Eight for Eternity Read online

  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.

  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 cr
owd 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 wi
nd 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?”