N - Maps That Tell LiesA Chapter by BL'The old and forgotten
fire has smothered itself in heaps of ash and is only showing dim orange embers.
More wood is needed to keep it going. So will you go out into the night and get
some dead wood, please? It is not too far to the edge of the forest where the
lightning struck, but be careful there are wolves lurking there and they know
that people come,’
[][][][]
‘I seem to spend
all my time looking at maps. The maps that will lead me through these strange
times of exploration. Maps that add more mystery than enlightenment to our
cause, as they are so vague and full of gaps and edged by sudden endings, they
make things ever worse not better. Maps that tell lies as they contradict from
one distant source to another far more remote one; I don’t trust them and I
don’t like them. To compound this frustrating situation there are strange little
messages from all around the known world that disturb our own secure and
settled one, that I only can try and believe and include and make provision
for.’ Emperor Cicero said impatiently, pulling away from the huge wooden map
table, that he had had specially constructed.
‘You and I both,
Sir,’ his aide, Julianus said quietly, his words barely audible.
‘It’s all right
for you, you bear none of the responsibility, it’s all a game to you that you
can watch as a spectator,’ Cicero shouted. He looked momentarily at the rough
pentagonal shape of Gaul, took a large gulp of wine and roughly wiped his mouth
on his white silken sleeve making it a blurry red. ‘If this all goes wrong I
could be for the chop,’ He stared down, with a serious glower, his brow
furrowed, overshadowing his dark brown eyes. His arms were wide as he rested on
one side of the map table, his hands in fists, he was lost in his own thoughts.
Ironically he looked like a god glaring down on a small and insignificant
world.
‘I answer to you,
do I not?’ Julianus said.
‘Yes,’ Cicero
said, looking at him briefly, to catch his mood
‘Which is
something of the greatest importance, there can be no higher position…’
‘…and I treat you very
well and you know it,’ Cicero said interrupting, swinging his goblet at
Julianus, sloping some of the contents on the tiled floor. ‘Am I not a
forgiving boss?’
You are, Sir. Yes,
you are,’
‘And there are too
many scrolls, too much is written down these days. It needs to be in people’s
heads not on paper so that it can be understood, but no one can possibly
remember it all.’
‘No,’ his aide
agreed. Cicero glowered at him, looking perplexed. He stood up straight, giving
him his full attention. ‘I mean yes and no. It needs to be studied,’
‘I know what you
mean, Julianus,’ For a while two sets of eyes looked down at the map, scanning
it over from one country to another. The map itself that sat on the large
wooden table was a paper-mache model of the known world, with Europa dominant
and large at the centre. The surrounding lands and continents took up the edges
and ended suddenly and squarely where the table stopped and were distortedly
small as little was known about them as they had not been fully explored. The
top of Africa was to the south of Europa, at the bottom of the map table and
Asia to its east, on the right hand side, neither had any landmarks. In the far
top left was the lonely island country of the land of Ice. The simplified land
masses were painted olive green and brown, with white mountain ranges and
bright blue rivers. Thin strips of yellow depicted the beaches in places and
the sea was painted crudely a sapphire blue.
‘Sir?’ his aide,
Julianus asked, paying close attention to the emperor’s mood and not sure
whether to respond or not.
‘Every map or
scroll I see tells a different story. It’s difficult to know what is real, even
the spies are in contradiction,’ he said more loudly, focusing his voice in Julianus’s
direction.
‘The information
we have is the most up to date and collaborated, we have never had a better
view of the known world. Our spies are well trained and versed in foreign
affairs and customs,’ Julianus said giving the official line of commonly spoken
propaganda. Cicero looked at him dismissively and sneered and then looked
blankly at the line of the three silent and stern looking generals. They stood to
one side of the side of the room in the positions they had been ushered to, each
holding a decorative war helmet neatly under his left arm, leaving his right
arm free to hang loose over a sheathed sword. A soft breeze blew in from the
many pairs of open doors that lined the room on three sides and it gave a sudden
welcome coolness. It ruffled the curtains and danced in the braziers that hung
on the high stone walls, making the flames grow larger and more ragged. Seeing
the generals seemed to stir Cicero as he knew they were waiting on his orders,
his eyes lingered on them a while and then they returned to Julianus waiting
for him to finish as he seemed to have a lot to say. ‘All our foreign agents speak
more than two languages including the language of the country they are assigned
to,’
Cicero nodded at
him, but his thoughts were elsewhere.
‘All troops will
meet in Lyon,’ he announced across the room, his voice echoing off the hard marble
walls and as he did he moved forty small wooden blocks to a black circular mark
in southern Gaul. His advisors looked on with uncertainty, their faces going
white. ‘All troops to Gaul, to Lyon, no matter where they are now. I want all
of our front line troops on this operation, our best, I want this job done
right, does everybody understand?’ he shouted drunkenly and aggressively
leaning on a wooden cabinet at the side of the room, his body swaying. There
was a silence. ‘I said, does everybody understand?’ he said with a wiry thin,
forced smile. The generals seemed unmoved by what he was saying.
‘Yes Sir’ they
mumbled over each other quietly. As they did he lolloped forward and dramatically
scooped up a silver tray with three wax sealed scrolls on it from the edge of
the map table and approached the first of the them. He stood squarely, briefly
imitating a soldier standing to attention himself.
‘Portus, you will
feel the heat on your back,’ Cicero said prodding him in his muscular chest and
then slapping the red ribbon bound scroll at his flat armour plated stomach. He
stared, waiting until he got a response. ‘Everyone will know this is the
easiest of the tasks, but it’s no disrespect to you,’
‘Yes Sir,’ Portus
said taking the sealed scroll of orders. Portus looked down and smiled knowing
he had got Spania, a country most similar to their own. Cicero moved along the
line, smiling and shaking his head at the same time.
‘Severus, you have
the biggest and most difficult of all the three tasks. I want you to go to
Briton. Here are your orders,’ He looked Severus straight in the eyes and then
let his eyes linger on the tall and broad general, who was the most experienced
and successful of the three. At the age of nearly forty Severus was officially
entitled to a military retirement. ‘It will also be the longest campaign,’
‘Yes Sir, to the
letter,’ Severus replied in an official tone. He weighed the scroll in his hand
and noticed it was thick and heavy, the parchment was spiralled inside itself
and long as though there were more than one set of orders.
Then Cicero stood
in front of Lucius, the last in the line. ‘Pack your furs,’ The Emperor said
slapping the scroll into the general’s chest with sharp force.
‘Yes Sir,’ Lucius
replied indifferently knowing he had got the middle option of the three.
‘Any questions?’
Cicero asked sweeping gregariously back to the map table
‘When do we
march, Sir?’ Portus asked.
‘Unless you want
to go in the middle of the winter, it will be at the first of spring, when else?’
Cicero replied, breezing away from them to a large open doorway that faced a
high view of Rome. ‘Make ready all the men under your command, read through
your orders carefully as I know you will and when you are assembled in Lyon we
will make our next move,’
‘Why Lyon?’
Severus asked.
‘To keep them
guessing. No one will know what we are doing, they can’t because I don’t know myself
yet,’ the calm faces of the generals lifted a little, but their eyes searched
for more logic. ‘Lyon is on the way to all three places. Dismissed, thank you,’
[][][][] © 2022 BLFeatured Review
Reviews
|
StatsRelated WritingPeople who liked this story also liked..
|