Purple and Black Read online

  That's how I know it was him, Nico. Proof positive.

  I sat on a biscuit box in that dismal bloody shed, and I read it. It was like he was sitting next to me, talking, moaning, complaining, looking for an argument, soaring off on crazy flights of extrapolation and speculation. He was furious at being ill; of all the bloody stupid things, he said. He was determined he wasn't going to die. Then he started to wonder; what if I am going to die? Then he was scared stiff, and then he was angry again. He tried to calm himself down—it doesn't matter, he said, nothing matters, viewed objectively one life is utterly trivial. But he couldn't accept that. All the memories, the knowledge, the perceptions, the experiences stored inside a man's head, all wasted in the time it takes a heart to stop beating. It was the waste that appalled him. What a ridiculous way to organise things, he said; a man spends his whole life learning, acquiring information, both on his own and as part of a collective. Just when he's starting to get somewhere, the bucket's tipped out and all the good stuff is poured out onto the ground. He had a lot to say about that. He said that of all the evils in the world, of which there were rather too many for his liking, the greatest evil of all was love; it's sheer spitefulness to allow mortals to love, because everybody dies, but the love they cause to be in others doesn't die with them. Therefore love is the cause of the greatest sorrow, therefore love is the greatest evil.

  I think I know what he meant.

  I know why he never got in touch with any of us after the war. He was so angry about being conscripted. The last thing he wanted was to be a soldier. He didn't want to have to march all day in sopping wet clothes and sleep on the damp ground and eat garbage and get dysentery and do demeaning physical labour and get ordered about by men who weren't fit to clean his shoes. He didn't want to kill anybody, and he most definitely didn't want to die. But, being Gorgias, when it became obvious that there was no getting out of it, he determined to do his very best, if only to show the ignorant rubbish around him how much better than them he was. He tried really hard. He was determined to get promoted, to make sergeant at least; but he didn't, and that really hurt him, because he wasn't good enough, and in the end he knew it. That really depressed him. In the battle, he only survived by pure fluke. He was livid that a savage stole Eudocia's ring; he tried to fight for it, but the savage punched him in the mouth and (here's a typical Gorgias phrase) he was left with no alternative but to fall over. While he was in the prison ship, he more or less gave up. He lay there in the dark trying to remember as much as he could of the first book of the Bessaid, but he could only remember the opening thirty lines; so he said them to himself over and over again, until they lost all traces of meaning. When they finally let him go, he made a conscious decision that he was through with everything from his past life. He'd betrayed himself and us, we'd betrayed him, the whole world, everything he'd valued and put his trust in had failed him and let him down. As far as he was concerned, he'd died at Thanatta. He made up his mind to walk to the monastery at Eschate—mostly, I think, because it's a very long way away; as and when he got there, he'd pull himself together and decide what to do next. He made it four-fifths of the way; and then he got ill.

  That's how Gorgias died, Nico. And that's why I couldn't bring myself to tell you, or send you his journal. That Gorgias, of all people, died angry and afraid and in despair; I had to read that book, Nico. I didn't see why the rest of you should have to.

  Well, there you have it. I've got a team of clerks making copies of the journal (I'm not going to risk the original in the mail, not even your infallible Imperial couriers). I suppose I was wrong to try and keep it from you all. I'm sorry.

  Lamachus won a battle against the insurgents. I enclose a copy of his report. He did a great job and things are going really well.

  *

  His Divine Majesty Nicephorus V, brother of the invincible Sun, father of his people, defender of the faith, emperor of the Vesani, to Phormio, governor of Upper Tremissis, greetings.

  His Majesty commends the courage and diligence of General Lamachus.

  I see. Thank you for telling me. Thank you, I suppose, for not telling me. I guess I've only got myself to blame.

  The trouble with this job, with all the power and the resources and the ability to actually get things done, is that you start believing you can fix things. You see an obvious injustice; fine, you stretch forth your Imperial hand and there, you've fixed it. The economy's in a mess. So, you summon the people who really control it, and you make sure that on their way to your office they're taken past the guard-room and the dungeon and the place I told you about where the very bad people work, and then you tell them to get it sorted out, and it gets sorted out. You're disgusted at the poverty in the Naranite Quarter; you send in food, you start up public works to provide employment, problem solved. You think the new wing they've built onto the Goldsmiths' Hall is an eyesore and shouldn't have been allowed; ten days later, they're carting it away in big skips. Job done.

  But you never fix any damn thing. The obvious injustice turns out to have rather more to it than you first thought. You make them fix inflation, you get a run on the banks. Your public works mean you've got to jack up taxes, and small businesses go to the wall. And everybody liked the Goldsmiths' new wing except you, and you had it pulled down. The more you try and make things better, the more you end up looking, sounding and acting like the Government.

  I thought I could fix the Gorgias problem. Either I'd find him alive, or at least we'd know for sure what happened to him. Result; more misery, more unhappiness, which you tried to spare us.

  My illustrious ancestors and predecessors in this ridiculous job used to have themselves made into gods. Some of them actually believed it, and I always used to wonder how that was possible.

  How can you believe you're immortal, all-powerful, equal of the invincible Sun, when you've got a toothache, or when you're wiping your arse? But I understand better now. After all, I tried to bring the dead back to life, and look where it got me.

  Oh well. Looks like it's still just the five of us after all.

  *

  General Theophano Lamachus, commanding the auxiliary forces in Upper Tremissis, to His Divine Majesty Nicephorus V, brother of the invincible Sun, father of his people, defender of the faith, emperor of the Vesani, greetings.

  General Lamachus begs His Majesty's indulgence far the grave breach of protocol which this letter represents. In his defence, he pleads the potential seriousness of the allegations herein contained.

  General Lamachus has been given to believe that His Majesty has been making enquiries concerning the whereabouts of Dr Gorgias Bardanes, late of the University of Anassus, formerly a fellow-student with His Majesty at the said University. General Lamachus further understands that Governor Phormio has assured His Majesty that the said Gorgias Bardanes died in Parcys on the seventh day preceding the Ides of Trionalis.

  General Lamachus begs to inform His Majesty that this is not the case.

  Furthermore, General Lamachus has compelling evidence, acquired during the course of his intelligence operations relating to the current insurgency, that the said Gorgias Bardanes is closely involved with the said insurgency, possibly at the highest level. General Lamachus annexes hereto duly notarised copies of witness statements taken from suspects questioned by him in which said witnesses state, without prompting or coercion, that the said Gorgias Bardanes is involved with the said insurgency. The said witnesses are in custody and can be forwarded to His Majesty at any time.

  General Lamachus makes no accusation against Governor Phormio, but begs to suggest to His Majesty that the said Governor Phormio should be questioned by His Majesty or his agents concerning his knowledge of and dealings with the said Gorgias Bardanes.

  General Lamachus begs to remind His Majesty that he loyally served His Majesty's late father, now restored to the Divine Element, for twenty years, and it is General Lamachus' dearest wish that he be permitted to serve His Majesty with the same loyalty,
sincerity and total commitment for as long as His Majesty shall please to employ him in any capacity whatsoever. General Lamachus is aware that in making allegations that might potentially be interpreted as detrimental to the honour of Governor Phormio, he risks His Majesty's grave displeasure. Should such allegations prove to be unfounded. General Lamachus submits himself willingly and penitently to His Majesty's mercy, should His Majesty see fit to bestow it.

  *

  Phormio, governor of Upper Tremissis, to His Divine Majesty Nicephorus V, brother of the invincible Sun, father of his people, defender of the faith, emperor of the Vesani, greetings.

  It is with great regret that Phormio begs to inform His Majesty of the death in combat of General Lamachus. The general died bravely and with honour in the act of leading his troops into battle, and the engagement was successful.

  He was a steelneck, and besides killing people his only interest in life was dirty books. That said, damn.

  They made a surprise attack on the wall. At least, that's what they thought they were doing. He was there waiting for them, again, and we made a real mess of them. They'd already broken and were about to run; Lamachus saw an opportunity to cut them off and led the charge in person. But something went wrong; he and his guards got there just a bit before the main force, he was surrounded and killed. Once our men realised the general was down, they more or less lost interest, and the bad guys got away. Even so, we killed sixty-two of them and caught another dozen. I don't know if they realise they got Lamachus; I think they probably do, and if they don't they soon will. How much of a setback this will prove to be, I don't know. Damn it, he was making real progress. He made fools of them twice; a few more times and I think they might lose their nerve. Well, it's up to me now.

  Listen to me. It's getting so I'm afraid to go out in the rain, in case my neck rusts.

  I don't know who you'll choose to replace him. I do believe we need a fighting general up here. But it's got to be someone we can control.

  *

  His Divine Majesty Nicephorus V, brother of the invincible Sun, father of his people, defender of the faith, emperor of the Vesani, to Phormio, governor of Upper Tremissis, greetings.

  His Majesty acknowledges Phormio's report concerning the death of Lamachus.

  Enclosed herewith, please find a letter. I got it two days before your last report. You can keep it; I don't want it back.

  Phormio, what the hell are you playing at?

  *

  Phormio to Nicepborus

  I have a confession to make.

  Yes, he was alive when I got there. I honestly thought he was dead. But no, he was sitting up in bed, bitching at the nurses. He was bored, his head hurt, the bedlinen was a disgrace, the food was rubbish. Hello Gorgias, I said.

  He told me what had happened; Thanassa, and afterwards. All more or less what you'd been told, except for one thing. He was on his way up here to join the insurgency, with a view to taking it over.

  What the hell do you want to do that for, Gorgias? Well, he said, I've had a lot of time to think, and I've come to the conclusion that it's got to go. What's got to go, Gorgias? The empire, you idiot. It's all got to go. Pull it all down and start over.

  Don't talk stupid, I said, that's Nico you're talking about. I know, he said, and then he grinned—you know how he grins when he's really upset about something. If it'd been anybody else, he said, I'd probably be able to let it go, I'd just give up on everything and go somewhere, get a job, die. But Nico's betrayed us. He's gone back on everything we agreed.

  What are you talking about, I said. He scowled at me, like I was stupid. Everything, Phormio, he said. Everything we talked about, everything we decided on, everything we agreed, back in Anassus, when we were still thinking straight. And then he pointed to his coat and told me to look in the pocket, and there was the book.

  You remember the book, Nico. It's in your handwriting; proceedings of the board of inquiry into the condition of the world. He made me give it to him, and then he leafed through and found the place. Then he made me read it out loud.

  You remember the bit, Nico? It goes—

  Proposed by Nicephorus Tzimisces; that all power (political, military, economic) is an abomination; that Mankind is addicted to servitude through long use, but is capable of surviving without it; indeed, can only survive if the addiction is broken; that all and any means are justified in the struggle against power. Further proposed by Nicephorus; that in the unlikely event that he should succeed to the Imperial throne, he would immediately dissolve the Empire and give power back to the Senate, subject to an overriding agenda to disband the standing army, grant self-determination to the provinces, break up the major trading corporations and put in place all measures necessary and expedient to reduce power and government to the absolute minimum necessary, until such time as Humanity is ready to do without it altogether. Put to the vote and passed unanimously.

  Come off it, Gorgias, I said, we were just kids.

  He looked at me. You don't mean that, he said. And I thought about it, and he was right. Then he took the book back, and found another bit. Remember this?

  Proposed by Phormio; Man is born free. As soon as he is born, he is subjected to authority; that of his parents, his educators, the government. Each submission to authority diminishes him, so that as the body grows, the soul withers. He learns away his freedom, his divine essence, until the day comes when, fully educated in the skills of the slave, he denies all his potential, forswears everything he might have done or been. Proposed, therefore, that the members of this board of enquiry shall make a solemn undertaking to remember this moment, when they could still see clearly, and to acknowledge that on this day, at this moment, the seventeenth hour of the sixteenth day after the Calends of Triptolemon in the fifth year of the Emperor Actis IV Tzimisces, being one thousand, two hundred and fifteen years from the foundation of the city of Vesa, they agreed and declared that the following precepts were unalterably and unequivocally true; that power is the greatest evil; that evil must be resisted; that compromise is betrayal; that the fight must never end. Put to the vote and passed unanimously.

  I looked at him. I did say that, didn't I?

  He nodded. And Nico wrote it down in the book, he said. Look, there it is, in his truly terrible handwriting.

  I shook my head. Fine, I said, you look at it. That's kids talking, Gorgias. Notice the unique blend of cockiness, pomposity and ignorance that identifies the voice of youth. So when I was nineteen, I wanted to abolish the Empire. Big deal. When I was eleven I really wanted to be a cavalry captain. I made a promise to myself that that's what I'd be. But I grew up, I said to him, and I'm not bound by that earlier undertaking, and I'm not bound by this, either. Idealism is like spots and wanking; it's a phase you go through, and then you grow out of it. But he just looked at me and shook his head. It's me you're talking to, he said. I know you better than that.

  And you know what, Nico? He was right.

  God, we were pompous in those days; and cocky, and very, very ignorant. We'd read a few books, thought we'd understood them, thought we could see so much more clearly than our stupid parents and grandparents and a million generations before them. Like the kid who wanted to be an explorer, so he set off from home and after half an hour he came to a place he'd never been to before; so he said to himself, I've discovered a new country. But.

  They trained me in logic, rhetoric, analytical thinking and adversarial disputation. Somewhere there's a bit of paper with a seal at the bottom that says I'm fully qualified in the above; so it's hardly surprising I can win arguments, even against myself. I can win this argument any day of the week. But that doesn't mean a bloody thing. If I close my eyes and ask myself, were we right or not, and I only give myself one heartbeat to answer, the answer's got to be yes, we were right. We were stupid kids, but we were right.

  You should've seen the smug look on Gorgias' face, Nico. I hat look.

  It hasn't been easy. The main thing was to play
for time. Gorgias has been raising money for the cause (I'm sorry, but I can't tell you where from) and building an army. The little piddly raids and bits and pieces he's done so far are really just training exercises, though they served a more important purpose; to get you to send me an army of my own. It was a bit of a blow when I found that Lamachus came with it. Gorgias (he learned it all from the Book, would you believe; you and I read it too, but he understood it. I always knew he was the clever one) played it quite well, I think. He let Lamachus have his victories, to get his blood up, make him feel good. Then he and I laid the trap; or rather, we let Lamachus lay the trap, and we tweaked it a bit. All I had to do was transfer one lieutenant (one of our people) to command the company that should've backed Lamachus up, but didn't. I regret that. I regret all the dead, on both sides. My trick with the barrels of wire was actually genuine—I didn't even tell Gorgias what I was doing until afterwards, because it had to be perfect or it wouldn't have been convincing. And you were convinced, Nico, and that was all that mattered.

  It's a comedy, isn't it? In order to eradicate the evil of the misuse of power, I've been misusing power like few people in the history of the world. Wicked of me, but it's got to be done. Of course, I couldn't have done it without your help. You gave me everything I needed. I now have a field army large enough to march on the Gity. I have supplies, equipment, the very best; my troops are the only regulars in Imperial service who have boots that are younger than they are. Thanks to your generous funding for the wall project, I have the money to pay them, plus a HS 500 incentive payment (I think that's what your father used to call it)—in other words, I've bought them, in the traditional manner. Five hundred down, another thousand each when we've won the Empire. You were kind enough to send me the best troops in the army. Even if any of the steelnecks are minded to fight for you, which I'm inclined to doubt after your really quite savage attacks on their pay and privileges, with my army and Gorgias' forces, we can take them all, one at a time or all together. Please therefore accept this as my formal declaration of war. Sorry, Nico.