The Emperor and the Angel
The Emperor Cornelius was generally loathed. He did, of course, have his supporters, mostly an excitable and reactionary rabble, plus, of course, those sycophantic power-mongers who recognized a political advantage in supporting him. But Cornelius was not well-liked among the majority of the everyday populace: the working and middle classes, the artisans, the well-educated. There was, in addition, a general perception, not without evidence, that he had been installed as Emperor with the covert assistance of foreign powers which had traditionally been considered inimical to the State. And yet the people, for better or for worse, had little choice but to accept Cornelius’ rule.
The Emperor was a hard man, and a crude one. He was egotistical in the extreme and this, coupled with his insatiable avarice and utter lack of moral values, posed a very real threat to the citizens of whom he was the titular head. His policies favored the rich and hurt the poor. His policies tended to isolate the nation from its traditional allies. His policies resulted in crumbling infrastructure, weakened financial institutions, hunger, homelessness, ill health, and a general lack of national morale. And yet, the Emperor was the Emperor, and who could change that?
Cornelius was closely protected by a tightly-knit group of Imperial Guards who accompanied him everywhere he went. Even during his most private moments — bathing, relieving himself, consorting with the Empress (and others) — they were always posted just outside the door, within easy earshot, and always prepared to defend him without hesitation with their own lives. History had taught that Emperors could be assassinated, and over the years protocols had been established to minimize such tragedies. Every member of the Imperial Guard was trained, tested, and thoroughly indoctrinated. The Emperor himself, as well as his family, his advisors, and his closest associates, never had reason to question their loyalty, which had been proven on many occasions.
It was on days of great public celebrations that the Guard were at their most heightened state of alertness. It was on just such a day that Servius, one of the longest-serving and most trusted Guards, was assigned to the Emperor’s personal detail. Equipped with his armor, helmet, and shield, a short sword, and a vicious dagger, he and the 11 others who would accompany Cornelius to the Stadium were a fierce and formidable force, not to be trifled with. This day was important not just as a celebration of the Emperor’s birthday, but also as the day on which Cornelius was expected to roll out numerous new reforms in a speech to be delivered to the collected crowd. Among these reforms were a number of very unpopular policies which the Emperor had not, until now, had the temerity to introduce. But he had reigned for just long enough to feel safe in his natural arrogance. Surrounded by his Guard, after all, and supported by the most powerful men in the nation, who would dare oppose him?
As the moment came for Cornelius to address the crowd, he mounted the dais which had been erected in the Imperial Loge. His gaudy robes only served to accentuate his corpulence, a testament to his decadent lifestyle. His jewel-encrusted crown was almost lost in the rat’s nest of unruly hair which refused, at all times, to be tamed, and which had become the target of so many jokes among the citizens of the State. His hollow, beady eyes, his thin, oddly pursed lips, and his unusual, seemingly painted-on complexion completed the portrait of a hated tyrant drunk on power. He looked every bit as repulsive as he truly was.
Servius was stationed half and arm’s length behind the Emperor. And as Cornelius raised the megaphone to his lips to deliver his remarks, something inexplicable happened. Time seemed to slow down, and then to stand still. A bright light flooded the loge, forcing Servius to shield his eyes. Glancing around he could see that everyone around him — the Emperor, the other Guards and dignitaries, even the crowd which filled the Stadium — appeared to be motionless, frozen in place, stuck in a moment in time. Only Servius was free from the grip of this phenomenon. The bright light he saw emanated from a position directly in front of him, and perhaps 15 feet above him. It grew in size and intensity, but was finally broken by a shadowy figure which emerged from it, diminishing the glare just enough so that Servius could glance up at it.
It was a figure like a human being, but perhaps twice the size of a person. And it had a pair of wings growing from its shoulders. Its eyes glowed as it hovered above Servius and fixed its stare on him. And then it spoke in an otherworldly voice which raised the hairs on the back of Servius’ neck.
“Servius. I am an Angel of the Lord. Fear me not.”
Servius remained paralyzed, unable to respond. He had always been a very pious man. In fact, the only authority he recognized which was above the Emperor was God. And here, now, was God’s messenger appearing to him personally. It was a transcendent moment. Servius knew it would change his life forever. The Angel, seeming to sense all of this, continued.
“The Emperor Cornelius is not as he appears. He is controlled by a foul and infamous demon, born of the pits of hell. The Lord has declared that he must be smitten. You are a true believer, a true son of God. Your faith among men is conspicuous. And you have the means and the opportunity to strike this demon down. Thus, the Lord commands you. You know what you must do.”
The Angel receded into the light. The light diminished and disappeared. And suddenly the march of time resumed. Servius was dazed for several moments, still trying to process what had happened. And then he slowly and quietly drew his sword.
