Smoke & Mirrors. Harry Sidebottom

      

      Harper

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      First published in Great Britain by HarperCollinsPublishers 2017

      Copyright © Harry Sidebottom 2017

      Cover layout design © HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd 2017

      Cover photographs © Shutterstock.com

      Harry Sidebottom asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work

      This short story is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it, while at times based on historical events and figures, is the work of the author’s imagination.

      All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins.

      Ebook Edition © April 2017 ISBN: 9780008248369

      Version: 2017-03-23

      Table of Contents

       Cover

       Title Page

       Copyright

       I

       II

       III

       IV

       V

       Afterword

       About the Publisher

       I

      The Legionary Fortress of Castra Regina on the Danube

      The Day before the Kalends of January AD236

      ‘Money! We must have more money!’ The great white face of the Emperor Maximinus Thrax gazed down from the throne. The frightful grey eyes looked at each of the three Senators in turn.

      ‘The barbarians have overrun the Province of Dacia. The Governor is besieged in Sarmizegetuza. If the town falls, the Province is lost. We will have to march through the winter. Half the men have no boots, the others are lacking weapons and armour. The recruits need to be equipped and trained before the thaw. It all costs money.’

      None of the three councillors in the small chamber spoke.

      ‘The rich live in luxury, sleep safely, because we campaign and fight on the frontiers. They waste their time with catamites and philosophers, indulge themselves with unspeakable vices. Not one of them understands duty, or makes any sacrifice for the safety of the empire. Order them to make a contribution. The gods know, they can afford it.’

      Again the grey eyes swept over them. It was a dreadful idea, but Honoratus was not inclined to venture an opinion. The Emperor did not care for any obstruction, and already in these first ten months of his reign his terrible rages had become legendary.

      ‘Increase the taxes on the extravagances it seems civilians cannot live without. Silks, spices, gems – raise the duty on goods crossing the eastern frontiers. Put up the tax on the sale of slaves. Introduce a levy on cook shops. Let the idle plebs learn to cook their own porridge like a soldier.’

      Incense-laden smoke from the sacred fire on the small altar drifted up to the ceiling. There were hangings over the windows, and other braziers burning. The room was still cold. Outside the river was frozen.

      Vopiscus cleared his throat, and fingered something hidden under the neck of his tunic. ‘My Lord …’

      ‘Don’t My Lord me! Give me an answer!’

      Vopiscus gripped the concealed amulet.

      Honoratus wondered if the superstitious fool really thought no one knew that, like a child, he wore a small gold representation of a phallus to ward off evil.

      ‘I said before the full imperial council that such measures would cause widespread unrest.’

      ‘And I said before, Who cares about a few civilians? What can they achieve?’

      A certain colour was coming into the face of Maximinus. It was not a good sign.

      ‘In the long term nothing, Emperor. But any revolt, even the most ephemeral and doomed, must be crushed. It might demand your presence. As you most wisely say we must clear the barbarians from Dacia, and then return to campaigning against the Germans next summer.’

      Vopiscus might be superstitious, but he was far from a fool. Perhaps, Honoratus thought, it was the amulets and oracles that gave him the courage to stand up to Maximinus. Certainly it took nerve to contradict the Emperor.

      Maximinus frowned. ‘Then we must explore new options. All the towns in the empire raise their own local taxes. What the town councillors do not steal, they squander on fripperies like baths and porticos and theatre shows. We take these revenues for the military treasury.’

      Now Vopiscus was silent. His resolution appeared to be exhausted, the supernatural giving him no more aid. Honoratus looked at Catius Clemens. The latter avoided making any comment by blowing his nose. The hypochondria of Clemens was a useful tool. There was nothing for it, but Honoratus himself must speak.

      ‘Emperor, no doubt much of the money is wasted. Yet such an unprecedented measure would create discontent across the empire. The provincials would follow any pretender who promised to revoke the order. The barbarians would pillage and burn across the frontiers, while we rushed here and there to put down one usurper after another.’

      Maximinus sprang from the throne. The three Senators flinched. The Emperor glowered down at them. Maximinus was a huge man, his very size intimidating. He was wringing his powerful hands, as if throttling an invisible opponent.

      ‘You are educated men.’ The Emperor made it sound like