Eight for Eternity (24 page)

Chapter Thirty-Nine

The Mese had been empty when John and Felix made their way to Hypatius’ house. By the time they returned to the street it was jammed with humanity. The whole population of Constantinople seemed to be funneled into the main thoroughfare.

“Like sausage meat into a length of pig’s gut,” Felix remarked.

“What’s happening?” John called out to a youth who trotted along at the edge of the throng.

When the young man ignored the question Felix grabbed him by the arm. The youth gaped in terror at the big, bearded soldier who held him. “It’s the new emperor, sirs,” he stammered. “Hypatius. We’re taking him to the Hippodrome. He’s going to vanquish the tyrant.”

Felix pushed the youth away. “More likely the poor man is going to end up dead, as his wife knows only too well.”

“If the populace considers Hypatius to be emperor, it should be ready to take orders from him,” John pointed out. “He can order them to abandon the revolt. Or at least put off attacking the palace. I might be able to convince him that he could save his head.”

“I suppose anything is worth a try. If you can get to him to talk.” Felix surveyed the crowd which continued to stream past. “We’ll never get to the kathisma through the Hippodrome.”

“We’ll go in by the entrance inside the palace.”

“And we can use the back alleys to get to the palace, once we cross the street.” Felix smiled grimly, unsheathed his sword, and began displaying it to the passersby blocking the way.

It didn’t take long to re-enter the palace. The would-be rioters were eager to see the great mass of their companions but much less enthusiastic about facing a sharp blade themselves. The torrent rushing along the Mese had sucked the alleys dry of humanity. The excubitors at the obscure southern entrance to the palace allowed the two familiar men in without hesitation, but those blocking the passageway to the kathisma from the Daphne Palace were under orders that no one should pass.

John demanded to speak to the commander. He and Felix waited by one of the monumental columns supporting the towering arch at the head of the passageway. Finally Captain Gallio strolled out and sneered at Felix’s request to enter. “You expect to be allowed to join the rioters? Deserting wasn’t enough? Well, I suppose you can only hang once, or so I would have imagined until recently. The excubitors have their duty and we intend to carry it out.”

“You want to be close at hand to serve Hypatius,” Felix snarled.

John stepped between Felix and the captain. “Felix is under my command right now, Gallio. And I am serving Emperor Justinian. As you can see from my official orders.”

He stuck them under the captain’s face. Days of use had wrinkled the parchment, frayed the cord around it and flattened the embossing on the lead seal. The condition of the orders did not render them less impressive, although Justinian’s precarious situation did.

Gallio brushed the orders aside. “From what I hear Justinian will be halfway across the Marmara by the time you get to the top of the stairs. And Emperor Hypatius will not appreciate being disturbed.”

John tucked the parchment back into his tunic. “It may be that Justinian and Hypatius can come to an agreement. A great deal of blood might be spared. Emperor Hypatius will not look kindly on the man who stopped the former emperor’s emissary from saving him trouble.”

Gallio’s lips tightened. “I would not want to cause any emperor trouble.” He glared at Felix. “I cannot allow an armed soldier into the imperial box. You, Chamberlain, may go.”

“Very well. Felix, please wait here for me.”

Felix obeyed, scowling ferociously.

John followed Gallio down a short passageway lined with armed men, through a double set of barred doorways, to the base of a white marble stairway. Since he had risen to the position of chamberlain, John had climbed these stairs every time Justinian presided over a race or ceremony in the Hippodrome, more times than he could count. Unlike most of the palace architecture, they were less than aesthetically pleasing, and far from grand. They were steep and narrow and dimly lit. A few armed men could defend them from an army.

At the top of the stairs a number of rooms, including a small dining hall, opened off the corridor leading to the imperial box itself. The place was crowded with a noisy conglomeration of citizens—faction members clothed in their colors, wealthy aristocrats wearing rich robes, other men whose ripped and stained clothing made it clear they had been fighting in the streets. There was even a beggar with a cup. Whether he’d come in for the warmth, or with the idea of earning extra coins, or simply found himself swept up there by accident, John couldn’t say. The man had, however, sat down beside a doorway, as was his custom outside.

More men milled around the cold imperial box, but here John recognized several senators and palace officials. They looked startled and quickly turned their backs to him.

Hypatius sat on the elevated throne, looking out over the packed Hippodrome. It was peculiar, seeing him there rather than Justinian. He looked much more an emperor.

From far below the masses they would see the noble profile, the square chin and aquiline nose, the very image of his uncle Anastasius. They would see the purple drapery around his shoulders and be able to make out the sparkle of sunlight off the gold encircling his head. They would not be able to make out the pouches under his eyes, or the way his lips trembled. They would not see that the sparkling diadem was a woman’s gold hair chain and the purple drapery a torn piece of a silk gown.

John made his way to the throne and spoke quietly. “Hypatius.”

The would-be emperor looked down. “Chamberlain, if you have come to save me, you are too late.”

The crowd roared his name and Hypatius raised his hand tentatively and the roar grew louder. “Long live Hypatius! Long live Hypatius!”

The trembling of his lips subsided and he waved his hand again, more confidently.

“There’s still time, Hypatius. I am told you were taken from your house against your will. You can hardly be blamed for that. Advise the rioters to return to their homes.”

“I doubt they would love me so well if I did.”

“Then simply leave with me.”

“I am afraid I am outnumbered.” He gestured at the ranks below who broke into cheers again.

“You don’t have to fight your way through them. The stairs to the palace aren’t far away, and I spotted more than a few men who would be happy to let you go in return for my forgetting to tell Justinian that they were here.”

“Does anyone still fear Justinian? I heard he had already sailed.” Hypatius caught the eye of a nearby man dressed in a green tunic. “Isn’t that right?”

“Yes,” said the Green. “Justinian fled to Trebizond this morning.”

“Porphyrius said so,” confirmed his companion.

“No, it came straight from Narses,” someone else said.

A dissenting voice chimed in. “Narses only saw the ship in the harbor. It was one of Justinian’s officials said it had sailed. A chamberlain I think.”

“You see,” Hypatius said. “If Justinian has ceded his position to me than I have nothing to fear except the wrath of the crowd. It would be foolish to betray them. Besides, it is my duty. The empire should not go rudderless because the coward who was at the helm has chosen to flee.” He raised both hands and smiled as the tumult rolled across the stadium and crashed in waves across those in the imperial box.

John realized there was no point in arguing. He swept the box with his gaze and saw Pompeius. He had wedged his bulky figure into a far corner from where he stared dolefully at the back of the throne.

“Shouldn’t you be at your brother’s side?” John asked.

Pompeius looked at him in surprise. “Chamberlain! What are….what do you mean?”

“I would have expected you to be basking in his glory.”

“What glory? He’s up on the scaffold. True, a scaffold higher and more elaborate then most.” Although he stank of wine and his robes were stained and rumpled, he wasn’t slurring his words. He sounded completely sober.

“Then you might try to talk him out of this folly. If you really believe it’s folly.”

“Oh, I do believe it.” He shook his head and gave a mournful laugh. “Thousands of ambitious men do everything in their power to advance and yet nearly every one fails, and often at a high price. You would think it would be easy enough to avoid advancement if you turned your efforts to it. And yet…as you see….”

“Fortuna has a strange sense of humor. There’s still time, however.”

“No. I’m afraid there isn’t. Events have gone too far.”

“Why are you here?” John demanded.

“I…I’m not sure…when I saw them drag Hypatius off…he’s my brother…I thought I could talk him out of it as you said…not that they would have let him go…and they won’t let him go now either…I wish I hadn’t followed. I wish I were at home….” Suddenly tears ran down his fat cheeks and his billowing robes shook with sobs.

***

“You think Julianna can make her father see sense?” Felix stepped out of the way of two servants hauling a litter piled with crates from the Daphne Palace.

“It may be the sight of his daughter will bring him back to reality,” John said.

“But the reality is that he has the whole population of Constantinople on his side.”

“Do you believe that?”

“Do you believe Justinian doesn’t intend to flee? Like the rest of the court?” Felix swerved to avoid a pile of sacks beside a door. “We haven’t seen a single guard. Just a steady stream of valuables being carted off. I wonder how many of these servants we’ve passed are actually thieves?”

“Or, more likely, both. And they might well slink away and enjoy what they’ve stolen when order is restored, but then they’re anonymous, they aren’t sitting on a throne in the Hippodrome and they’re taking a few trinkets, not the whole empire. How long do you suppose a man like Hypatius could manage to hold the throne? Besides, I want to make sure Julianna is safe. She was placed in my charge by Justinian. She’s my responsibility, despite Theodora’s meddling.”

A man’s raised voice issued from the open doors leading into Antonina’s quarters.

“Belisarius,” Felix growled.

John motioned for him to stop. They stood in the vestibule in front of a statue of Plato, not hiding but not revealing themselves either. He could make out Antonina and the young general in the atrium beyond, partly concealed by a potted palm.

Belisarius sounded agitated. “Fight? I wish he would let us fight!”

Antonina made an inaudible comment.

“How do I know why he’s so timid?” Belisarius replied. “I tried to explain to him, we need to strike while the mob’s in the Hippodrome. In the streets they elude us, but in that open space, and packed together so tightly they can barely move, we can cut them down like a scythe through a field of wheat. Yet he hesitates.”

“You must speak to him again.” Antonina’s voice had grown louder.

“He dismissed me, warned me about insubordination. He seemed angry, and frightened. And he is still the emperor.”

“You’ll come to no harm. I’ll have a word with Theodora.”

“Yes. Of course.”

“Consult Mundus. Make your plans and present them to Justinian as a necessity.”

“If Justinian hasn’t fled already.”

Belisarius turned to leave. Antonina put a hand on his arm. “By tonight it will be over. You will be victorious, and you will be in my bed.”

John and Felix entered the atrium as Belisarius left, casting a scornful glance toward Felix.

John spoke before Antonina could protest the intrusion.“I wish to talk to Julianna.”

“She’s not here. She went to retrieve her belongings from your house.” Her gaze went over John’s shoulder to Felix. The look in her brilliant blue eyes was not inviting.

“I’ll check the house, John,” Felix said. He departed with alacrity.

“You sent servants with her?” John asked.

“No. She said she only had a few trifles to carry back.”

“How could you be so irresponsible? She was given into your care!”

“Does this look like the imperial dungeons? Do you expect me to chain her to the wall?”

Had Antonina been too harried to attend to her make-up? She looked much older today. Her cheeks were not rosy and there were lines in her forehead.

“She’s just a girl. You’re old enough to be her mother. You’re old enough to be Belisarius’ mother. You ought to realize how dangerous it is for her to be wandering about.”

Antonina pursed her lips into a pout that emphasized the fine wrinkles at the corners of her mouth. “You are most unkind, Chamberlain.”

John controlled his anger. “How did you snare Belisarius, Antonina? One of your magickal potions? You are an ambitious woman. Do you see yourself as the wife of a general? Is that why you wanted to meet Felix at the Hall of Nineteen Couches? To test out your potion on him?”

“A man, or a woman, will succumb to a potion only if it is their wish!”

“A convenient philosophy. Do you by any chance have a potion that will impart courage to an emperor?”

“Even the strongest magick cannot bring forth what is not there.”

“I see. Then I will have to try reason instead.”

Chapter Forty

The silentiaries leaning on their lances just beyond the double doors of Justinian’s reception hall allowed John to approach with hardly a glance. He paused as a sound resembling a rising wind filled the air.

“That’s from the Hippodrome,” one of the guards remarked. “It’s swarming with rioters. Thousands of them. When the wind changes you can hear them baying for blood.”

“It’s a wasp’s nest,” another silentiary put in. “Before long they’ll come flying out. What will we do then?”

“What you need to do is set fire to the nest while the wasps are still in it,” commented his companion.

“Or run before they come out.”

Justinian may have made up his mind to flee, but he had not gone yet. Narses and Theodora stood at the base of the double throne, while Justinian paced back and forth like a terrified horse trapped in its stall. His red boots flashed against the tiled floor. He still wore the plain white garments he had appeared in when addressing the assembly in the Hippodrome, but he was now wearing his diadem.

Around the group sat an assemblage of crates, sacks and chests, mimicking on a larger scale the previous evening’s scene in John’s atrium. Justinian had ordered Hypatius and Pompeius to leave, and he was apparently preparing to do the same. A pair of husky servants arrived, shouldered sacks, and departed.

Courtiers were scattered in knots here and there. More than one glanced nervously over his shoulder, perhaps expecting a howling mob to break down the doors. One man made his way to the imperial couple and prostrated himself.

“Highness, I humbly petition for permission to leave the city.”

“Who is stopping you?” Justinian replied. He looked around and scowled. “I am not to be disturbed by petty details. Is there anyone left to obey my commands?”

Reluctantly John approached the emperor. “Caesar, I must report that Hypatius has been taken from his home. He has been crowned and installed in the kathisma.”

Justinian nodded and smiled faintly. “Thank you, John. I have a few loyal advisors left at least.” His gaze flickered to Narses for an instant, then he turned away, paced a few steps, and returned. “So, it is finished.”

The emperor stared down at the supplicant still prostrated before him and nudged the quivering man with the red toe of his boot. “And what do you advise, Narses? Shall we all grow wings and flee through the heavens from the rats creeping from their foul nests?”

Narses bowed. “It is imperative that yourself and our dear empress be kept safe, and therefore it would be prudent—”

Theodora’s face flushed with anger. Her enormous eyes had the demoniacal glow of fiery pits. “We will have nothing of such cowardice! Eunuchs may scream and scuttle and hide, but our beloved emperor has an iron will and refuses to be intimated by the cries of a horde of fools.”

Several servants were picking up chests from behind the throne. The emperor’s waiting ship must be well packed by now, John thought. One of the servants, bowing repeatedly, took a step toward Justinian. “Caesar, if I may ask, is it your wish that we take these thrones—”

“Traitor!” shrieked Theodora. “Guards! Execute this man! Guards! Guards!”

John noticed the silentiaries were no longer in sight. The servant retreated hastily. The unfortunate courtier, still lying on his face, moaned in terror.

Theodora gave him a vicious kick to the ear. A droplet of blood spattered onto the hem of Justinian’s tunic. “Who dares to suggest our brave ruler would run away, frightened by a crew of unwashed beggars! Traitors! Ingrates! Vipers!” With each exclamation she administered a kick to the prone man’s ribs.

Then she whirled, sending a gust of exotic perfume and sweat in John’s direction, and stabbed a bejeweled finger at Narses. “And you! Have you been bribed that you would even contemplate advising such a retreat? The imperial torturers will find out the truth of that!”

Narses paled. Before he could reply, one of the few onlookers left in the room—one who was at a safe distance—called out in a quavering voice. “We will stay and defend our ruler to the last man if that is his wish.”

Theodora emitted a cawing laugh. “And who would say nay to the emperor? But I say this is not a time to flee, never to be safe, always looking over our shoulders, afraid of being hunted down like common criminals. We are of the purple and all bow down before us.”

Narses managed to speak. “You will not be abandoning the right to rule if you leave the city, highness. I suggest we sail to Heraclea. You will be able to summon the army of the west. They and the eastern army will be on the march as soon as orders reach them.”

Theodora’s eyes widened, her nostrils flared. Her beringed hand shot out and grasped the front of Narses’ garment, ripping halfway down his sunken chest. The reception hall was silent. The rumble from the Hippodrome could be heard clearly.

Theodora looked Narses up and down. “It seems I was wrong, Narses.” Her voice was a hiss. “I thought you would have breasts, for you speak like a woman.” Her gaze swept past John and settled on Justinian. “Are these the only advisors you have left, this pair of poor unmanly creatures?”

“It would appear so,” Justinian replied. “What do think, John? Is it worth standing and fighting if losing is a certainty?”

John bowed slightly. “Nothing is a certainty. However, even if it were, what one may lose by fighting is not necessarily the same as what one may lose by fleeing. The question is what you most fear to lose.”

Theodora laughed. “This one speaks some sense, if doubtless only to further his scheming ends. You should have listened to Belisarius. Crush the traitors immediately. ”

Even now Justinian’s features betrayed nothing. John had always considered the emperor a marvel of self control. Was he in fact a demon, as was whispered across the city, or did he suffer from some ailment which rendered him incapable of displaying normal human emotions?

“I prefer to believe John is playing the oracle,” Justinian said. “He wants me to decide that he means what I want to hear. Prudence is always the best course. We will not be without resources once we leave the capital.”

“You don’t expect the armies to rally to a coward who takes flight, do you?” Theodora’s voice shook with fury. “My father was a bear keeper. I come from the dung in the stables and the filth in the streets. No one can imagine what I have suffered to reach this place. I will die before I am dragged away from it. Haven’t you poured out gold for the masses? Provided for the poor and weak? Why should you fly from those who should love you? We are of the purple. That is all that is necessary to know.”

“Stay here, highness, and I fear you’ll be buried in purple,” Narses observed.

“Purple makes the best shroud.” Theodora put her hand on Justinian’s arm. “If the empire’s existence depends upon the safety of our beloved ruler, then by all means let him leave, and leave now. But I wish to remain.”

“I cannot allow that,” Justinian replied. “Let us go. We can discuss our next actions once we are safely at sea.”

***

A covered walkway connecting a series of stairways between the terraces on which the palace gardens were built led to the imperial docks. John accompanied the emperor and empress, along with several silentiaries recruited in the halls. As the small party started down the first stairway Justinian gave John instructions. “Once we’re safely on board, return and assist Narses. I want as many ships as possible loaded with our belongings. Don’t forget the imperial plate.”

John noted that neither he nor Narses, ordered to remain in the Daphne Palace to make final arrangements, were invited to flee with them. “And Belisarius and Mundus?” he asked.

“They are to leave for Heraclea as soon as possible. The contingents they brought with them are not large enough to subdue the city. In Heraclea the generals will be able to take control of both armies and return to put down the riots. Once on board, I will issue written orders for you to take to them.”

“I am not a soldier,” said Theodora. “I am barred by my sex from that profession. Yet it seems to this woman that a thousand trained men should be able to crush any number of rabble, if they are ordered to do so.”

“And how can you be certain my generals wouldn’t be as likely to cut my throat as follow my order?” Justinian replied mildly.

Were Justinian’s fears well founded, John wondered.

As he descended the stairs he felt he was once again in the strange dream garden where he had met Haik’s shade. The stairways felt unfamiliar now that they were leading not just to the docks, but to another world. A world where Justinian no longer occupied the palace. Where would that leave John?

The thought occurred to him that his investigation was finished. He would never discover what had happened to the mysterious adoption document Haik brought to the city. It was hardly worth mulling over at this point, but John couldn’t help thinking about the document. Was it the reason he was helping usher Justinian into exile? Had it, in some manner, sealed the emperor’s fate? Had it convinced Porphyrius to rally the populace to Hypatius? Why not? Porphyrius once rallied the crowds to Hypatius’ uncle, Emperor Anastasius. It might not have taken much to convince the charioteer to side with the family again. He changed racing colors like rich men changed tunics.

Had the document also, perhaps, convinced Belisarius to abandon Justinian, or given him a pretext to do so? How much pretext would an ambitious man need? Who could argue that conspiring to make a Persian heir to the Empire was not traitorous? Porphyrius might have approached Belisarius with the damning agreement and offered his own support at the same time.

It was all speculation and would remain so now.

The party reached the next terrace, another step down toward exile. Behind them loomed a high masonry wall, overhung with greenery and lined at its base with trees and shrubbery. The gardens narrowed here and before long they could see the waist high parapet marking the edge of the terrace.

The path to the stairway led through an arbor surrounded by ornamental bushes and shrouded by thick ropes of leafless vines.

As they passed into the semi-shadow John thought he heard a rustling sound. He turned his head. There was no one following them aside from the trailing guard.

He heard a sort of crunch nearby. John peered over the shoulders of the imperial couple. The path ahead was as clear as that behind.

A tiny bit of bark drifted down onto his sleeve. John looked up. The thickly entwined vines overhead were trembling almost imperceptibly.

Someone was moving stealthily along the top of the arbor.

Justinian and Theodora had reached the end of the arbor.

There was no time for a warning. John sprang forward, past the imperial couple, and as he did so, the toe of a boot appeared at the edge of roof. John leapt, caught the intruder’s foot, and brought him crashing to the ground.

The intruder rolled and sprang to his feet. John saw a dark, hunched creature in rags. The demon he had pursued along the spina in the Hippodrome.

“I crave an audience!” cried the demon.

John drew his blade. Justinian laughed and waved him and the guards back. “How could I refuse such an ingenious petitioner?” He smiled at his unexpected visitor. “Speak before you are put to death.”

The demon took a few lurching steps. The rags it wore appeared to be half burnt and ashes speckled its wild hair. It carried with it the sharp odor of smoke. “I have already conquered death and I shall do so again, and therefore I have no fear of dying! But you, my emperor, I see have a great fear of death. Surely you realize that wherever you go, no matter how far across the seas, you will find death waiting.”

“True enough, but your death is much closer at hand. Why do you desire an audience?”

“To tell you how you may be saved.”

An expression of interest crossed Justinian’s face. “Are you here on behalf of your fellow rioters?”

“I bring a message from heaven.”

Theodora laughed contemptuously. “From heaven? You’re the first angel I’ve ever encountered who smells like he’s been smoldering in hell!”

“Not so!” responded the visitor. “For I have seen demons roaming the streets of Constantinople! They are leading loyal subjects astray, whispering lies about our rulers! Encouraging them to kill the old and crown the new!”

John thought it strange that such a demonic creature should be speaking against demons. Yet, peering closely, he could almost make out the features of the young man the thing had once been.

The creature turned its bloodshot gaze to Justinian. “Peace will return, excellency, but to achieve that you must banish the demons.”

“Do you mean by magick?” Theodora asked with obvious interest.

“Not just common magick. Magick far more powerful!” The creature reached into the tattered fabric at its chest and drew out a length of splintered wood with a ribbon dangling from it. “This is a piece of the True Cross! What miracles can be wrought with such a relic! It will banish evil and heal the sick and raise the dead! Am I not a living example?”

Justinian regarded him with an even gaze. “You say you’ve been dead?”

“Oh yes. I was foully murdered. But in heaven we forgive our enemies, so I bring you this….” The creature bent, laid the splintered piece of wood at Justinian’s red boots, and backed slowly away.

Justinian gestured to John to pick up the object. It was cylindrical, with a piece of shredded ribbon from which hung an embossed lead disk.

“A broken spoke from a wheel, probably a chariot wheel,” John said, turning the object around. “And there’s an imperial seal attached to it.”

Theodora leaned over to examine the seal. “Anastasius!” she cried. “It’s one of Anastasius’ seals!” She glared at the ragged creature now slowly creeping backwards. “You’re from the conspirators! You’re one of the traitors!”

Justinian had taken the peculiar talisman from John and was regarding it pensively. “The Lord is free to send whatever sort of messenger he wants. What could be more persuasive than a message authenticated with an imperial seal? In simpler times a burning bush might have sufficed. It may be this is what a miracle looks like in our present age. A spoke from a wheel…or perhaps a piece of the True Cross? Is not our empire being crucified on a cross made by the racing factions? Clearly, the Lord has spoken. We shall stay. Victory will not be given to the mob. It will be ours!”