EMPEROR
TIME’S TAPESTRY: 1
EMPEROR
TIME’S TAPESTRY: 1
Stephen Baxter
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Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Baxter, Stephen
Emperor / Stephen Baxter.
p. cm.—(Time’s tapestry; bk.1)
ISBN: 1-4295-0250-9
1. Great Britain—History—Roman period, 55 B.C.–449 A.D.—Fiction. [1. Romans—Great Britain—Fiction.] I. Title.
PR6052.A849E47 2007
823’.914—dc22
2006049924
Contents
Oraculum Nectovelinium
The Prophecy of Nectovelin
PROLOGUE 4 BC
Chapter I
Chapter II
Chapter III
I INVADER AD 43-70
Chapter I
Chapter II
Chapter III
Chapter IV
Chapter V
Chapter VI
Chapter VII
Chapter VIII
Chapter IX
Chapter X
Chapter XI
Chapter XII
Chapter XIII
Chapter XIV
Chapter XV
Chapter XVI
Chapter XVII
Chapter XVIII
Chapter XIX
Chapter XX
Chapter XXI
Chapter XXII
Chapter XXIII
Chapter XXIV
Chapter XXVI
II BUILDER AD 122-138
Chapter I
Chapter II
Chapter III
Chapter IV
Chapter V
Chapter VI
Chapter VII
Chapter VIII
Chapter IX
Chapter X
Chapter XI
Chapter XII
Chapter XIII
Chapter XIV
Chapter XV
Chapter XVI
Chapter XVII
Chapter XVIII
Chapter XIX
Chapter XX
Chapter XXI
III EMPEROR AD 314-337
Chapter I
Chapter II
Chapter III
Chapter IV
Chapter V
Chapter VI
Chapter VII
Chapter VIII
Chapter IX
Chapter X
Chapter XI
Chapter XII
Chapter XIII
Chapter XIV
Chapter XV
EPILOGUE AD 418
Chapter I
Chapter II
Chapter III
Chapter IV
Afterword
Place names:
Banna, Birdoswald
Caledonia, Scotland
Camulodunum, Colchester
Durovernum, Canterbury
Eburacum, York
Dolaucothi
Londinium, London
Mona, Anglesey
Rutupiae, Richborough
Tamesis, R Thames
Sabrina, R Severn
Tinea, R Tyne
Ituna, R Solway
Cantiaci River, R Medway
Gesoriacum, Boulogne
Massilia, Marseilles
Principal British Nations:
Atrebates
Brigantia
Catuvellauni
Cantiaci
Durotriges
Iceni
Ordovices
Silures
Timeline
55-54BC
Julius Caesar’s expeditions to Britain
4BC
Birth of Nectovelin
c.AD38
Death of Cunobelin
AD43
Invasion of Britain by Claudius
AD51
Defeat of Caratacus
AD60-61
Revolt of Boudicca
AD69-71
Brigantian civil war and annexation
AD77-84
Agricola’s campaigns in Scotland
AD122
Hadrian in Britain; construction of Wall begins
AD193-197
Britain under the rule of Clodius Albinus
AD208-211
Campaigns of Severus in Scotland
AD259-274
Britain under the rule of the Gallic Emperors
AD287-296
Britain under the rule of Carausias and Allectus
AD296
Invasion of Britain by Constantius Chlorus
AD306
Constantine the Great elevated in Britain
AD312
Constantine’s defeat of Maxentius in the west
AD314
Constantine raises troops in Britain for war with the east
AD324
Constantine sole emperor, Constantinople founded
AD337
Death of Constantine
AD350
Magnentius proclaimed emperor in Britain
AD367
The Barbarian Conspiracy
AD378
Roman defeat by Visigoths at Adrianopolis
AD383
Magnus Maximus proclaimed emperor in Britain
AD407
Constantine III proclaimed emperor in Britain
AD409
British Revolution; formal end of Roman rule in Britain
AD418
Excommunication of Pelagius
Note on Measurements
1 Roman foot = 0.96 modern foot = 11.5 modern inches (292 mm)
1 Roman mile = 0.96 modern mile = 1686 modern yards (1.54 km)
Oraculum Nectovelinium
(The Prophecy of Nectovelin, 4BC)
Aulaeum temporum te involvat, puer, at libertas
habes:
Cano ad tibi de memoriam atque posteritam,
Omni gentum et omni deorum, imperatori tres erunt.
Nomabitur vir Germanicus cum oculum hyalum;
Scandabit equos enormes quam domuum dentate quasi gladio.
Tremefacabit caelum, erit filius Romulum potens
Atque graeculus parvus erit. Nascitur deus iuvenus.
Ruabit Roma cervixis islae in laqueui cautei.
Emergabit in Brigantio, exaltabitur in Romae.
Pudor! comprecabit deum servi, sed ispe apparebit deum.
Ecclesiam marmori moribundi fiet complexus imperii.
Reminisce! Habemus has verita et sunt manifesta:
Indico: omnis humanitas factus aequus sunt,
Rebus civicum dati sunt ab architecto magno,
Et sunt vita et libertas et venatus felicitae.
O puer! involvaris in aulaeum temporum, fere!
The Prophecy of Nectovelin
(freely translated with acrostic preserved):
Ah child! Bound in time’s tapestry, and yet you are born free
Come, let me sing to you of what there is and what will be,
Of all men and all gods, and of the mighty emperors three.
Named with a German name, a man will come with eyes of glass
Straddling horses large as houses bearing teeth like scimitars.
The trembling skies declare that Rome’s great son has come to earth
A little Greek his name will be. Whilst God-as-babe has birth
Roman force will ram the island’s neck into a noose of stone.
Emerging first in Brigantia, exalted later then in Rome!
Prostrate before a slavish god, at last he is revealed divine,
Embrace imperial will make dead marble of the Church’s shrine.
Remember this: We hold these truths self-evident to be–
I say to you that all men are created equal, free
Rights inalienable assuréd by the Maker’s attribute
Endowed with Life and Liberty and Happiness’s pursuit.
O child! thou tapestried in time, strike home! Strike at the root!
PROLOGUE 4 BC
I
It was a hard day when Brica’s baby, Cunovic’s nephew, struggled to be born, a hard, long day of birth and death. And it was the day, Cunovic later believed, when the wintry fingers of the Weaver first began to pluck at the threads of the tapestry of time.
The labour began in the bright light of noon, but the midwinter day was short, and the ordeal dragged on into the dark. Cunovic sat through it with his brother Ban, the child’s father, and the rest of his family. In the smoky gloom under the thick thatched roof, Brica’s mother Sula and the women of the family clustered in the day half of the house, uttering soothing words and wiping Brica’s face with warmed cloths. The watchful faces of the family were like captive moons suspended within the house’s round walls, Cunovic thought fancifully. But as the difficult birth continued Ban grew quietly more agitated, and even the children became pensive.
The druidh was the only stranger here, the only one not related by blood ties to the unborn child. The priest was a thin man with a light, sing-song accent, which, according to him, emanated from Mona itself, the western island of prayer and teaching where he claimed to have been born. Now he wandered around the house and chanted steadily, his half-closed eyes flickering. No help to anybody, Cunovic thought sourly.
It was old Nectovelin, Cunovic’s grandfather, who lost his patience first. With a growl he got to his feet, a mountain of muscle and fat, and crossed the floor. His heavy leather cloak brushed past Cunovic, smelling of blood and sweat and fat, of dogs, horses and cattle, and he limped, favouring his left leg heavily, an injury said to be a relic of the war against Caesar fifty years ago. He stalked out of the house, shoving aside the leather door flap. The other men, who had been sitting quietly in the house’s night half, stood stiffly, and one by one followed Nectovelin out of the door.
When Ban himself got up Cunovic sighed and followed. Nectovelin was old; he would be the great-grandfather of the child being born tonight. But all Cunovic’s life it had been Nectovelin with his size and power and legacy of youthful combat who had led the family, and especially since the death of his only son, father of Cunovic and Ban. So it was tonight: where Nectovelin led, others followed.
Outside the night was crisp, cloudless, the stars like shards of bone. The men stood in little groups, talking in low voices, some of them chewing bits of bark. Their breath-steam gathered around their heads like helmets. The dogs, excluded from the house tonight, pulled at their leashes and whined as they tried to get to the men. Even in the frosty cold there was a rich moistness in the air; this was an area of wet moorland.
Cunovic spotted his brother standing a little way away from the others, at the edge of the ditch that ringed the little huddle of houses. Cunovic walked over, frost crackling under the leather soles of his shoes.
The brothers stared out into the stillness. This little community, which was called Banna, stood on a ridge that looked south over a steep-walled wooded valley. There was no moon tonight, but starlight glinted on the waters of the river at the foot of the cliff, and Cunovic could make out the sensuous sweep of the shadowed hills further south. This was the home of the Brigantian nation. In the morning you could see trails of smoke spiralling up from houses studded across a landscape thick with people and their cattle. People had been here a very long time, as you could tell from the worn burial mounds that crowded this cliff edge, amid tangles of ancient trees. But now there was not a light to be seen, for the houses sealed in their light and warmth like closed mouths.
Cunovic waited until his brother was ready to talk. Ban was only twenty, five years younger than Cunovic himself.
‘I’m glad you’re here,’ Ban said at last. ‘I could do with the company.’
Cunovic was touched. ‘I know I’ve been away a lot. I thought we were growing apart—’
‘Never.’
‘And besides, I’m not much use. I have no children of my own. I haven’t been through this, not yet.’
‘But you’re here,’ Ban said solemnly. ‘As I will be for you. I suppose you miss the comforts of your travels. On a night like this a dip in a pool of steaming water would be welcome.’
Cunovic grunted. ‘Don’t believe everything you hear. The king of the Catuvellaunians has built himself a bath house. He paid through the nose for a Roman architect to design it for him. But the traders from Gaul say that to them it’s no more than a muddy hole where you’d let your pigs wallow. Not that they would say such a thing to the king’s face, of course.’
That made Ban laugh, but Cunovic was uncomfortably aware that some of the Latin terms he sprinkled in his conversation, unthinking–architect, design, even paid–meant little to his brother.
Ban said, ‘But you got away. You’re making a success of your trading. Doesn’t it feel strange to come back? You’re a grown dog returning to the litter, brother.’
Cunovic looked around at the sleeping landscape. ‘No,’ he said simply. ‘In the south they have fussy little hills and valleys, so jammed in together you can’t see past the next brow. The soil is clogged with chalk. The summers are too hot and the winters too muddy. And you don’t get nights like this,’ and he took a deep, cleansing breath of the ice-laden air.
‘Ah.’ Ban smiled. ‘You miss Coventina.’
Coventina was the goddess of this place. You could see the curves of her body in the swelling of the hills, her sex in the green shadows of the valleys. ‘Yes, I miss the old girl,’ Cunovic admitted.
He was startled by a loud snort, close by his ear. It was Nectovelin. ‘Home you call it. But you weren’t around to help with the building of the new house, were you? I think we know where your heart is, Cunovic.’
II
Nectovelin had a way of sneaking up on you. Despite his bulk and his limp he could move stealthily, and he always stayed downwind. He still ha
d a warrior’s instincts, Cunovic thought, grooves like wheel ruts cut deep into his personality that told more about Nectovelin’s past than all his boasts.
It always hurt Cunovic that this impressive man, his grandfather, seemed to think so little of him. ‘You’re wrong about me, you know,’ he said. ‘Maybe I didn’t put my back into building the house, but the gifts I sent home helped pay for it, didn’t they?’
Nectovelin hawked and spat. ‘You talk like that bowel-creasing druidh. But words are as dust. Look at what you are! You wear a woollen tunic like your brother’s, but your face is smooth, your hair brushed–even your nostrils and ears plucked, if I’m not mistaken. The house of your body shows what you aspire to be.’
Cunovic took a step closer to the old man, a deliberate challenge, and Nectovelin stiffened subtly. ‘And you’re a hypocrite,’ Cunovic said softly. ‘I don’t recall you turning down my silver brooches and my amphorae of wine, with which only yesterday you bought five head of cattle from Macha, that other old curmudgeon from the valley. You may not like it, grandfather. It may not be like the old days. But this is the way the world works now.’
Nectovelin glared back, as still as a wolf, his face a mask pooled with shadows.
Ban came to their rescue. He stood between brother and grandfather. ‘Not tonight, lads. I’ve got enough to deal with.’