Caesar's Sword: The Complete Campaigns

by David Pilling

  I mumbled my thanks as his men lifted me up. One of them draped a cloak over me, and I gasped at the touch of rough-woven cloth on my scalded flesh.

  “My sword,” I managed, “I must have my sword. She cannot have it.”

  “Ah yes, the famous sword,” he said. “We will take Crocea Mors as well, Majesty, if you please.”

  He held out his hand to Theodora, who looked at it as though she meant to bite it off. Slowly, and with pure hatred radiating from every inch of her, she raised Caledfwlch and dropped the hilt into his palm.

  Narses gave a little bow from the waist and snapped his fingers, which was the signal for two of his Armenians to carry me up the steps between them. The rest followed, with the eunuch at their heels.

  “Hurry, hurry,” I heard him mutter. “We must be gone before the spell breaks. The Empress in a rage is capable of anything.”

  I was carried out into a darkened corridor, and had to be lifted over the prone figure of another of Theodora’s hirelings – presumably he had been guarding the door when Narses and his men came upon him. One of my bare feet slipped on a pool of warm, sticky blood that flowed from the fatal knife-wound in his gut.

  Narses heaved the door shut with a bang and contemplated the bunch of heavy iron keys in his hand.

  “It’s tempting to lock her in and throw these away,” he mused, “but it wouldn’t do. The Emperor would not thank me for starving his wife to death in a cellar.”

  He dropped the keys on the floor and padded away with my sword in his hand. I stumbled in his wake, leaning heavily on the stout shoulders of the Armenians.

  I was taken to the eunuch’s suite of private rooms, even more opulent than those of the Empress and Belisarius. The central chamber was a beautifully decorated and pillared hall, furnished by couches draped with zebra and tiger skins. Narses had me laid out on one of them and sent for a physician while he sat behind a desk and poured wine from a gilded silver jug.

  “Can you manage a little wine?” he asked, “it might help the pain.”

  I took the proffered cup with a trembling hand and slopped down his excellent wine. Alcohol flowed through me and dulled the burning in my back. I held out my cup for more.

  “Where there is thirst, there is life,” remarked Narses. He poured out another generous measure and waddled back to his chair. There was an orderly heap of papyri on the desk, which he spread out and read through while I gulped down the sweet, life-giving liquid.

  “Why did you save me, lord?” I asked when my cup was drained.

  Narses sniffed and sat back in his chair. “Several reasons,” he replied, and started to tick them off on his fat fingers, “firstly, you have succeeded in angering Theodora. I always have time for anyone who does that. Secondly, you have proved yourself to be a useful servant of Rome, and it is a pity to waste useful men. Thirdly, Theodora must learn that she cannot play the tyrant. The rot of the Western Empire stemmed from the brutality and incompetence of its rulers. I will not allow some latter-day female Caligula to run amok in Constantinople, torturing and murdering as she pleases.”

  “You will not be surprised to learn that I employ many spies,” he went on, “for years now I have kept a close watch on Theodora, even before she snared Justinian. She has always been vicious, and power-hungry, and looking for the next advantage.”

  He sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Watched, and made a list of her crimes, and did nothing. I should have had her disposed of, when she was still dancing and selling her body for a living. Too late now. The Emperor is besotted with her. At least I have acted in time to rescue you.”

  Doubtless it was in your interest, I thought, but held my tongue.

  There was a soft knock at the door. The Armenian guard opened it to admit a plump, elderly man carrying a leather bag.

  “There he is, Kleinias,” said Narses, jerking his thumb at me, “his back resembles a half-roasted ham. Get to work.”

  The man nodded and approached the couch. He made little tutting noises as he examined my burns, and knelt beside me to rummage inside his bag.

  “You are in excellent hands, Coel,” added Narses, “I can afford to pay for the best in all things, and Kleinias is the best Greek physician my money could buy. He will heal your back quick and clean.”

  I lay quiet while the physician rubbed various greasy unguents on my burns. Their strong herbal smell, along with the wine and my general exhaustion of body and mind, made me feel light-headed. I started to drowse.

  “What will happen to me?” I asked thickly, allowing my cup to slip from my fingers and fall onto the thick goatskin rug.

  “For now you will rest here, and then we shall have to ponder,” Narses replied, “it may be best to smuggle you out of the city.”

  His voice echoed strangely in my ears, and seemed to mingle with the distant crashing of waves on a moonlit African shore. Or was it the sound of men fighting and dying on the plain of Tricamarum? I could not be sure. I could not even stay awake.

  “No…” I mumbled as my eyelids closed, “will not leave the city…this is…my home…home.”

  I woke to find myself in darkness again, but warm and comforting darkness complemented by clean linen and soft sheets. The fire in my back had cooled and the upper part of my body was wrapped in fresh bandages.

  Reluctant to surface too soon, I opened my eyes a crack and saw a fire burning low inside a grate. The sight of fire took me straight back to Theodora’s vile oven. I moaned and tried to crawl away, and gasped as a bolt of pain shot up my spine.

  The burns were going to take time to heal. I forced myself to be calm, lie quietly on my front and wait for my eyes to adjust to the darkness. I glimpsed moonlight lancing through the apertures of the closed wooden shutters on the window. Pieces of dark, heavy furniture were arranged neatly about the room, and a tall gilded candelabrum stood in one corner. The bed was small, barely wide enough to accommodate me. I smiled wryly as I realised it must belong to Narses. This was the eunuch’s own bedchamber.

  It was uncommonly generous of him to lend me the use of his bed, which made me wonder where such generosity sprang from. The likes of Narses did nothing for reasons of sheer charity.

  I slept for another hour or two, until grey morning light started to filter through the shutters. At some point the door opened and Kleinias crept in to check on me. He walked with a light step for a big man, and I hardly noticed his presence and the gentle probing of his fingers as he unpeeled a bandage to inspect my back.

  “He will do,” I heard him say in a low voice. He spoke to a shadow in the doorway, no doubt Narses, who nodded and flitted away. I cared little, and sank back into a blessed sleep.

  I woke properly to find the room flooded with light, the shutters opened and flung wide, and Narses standing at the foot of the bed.

  “Good morning,” he trilled, “and what a glorious morning it is. God shines his lamps upon us. A new day beckons, and with it all manner of possibilities.”

  I had rarely heard him sound so cheerful, and suspected it boded ill. “I am in no position to appreciate it,” I said, wincing as I shifted slightly, “my back hurts like the devil.”

  Narses ran a hand through his neatly clipped bear and moved over to the window. “You may not have the leisure to recuperate,” he said quietly, “there are rumours sweeping through the palace. Theodora has declared war on us. On me.”

  “War?” I exclaimed. “Has there been any fighting?”

  He shook his head impatiently. “Don’t be so literal. I didn’t mean that kind of war. Our bodyguards are not hacking each other to death in the corridors of power. She has more subtle weapons.”

  I slowly crawled out of bed, gasping at every stab of pain. There was a robe folded on a side-table next to the bed. I carefully put it on.

  Caledflwch stood leaning against the wall inside a new scabbard of red leather. “My thanks for allowing me to keep this,” I said as I buckled on the sword-belt, “I know you wanted it for the i
mperial treasury.”

  He shrugged. “It was Belisarius’s decision. Just keep the wretched thing safe. We have other things to worry about. I ask you again, will you consent to be smuggled out of Constantinople? I can find you a safe berth in some distant garrison. Or money and an escort to take you beyond our borders, if you prefer.”

  “No,” I said firmly, “I have run away too often in my life. Here I stand, come what may.”

  “I could force you to go. Your disappearance might draw the sting from Theodora’s anger.”

  I refused to be intimidated. “Belisarius appointed me to his personal guard. He wants me here by his side. He is the most popular man in the Empire. You would not want to make an enemy of him.”

  “He need not know,” Narses shot back, “he doesn’t know you are here, or what happened last night. So far as the general is concerned, you vanished yesterday with no explanation. Those citizens who saw you abducted by Theodora’s men have kept their mouths shut. Very wise of them.”

  I waited, wondering if he meant to throw me to the wolves after all. It seemed pointless, considering the risks he had taken to snatch me from their jaws. If it came to it, could I overpower Narses and fight my way past his Armenians?

  Not a chance. He might be easy enough to dispose of, but his guards were powerful-looking men. Even when fit I would not be confident of taking on any one of them.

  It was then I realised that Narses didn’t know what to do. For once the sly, calculating eunuch, who always gave the impression of having the world’s knowledge at his fingertips, was at a loss. He had rescued me in order to spite the Empress and teach her a lesson in humility, but with no thought to the consequences.

  “Stay in my quarters,” he said, as though I had a choice, “my servants will attend to your needs, and Kleinias is on hand to tend your injuries. I will be back by sundown.”

  He left me to anxiously chew my nails and wait for news. At midday the soft-spoken Kleinias changed my bandages and rubbed on fresh ointment, but otherwise I had to amuse myself.

  Narses kept a number of old books and papyri stacked on shelves in his study, histories for the most part, and I slew a few hours reading about the Etruscans.

  I had read seldom during my adult life, and made excruciatingly slow progress. The Etruscans seemed a dull, silly lot, so I quickly lost patience and skipped to the end. It came as no surprise to discover they were eventually conquered by the Romans.

  “Like everyone else,” I muttered, and returned the book to its shelf.

  As he had promised, Narses returned as the afternoon of a golden day was sliding into dusk. He looked drawn and tired, and fiddled nervously with the ruby ring on his little finger as he informed me of the latest.

  “I have nothing good to tell,” he said wearily. “The Empress employs her own network of spies and agents, a few of whom also work for me. She has recalled all of them and diverted their energies towards your destruction. What do you know of a man called Leo, a former trainer of the Blues?”

  This took me aback. I had not thought of Leo since the end of the Nika riots in the previous year.

  “The Leo I knew was one of the chief organisers and leaders of the riots,” I replied, “he escaped the massacre in the Hippodrome. I assumed he had fled the city.”

  Narses subsided onto a couch. We were alone in his study, and he had dismissed most of his servants for the night.

  “Theodora’s agents have dug him up from somewhere,” he said, “I don’t know what use she intends to make of him, but he is currently closeted in her chambers. The Emperor is busy enthusing over the building of his new church, and takes little interest in his wife’s private affairs. Was Leo a friend of yours?”

  “The opposite,” I said vehemently, “he taught me how to ride and to drive a chariot, but never had any love for him, nor him for me. He is a traitor, and I would gladly see him hanged.”

  “He is a weapon. One that Theodora means to use against us. Against you.”

  Narses ordered supper to be brought in. We ate in pensive silence. I could feel the walls closing in around me, and wondered how anyone could bear to live in the palace, with its greasy, claustrophobic atmosphere of paranoia and treachery. I came to the conclusion that people like Narses thrived on intrigue, just as soldiers thrive on action.

  The eunuch picked moodily at his fish stew. He was clearly waiting for something, and leaped from his chair when there was a knock at the door.

  “Come in!” he cried. One of his Armenians entered with a little ferret-faced man in tow. Narses excused himself and hurried out to confer with them.

  I had lost my appetite by the time the low murmur of voices ceased. Narses returned, walking slowly and chewing his lip. He closed the door and leaned his short back against it.

  “You mind I told you that some of Theodora’s agents work for me?” he said. I replied that I did.

  He laughed and clasped his hands together. “Well, it seems that one of the duplicitous bastards has been playing us for fools. Someone has been leaking information. Theodora knows you are here.”

  I shot to my feet. “I must get to the barracks,” I said, “now, before she sends men to get me. She can try nothing once I am safe with my comrades.”

  “Too late. The guards cannot protect you. Belisarius himself could not. The Empress has no need to stoop to bloodshed in the corridors. She has issued a charge of treason against you.”

  “Treason?” I shouted. “What treason? She must be insane!”

  “Her mind is in perfect working order. It is all wheels and gears. Much like mine, I suppose. Oh, she is clever. This man Leo has been prevailed upon to accuse you of a leading role in the Nika riots. He is going to claim that you were one of the chief conspirators.”

  “But that is madness! I was the one who came to the palace to warn the Emperor of the revolt. You saw me speak to him in person!”

  “True, but it might count for little. According to my spy, Leo is going to claim that you deserted the rebels in the hope of a reward from the Emperor. That is not enough to clear you of the charge of helping to stir the Blues into open revolt. Leo has other witnesses to support his words. Other survivors of the massacre.”

  I started to pace up and down the room, and may have even torn at my hair in frustration.

  “And the word of these men, these known traitors and rebels, is going to be valued above mine?” I demanded.

  Narses shrugged helplessly. “People have short memories, especially if the Empress wants blood. It is much easier to let her have it. There will be a trial. The Emperor himself may sit as your judge. I will speak for you, and so will Belisarius. He must know where you are by now. If not, he is the deafest man in the palace.”

  It was monstrous. More than that, it was absurd. I was to be put on trial for my life against a trumped-up charge of treason, the crime that I had always reviled. The crime that had brought down my grandfather, led my father to his death, and destroyed the peace and stability of my homeland. God, it seemed, had a wicked sense of irony.

  “You should have run when you had the opportunity,” said Narses, “it will be impossible to get you out of the palace now. All the ways are guarded, even the secret ones.”

  I was enmeshed. The trap had closed around me.

  For a moment I had to fight for breath. I could almost feel the burn of a rope around my neck, and hear the jeers of the crowd as the stool was kicked away from under me. I would dangle in mid-air, caught between Heaven and Hell, and my last sight on this earth would be the lazy smile on Theodora’s hateful face.

  28.

  The trial was held in the Praetorium, a Roman law-court, close to the central forum of the Augusteum. Theodora was intent on making my destruction as public an event as possible. She insisted that the trial be staged here, though it might have been kept a private affair inside the palace.

  It took time for her to persuade the Emperor that such a course was necessary, and to tear his attention away from his pet
project, the construction of the new church of Hagia Sophia.

  He had lavished money on this, and hired thousands of expert foreign labourers and craftsmen to make his dream into a reality. The walls and minarets were already rising into the sky, but as yet few suspected that Justinian meant to break with tradition and cap the church with a huge cupola or dome instead of the usual basilica design.

  While this increasingly magnificent edifice took shape, I was taken from Narses’ quarters and consigned to one of the prisons under the palace. There I was held, in cold and darkness and total ignorance of what was going on above my head. The burns on my back continued to pain me for a time, but Kleinias had done his work well and they healed quick and clean, despite the clinging damp and unclean air of prison.

  Theodora knew that my fate was not sealed. Though she loathed and despised Narses, she might hope to induce him not to speak for me. He was as bribable as anyone in the imperial court. Belisarius was a different matter. She could count on Antonina to influence him in most things, but he would consider it a matter of personal honour to support me. I was one of his soldiers, and he trusted me.

  The verdict was not quite a foregone conclusion, so the Empress committed her able mind to ways of making it so. Typically, the strategy she chose was both cruel and unexpected.

  There was no way of telling day from night in the subterranean gloom of my prison. I had languished there for God knows how many days, when I received a visitor. The bolts on the heavy cross-grained door squealed as they were drawn, and the guard ushered a slender figure through.

  My unexpected guest wore a dark blue cloak with a hooded mantle and carried a candle in an iron holder. I winced at the light of the candle, and had to blink and shield my eyes as the newcomer carefully placed it on the floor, straightened, and pushed back the hood.

  Over ten years had passed since I last saw Elene. The years had painted a little grey in her unbound black tresses, but otherwise she was unchanged. She moved with the same lithe, easy grace, and her long, narrow face still possessed the same charisma and almost-beauty that had captivated me at the Hippodrome.