"David Drake - Belisarius 3 - Destiny's Shield" - читать интересную книгу автора (Drake David)

(edited with Billie Sue Mosiman)

BAEN BOOKS by ERIC FLINT
Mother of Demons
1632




Prologue
It was the Emperor's first public appearance since he had been acclaimed the
new sovereign of Rome, and he was nervous. The ambassador from Persia was
about to be presented to his court.
"He's going to be mean to me, Mommy," predicted the Emperor.
"Hush," whispered the Empress Regent. "And don't call me 'Mommy.' It's
undignified."
The Emperor stared up at the tall imposing figure of his new mother, seated on
her own throne next to him. Meeting her cold black eyes, he hastily looked
away.
His new mother made him nervous, too. Even though his old mother said his new
mother was a good friend, the Emperor wasn't fooled. The Empress Regent
Theodora was not a nice lady.
The Empress Regent leaned over and whispered into his ear:
"Why do you think he'll be mean to you?"
The Emperor frowned.
"Well -- because Daddy gave the Persians such a fierce whipping." Then,
remembering: "My old daddy, I mean."
The Emperor glanced guiltily at the figure of his new father, standing not far
away to his right. Then, meeting the sightless gaze of those empty sockets, he
looked away. Very hastily. Not even his real mother tried to claim that
Justinian was a "nice man."
Theodora, again, hissing:
"And don't call the Empire's strategos 'daddy.' It's not dignified, even if he
is your stepfather."
The Emperor hunched down on his throne, thoroughly miserable.
It's too confusing. Nobody should have this many mommies and daddies.
He began to turn his head, hoping to catch a reassuring glimpse of his real
parents. He knew they would be standing nearby, among the other high notables
of the Roman court. But the Empress
Regent hissed him still.
"Stop fidgeting! It's not regal."
The Emperor made himself sit motionless. He grew more and more nervous,
watching the stately advance of the Persian ambassador down the long aisle
leading to the throne.
The Persian ambassador, he saw, was staring at him. Everybody was staring at
him. The throne room was packed with Roman officials, every one of whom had
their eyes fixed on the Emperor. Most of them, he thought, were not very nice
-- judging, at least, from sarcastic remarks he had heard his parents make.
All four of his parents. The scurrilous nature of officialdom was one of the
few subjects they did not quarrel about.