It was time, at long last. Helen had been working for months to bring about this moment; months of quiet conversations and implications, months of lying to her husband about where she had been, months of fearing the moment when she would inevitably be discovered. But no discovery had taken place. And now she stood in silence, flanked by her supporters, ready for the final push. She took in a deep breath and looked to those who followed her.
On one side stood Hagar and Arakhu. Hagar, Second Quartermaster, had been the first and most loyal of Helen’s assistants in this long endeavor. It was through his vast array of contacts within the bureaucracy of the Exarchial Palace that Helen had found many of the others who would go on to aid her. Indeed, it was he who had inspired this whole course to begin with, going to her instead of to her husband when he needed guidance on a military matter.
High Priest Arakhu was quite the opposite. Helen had met the man in the course of her coalition-building; the two had been strangers, and could not be more opposite. She was young and noble and Macarian; he was old and wrinkled and would rather die than surrender any fraction of his allegiance to Philgeonia. He was, in some senses, a miracle: a fervent anti-Macarian who had shrewdly avoided being purged in the aftermath of the Temple Revolts, but who still held firm to his revolutionary spirit.
On the other side was Alam, son of Seluku, and Theodorus, son of Theodosius. In social position they were quite similar, being both wealthy men of aristocratic means and some prominence within Philgeonia, but in role and character they could not be more different. Alam looked far younger than he truly was, with a wiry build and a beardless face, and yet above all else he was a warrior. He, like Abderus, had come to prominence during the siege of Eunon, and afterwards had ended up taking a high position within Philgeonia’s military. Theodorus, on the other hand, looked every bit the ideal of a man of about forty, broad-chested and with a curly beard. His family was of Macarian blood and lived on a vast estate out in the countryside, but had heavily Philgeoniized over time, even taking on aspects of Philgeoniai religon.
Helen had selected these four men carefully, as representatives of every aspect and faction within the Exarchate, proof that what she was about to present was not merely her own whim, but the will of the people. She finally let go of her deep, meditative breath, and with gusto she pushed through the double doors before her.
On the other side lay a small lounging spot. There was no other word for it: it was too large to be a balcony, with too many couches and tables and other things, but the entire far wall was open to the air. This was where Helen had been told that Abderus could be found; and sure enough, there he was, enjoying the first hint of warm wind that heralded the arrival of spring.
At the sound of the doors opening, he turned. His expression lifted as he saw Helen… and then turned to confusion when he saw who it was that accompanied her. “Helen?”
“Hello, my love. I am sorry that it has come to this.”
Helen drew upon everything she had learned about projecting power. Eyes straight, speak from the lowest part of her vocal range, move her hands carefully without folding them. She crossed the room slowly, not thinking about the others behind her. Her eyes had to be entirely upon Abderus.
The Exarch’s confusion was turning, increasingly, to fear. He took a step back, hands flexing and relaxing as though searching for something to hold. Something like a blade.
“And what is this that you are sorry it has come to?” He glanced to the side. “Alam? Arakhu? What could possibly have brought you two onto the same side, and the same side as my wife no less?”
“The need for action is the same,” Alam said, “even if the motivations are not.”
“He is still Philgeoniai,” Arakhu said. “Even if he was deceived by our overlords, he can be redeemed.”
“My husband… your inaction has gone on for too long. Our Emperor, the man to whom you swear allegiance, has gone mad with power. He slays his own successors in fits of paranoia, he commands his soldiers to slaughter his people in the streets, he consorts with witchcraft and foreign magic.”
“Not to mention the betrayal he committed nine years ago, allowing the Temple rebellion to slaughter the people of Eunon merely so that he could play the hero.”
“Precisely, Alam, thank you. This cannot be allowed to stand. I cannot allow it to stand.”
Abderus’s brow wrinkled, and his eyes grew shiny. “What do you propose, then? War?”
“Yes!”
“We would be slaughtered,” Abderus said. “Philgeonia’s sacred soil would be stained forever red from the amount of blood that would be spilled. Everything I have built would be destroyed.”
There was a genuine grief in Abderus’s voice, unutterable in its intensity. Helen’s heart throbbed with sympathy. But if she wanted to assuage that fear, that sadness, that horror, she could not give in and soothe him like a child. She had to continue in her course.
“No, my love. Do you not understand? Look, really look at who has come with me: Alam is in the army; Theodorus is from the rural gentry; Arakhu is a temple loyalist; Hagar is part of the staff of this very palace! In every wing of the populace, revolt is supported. Last time, it was brother that turned against brother, Philgeoniai fighting each other. But now that Peleus has shown his true colors, Philgeonia can march on the capital united!”
Abderus wiped at his eyes with one brawny forearm. “Is it true, what she says?” he asked Alam.
“It is, my Exarch. Philgeonia has the largest share of the Empire’s limitianei, and more of the Emperor’s own comitatenses come from here than from any other exarchate. Were we to march on Chrysopolis, we would begin with a grand army, and only gain more recruits as we went.”
“The Temples can supply coin for arms,” Arakhu added. “And if we put out the call for volunteers, many will listen.”
“And certain loans can be made available from the coffers of myself and my friends,” Theodorus said.
“It can be done. Even the Senate agrees with you! They have revoked Peleus’s accolades! Anyone who marches into Chrysopolis will be greeted as a liberator.”
Abderus pondered. He paced the room back and forth, half-paralyzed, as though the conversation had suddenly caused bruises to open up at every one of his joints. Helen allowed him his pondering, though the sore spot in her heart yearned to do otherwise; she felt that she was close to success, and if she did not press Abderus too harshly, he might be brought into agreement with her.
Then, all of a sudden, the Exarch collapsed, falling to his knees with a great cry of anguish. At once, the bands around Helen’s heart shattered, and she rushed forward, falling to her knees as well as she wrapped her arms around him. Abderus did not dare to sob, but tears spilled down his cheeks regardless.
“I cannot do it,” he moaned. “War, war… I cannot, not again.”
Helen understood. This was, unfortunately, something that she had no choice but to be prepared for; so she continued to hold him, slowly helping Abderus to return to his feet. They stood together, her face pressed into his chest, until she had the strength to do what needed to be done.
“Then I shall do it without you,” Helen said.
It took a moment for Abderus to comprehend. “What?”
“If you are not willing to begin this war, then I shall do it without you.”
Alam drew the sword that had been sitting at his belt from the very instant he walked into the room. Theodosius rolled his shoulders, ready for a fight as well.
“I have the backing of the army, the bureaucracy, the nobility and the temples,” Helen said. “While the backing of the Exarch would make this simpler, Alam or Theodosius would be just as good an Emperor as you. I don’t need you for this, Abderus.”
The Exarch stiffened, his shock turning slowly to cold, calculating knowledge. “You would overthrow your own husband?”
“No, not overthrow. Merely… go past. I would never let them harm you, my love, that I swear.”
Abderus squared off his shoulders, the sadness fading from his visage to be replaced by will. For a moment, Helen was afraid that he was about to fight back, even if it meant his death.
“No.”
“No?”
“You say that there will be a revolt, regardless of whether I agree to lead it or not? Then I gain nothing by stepping aside. No amount of excuses will prevent Peleus from taking my head, are we to lose; better, then, that I lead from the front, and show Chrysopolis that I am not one to be easily crossed.”
Hagar, so silent up until then, cast his head back and laughed. “There’s the man I swore to serve!”
Helen was momentarily relieved, so much so that she grabbed Abderus by the face and kissed him there and then. She had never liked the idea of forcing her husband onto the sidelines, placing him into a soft imprisonment so that she could carry out Shirrin’s orders on her own. For a moment, just a moment, she allowed herself to drown in the exhilaration of contact.
It was afterwards that the repercussions sank in, the true understanding of what she had done, how deeply she must have hurt him. That evening, she devoted herself to him like she hadn’t in months, trying to bury the wounds under spousal affection. It appeared to work, but Helen didn’t believe the beauty, not really. In the morning, Helen gathered together all of the reports and summarized the state of the rebellion to Abderus, while the Exarch of Philgeonia hunched over his writing desk and composed his declaration on a wax tablet.
Once Abderus was on side, matters progressed with startling, unsettling rapidity. The speech came within three days: thousands of the folk of Eunon gathered to watch as Abderus laid out his case. Every single one of Peleus’s sins, real or imagined, was laid out in one terrible list, until every listener felt personally wronged by the Emperor’s total depravity. Only one way out remained: rebellion. Abderus, who had risen from nothing to be Eunon’s savior when Peleus had abandoned it, was the only man righteous enough to take his place.
With the news out in the open and Abderus’s seal on all of the missives, the army rapidly fell into one column. Conscripts from the border with Sarrania poured in, swelling the numbers of the vast host pointed at the capital city. With coin and promises supply lines were built, vast quantities of bread and other foodstuffs loaded onto carts and into packs. The purge of those who opposed rebellion was swift, decisive, and effective, and Abderus’s decision to restrict the punishment to confiscation of arms and properties was lauded as merciful.
It took less than three weeks before the army of the rebellion was on the march. Helen, as the true organizer who kept all the disparate factions together, went with them. It was time for the triumphant mole to return home.
It was not a particularly safe homecoming, of course. There was absolutely no doubt that Peleus would have learned of the rebellion; Abderus had done little to keep it a secret, and there was really only one course of action after one had announced oneself the new Emperor. Abderus would form up an army, and he would march on Chrysopolis. The question was, how would Peleus respond? If he was confident, he could simply prepare for a siege, relying on Chrysopolis’s walls to destroy the invaders. But if he felt that that was too likely to fail, a riskier approach would be to send out his own army and attempt to intercept them somewhere along the way.
Thus began the game of wits. There were only a limited number of paths by which one could transport an army from Eunon to Chrysopolis. If Peleus chose one path to defend and Abderus chose another path to attack along, then Abderus would arrive at the city unimpeded. If Abderus wished to hedge his bets, he might divide his army and arrive only somewhat weakened; but if Peleus did the same, then many separate battles would be fought, and the loyalists would win them all. And so on and so forth.
For once, Abderus truly was in control. Helen was an intelligent woman, intelligent enough to understand the calculations at play, but generalship was not merely a matter of knowing. Generalship was a matter of training and instinct. To defeat the opponent meant intuiting the opponent, understanding his mindset, predicting based on only the barest information how he would be most likely to act and moving to counter that action. These instincts were ones which only a veteran could develop.
So it was that Abderus refused to divide his army. They moved as one, a single vast column of forty thousand troops going up the northern road. Each day was an act of faith, the whole vast assemblage caterpillar-ing along in the hope that this day would not be the day that they found the enemy in front of them.
Helen felt herself to be surrounded by terror, drowning in fear of impending death, but she had never been amidst a war-camp before. Abderus was quick to assuage her.
“Ha! Trust me, my love. I know what it looks like when an army has lost hope. All soldiers feel fear: if they truly did not believe that victory was at hand, then we’d be fighting a hundred desertions a day. There are some days where we only have one desertion reported! Do you know how rare that is in an army of this size?”
Helen needed her spirits lifted, and Abderus’s gallows humor often sufficed. The march on Chrysopolis was the busiest she’d ever seen him, so there was little time for much of anything else than joking over meals. The constant busywork of packing and unpacking her supplies, the attentiveness required while riding a horse, all of these things made for decent distractions.
Everything stopped dead when the fog arrived. It was not unheard of that there would be inclement weather during the spring months, especially not so close to the shore of the Sea of Dolphins, but the fog that arrived was like nothing Helen or Abderus had ever seen. It rolled in overnight, as normal, but once there it refused to leave, resolutely resisting the efforts of the sun to burn it away. The fog was so thick that visibility did not extend from one end of a tent to the other, and the idea of continuing to move under such conditions was laughable.
Then the next day arrived and the fog still had not dissipated. True fear struck the men for the first time in the campaign, whispers of divine disfavor, or that this was the work of the Emperor’s pet witch. The latter possibility, at least, Helen knew could be dismissed; but it remained the case that the fog was a severe impediment. The region where the army had camped was rapidly running out of its ability to keep them fed, and every day which passed was another chance for Peleus to learn their location.
But the fog still did not relent. That evening, as the sun sank toward the horizon, the mood in the rebel camp was truly dire. Abderus and several of his officers spent the entirety of dinner arguing fervently about whether they should attempt to continue marching forward, and if not how long they could afford to remain. Even though the days of motionlessness were the most bodily rest Helen had had in weeks, she still retired to her own den with a headache.
And discovered a black-clad figure waiting for her, reclining on the edge of Helen’s bed. Helen shrank away, momentarily terrified that she had been discovered by an Imperial assassin. Then, through the fog, she recognized the face of the one sitting before her, and all tension and fear immediately left her body.
“I knew you had it in you,” Shirrin said with a happy smirk.
