But my new appointment – and I can’t sufficiently emphasise the fact – was a fucking disaster. All else aside, I knew as much about military tactics as I did about the laying of mosaics. Whatever plans of defence I might take over would have been already betrayed by Priscus. And that was assuming his plans were any good in the first place.
On the other hand, the shock of the appointment had wondrously settled me after that horrid time with Priscus. Men often dull the pain of torture by biting their tongues. One pain cancels the other. So it was with me. Back in the Legation earlier, I’d thought the pain of that truth about Maximin would never pass. Now, it was almost forgotten with this latest turn of the page.
And I looked absolutely lush in the suit of armour that had been waiting for me at the palace. It had been so skilfully adapted that it might have been made specially for me.
I scooped Maximin out of the cot from where he’d been solemnly regarding me, and carried him triumphantly about the room. I’d taken many things from Priscus – his job, his armour, his son. None of them might do me much good, but I might as well try to enjoy them.
‘So he killed them all?’ Martin asked, now in Celtic.
‘Every last one of them, it seems,’ I replied, giving Maximin my helmet to pat. ‘On the way out, I’ll swear I saw blood dripping down the walls. They must have gone through each cell in turn. Even with the guards to help, I can’t say how the Emperor and his slave could still stand afterwards.
‘For what it may now be worth,’ I added after another look in the mirror, ‘I know it wasn’t Priscus who hired those Syrians. It was the Emperor. I had a good look at his bloody footprints in the Ministry. They were the same as the ones in the Permanent Legate’s bedroom. The left foot was decidedly shorter than the right.’
God forgotten for the moment, Martin’s face turned grey.
‘I find it reasonable’, I went on, ‘to assume he had everyone under the Ministry butchered to save himself the embarrassment of being revealed as the man who hired those assassins. Having me put to death would itself have been embarrassing, bearing in mind what he’d appointed me to represent. But he was so eager to cover any trail that led to Demetrius that ordering me and Priscus to back away wasn’t enough.’
‘So Phocas killed the Permanent Legate?’ Martin asked. ‘And Authari?’
‘No,’ I said. ‘That was still probably Demetrius. But Phocas was in the Legation to help get rid of the body. If two monks really were seen there last Sunday, Phocas was one of them. That raises any number of new hypotheses to test against the facts. However, the investigation is ended – at least, for the moment.
‘Now, to other business,’ I said. ‘I’m going out shortly to see what forces I might have for tomorrow. I’d like you to start supervising the packing of boxes. I want all the more important papers and books safely stowed in the official areas of the Legation.’
There was a knock at the door. Antony entered the room.
‘My Lord,’ he said, ‘I’ve drafted the documents you asked for. All is in order.’
He’d been quick about his business. I’d only instructed him a while earlier in the main hall as I came back in.
‘Excellent,’ I said. ‘Martin, be so kind as to assemble all the slaves in this office. I have an important announcement to make.’
All my slaves stood before me, including Gutrune. With them were the three slaves Theophanes had passed over to me to keep the bathhouse in order. These had been kept away from anything confidential and, having been watched on and off over the past few days, seemed to fit nicely into the household. I didn’t know what they could have heard of the latest news, but they looked worried.
‘Martin,’ I said, ‘I shall make my announcement in Latin. I’d like you to interpret straight into Lombardic. That should make what I have to say comprehensible to everyone.’
I stood up. ‘Dear friends,’ I began, ‘you will be aware that everyone expects an attack on the City tomorrow or the day after at the latest. It is now impossible to believe that a gate will not be opened to Heraclius. I cannot say what will happen when he enters the City. But I must act now so far as I can to ensure the safety of those who look to me.’
I raised my voice and spoke slowly, stopping after every clause to make sure I was clearly followed.
‘By the authority vested in me by His Imperial Majesty, I believe that the safety of the Empire and of the City requires me to free certain persons from the servitude to which they were born or to which they have been reduced by the fortunes of war.’
I named all the slaves present. As I did so, Martin took up the relevant deed and passed it to me for signing. I had no seal ready but Antony had assured me that a signature would be sufficient. As I signed each document, he added the seal of the Legation. I no longer had any right to this, so had passed it to him for safekeeping.
‘To those of you who know something of the law,’ I continued, ‘I say that this is an Act of State. Being so, it requires none of the formalities that must attend a private manumission. It is a legal and an irrevocable act. However, should anyone be inclined, once order has been restored, to question the legality of my act, each deed here granted is witnessed on behalf of His Holiness the Universal Bishop in Rome.
‘You are each, as of this moment, free. You are free to go when and where you please. In a moment, I must leave you on official business. When I am gone, Martin will give each of you a purse of gold and silver to start you in your new lives. It is my advice that you should stay in this Legation so long as it remains safe. If, in defiance of all law and all religion, it is entered by any hostile force, I advise you to leave at once. You must offer no resistance.
‘Gutrune’ – I turned to her and spoke in the simple Lombardic she was happiest with – ‘if it is necessary for you to leave the Legation, I want you to take Maximin with you. If possible, you will return him to Martin. If this is not possible, I wish you to bring him up as if he were your own child. Martin will make additional financial arrangements to cover this eventuality.’
I raised my hand for silence. I had no time for extended thanks. Besides, I have never encouraged emotional scenes where they could be avoided. I had cleared my own accounts, and that would have to be an end of the matter. I embraced each free citizen as I handed out the deeds.
In a babble of ‘God be with you!’ the room emptied.
‘Can you help me back on with this thing?’ I asked Martin, pointing at the breastplate. ‘I have no idea how to tie all these leather straps.’
‘Can’t we just run away?’ Martin asked with a shaking voice. ‘Surely we can disguise ourselves and hide out in one of the Latin districts. We can come out again when all this is over. Can’t you see that Phocas is sending you to your death?’
‘That seems to be part of his intention,’ I agreed. ‘Perhaps he wants to make a better job of it than he made last night with those Syrians. More likely, though, he just wants someone to slow things down in the streets while he prepares his own Thermopylae in the Imperial Palace.’
I silenced whatever comment Martin had begun.
‘Listen,’ I said, dropping from pure habit into Celtic, ‘Phocas tells me he’s armed his eunuchs, and plans to lead them in a fight to the last at the entrance to the Throne Room. For the moment, he has enough control in the city to be able to track me down if I try making a dash for it. Once Heraclius is through the gates, however, I doubt I shall be the only defender buggering off out of sight.
‘Now, Martin,’ I went on, fixing him in the eye, ‘what I said to the slaves goes for you as well. I want you out of here at the first smell of trouble. Take whatever you need to get back to Rome. If you can get the child back to Gretel, so much the better.’
‘You have very little respect for my courage,’ he said, his exalted tone returning. ‘Perhaps I don’t always acquit myself well in the presence of the unexpected. But I know my duty.’
I cut him off. ‘Your duty’, I said, ‘is to take that
child back to Rome. Beyond that, you look to your own safety. We don’t know for certain it’s all up for Phocas. If it is, I’m more likely to get out safely if I’m alone. We’ll have dinner in Rome yet. I’m sure you can persuade Sveta not to poison me.’
Martin ignored me. ‘I bought a relic of Saint Victorinus when we got back to the City,’ he said. ‘It is attested by the Holy Fathers of his own monastery. I want you to wear it when you go out on the streets. He saved you once before.’
‘My dear Martin,’ I said, trying not to laugh at the shrivelled finger he passed across the desk. ‘Put that thing back in its box.’
‘Then we shall all pray for you,’ he said.
‘I’m not going to my death just yet,’ I reminded him. ‘I’ll be back at dawn.’
57
After several months in the place, I’d come to take the sheer size of Constantinople for granted. Now I was put in charge of its defence, I was brought back to my first realisation. There are nearly ten miles of wall to cover. As I keep saying, the City walls are impregnable; and, as hardly a decade goes by without one of more attempts to breach them, they are always kept in excellent repair.
My problem, though, was a shortage of men. Just about all the officers in the garrison and in the City Guard had now deserted. Phocas had caught a few and hanged them, but that didn’t solve the immediate problem. Many of the common soldiers were staying at home, and there was no way of getting them back on duty in time for the expected attack. The rest made it clear to me that they’d do their minimal duty of holding the walls, but would do nothing to endanger their own lives.
I might be its Count. Bugger me, though, if I saw one member of the Palace Guard.
When Priscus had been told to recruit the citizens to mount an internal defence, that had been largely to keep everyone busy and take their minds off the coming struggle. No one had seriously expected that this line of defence would be needed. Now it was the only line of defence. The Green Faction, under old General Bonosus, was looking after the Main Harbour. The Emperor had dug his younger brother out of a brothel to muster the few regular troops who remained in the City.
As head of the City’s defences I’d spent much of the night hurrying from barricade to barricade, inspecting them and giving little speeches of encouragement. The outer barricades had been largely deserted, and I’d moved the few armed citizens who were there back to a smaller line around the central areas. Some of these obeyed. Many others, I later discovered, had gone off home.
The only enthusiasm I found was among the university students. They had no commitment to Phocas or to anyone else, but the thought of a good fight was far more exciting than reading up for examinations. I bumped into them as I came away from the Eleutherian Harbour, where I’d been watching brightly lit ships darting about some business which the decrepit veterans assigned to my staff were unable to explain.
‘Have any of you read much military history?’ I asked after draining one of the wine jugs offered me. I’d paid little attention to battles myself, except in Thucydides and a few other historians, where they are integral to the text.
‘No,’ answered one with a piping voice – he looked about fifteen – ‘but an uncle of mine did once write a poem about Saint Sebastian. It had lots of killing in it.’
‘That will have to do,’ I said. ‘Now listen,’ I told the whole group. ‘I don’t doubt Heraclius will get into the City. When he does come, it will probably be from two or more directions at once. Therefore, we don’t go out of the main ring of barricades. Go outside, and we’ll be cut off in no time. I want you gathered by the Great Church when news comes of an attack. We then go together to whatever place needs additional defence. We fight together. We stay together. We don’t face the enemy at any time in open terrain. We pick them off half a dozen at a time, and preferably from behind.’
I knew nothing yet of generalship in the regular sense, but I had led that band of ruffians on the Wessex borders with reasonable success. Defending a gigantic city with a thousand miles of streets was beyond my present abilities, but I felt some comfort in having my own group of irregulars.
I made a literary speech about deathless glory. Then I sent everyone home to get some rest.
The Great Church was crowded when I arrived there. With bonfires to keep off the night chill, hundreds lolled on the pavements of the square outside, eating and drinking. It was hardly a merry occasion, but the drink had cheered everyone.
Theophanes caught up with me as I was admiring myself in a shop window. He was alone.
‘Aelric,’ he said, puffing at the exertion of having to move quickly around the City without his chair – ‘Aelric, I want you to know that this wasn’t any of my doing. All I wanted was for you to stay in the Legation and wait on events. My juggling has not worked out as expected.’
‘What’s done is done,’ I said and waved dismissively. ‘But what are your plans now? Have you come to volunteer for a place at the barricades? You’re a neat hand with a dagger, as I recall.’
He smiled grimly. ‘You don’t seem to understand the seriousness of what is happening,’ he said.
‘I understand perfectly well what is happening,’ I snapped. ‘As ever, I don’t understand why it is. Now, Theophanes, since I hardly think you’ve come here with any new revelations, I’ll simply ask what I can do for you.’
Theophanes looked quickly around. There was no one in hearing distance. He leaned close to me.
‘There is a little monastery by the Pantocrator Church – it’s the one close by the old wall of Constantine,’ he said. ‘Go there if the need arises. The Fathers are all Monophysites but good people otherwise. They owe me much for the protection I’ve given them over the years. Show them this—’
With an effort, he pulled a black ring from one of his fingers. ‘Give them this, and trust them. Once order is restored, dress as one of their own and set out for Pavia or Marseilles. So long as you don’t show your face or hair, you can easily pass as a cleric of any theological persuasion. No one ever stops a monk.
‘Go, and don’t ever come back to the City or to any Imperial territory.’
I took the ring and held it up to the light. I’d noticed it outside the City, when it had been the only one not stripped from him by the barbarians. It was of heavily worn and pitted bronze.
‘Why are you doing this for me?’ I asked.
‘I do it because I can,’ came the answer. ‘If I could do more, I would.’
‘And what of you, Theophanes?’ I asked.
His face closed over. ‘Be assured’, he said, ‘that Theophanes the Magnificent has his own plans for when the moment comes. Only remember that I served the Empire to the best of my abilities when I could. The Persians may overwhelm you. If not them, some other race will finish the job. It could all have been so different if only this ghastly Religion of the Son hadn’t come to divide citizen from citizen.
‘You’re a Westerner. Even if in Latin, you’re trapped within the circle of Greek theology. None of you – Greek, Latin, barbarian – has ever realised that Easterners don’t fundamentally care about the Son. For us, it has always been the Father and the Father alone. That isn’t just the Jews – it’s all of us.
‘If Constantine had only realised this, he could have united the Empire for eternity. He missed his chance. No one else after him thought to repair the mistake. Now, if it ever is repaired, it will be from without your civilisation, and to the eventual ruin of your civilisation.’
The last thing I’d expected from Theophanes at this moment was a lecture on theology.
‘Will I ever learn what you and Phocas and Demetrius were up to?’ I asked.
‘Pray that you can ask that of His Excellency the Dispensator in Rome,’ Theophanes replied. ‘He knows all.’
‘Will the Emperor be joining me tonight?’ I asked.
Theophanes laughed bitterly. ‘His Majesty is currently so drunk, he can’t hold a pen to sign the last death warrants. Pray you’ll not
see him again.’
He turned abruptly and walked away from me. Some old men squeezed into armour blocked his way at first. As he reached them, they suddenly stood back and bowed for him to pass. I watched him walk briskly across the square past the Great Church. At the far end, he turned not in the direction of the Ministry, but towards the palace.
I watched until he was out of sight. Then I turned back to the shop window. Inside, clearly visible in the torchlight, were some beautiful shoes. One pair I was sure would fit me. I had only to smash one of the panes and reach in for them. No one would stop me.
In the end I decided it would set a bad example. So I went home to catch up on sleep.
As the gate of the Legation swung shut behind me, I breathed a sigh of relief. The lamps were turned down but I could see that all was neat and orderly. I crossed the hall and rapped on the door to my suite.
‘Who’s there?’ Martin hissed from behind the heavy wood.
‘It’s me,’ I said. ‘I’ve come for a break from leading my army of old men and schoolboys.’
Fully clothed, I lay on my bed. Martin sat beside me.
‘I went out myself earlier,’ he said. ‘I know you told me to stay inside, but I had to get out for a walk. Everyone was talking of you as a future Emperor.’
I sat up. ‘In the name of God!’ I cried. ‘Let’s hope that doesn’t get back to any of the Imperial rivals. Besides, the last thing I want is to rule over this mob of lunatics.’
I showed him the ring Theophanes had given me. ‘This means’, I said, ‘we all have some means of escape. You can now stay here in good conscience with the others.’
‘God spoke to me while you were out,’ Martin said in a voice that he might have used for reminding me of a lunch appointment with Sergius. ‘He told me you would be saved if I did my duty. He finally told me why I was spared in the Yellow Camp.’
Terror of Constantinople Page 37
