Empire Of The Undead Read Online Free Page B

war presents some glory.”
    “No it doesn’t, and make no mistake about it,” Rufus said, “there is no glory in that kind of war—only endless campaigning, sleeping in mud, freezing your testes off. No, that post is not a treat. Not to mention that it’s inherently unfeasible. No man alive could defend that long a border against a nomadic people. No, Plautius, this is political suicide.”
    “What will you do?” his aid asked.
    “Do?” asked the Senator. “I’ll do whatever the Emperor tells me, and I’ll do it happily. It’s not all gloom—I’ll be far away from the sea, for one.”
    “You don’t have a plan?” Plautius asked.
    “For once, no. If I had a month or two to plan, I could perhaps exert some influence. However, whether it could reach Vespasian or not is any fool’s guess, but it’s a moot point—my amicitia¸ my allies, are all dead or retired. It would take time I don’t have to change that.”
    “I see,” Plautius said.
    At that moment, the slave woman arrived. She was an attractive Celt, with long ringlets of hair and fine features. She smiled, somehow managing to look both vulnerable and lewd.
    Rufus looked pointedly at his aid, and the lanky man took the hint. Seconds after he was gone, Rufus dropped his toga and began kissing the woman. He couldn't smell the sea anywhere. It was good to be back in Rome, no matter how shortly-lived it was to be.
    ****
     
    In his dreams, he was still on the ship, still on the island, still captured by the past. Waves tossed him, whilst he was jostled by the harsh stones found on the road between Otia and Rome. Behind it all, the vast amphitheater grew until it blotted out the very sky.
    He awoke with a start, still in his court clothes, and realized a servant was before him.
    “You have a visitor, Senator,” the servant said.
    Rufus yawned largely, and stretched like a lion. The curly-haired Celtic woman slept soundly next to him. He frowned. She should have left while he slept. Too late now. She would have to be disciplined. “Send him in,” he said. For the servant to have woken him, it would be someone important. Then again, he had an Empire of important people to speak with. He dressed quickly, knowing that he looked more disheveled than he would like.
    A very tired Domitian entered. Rufus looked at him more closely. The Emperor’s youngest son had become a man during his absence. He was tall, and his head reached a good hand higher than Rufus. His eyes were large and intelligent but he squinted a little in the dim light. Even at two-and-twenty, his hair was beginning to recede. Like his father, he’d be hairless before he turned thirty. Also like his father, he was very direct.
    “I'm taking your place,” he said, without preamble, as he sat upon a plush bench. “I'm going to the war.”  Domitian was blushing, but this Rufus remembered. The man’s cheeks were frequently red, though no man knew why.
    “That is very kind,” Rufus said. He was at a loss for words. He’d been out of the game too long, and his instincts were dull. His inner voice was still drowned out by the roaring of the sea.
    “It is no kindness, and you know it. I need to know the men. Father became emperor because his men knew him and loved him. Titus led the assault on Jerusalem and has many triumphs coming for subduing the Great Revolt. It is my turn. Besides, you have no place out there, and the Dacians would string you up within a week of your arrival.”
    “What you say is sound,” Rufus said. He couldn’t deny such accusations. “Yet, your father—”
    “I've spoken to him already. He needs you here, and he knows it. You'd be wasted building forts and watchtowers on that muddy river.”
    “My skills are at the discretion of the Emperor, of course,” Rufus said. This boon so after the disappointment of his meeting left him unsettled. “I spoke earlier out of surprise and fatigue.”
    “He knows it, and I know it. Moreover, I need to escape