A Roman Summer, pt. 163: 'How else to attain our peace?'

Arrested in midflight above the Hagia Sophia in Constantinople/ Petey slowly revolves in the broiling sun/ beginning to wake from his stupor/ while one by one the men fighting in the streets look up/ and point

-Just what I was hopin’ wouldn’ happen! –W.
“Really.”

We are more surprised than we’d thought at what we hear/

-I… I… I… But I am not prepared, as it approaches, for a rushing urge to flee in agonized fear, find myself another POV and spend the remainder of Time torturing one-celled animals who can’t fight back. An oddly ripped silhouette passes through me
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
and the vista is one of complete nonexistence, even if an interruption only of a fraction of a second -- -- P.

These last few syllables are shrieked in such a way that more still of the partisans slashing and burning through Topkapi Palace/ tearing at the foundations of the Hippodrome/ raging up and down Middle Street/ demolishing the city walls that once threw back the Goths/ many more of these look up and see the man pinwheeling in the sky/ hands and legs pulled to suggest right angles/ some shout ‘In hoc signo vinces!’ and run to cut more throats/ others howl ‘G-d is great!’/ still more cry out in tongues only they recall/ yet other groups lift their cannons, slings and crossbows, firing at Petey wildly and no doubt dispatching fellow travelers across the city/

“A stratagem is a stratagem. I cannot say they wouldn’t have been inspired to do the same without seeing your brother…”
-Way in the middle of the air/ like Ezekiel’s wheel in a wheel –D.
-I think we may have screwed up a bit. You hear him? –F.

-Was it... the wailing statues in that museum on the rue Ste.-Cath that brought me here, again? Mildly interesting, yes, but... that was another time. Either before or after this, I can’t recall. Or procall. Is that even a word? When am I? –P.

-We reset him wrong! He dropped back in the story about 300 pages. –F.
-But maybe he’s not gonna get Mikey’s sword between his eyes again! An’ that’s what I’m most innarested in, thanks. –W.

“I can’t believe this. All the ancient civilizations of Earth were polluted by djinni?!”
{“I assumed the role of the ancient Sumerian godess of evil. My husband Ahriman did similar duty in the Zorostrian faith. Though we are no more gods than yourself.”}
“Now you know why Moses, Jesus and the Prophet, peace be upon them, were sent to Earth.”
“Well, I knew they called that period ‘Jahilia,’ or Ignorance, for something…”
{“Now you hear why! The All-Knowing and Wise One gave us the capacity to mislead, and so we have done. But the insanities that this Domitian whispers in his men’s ears, every one of whom is too frightened of his very shadow to disagree with him, they outstrip anything even we might invent. What madnesses he visits upon his willing people! How has the man convinced thousands of men and women that it is 60 years after the birth of Issa? What of the ensuing mllennia? Never were? How does he do it? How is it that all believe him?”}
“You already know the answer, um, noble djinn. They’re terrified of him, but they’re even more so of what may happen to them without him. That’s all he needs.”
{“So how then might we prevail? Our world is dead, child. We would be one with it, and before we go, we would be of help in some way to Him who gave us life.”}
{“You two should know what you are in for, if this is what you suggest; War and Death fought demons in Montreal not so long ago over a woman’s fate. When the demons lost the engagement, they offered themselves up to the blade. You may have seen the Horsemen’s response. In their time, they took no prisoners. If you would go before us and attempt to stop Pestilence, he who has refused our Father’s sentence, he may well take your lives. The mother and child may still die at his hand.”}
{“We know it. So we come not to Palmyra but here to Zaitha, and to you.”}
“Do I… want to hear this?”
{“It may be best if we leave out the details.”}
{“Why so, Nadia? Have you not accompanied the Angel Gabriel, heavily armed as you are, with the purpose of slaying us when in Palmyra we assume physical bodies, and take the place of the mother and child in the maidan? Is that not a worthy gambit? I would think that upon his arrival, Pestilence would see his handiwork done for him and take our lifeless heads back to Domitian without asking too many questions. Domitian may even begin to think he has allies in the Middle East. How else shall we be of service to the All-Knowing and Just One, blessed be his name, and at last attain our peace?”}

Copyright 2008 by K. Griffiths. All rights reserved.

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A Roman Summer, pt. 162: 'They simply were not gods'

-I… I… I… I… -- P.

They are waiting there for the girl and the angel upon their arrival/ the ancient name of which means ‘place of olive trees’/ once a Roman outpost on the Euphrates river, it is, ‘today,’ whatever that is, yet another dead stop on the road into the extinct Persian interior/ all that remains is Gordian III’s barrel-shaped mausoleum/ a young Emperor’s barely visible form sits atop the old worn mount/ still despondent after 2000 years/ it may be only heat haze, from this distance/ we’ll see/ half a hundred feet away, two pillars of fire stand/ they seem to be holding hands

“Oh! All-Just and All-Knowing One, preserve us!”
“They are here, so they may well wish to talk. A good beginning.”
“They’re real! I can’t, I can’t believe it...”

When Nadia and Gabriel land by Gordian’s tomb/ a sound rises/ deeper than any earthquake/ it forms words of a sort that shake the sand, and the tomb/ and the very hills

“…That’s them!”
{“In the name of the Most Compassionate One, may his name be blessed, I greet you.”}
“Er, did you just speak Aramaic?!”
{“Gabriel.”}
“Yes, a very early form of it. Do not be afraid of them.”
{“I and my wife are privileged.”}
“But I’m not supposed to be able to see them—oh, wait...”

As if she had been granted an audience before a Sultan/ Nadia remembers herself and bows

“I greet you also, Ahriman and Tiamat! Salaam aleikum!”

She had hoped for a better reaction/ but a slow, stuttering series of thuds reverb the air in all directions/ a certain very dry mirth may accompany them/ the young man’s ghost, if such it is, now fully turns to see/ Gabriel does the translating honors when needed/

“I am taking your presence very seriously! I hope you are not laughing at me!”
{“Well asked, and we shall answer in kind. Aleikum salaam, little child. It has been long since one of us addressed one of you. If we laugh, it is our relief at being heard when we cried to Him for help. Especially given the sort we asked.”}
“...I told a madman once, and he didn’t believe me, but I hope you will when I say to you that if you ask Him for help, and you keep to the commandments, He will never say no.”
{Ah. The Commandments. Well…”}
{“Best we get to business, husband. Do you know what has become of all the worlds, little one, or shall we ask the angel?”}
(“Ask me! I saw all. I saw the parallel existences become one from innumerable. Everywhere there is terror and collapse.”}
{“More than even you can see, Gabriel. Who did this? Who dared? None called upon us and gave us warning.”}
{“Neither had we any, Tiamat. The Four Horsemen -- ”}
{“Say no more, then. We know too much of those already. And your experience, small one? Was it the same?”}
“It was, uh, noble djinn. I attest to this. I heard this awful thunder one night, it just wouldn’t stop, and I was walking to school the next day when—“
{“Your answers need not be so detailed. You would note that we have no legs and thus cannot walk, nor have we ever attended a ‘school.’ We cannot entirely understand these terms. Think as this monument might do if it were alive, and able to gaze in all directions.”}
“I apologize. I’ll try.”
{“It has among some of you been customary to increase men’s and women’s sin and disbelief.”}
{“We so admit. We too were handman and handmaiden on occasion to Al-Shaytan. To this we confess.”}
“You met Iblis! The Devil himself? You, you worked for him?”
{“We did. Do not fear us, child. You have a most powerful protector, you carry a blade which we would not cross for anything, and we are, in this world, as terrified as you have been.”}
“No offense, Ahriman… I think… but I’m glad to hear it!”
{“That is well guessed.”}
{“As you two admit so freely to much wrongdoing, more so than most djinni would do, I would ask why you proposed this meeting. You know that it is not within my capacity to issue forgiveness.”}
{“As we said in our entreaties to Him who reigns eternal, you can give us something else that we wish. For this we shall assist you. Of a sudden, you see, we are on the same side. We looked one day for the path into the place we lived, but it was sealed off. All trace, missing. Even Al-Shaytan is nowhere to be found. Is this what you were about to say before, child?”}
“Yes. The street I lived on vanished. Folded up like a closed book. The street to my house’s left was still there, the street to its right, but nothing between. Cologne, where we lived at the time… it was like the city suddenly faced the wrong way. Half the streets went backwards. Is this what you mean, Hazrat—um?”
{“Call me not that name, please, as we are only partway along the correct road and cannot yet go further. Neither is anything familiar here for my wife and I. The men we see have all gone mad, every one. They visit bestialities upon themselves and one another that even we cannot conceive. No wonder the Monarch has fled. How does one lead into sin that which already screams louder than we can bear to hear, for adverse judgment?”}
{“I can think of two who have complained of that very thing.”}
{“While a man, horror of horrors, ranges freely about this world—a man! Taking what he will and laying waste to all the remainder. He rebuilds an empire out of the dust into which it fell. He has garnered upon this last world nearly all the violence of Al-Shaytan himself.”}
{“Domitian, in other words.”}
“What are you saying, um, Tiamat? You can’t tempt or mislead Domitian? He’s human, isn’t he?”
{“It clearly would come to naught, given how he plumbs depths even we dare not. Let me tell her our secret, Gabriel.”}
{“By all means. She should understand.”}
{“Young woman, did you ever wonder at all the deluded who worshiped Baal and Zeus and Serapis, Mani, the Pharaohs, and so forth?”}
“Well… yes, actually.”
{“All djinni. All for the sake of misleading men.”}
{“Men and women, I have it on good authority.”}
{“Duly noted. Do you see… Nadia?”}
“But they were false gods! They were empty, graven images. It says so in the holy Qu’ran. They weren’t real!”
{“They were real. They simply were not gods.”}

Copyright 2008 by K. Griffiths. All rights reserved.

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A Roman Summer, pt. 161: 'And having writ...'

“You understand that we have to be quick about this. Pestilence will arrive at the marketpace very soon. You see better than most what may occur.”

The heavens rush above and below them/ vast wings draw them over what was Kurdish land/ to a place northwest of Dura-Europos/ the distant voices of the dead would seem to accompany

“This ‘singing’ in the air…”
“All those lost to the collapsing worlds, and clamoring to get back in. Their voices are all that is left of them here. You can hear them from this height, now and again.”
“Hazrat Jibra-eel, is there nothing left of all the world but ruins?”
“Only the cities of the central and eastern Mediterranean, and Tokyo still fully stand, and those are each well altered. When the countless worlds absorbed one another, little beside was left. Many men and women ran through them, afire with alternate selves, driving those who had not caught the ailment into the wilderness. It was beyond all their capabilities to understand or bear. But that is one province of those whom we shall meet.”
“I’m not sure I get that.”
“The djinni burden men and women with illusions. They can juggle the vistas before human eyes and make of them what they wish you to see. They can be very convincing.”
“What will I say to them? Tiamat and Ahriman? Are those really their…?”
“Are those familiar names to you?”
“Uh. Yeah. I, I used to read a lot of horror stories…”
“…All tales, however imagined or made up, have some basis in fact! No matter, if you like I will speak to them on our behalf. ”
“Please tell me you aren’t laughing at me, Hazrat Jibra-eel.”
“I mean no offense. I am thinking of three young girls on the far side of this last Earth who remind me somewhat of yourself. They too are fearless.”
‘That word again! I’m only not screaming because I’m not looking down!!”
“True, perhaps, but you are here with me and you will do as you have sworn. I know it, I need not ask.”
“When this is all over, maybe you’ll introduce us? I could use a few girlfriends, really badly.”
“Carry this errand out, and you shall be counted among the blessed. I should be able to arrange something with them.”
“I ask no reward, Jibra-eel, that’s not why I’m here.”
“I know. You defended the mother and child against your friend in our argument with the other Horsemen. They also can persuade. You understand that events do not play favorites, so you and I must do His will.”
“Okay… and, considering everything that might happen…”
“Agreed.”


“They are not going to make it. Pestilence shall arrive at the oasis before them. Novices, do you have a thought?”
-Wowee, Petey’s gonna get away with it… should we have a party? –W.
“I believe you know our orders, however changed over you may or may not be.”
-Uh, can we slow him down -- ? –F.
-What exac’ly is he sayin’? –W.

-I go, Dominus, I go, Dominus, I go, Dominus, I go, Dominus--- --P.

-He’s stuck. Like when we were in London after MI6 booted us. –F.
-So how d’ we reboot him? –W.
-Same way as before? –F.
-Which/ was what? –D.
“He knows the weight of his errand. When he meets Nadia before the little tent in the marketplace, he may not be able to defend himself. He may have made himself so on purpose.”
-He told the girl/ he’d try to stay alive–D.
-…Don’t think we can take th’ chance. Even if Azrael is fulla soup. –W.
“Believe as you please. I have been given no orders, and as such I am doing what I can.”
-…What about the time he was transfigured above Montreal? –F.
-Yeah! Stop him/ hold him in place until they’re ready in Palmyra/? -- D.
“Can you?”
-There’s only one a’ him an’ three of us… -- W.

Above Constantinople/ where ancients, Byzantines and Ottomans lock in hand-to-hand, house-to-house, rooftop-to-rooftop fighting below/ Petey climbs over the translucent air and almost doesn’t notice himself slowing/ grinding to a halt above the Hagia Sophia, he begins to turn in the hot sun/ a filet on a spit below an impossibly distant fire

-I go, Dominus, I go, Dominus… I-- --P.

Voice cut off of a sudden, Azrael looks to us again to see what we’re pulling behind his back/ so to speak

-What?! –W.
“I see, now… stealing a page from my Master’s playbook…”
-Turnabout is. –D.
-Apprentice angels don’t get to do that? –F.
“Of course they do. It is how they learn.”

-I…. I…. I…. –P.

-Don’t know how long would be smart to keep him like this. If he snaps out of it… -- F.
-Hey, she nailed you, huh, Azrael… -- W.
“How so?”
-Nadia. She instinctively knew your position as Devil’s Advocate in the celestial courts. –F.
“I told the young women in Tokyo of that. A wise child. I would not want her as a enemy.”
-You could jus’ outlast her… like we used to. -- W.
“Very funny. Now, let me play my role yet again. If your ruse works, and he has his warped faculties back, whatever sword Nadia wields, he may murder her to get to ‘his love.’ Gabrel has grown fond of her. How shall you answer to him?”
-Ah/ not very realistic, right now/ -- D.
-An’ ‘his love’? Mary Magdalene!? Come on. –W.
-Another woman we can’t see. –F.
“Have you looked?”
-First, we can’t be responsible. We’re trying to save our bro’. OK? Don’t. And Maryam of Magdala is buried in a cemetery outside Jerusalem. East of the city walls. When Petey saw the Temple burn, the night before the assassination in Montreal, he was shown the grave. –F.
-Frank/… -- D.
“A moving finger led him there. Traced a path for him, through the flames.”
-I know. –F.
-Ah… -- D.
“Did any see to whom that finger was attached?”
…
“Or to what?”
-I didn’t… -- F.
“And having written, did it not move on?”
-Frank? –D.
-What, Dave? –F.
-She isn’t/ dead… –D.
-Don’t ask me. I’m not lookin’. –W.
-It was a djinn. Wasn’t it? In the garden outside the city walls. She wasn’t really buried there, was she?–F.
“Some djinni do the Just One’s will, blessed be His name, without being asked.”

Copyright 2009 by K. G. Griffiths. All rights reserved.

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A Roman Summer, pt. 160: "A good soldier loves his duty"

We have no doubt Mikey’s blade’s as light as a feather/ the only reason why the child can barely hold it is, she understands/

“Take it—take it away from me! Give it back to the angel! Are you all crazy?!”
-SHE AIN’T GOIN’ AFTER PETEY WITH THAT, GABE! SHE JUST AIN’T—W.
“I want QUIET here!”
“Hazrat Jibra-eel, I’m seventeen years old. I can’t—“
“While I say that you can.”
-What are we going/ to do -- ? –D.
“You will listen. Nadia, the archangel Michael put that blade between Pestilence’s eyes atop the Castel de Sant’Angelo in Rome sixteen centuries ago. The Horsemen had wiped out two-thirds of the city with the plague and with mass murder. This is whom you have chosen to defend, and in Palmyra to oppose. Michael is still healing from an unfortunate recent incident; he was ordered to lend it to you for this errand. You must understand. We cannot allow Pestilence to kill you. As swordplay was never something at which you were fully trained, this is the only weapon we can allow you.”
“But in my heart of hearts I simply don’t believe that the person who helped me would—“
“He is not nor has he ever been a person. He was brought forth to harvest men, women and children, and that is all he knows.”
-YEAH! UNTIL HE WAS REWARDED FOR DOING/ HIS JOB TOO WELL! –D.
“Read not your Creator’s mind, David. Your faith in him is to be complimented, young lady. But we can take no chances. No angel can be anywhere near you when he arrives in Palmyra. He will see them, no matter how occluded he is. We will not have you defenseless. He must not find the woman and child alone; you have to attend them. No one else. I cannot guarantee that he doesn’t hear what I am saying right now… go on and take a few practice swings while I attempt to find him.”

The sword whirls in the young woman’s hands/ it and she slowly getting a feel for one another/ Gabe looks west/ a whispering limns the upper air, trending southeast

“…Your orders, then, sir…”
“Very good. After you investigate the well-being of all our ‘Michaels,’ send a request to the Consul for one month’s back issues of the Acta Urbis and any unauthorized ‘broadsheets,’ if that is the word, which are published in Rome. I’ve heard that there are quite a few, although the Consul’s lackeys keep a very complete collection of them.”
“Why so, Dominus et Deus?”
“Have a look at this passage! ‘Thankfully the medias shadowed him without mercy, and of course we kept the radio on. Scraps of his speeches, taken out of context, backed the political views of the station reporting them. Whatever it was. Occasionally the Himm lingered as if to delay us, and judgment. Fans and talking heads squawked from our dashboard of a New World, a Millennium; detractors reverted to fire and perdition and “using proper channels through which to make one’s protest known.” Days tick on. And I’ll never admit it to Willliam, but I have been keeping an eye out for a descending fist. None to be seen, but for those on the radio.’ Do you see? Someone may have written something in these ‘gazettes’ that you may be able to use. Don’t tell me what a ’radio’ is, by the way, I’m not interested. Next, pull in any soldier named William for questioning. I expect regular reports as a matter of course.”
“Dominus et Deus, if we may, let’s, let’s keep our voices down…”
“Would you not have all know of your tireless efforts on the behalf of our security
bearing fruit?”
“All things in moderation, um, Dominus et Deus.”
“Mind how you refer to Juvenal! I banished him, you recall. Only keep the correct angle to the correct target.”
“And that, that would be…”
“His ‘friend.’”
“Yes, Dominus et Deus.”
“I’ll overlook your use of that word, as you are having a trying forenoon. You have your assignment. Take that one, or this other. Conduct an investigation of your ‘assumptions,’ as I have described. Or… find out who his ‘friend’ is and kill them. Let yourself be the descending fist. In the most grisly manner possible, am I clear? Leave his, her or their bodies for the Detritus to find. If murdering a defenseless woman and her child, be it his or no, do not shatter what little remains of him, that certainly will. And your investigation, in that case, shall wind down to its proper and inconclusive end. Don’t you think?”
“I, I like it, Dominus et Deus.”
“Assuming, of course, it is inconclusive.”
“Agreed, sir.”
"Which we cannot in all good conscience do until the investigation is completed."
"...No, Dominus et Deus."
“The good soldier loves his duty, Aculus. Dismissed!”

Finally, the whisper from the northwest becomes words/ repeated, again and again/

-I go, Dominus. I go, Dominus. I go, Dominus. I go, Dominus… -- P.

“Luckily Pestilence doesn’t appear to pay attention just now. Take now a cut at this wall, Nadia -- ”

It is as if the metal heard and understood/ with an almost-practiced leap she sinks it in the concrete before her to its hilt, draws the sword again and slams it back into its sheath on her back/ the sound is one we recall too well entirely/

“I can’t believe I did that…”
-Wasn’t you at all, lady. –W.
“Partially, no. But whatever you wish that steel to do, it will do. You need only draw it.”
“And what if I don’t have to---?”
“It will not draw itself.”
“That’s a relief. Will you thank Hazrat Micha-eel for me?”
“Consider him thanked. May he be available to greet you when we reach the Holy Land. And may you too be with us when we arrive.”
“…What do you mean? Where else would I…”
“I would be lying to you if I said I know what will happen.”
“I said I’d accept my fate, and G-d’s judgement. I meant it.”
“You are a very brave young woman.”
“I… I wish you’d stop saying that, Hazrat Gibra-eel. I have never been more terrified in my life.”

Gabriel takes her hands and blesses her

“You’ll pardon me for disagreeing. We’re as ready as we’ll ever be, I suppose.”
“Francis, William, David, I won’t touch Peter if I don’t have to. I promise that.”
-Scuse us if we ain’t convinced. –W.
-All executioners are wary of their first assignment/ later, they tell me, it gets easier/ -- D.
“I won’t take another’s life unless I have to!”
-Think that all ya want. Ya won’t make it t’ 18. –W.
-We aren’t going to stand on the sidelines, Gabe. If we don’t like what we see, we will do something. –F.
“And we shall see to our answer.”
“Please believe me, you three…”
-Sorry, Nadia. That steel makes a liar out of you. –F.
“You’re to be commended for the attempt, but you’re wasting your breath. Best you and Gabriel meet Ahriman and Tiamat before they change their minds…”
“Wait a minute, who?!”
“I will explain on the way. Come, now—“

Already they are gone/ Azrael views us, clinically/ it will be a long morning/

“So it shall, novices.”

Copyright 2008 by K. Griffiths. All rights reserved.

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A Roman Summer, pt. 159: "Meaning in that which is meaningless"

“I have another thought, sir. When the Detritus returns, how will we know that they are the heads you want, and not the first beggar woman and child he encounters?”
“We will look for a wavering radiance in the dead woman’s face, and half that in the child’s. Should such be missing, I will turn him over to you for the appropriate discipline. How shall that be?”
“Acceptable, sir.”
“I am honored that my Quaestor agrees.”
“Excuse me, Dominus et Deus, no offense is intended. I have done as I should, it is yours to devise the solution.”
“Not this time, it isn’t! You thought up the errand of a man to take down every word the Filth spews. I advised against; would you also count every undigested seed that flew into the Tiber from the Roman sewers? So this dance is to your own piper, Aculus, from the start of the entertainment to the very coda.”
“Well. Isn’t that my job, sir?”
“One of many, and so noted. Supplies are also important, and you do excellent work there. But Rome will not feed those who wish her ill. I believe that I have shown you how the Detritus is walled in as if we had given him a wayward Vestal’s fate. No wonder he babbles!”
“Wait, sir—um, also, here the Gerulus writes that you noted how sometimes he mutters and sometimes he doesn’t…”
“I’ve changed my mind again on that score. Now and again madmen natter, and now and again they don’t. I wonder here that it is not you who seek meaning in that which is meaningless. One could ask how long you studied at the Academy of Philosophy in Athens.”
“Dominus et Deus, I have never been to Athens, but—“
“I ask again. Would a raped soldier not lodge a complaint?”
“Uness he liked it…”
“Exactly.”
“…You have me, Dominus et Deus. Perhaps, I’ve been hasty.”
“Have you?”
“…Sir?”
“Are you, and can we be, certain? From your transcript, this ‘Michael’ has in some way been cast aside. Check the soldiers’ rolls, inquire after every Michael we have. That’s first.”
“I will, sir. Immediately.”
“Sooner! Now let me expound on a thought; you have not spoken of how Petrus Detritus Fatuus Gothicus uses ‘we’ several times.”
“Oh, indeed, sir.”
“Which brings to mind the term ‘conspirata’, for some reason…”
“Dominus et -- !”
“You have no ideas above your rank, Aculus, of this I am aware. You do not call me Dominus et Deus for nothing. Consider the importance of your role here. You empower the Roman State to confront its potential enemies. Where there is no evidence of collusion, however mild, the State refrains to act because it is not so permitted. You have encountered a shade of a shade of a possible plot between the Detritus, one honored by his Emperor with a triumph over the Goths, and some unknown element! Possibly this is evidence of his ‘friend’! One who tastes honor often develops a need for ever more of it, you know. Such as Agricola, my best general and my father-in-law, who might have conquered all of the British Isles without waiting for me to arrive upon the island and take my share of the credit. So I had to restrain him, and as a result the Caledonians were never exterminated. A pity. As to here, some Michael or other may have objected to the conspiracy, if so it is, and have been dissuaded, or as you put it, raped by the Detritus and his ‘friend’ as a warning. Do you not now cast about and see the place to which you have led us?”
“Sir, I wouldn’t presume, but how can you be so sure that—“
“I am not at all sure. The evidence is implied. As implied as yours. This narrative that Gerulus Nihil took down; may it not be a monologue? Or is that thought at this time also not ‘germane’?”
“The evidence of, ah, ‘conspirata’ is only the shade of a shade, Dominus et Deus, you yourself just said—“
“A tint far darker, Quaestor, than none at all! This is the importance of surveillance. Where there is none, there is neither evidence nor implication. When collusion exists but is not detected, the State is powerless. Will we have that?”
“Of course not, sir—“
“Who knows. Possibly your assumptions are incorrect, and mine not so. Perhaps we are both right.”
“Dominus et Deus, you need not fear—“
“Fear, Quaestor? I?”
“Well, certainly, Dominus et Deus, every powerful man fears—“
“All but I, Quaestor. All but I. Allow again that I remind you, I am not called ‘Dominus et Deus’ for nothing. I shall fall where I fall. I’ve no control over that. Ergo I do not worry upon it. No, I fear for my soldiers and the State. They are my charges. Are they not?”
“Only one man said all those things, sir! Gerulus -- Gerulus observed no one else speaking to him.”
“Could the filth not have been talking in his sleep at that juncture? Has not Gerulus already noted a propensity on that score? The Detritus may have been recalling a meeting he’d had before you set Gerulus onto him.“
“But, but I’ve only pointed the Detritus out, I haven’t yet accused—“
“Understood. Though because the unknown element to which he refers in this transcript is not known, you see, it could be anyone. Because it could be anyone, everyone is potentially suspect. Not ‘suspect.’ Potentially ‘suspect.’ From this very situation, you well understand, accusations next spring. Begin a thorough investigation immediately, Quaestor.”
“…By the gods, what have I done…?”
“As your Emperor, it would be remiss of me to let your as yet unvoiced accusations go unplumbed. Why ought I wait for you to make them? Recall for one last instance, Aculus, that you do not name me ‘Dominus et Deus’ for nothing. One waits too long for a suspicious word, who would sport an arm’s length of steel in his ribs. We may already have lost one soldier. Very nearly an unforgivable oversight, Quaestor, because you did not speak up sooner! Who else may be injured if I do not act earlier, as opposed to later? Am I not ultimately responsible?”
…
“Dominus et Deus, would it be at all possible if we just all forgot about this—“
“Not the slightest chance in all the world.”
“How will I get information from the soldiers? They’ll resent the implication, and if they get a whiff of who I may be after—“
“Your tune to play, Quaestor. Did you not compose it beforehand?”
“The, the vast majority of the soldiers like how he does most of their work. They might—“
“Might react at odds with your investigation, especially if your punishment cripples him! Or, if they think it may. And then there is a decent minority who view him as their protector, laughable though it sounds… but again, I have been mere audience. Until you ‘pointed this out.’ And in so doing, forced my hand.”

Copyright 2008 by K. Griffiths. All rights reserved.

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The new ground rules for this page
originally posted: February 19, 2009

Time to make up your own.

Do you really insist on a rule? OK, here's the best I can do. But Barry Lopez, author of RESISTANCE and ARCTIC DREAMS said it best: "If I sit down in front of that typewriter I have to be confused. I have to be afraid of what I'm going to do."

That's it, man. Mop.

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"A good writer is an expert on nothing but himself. And on that subject, if he is wise, he holds his tongue." -- John le Carre

Exactly how interesting can the author be, anyway, when nobody has any idea where their creativity comes from or how the mechanics of inspiration works? Maybe it's something we all have access to. Maybe it's a sluice that empties into your head when you're facing in a particular direction and thinking a particular series of things. Then again, maybe not.
However benevolent inspiration really is, to say nothing of what it is, I suspect that any good fictional character is a lot more interesting than the person who dreams it up. So mine speak for me here.