Eight for Eternity (23 page)

Chapter Thirty-Seven

After Felix left to retrieve his belongings from the barracks, John went to Julianna’s room. The door was open and the room empty. The chest which had sat beside the bed had been taken away. He wasn’t aware that she had already made arrangements to move to Antonina’s as Theodora had decreed. He would have preferred for the girl to stay under his watch.

He made his way to the garden and sat on a bench near the closed screen to his office, partly concealed by an untrimmed shrub. A chilly breeze swirled around the peristyle, sending dry leaves rattling around its columns. The last of the daylight gradually faded from the rectangle of sky, revealing cold sparks of stars.

After what seemed like a long time there was a scuffling noise from above. A figure appeared on the roof, just visible against the dark sky. It climbed nimbly onto the limb of a yew tree. John was standing at the base of the tree by the time Julianna reached the ground.

“Chamberlain! How did you guess?”

“I once knew a woman who performed with a traveling troupe.”

“She climbed out of a garden and went over the roof to meet you?”

“No. She had more sense. But she was as athletic as you are.”

John could see Julianna looking at him curiously. “I remind you of her, don’t I?”

“I’ll escort you to Antonina’s apartments right away. Your room’s already been emptied. There are some questions first, though. It’s warmer inside.”

“If you don’t mind, I’d rather talk here.”

“I want you to tell me the truth about Hippolytus.”

Julianna bit her lip. “He’s dead.”

“I realize that. Your father told me as much as he knew. Out of concern for you.”

“Father’s only concern was that I stop seeing Hippolytus. I’m sure he’s glad Hippolytus is dead. He’s no longer a danger to me.”

“That’s not true. If Hippolytus was involved with a conspiracy against the emperor then you might be in grave danger. Whoever killed him, for whatever reason, might want to kill his associates. Hippolytus might have told you something you would be better off not knowing.”

“We only talked about the races and…what people talk about.”

“You must have known he was causing trouble. He fomented a minor riot after all. It isn’t everyone who manages to catch the emperor’s attention so as to be hung by imperial decree.”

If Julianna was shaken by John’s words she didn’t show it. “We weren’t able to meet often. What he did with his time, outside of following the races, he never said.”

“Do you really think there is someone in this city who wanted to kill Haik, a stranger who had never set foot in Constantinople before?”

“You’re trying to scare me. You want me to believe I was the target. I don’t see how anyone could have mistakenly poisoned Haik rather than me. It doesn’t make sense. Besides, he must have been poisoned outside the palace. How would anyone get in?”

“You’ve had no trouble coming and going. Why should Haik’s murderer?”

“I think your friend was here on some dangerous business. It had nothing to do with me, or Hippolytus. He should have stayed in Syria.”

“Possibly. But even if you won’t accept the fact that you’re in danger, surely you want me to find Hippolytus’ murderer?”

“Will that bring him back?”

She walked away. John saw her hand go to her face. He followed and when she stopped and turned she was blinking glistening eyes. She had come to the carved horse with the cross on its stone blanket. She ran her hand over the equine back. “I used to dream about racing at the Hippodrome when I was a child,” she said. “Mother came into my room one night and found me on the floor, tangled up in blankets. She wanted to know what happened. She heard me fall out of bed. I told her it was just a nightmare I couldn’t remember. Actually my chariot had tipped over and I had to cut myself loose from the reins. It didn’t stop me from dreaming again. Usually I crossed the finish line first. How I wished to be a charioteer!”

“You may not think so highly of them after that incident in the Augustaion.”

“I shouldn’t have been there by myself. Charioteers are used to taking what they want. It’s their nature. I can never be a charioteer. Can you imagine, Chamberlain, what it is like, to know that you are barred from ever being what you wish to be, no matter how diligent your efforts?”

“Perhaps I do. But people are never free to do anything they wish. Not even the emperor.”

“Antonina does whatever she wants. She takes what she wants.”

“You may not know her as well as you think, Julianna.” John shivered. The night wind was rising. “It’s time I took you to her. On the way you might think of something you haven’t told me. Whenever you do—if you want Hippolytus to be avenged—tell me.”

They left the garden and went through the atrium out into the dark grounds of the palace. John wondered if Julianna appreciated that she might never see her father or mother again. He thought she did not understand the seriousness of the situation. At her age one never does. At least she did not appear to be in despair over the death of her friend.

They were out of sight of the house when Julianna suddenly stopped and spoke. “There’s one thing you should know.”

“Yes?”

“About Hippolytus. He’s nothing like father says. He’s not a ruffian.”

“I see.”

“You do believe me?”

“I do.”

She hurried on and said nothing more.

As they approached the Daphne Palace several figures emerged from the darkness and came racing in their direction. The men brandished spears.

“What’s happening?” John demanded.

“Intruder!” one of the guards yelled, hardly slowing down.

A knot of people had gathered in front of the building. They talked excitedly. One pointed in the direction of the ornate portico, the entrance to the kathisma. Lights from the imperial complex flickered across the massive rampart of the Hippodrome which loomed over the much lower palace walls.

Antonina was suddenly beside Julianna. Her face was flushed. “You’ve arrived just in time for all the excitement.”

“I hear there’s an intruder,” John said.

Antonina regarded John without curiosity. He was a familiar figure at the court. “Some claim the rioters are infiltrating the palace grounds,” she told him. “Others claim it’s a phantom. An inhuman creature. It was seen leaping along the top of the walls. And someone else said they saw it on the roof of a house.”

“On a house? Near the stables perhaps?” John glanced down at Julianna. Her expression was opaque. “Just someone’s imagination, I’m sure.”

“I hope you’re right. Everyone’s terrified.”

John left Julianna in Antonina’s charge and walked slowly back to his house, pausing now and then to look up at the distant stars, so far removed from the turmoil below. How strange people could be. The city was going up in flames. The angry multitudes were plotting to storm the palace. Yet they were terrified of a phantom.

As he crossed his dimly lit atrium his attention was caught by a flash of color beneath one of the benches against the wall. He bent down and pulled out a slipper.

The yellow slipper Pompeius had lost what seemed like an eternity ago.

Chapter Thirty-Eight

January 18, 532

As Justinian moved slowly through the ashen morning light slanting into the imperial box in the Hippodrome, John remarked to Felix that the emperor resembled a shade more than he did a living man.

Felix grunted. “What’s put that in your mind is the uproar over that phantom in the gardens last night.”

“You may be right. That and the demons who pursued me through my dreams.”

From where they stood near the door to the kathisma there was no denying the pallor in the emperor’s face and the white silk robes falling from his bent shoulders accentuated the deathly effect. He was bare-headed, the imperial diadem left at his residence. He meant to approach his subjects as a humble supplicant. Yet, when he stepped up onto the rostrum at the front of the box, John saw a flash of blood red, the color of the boots reserved to the emperor, concealed from the view of the masses.

The mob had taken over the stadium. A murmuring sea of humanity filled the racetrack and such tiers of wooden benches as remained, much of the seating having been consumed by fire during the fighting. They had congregated here to vent their anger, to spread rumors and plot mayhem, to await the orders of anyone brave enough to give them, or simply to sleep because they did not care to go home or because their homes had been destroyed. A few were even now sitting up or climbing groggily to their feet, startled to be awakened by the emperor.

“Romans, hear me.” Justinian’s voice sounded thin and tired, nothing like the resounding tones of his herald. It barely carried back to John and Felix. Eventually several in assembled masses below noticed the man addressing them, then a few recognized the emperor and as word spread so did silence until the only sounds were the sharp calls of gulls gliding overhead.

“I have come to confess to you my errors,” Justinian continued. “I confess that I have been blind to the evil doers within my own house. Just as demons will assume a human shape to deceive, so did my advisors, the treacherous Tribonian, Eudaemon and the Cappadocian, pretend to a humanity they had no right to claim.”

“You’re a demon too,” came a shout. “You’re all demons!”

“The demons walk among us!” cried another. “I’ve seen one myself!”

Justinian picked up the codex that lay on the marble stand in front of him. He held it above his head. “What I say, I swear by the holy gospels.”

The jeweled covers had fallen open. John wondered if the emperor had chosen the page, a verse meaningful to him, or of particular power? He could only see that the text was written in gold on purple-dyed vellum.

The throng quieted and Justinian set the gospel down again. “Even as I labored for the good of the empire and its citizens, my advisors betrayed me,” he said. “I confess further that when you brought their villainy to my attention, I at first refused to believe.”

John’s gaze wandered from the emperor. He looked upwards. From the ceiling the painted images of four renowned charioteers stared down—Julian, Faustinus, Constantine, the son of Faustinus, and Porphyrius. Even as Justinian attempted to salvage his emperorship, the great charioteer was lurking nearby.

“Then last night,” Justinian was saying, “I gazed from my window and prayed to the Lord—He who I represent on this earth. And the Lord appeared to me in a vision. In the dark pit of the burnt Augustaion, where the Great Church once stood, there suddenly arose a fabulous edifice. A new church, glowing as if made of light, surmounted by a vast dome to rival the very dome of the heavens. And the voice of the Lord thundered from the dome. He instructed me to exile the traitors, confess my errors, and begin anew.”

Justinian’s voice was far from thunderous and easily drowned out in a fresh outburst of shouts.

“Where are their heads?”

“Show us the Cappadocian’s head!”

“Bring Tribonian out and throw him down to us!”

Justinian raised the gospels again. John noticed that although the emperor’s face was deathly pale, his expression was as emotionless as ever. “Hear the rest of the Lord’s message! He told me that as you forgive my oversights, so too shall I accept your repentance for the violence you have done. Therefore I grant a general amnesty. No man shall suffer at the hand of law no matter what crimes he may have committed. Now go in peace and pray for forgiveness.”

Before the emperor had finished speaking raucous screams echoed around the Hippodrome.

“Liar!”

“Betrayer!”

“Fool!”

“You murdered the Blue and the Green!”

Then a voice cried out, “Long live Hypatius!”

Almost instantly the mob erupted, “Long live Hypatius! Long live the heir of Anastasius!”

A wave of people surged up the seating tiers directly below the kathisma. Justinian turned and walked toward its door. As he passed John caught his eye.

“You are, of course, relieved of your duties here,” Justinian told him. “I will need you at the palace in a short while.” He was holding the jeweled gospel. He glanced down at it and then back over his shoulder. “The Lord may speak in a vision. Perhaps he speaks in the voice of the mob as well.”

Then he went out, closely accompanied by a handful of silentiaries and scholarae.

Felix spat on the floor. “What a useless crew! Gallio won’t let the real guards do their duty. Those carpet soldiers won’t be of any use in a fight. All they know about active duty is surrendering their pay to Justinian to avoid it.”

The shouts from the multitudes had become almost deafening. The imperial box overhung the seats in such a way as to make entry from below difficult. Before retreating back down the stairs to the palace, John strode to the balustrade, to risk assessing the situation. He was surprised to see that the incipient attack on the kathisma had been abandoned. The crowd had started to flow toward the Hippodrome’s main gate.

“Off to burn something else,” remarked Felix from his side. “Soon there’ll be nothing left.”

“I don’t think that’s it. Listen.”

Clearly the babble of shouts had now coalesced into a booming chant. “Long live Hypatius! Long live Hypatius!”

Felix cursed. “They’re off to seize their new emperor, aren’t they? Do you think Hypatius has had the sense to flee the city?”

“I have no idea what his plans were. If he’s still here we might be able to get to his house before the mob arrives and warn him.” John turned and left the box.

Felix was at his heels. “Does he want to be warned?”

“Do you mean would he prefer to be crowned? He told me he’s been avoiding the possibility his whole life.”

“Was he telling the truth? He’s been a soldier. A general. He personally commanded the army of the east, however poorly, which is more than Justinian can say.”

There was no reply to that. It was impossible to be certain what Hypatius really thought.

Rather than taking the stairs back to the palace, John veered into a narrow, descending corridor. “There is an entrance on the western side of the Hippodrome, mostly used to bring in supplies. It comes out near the Mese.”

The two men broke into a run. The corridor ended in a hallway just off the concourse at the front of the stadium. The noise of the throng moving toward the entrance was the roar of a flooded river. They found themselves behind the curved line of the starting boxes. Over the top of the stalls and their double gates they could see the spina. He was surprised to see that horses occupied most of the boxes. They snorted and whinnied as John and Felix rushed past.

Then a group of men armed with lances stepped out of a stall into their path. Felix drew his sword, but he and John were surrounded and outnumbered.

“Lower your weapons,” came the order. “They aren’t horse thieves.”

John recognized the young charioteer who strode forward. “Junius. I’m surprised anyone’s here. I expected you would all want to join in the coronation of the new emperor.”

“We race for the Blues. Why would we favor a member of Anastasius’ family? He supported the Reds. We’d be persecuted again.”

“Most of the Blues in the city don’t seem to agree.”

“No. They’re deranged with hatred for Justinian. All they can think of is ridding themselves of the imperial demon. They’ll come to their senses soon enough.”

“What about Porphyrius? What does he think?”

“Ask him yourself.” Junius nodded toward a storeroom, from which Porphyrius was emerging.

The charioteer immediately spotted John. “Chamberlain! What are you doing here?”

“I’m being detained from urgent business.” He gestured at the armed men who still blocked his path.

“It’s far too dangerous to be out.”

“You’re here,” John observed.

“We started to lead the horses to the gates, in case the track could be cleared.”

“You’re not leading the factions into the streets? And it was you who united them?”

“You overestimate my influence.”

John began to reply but was cut off by a high pitched voice. “And you, Porphyrius, are much too modest.”

Narses stepped out of the storeroom Porphyrius had come from, carrying with him a miasma of perfume, weirdly out of place in the earthy atmosphere inside the Hippodrome.

“What business do you have here?” John snapped, realizing immediately that he had no authority to question Narses.

“The emperor’s business, obviously. Preserving the empire. Avoiding violence.”

John shot a questioning look at Porphyrius.

“I don’t have time to talk,” he said.

John felt Felix’s hand on his shoulder. “Neither do we, John.”

“You’re right,” John muttered. “You’ll allow us to pass, Porphyrius.”

The charioteer silently gestured to the armed men who stepped aside.

Outside the Hippodrome, the Mese was eerily lifeless without even a beggar or stray dog to disrupt the stillness.

“We’re too late,” Felix growled.

The mangled iron gate swinging open in the archway leading to Hypatius’ courtyard confirmed his words.

The two men ran across the gravel to the mansion’s portico.

A woman dressed in dark blue silks sat on the steps, head in her hands, shaking with sobs. John guessed it was Hypatius’ wife, Mary. Two of her attendants tried to comfort her.

John spoke without preamble. “Has Hypatius gone?”

Mary looked up at him with reddened eyes. Grey, disheveled hair hung around her face. She looked older than her husband. “They came for him. Dragged him away. I begged him not to go, to barricade himself inside the house. He was afraid they’d hurt me, or burn the house or seek out that drunken fool of a brother instead.”

She ran a silken sleeve across her tear streaked face.

“Do you have any idea where they went?”

“To Forum Constantine. He’s to be crowned emperor.” She pushed stray hairs out of her face.”

“Where is Pompeius? Is he here?”

Mary shook her head. “No. When they had carried Hypatius off he went rushing after them. What did he suppose he was going to do? He’d had so much wine he could barely stay upright. Hypatius should have let them take Pompeius. He sacrificed himself for nothing.”

“Not for nothing. You’re still safe, and your daughter Julianna is safe as well. Hypatius must have told you she’s with Antonina.”

The woman nodded and loose hair fell across her face. She pushed it away. “One of the rogues stole the gold chain from my hair. He said they had no diadem so a gold circlet would have to do. Perhaps already I am the wife of an emperor. Is this what it feels like? I do not envy Theodora.” She began to weep again.