Return to Me - By Morgan O'Neill Page 0,40
weapons of lightning and thunder. Honorius had been gleeful as he speculated how they might turn the tide and help Roman soldiers win back territories so recently lost to the barbarous hordes. In hearing this, Africanus’s heart swelled with pride in knowing he had played a part in such a great endeavor. Woe be to Rome’s enemies!
He waited in the depths of the palace, in the realm of the magicians. He felt uncomfortable here, for it was dark and smelled poisonous, like sulfur. He watched as several of Honorius’s advisors examined the boxes that had contained dozens of small, bronze, lozenge-shaped objects. Hard, cold, and without scent, the lozenges had confounded everyone so far, and the boxes were in themselves strange and wondrous; they appeared to be made of something akin to papyrus, but not. In fact, the substance was of an unknown origin, better than papyrus in that it was quite strong and held its shape. Moreover, it was covered with an amazingly life-like painting of the object, the colored paint and writing highly resistant to water and other despoliations.
Africanus recalled every word and number he had seen in that indecipherable writing, having pondered it again and again, to no avail: “Independence. 50 centerfire pistol cartridges 45 auto.”
What could it mean? What was their function? If he could but unlock these secrets! Africanus clenched his fists in frustration.
“Hail the Roman Emperor of the West, Flavius Honorius Augustus!”
Honorius swept into the room with Theophanes. Africanus bowed to the emperor and went down on one knee.
“Rise, Titus Africanus.”
He got to his feet and bowed again.
“What are these?” Honorius pointed toward the metal lozenges, which were neatly arranged on the nearest table, along with another object, a rectangular case made from the same dark, smooth substance as the lightning bolt weapon. Unlike the weapon, the case’s surface was reflective and had been scored with indentations in a grid pattern, with a fine tube extending from the side.
Honorius honed in on the case. “This is interesting. Is it another weapon?”
“Forgive us, Great Emperor,” Theophanes cut in, “but I, as yet, do not know. The investigation is ongoing, and I am certain the answer will be found.”
Nodding, Honorius leaned in for a closer look. “We see more of that strange language, Theophanes. Do you know what ‘XTG Technology 2 Year Warranty’ means?”
“No, my lord, but our translators are working day and night to decipher it,” Theophanes said.
Africanus cleared his throat in a bid for attention.
Honorius turned. “Speak.”
“Venerabilis, the confounding words may be nonsensical. They could be a magical incantation,” Africanus explained. “Moreover, General Constantius himself discovered that the end of the slim tube fits into the small space on the side of your lightning bolt weapon.”
He turned to Theophanes. “Did you know of this?”
“Indeed.” The man nodded and bowed.
“And yet, you failed to tell us.” Honorius frowned. “Already, too much time has passed. It vexes us that many so-called ‘great’ minds have learned so little.”
Theophanes paled. Honorius smiled, but his gaze had grown deadly.
Africanus took to his knee. “My only desire is to serve you, my lord. What would you have me do next? Your will be done.”
Honorius waved his hand. “Your devotion is admirable, Africanus. Come then, you shall join us, and may God grant the coming moments prove fruitful.”
• • •
Weary from the long day, her joints aching, Dipsas stood in the audience hall. She was alone, but for the scattering of Germani guards. The throne beckoned her, the upholstery sumptuous and inviting, but she knew she would be killed on the spot if she dared take a seat.
She gazed into the sky-blue eyes of the nearest guard. He and his brethren were mercenaries, thugs hired by Honorius for protection. They were her distant kinsmen, and ages ago their ancestors had hailed from the same tribe. Yet, she felt no connection to them. She had never, in fact, felt a connection with anyone on this earth but her sister, with whom she shared the rare gift of second sight.
Her thoughts were interrupted by the drift of conversation in the hallway. She closed her eyes and waited, knowing Emperor Honorius approached.
“Ah, Dipsas!” he called out.
She glanced in his direction. He wore a purple toga embroidered with silver threads. His dark hair gleamed beneath a crown of pearls and gold. The tall legatus, Titus Africanus, walked a few paces behind. A slave followed them, carrying a bundle of blue silk.
Dipsas immediately perked up, for she guessed the silk was that which Honorius had promised,