Empress & Soldier, Chapter 21, part 1
In which Eudekia becomes an Empress.
Find the table of contents/links to earlier chapters here.
AFTER THE CEREMONY—a blur of words and ritual—Philitos and I left the temple, hand in hand as tradition required. An open carriage awaited us for our procession through the city. My father had worried about that: with the unrest, he’d argued, we would be vulnerable to attack. But bread was free for all the ten days of the celebrations, and the streets well guarded. Quintus had been adamant that the people must see us, or they would feel cheated and even angrier, and Philitos had agreed. I understood, but as I stepped up into the carriage, I was clumsy with fear.
Philitos had told me of the riot in Oppelorium, the fire set by angry men. “I was safe enough,” he’d said, at my expression of horror. “But too much of a beautiful city burned.”
We began to move, proceeded by dancers and acrobats, and images of gods and emperors pulled on carts. Directly before and behind our carriage the horse archers rode, mounts and riders alike gleaming, leather and metal polished, coats groomed to a shine. They weren’t just for show: the women, my official guard when I moved about the city, were deadly with their bows. The horses, too, intimidated. Their presence made me feel just a little less afraid.
The crowd cheered and shouted, whistled and clapped, I kept my head high, my lips in a smile, my fingers tight on Philitos’s hand. Guards lined the streets, keeping the people back. As we passed they pounded spears against the pavement, hailing their Emperor. Philitos saluted his troops, but he never let go of my hand.
But still I was relieved when we reached the palace, and we could leave the carriage and enter its vastness. Somewhere above us were the rooms that would be ours. I would see them briefly now, Philitos told me as he led me into the entrance hall. Just long enough so I could refresh myself, but then we would go straight to the imperial seats overlooking the Arénas, where the games commemorating our wedding would begin.
Matea was waiting for me. I’d insisted she accompany me to the palace as my personal maid. I wanted a familiar face, someone I knew and could trust. Someone I could be myself with. If she was overawed by the space and decoration of the rooms, she didn’t show it. She showed me to the latrine, wrapped a robe around me so I could wash my face and hands without splashing my gown, tidied a loose lock of my hair, all as calmly as if we were at home. Then she brought me wine, only slightly watered. I drank gratefully.
Somewhere else in the palace my father and grandmother were receiving similar refreshment. They would join us in the imperial box to watch the display, the dancers and riders, acrobats and fighters. Ten days of games, although Philitos and I were only expected to be present today and for the final afternoon. Ten days of games and free bread, to distract the people from the problems that beset Casil.
A light knock sounded on the door. Matea opened it, immediately dropping to a knee. “You need not, in our private rooms,” Philitos told her. “But leave us now, please.”
I had risen as he came in. He strode across the room, holding out his arms. I went into them, breathing in his scent, leaning against his strength. His lips found my neck, and then my mouth, an urgent, insistent, kiss.
I pulled away, laughing. “We can’t. There isn’t time.”
“There is all the time we wish,” he said. “We are the Emperor and the Empress, my Eudekia. The world waits for us.”
He pulled me to him again, his hands finding my breasts through the heavy gown. We hadn’t waited for the ceremony, but taken the opportunity granted to all dignitasi to ensure our mutual compatibility. My grandmother had encouraged it, saying that learning to be an Empress and learning to be a wife at the same time was far too much—and she’d been right. What I had discovered with Philitos would have distracted me from focusing on any other duties, and I would have appeared as empty-headed as Ennaia.
“Come,” he said now, his voice hoarse with wanting, and led me through to the bedroom. I faced him. “You are supposed to untie the sash of my gown,” I reminded him. Another ritual.
“Must I?” he murmured, but he dropped to his knees to untie the complex knot. The sash fell. He kissed my belly through the silk, his hands travelling down my legs and back up on my bare skin, higher, finding my buttocks. I gasped.
“Dress off,” I managed to say. I had to be seen in it later. His hands slid upward, lingering on my breasts before easing the gown over my head, careful of the pearls and jewels entwined in my hair. He draped it over a stool, then turned back to me, already pulling his own tunic off.
He was so beautiful. The Heræcrian vases had been less of an exaggeration than I had expected, but after the first time I’d had no apprehension. Our bodies had merged as if meant for each other. He picked me up. I wrapped my legs around him, welcoming his hardness. Two steps to the bed—and then there was no space for thought or time at all.
“Matea will have to do my hair again,” I murmured, after my body’s spasms had slowed and stopped. We’d have to wash, too. Separately, or we’d never leave the room.
~
Matea gave me a knowing smile when I called her back to me. I did my best not to blush. No comment was offered from the others, gathered in an anteroom near the imperial box. Philitos was right: the world waited for us.
We stepped out onto the high, roofed platform overlooking the Arénas, hand in hand. Horns sounded. The crowd below and around us shouted approbation. Together we saluted the people, and they responded. To most we could not be more than distant, glittering figures. But the masses, placated with games and bread, were in a mood to rejoice with their newly-wedded Emperor. Suddenly, faced with the immense number of people lining the stands, I was glad of that. If they turned against us…
A disquieting thought on this day of celebration. We stepped back to take our seats. Servants pulled the ropes of fans rhythmically, creating a welcome breeze. Beside and just a little behind us, sat my father and grandmother, and Philitos’s other two advisors, Quintus and the general Genucius. On the sands the dancers and acrobats finished their display. The crowd’s noise increased in anticipation of the fighting soon to come.
Quintus cleared his throat. “Emperor.”
“Yes?”
“May we discuss the food supply?”
“Quintus,” my father said, “not now.”
“This cannot wait, Varos.”
“It can, Fiscarius.” I’d never heard my husband sound so cold. “The Empress should be allowed to enjoy the games. As should her grandmother.”
“There are ten days of games,” Quintus argued.
“But we are only present today and on the last day,” Philitos said. “Later.”
Like what you read? Donations for my local foodbank are gratefully received.
Find all my books at https://scarletferret.com/authors/marian-l-thorpe
Free books! Including A Divided Duty, an introduction to my imagined world and some of its characters. Here, until May 17th, here until May 26th, here until June 2, 2025. and here until July 17.