My Beautiful Life Page 5

  IT WOULD BE relatively easy, she told me. She’d been giving it serious thought, on and off, for some time, and she knew how it could be done. The problem had always been finding someone to help her.

  Last time she’d seen the Emperor, he was pretty fit and hearty for a man of his age. But old men have weak hearts, everyone knows that; and old men don't listen to their doctors, who tell them to take it easy, not eat this, lay off on that. The Emperor liked to take a morning swim in the big indoor pool, heated by Underground hypocausts, he’d had built in the South Wing. He’d splash up and down, revelling in the freedom from his steadily increasing weight. And generally he was alone, with guards no closer than the doors outside.

  She showed me how to brew foxglove flowers to extract the medicinal essence. Useful, she said, because it stimulates the heart if it should happen to stop; a life saver. But you know what they say about too much of a good thing.

  When I told Nico I’d do it, he laughed. Of course you will, he told me, you’re a good boy, and it’s the only way we can be absolutely safe. I’m not doing it for you, I told him. Don’t talk stupid, he said, of course you are. He didn’t believe me. I don’t know why.

  There was a lot of planning involved; Nico saw to it, of course. The problem, he said, was who we could trust. He had people who’d do anything he told them without a moment’s thought, but he didn’t trust them further than he could spit. Which left the three of us. And Edax—we looked at each other and decided, no. All right then, Nico said, it’s you and me. And everybody in the palace knows me, so you’ll have to do quite a bit of the actual running about.

  First, he had me reassigned back to the Emperor. That wasn’t hard for people to believe, since people said Her Majesty used up her pretty young men quite fast (people say a lot of things, don’t they?) After I’d been there a few days, the Cupbearer General had a terrible accident. A loose tile fell on his head, and he died. There was a vacancy for a new cupbearer. I got it.

  Nico, I said to him, what the hell did you have to go and do that for? He told me it really was an accident; the tile was meant to break his collar bone, but the man I used was a fool, it’s so hard to get good help these days. I believed him, or I chose to believe him. Next time, I said, for crying out loud hire someone competent. There won’t be a next time, he said. We’re nearly there now, home and dry.

  (ON ONE CONDITION, she’d said.)

  I looked at her. What?

  She looked at me back, then did one of those oh-for-crying-out-loud sighs that women seem to specialise in. All right, fine, she said. In years to come, how do you think the history books will describe us?

  That wasn’t something I wanted to think about. Murderers, I said. Traitors. The most evil man and woman who ever lived.

  She shook her head. They’ll say, the empress and her lover. But you aren’t, are you? Not yet.

  Like I said, I have this problem with physical contact. I like you a lot, I said, more than any woman I’ve ever known. More than any man, come to that, outside of my family. But—

  It’s the deal, she said. Either we’re in this together, or we aren’t.

  (By that point, it was too late to back out. Nico had told me that, when I’d asked him, the day before, if we couldn’t just forget about the whole thing. We can’t, he said. Why not? You and your damned questions, he said. Because I’ve started Cratylus on a course of slow poison—I couldn’t use a quick one, he’s got a food-taster— and when he dies, not if, when, all hell is going to break loose. And if by then you’re not the emperor, we’re all three of us dead. Capisce?)

  We’re in this together, I said, I promise you.

  Well then, she said.

  When all else fails, be honest with the people you love. And I did love her, at that moment, under those circumstances, on that anvil. I’ve never done it before, I said.

  You’re kidding, she said; and then, Oh well. Late Starters, both of us. But you’ll soon catch up.

  It was awkward, the first time. She told me what I had to do, and I remember saying, Are you sure? And she gave me a look that would’ve killed slugs. Yes, she said. Actually, the first few times were a mess. But after that; after that, I fell head over heels in love with her. Still am, to this day.

  THE FOXGLOVE POWDER was in a little bottle, which she gave me. I took it down to the Stables and showed it to Nico. He unstoppered it and gave it a sniff. That’s the good stuff, he said. She really made it herself?

  I nodded.

  She's a clever lady, Nico said. Then he pulled a ring off his finger. It was a big, broad ring with a fat stone. I hadn’t seen him wearing it before. He didn’t do jewellery, or any of that stuff. Watch carefully, he said, and did something I couldn’t see, and the stone popped out and hinged back. Plenty of space in there for six grains, he said, which is all it’ll take.

  He made me put the ring on, and practice flipping the tiny catch till I could do it without looking down. Then he filled it with powder and snapped it shut. Be careful, he said. That’s nasty stuff you've got there.

  Are you sure that’ll be enough? I asked.

  Trust me, he said. I’m your brother.

  IT HAD TO be done, Nico had told me; because the Guardian had been out to get him for a long time, ever since he’d risen to Count of the Stables. Why? Because the Guardian was afraid of him, the same way the rabbit is afraid of the fox, and so he’d resolved to kill him or disgrace him, preferably both—that’s how the Service works, Nico told me, predators and prey. He'll destroy me unless I destroy him first. And if I go, so will you, and Edax. And all of this has been about you, right from the start. And then he got impatient with me. Come on, he said, it’s the last step, and then we’ll be safe. We’ve come so far, ever such a long way from the village, and if we stop now we’re all dead men. He looked at me. Is that what you want? Nico said. Do you want to see me and Edax flayed alive in the Square and our heads on pikes? No, sorry, you won’t see that, because your head’ll be up there too. Is that really what you want?

  IT WAS HIS heart, the doctors said, though the immediate cause of death was drowning. He’d been found floating face down in his private pool, the one I told you about. There was nothing anyone could have done. It was his own fault, the doctors told her privately. He ate too much of the wrong sort of food, never took any exercise, it was simply a matter of time. He could have gone at any moment over the last two years.

  I was waiting at the foot of the North Tower stairs when she came down. We both knew exactly what had to be done. Nico had made me repeat it, over and over again till I knew it by heart; I’d told her and she didn’t need any of it repeated. We were to go directly to the Purple Chamber, not stopping, not saying a word to anybody. There would be a company of guards waiting for us outside the Tower, in the little quad; if anyone tried to stop us, their orders were to use their swords, flats for choice but edges if needs be. But that shouldn’t happen, because Nico had called a meeting in the Ivory Chapter, to announce the death of the Guardian of the Orphans. So we ought to have the place to ourselves, he said, and he was right.

  We got to the Purple, and there was the abbot of the Studium, with the precentor and a half-dozen other priests I didn’t recognise. First we were married, and then she sat me down on the throne and put the crown on my head and the lorus round my shoulders. Then she sat down beside me, with her own crown and lorus; I got the sceptre and globe cruciger, and the Sword of State across my knees, while she got the labarum and the golden acacia. And that, Nico had assured us, was all we had to do. Just leave the rest to him.

  So we sat and waited, and the distinguished clergy men stood about, because there didn’t seem to be any chairs for them. Sweat was running down my face in streams, but she just sat there with a sort of faraway look in her eyes; and I remember thinking; in my dream it was Edax instead of her, but of course I didn’t know her back then. And otherwise, it’s pretty much the same. This is why, the dream said. After about ten minutes
of just sitting, she carefully put down the labarum [still looking straight ahead, not at me) and took the globe off me and put it down somewhere, and took my hand and gave it a little squeeze.

  Then the doors flew open, and I remember feeling the sort of sharp stitch in my guts that you tend to get when you’ve eaten too much fried food. And all these men came in; men in black robes, and soldiers in armour. I looked for Nico but I couldn’t see him. Oh well, I thought, and I’d have prayed, only there wasn’t time.

  Then a side door I hadn’t realised was there opened, and in came Nico. He was wearing this ridiculous cloth-of-gold thing that trailed along the ground after him, and there were a dozen steel-necks in full parade armour behind him. And I noticed that they had weapons, and the ones who’d come in earlier didn’t. In fact they weren’t proper soldiers, just generals and admirals in uniform. And Nico turned to face us, and bowed deeply, and all the people I didn’t know followed suit, and that was that, basically.

  NICO HAD STITCHED it all together quite beautifully. He’d framed the Guardian by transferring about two million acres of government land into his name, using a whole load of shell corporations and stuff like that; his death was presented to the imperial court as suicide. Found in his cold dead hand was a letter (Nico had a wonderful forger; he had him killed afterwards, just to be safe, but he said it was a dreadful waste) confessing that he’d embezzled public property and been found out by the Count of the Stables—Nico—and fear of arrest and execution had driven him to murder the emperor and empress, using a decoction of foxglove, and seize the throne. But the empress had eluded his clutches, thanks to the interference of her equerry, and he knew the game was up, so he’d taken the easy way out, and may the Invincible Sun have mercy, etcetera.

  My part in it all (according to Nico’s Version, which became the official version, which is by definition the definitive truth) was rather dashing and romantic. I’d grappled with the assassins sent by the Guardian and hurled them from the top of the Tower into the moat below—that was a nice touch, wasn’t it?—whereupon the Empress, in an access of magnanimous gratitude, had married me on the spot. Now, there could be absolutely no doubt that she was the old emperor’s daughter—the only one available for secular duty, her elder sister being a Bride of the Sun—and therefore by indisputable right the empress. And there was no doubt whatsoever that she’d married me, because here were eight of the leading churchmen in the empire to bear witness. And the empress’s husband was the emperor. So simple, even a child could get it. After all, the idiot Apsimar had only been emperor because he was married to Princess Bia, and now he was dead, and she had a new husband. Well, then.

  It’s because it was done quickly, Nico told me later, and because I pinned everything on the Guardian (Nico was Guardian now, needless to say) and it made people feel like there’d been an attempted coup that failed, rather than an attempted coup that succeeded. Also, the people love her, because of her dad, and they reckon she’s been hard done by, and in their minds she’s still twenty-one and pretty as a picture, and all the stuff about me fighting off the assassins and her marrying me out of sheer gratitude was pure fairy-tale and so they loved it. And it doesn’t hurt that there’s absolutely nobody else, not unless we want a civil war.

  THIS IS WHY, said the dream. And you’ve probably noticed, I have a habit of asking, Why? Used to drive Nico mad; it doesn’t matter a flying fuck why, he’d yell at me, just do as you’re told; and I did, because he was my big brother and he loved me. Why isn’t something you say to those who are bigger and stronger than you are, and who have your destiny in their hands, and who love you without limit or reserve.

  Like that story in Scripture—my favourite—where He sends all sorts of affliction down on His most faithful and loving servant; and the servant asks, why? And He says, For reasons you couldn’t possibly begin to understand. Where were you when I laid the foundations of the Earth? He says, and what the hell do you know about anything?

  Which is a good answer, sure enough, except it’s always niggled away at me, like a bit of crab meat stuck between my teeth. And so I keep my speculations to myself, except He can read my mind.

  But He’d been good enough to explain, though, hadn’t He? This is why; clear as daylight, except it was in a dream. But I don’t ever remember my dreams when I wake up, and I remembered that one. This is why. And I'd started it, by praying to Him, twice, and twice He’d answered me, and rescued me out of the hands of my enemies. True, there’s Nico’s point. But all that goes to prove is that He made the messes that He later got me out of. Why? Why indeed. And what the hell do I know about anything?

  This is why. He put me on the imperial throne—me, the last person in the world to expect or deserve it—and therefore He had to have a reason. I wasn’t entirely sure I understood, but that didn’t matter. I’m too stupid to understand, I accept that. I don’t understand trigonometry either, but I have absolutely no doubt that it’s valid and true. I believed. I trusted. I had no choice but to believe and trust, because it was as plain as the nose on my face.

  He’d put me there; not, obviously, as an end in itself, but as a beginning. I was there to do a job. For that job, he’d chosen me, just as Nico chose me to be Apsimar’s cupbearer. So, what was it about me that made me the right man for the job? Think about that.

  I had no ambition to be emperor. The pleasures of the flesh, for want of a better word, had never meant much to me (what you’ve never had, you don’t miss). Most of all, I knew that He existed and had put me there to do the job that He wanted. As far as any mortal man could be, I was empty of any kind of selfish thought or motive—

  Well, not quite. But I’d have to be.

  I loved my wife, and I loved my brother. And both of them were murderers, traitors, regicides. Me too, of course. But He hadn’t chosen them to be his Instrument.

  It won’t come to that, I thought. And then I dropped to my knees and clasped my hands together so tight my fingers hurt, and I prayed; Don’t make it come to that.

  BIA AND I stayed in the throne room for the rest of the day, mostly because we couldn't be sure it was safe anywhere else . Then Nico came back and told us to go to bed. Fortunately she remembered the way.

  The royal bedchamber was smaller than I’d expected; very plain, almost dingy. It used to be Daddy’s room, she explained, and when Apsimar wanted to change it she’d thrown a dozen fits, and he’d given in to stop her making a scene. When he’d banished her back to her tower he’d moved to the apartments in the Pearl Cloister, with his mistress du jour. He couldn’t fuck properly in the old emperor's room, he used to say, he always felt like the old devil was in there, looking down on him and scowling.

  She sat down on the bed and took her shoes off. They’d been killing her all day, she said. I found a chair— there were two in the room—and sat down opposite. What now, I said.

  I don’t know, she answered. I guess it’s all up to that clever brother of yours.

  I took a deep breath. I want to be a good emperor, I said.

  She looked at me as if I was mad. Is that right?

  Yes, I said. Nico says Apsimar was a bad emperor. He says he’s ruined the economy and wasted huge amounts of money, and the farmers can’t afford to pay their taxes, and there are thousands of people starving in the City because of the corn monopolies, and the Robur are going to attack because he stopped paying the tribute. He says unless something’s done, the empire will fall.

  She shrugged. I don’t know much about politics, she said. But I think people always say that sort of thing. And sometimes it’s true and sometimes it isn’t. And you never know which it is at the time, because everything always looks the same. At least, it does in the palace.

  Nico should know, I said. And he told me things are very bad.

  She didn’t look particularly interested. You be a good emperor, then, she said, if that’s what you'd like.

  I’m serious, I said. She gave me one of her looks. Y
ou clown, she said. It’s not up to you. You’re just— and she stopped. What? I asked her. Never mind, she said. Look, why don’t you just leave everything to your brother? He’s a smart man, anyone can see that. He wouldn’t have got where he is today if he wasn’t the smartest man in the empire.

  Then Nico came in, without knocking, and sat down on the bed, right next to her. That went off all right, he said, you both did very well. Now, listen carefully, I haven’t got much time.

  And he told us what we had to do, which wasn’t very much; show yourselves in the throne room immediately after Matins, stay there till noon, then ride in an open carriage to the White Shell temple for Low Mass, then down to the Arsenal to bless the new flagship of the fleet, then back to the throne room for afternoon petitions; here’s what you have to do about those—and he gave Bia a piece of paper. He can’t read, he told her, but that’s all right, just give him a nudge, once for yes, twice for no. Then there's a reception for the Mysian ambassador, which is basically just sitting still and looking royal, then dinner and the rest of the day’s your own.

  YOU’VE GOT TO get rid of her, Nico said.

  I’d avoided being alone with him, but he knew the palace routine. He knew, for example, that her majesty took a bath, in asses’ milk and honey, at a certain time every other day, and I couldn’t very well follow her in there, because she didn’t like me watching while she was patched up and maintained, which took a long time and a large staff.

  No, I said. I love her.

  He had that look on his face. No, he said, you don’t. And besides, it’s ruining everything.

  I don’t understand, I told him.

  He sighed. You look ridiculous, he said. A young man, not much more than a boy, and an old woman, holding hands, in public. People are starting to make jokes about it.