Honorius leaned in. “It is does not look remarkable, but … from what substance is it made?”
“It is unknown, my lord, something wonderfully smooth and somewhat akin to tortoise shell, but not — ”
“What does it do?” Honorius asked and grabbed it.
With a cry, Africanus tried to stop him, but the weapon came to life, unleashing a small bolt of lightning straight into the emperor’s hand.
Screaming, Honorius dropped to the floor like a stone.
Horrified, Africanus stood stock-still, and then slowly removed his sword from its sheath, ready to fall upon it should his emperor die.
• • •
Honorius could not breathe, could not think or feel anything but intense pain. He lay on the floor, his muscles drained, lax and immobile; his thoughts the opposite, a riotous scramble. He had no idea who he was, no idea how to stop the agonizing jolts surging through his body.
Pain, endless pain, eternal pain — !
Suddenly, a thought crystallized, one he seized upon and repeated in his mind, a desperate chant, until he could breathe again, until the agony diminished and he remembered his name.
Live and seek vengeance.
He rolled onto his side, getting his bearings, and then realized he had pissed himself. Fury replaced his pain and his mind came into sharp focus.
Live and seek vengeance. Live and seek vengeance. Live and seek vengeance.
• • •
Honorius surveyed the great hall, filled to bursting with his entire court. The gathering was by royal command, but he knew everyone had come willingly, to witness the punishment of those who had harmed their emperor.
Bound and gagged, Africanus and his men knelt before the throne. Rumors were flying, hideous gossip about the method of execution. Crucifixion. Burning at the stake. Flaying them alive.
Shifting, restless, Honorius still felt pain and weakness in his hand, which had suffered a burn from the weapon. His physicians had warned him not to remove the honey-soaked bandage,