Eight for Eternity

Chapter Eighteen

“The Lord sent a miracle, changing the wind like that,” Haik told John. “Then again, my aching muscles insist on taking some of the credit for saving the palace.”

He grimaced as he turned his chair to better see out the doorway which opened onto the portico surrounding John’s overgrown garden. The room John’s guest had been given was near the back of the house, across the interior courtyard from the suite being used by the Anastasius family.

Haik sat at the small bedside table and poured the obligatory wine. Wine, John thought, was as much a prerequisite to conversation as opening one’s mouth. The first cup did little to wash away the taste of ashes.

“Maybe you should leave the city before it burns down around you,” Haik said. “Start afresh. Come back to Antioch with me. You know the area. It doesn’t get so chilly.”

John could feel a draught from the open door eddying around his boots. The air smelled of smoke, but not so strongly as his clothing did. “I’m not fond of the cold. I’ve suffered worse. Constantinople isn’t Bretania.”

John could see that Haik was studying him. The light from the oil lamp beside the wine jug threw unnatural shadows up around his old colleague’s face, accentuated the great beak-like nose, made him more than ever resemble a bird of prey.

“I’m not shocked to find you in such a high position, John. When we served together, you always struck me as a deep thinker.”

“Back then? I ran away from Plato’s Academy to fight.”

“There was definitely a stoic air about you.”

“Just as well, as it turned out.”

Haik shook his head. “I’m sorry. I didn’t meant to bring up-”

“You didn’t. Some things are never far from one’s mind. I try not to dwell on. It is only the thinking about it that is distressing now.”

“See, you are a philosopher.”

“So my old tutor Philo used to say. In truth, when I was younger I thought philosophy was only good for amusing children who hadn’t gone out into the world and consoling old men who were done with it.”

“Now you know better.”

“I know it is very dangerous to be a philosopher at the emperor’s court.”

“More dangerous than being an emperor’s advisor? What if Justinian doesn’t survive this uprising? What would your future be like then?”

“Very short, no doubt.”

“Doesn’t that bother you?”

“Every morning that we pulled on our boots to march to battle we knew we might be face down in the dirt by the time the sun set.”

Something moved in the garden. A night bird, or the wind swirling around the courtyard, swaying a branch.

“You’re right,” said Haik. “That seems a very long time ago. I guess I was braver then. Maybe we only have so much courage and I’ve used all mine up.”

“I doubt that. You were as good a fighter as any of us. It is hard for me to see you as an estate owner rather than a soldier.”

“It suits me, John. I took enough orders when I was a fighter. And I like having my fate in my own hands. Isn’t it vexing to have your fate tied to one man? Even if Justinian survives this crisis, there’s sure to be another. And suppose he dies in his bed? What happens to his advisors when the new emperor takes control?”

“Nothing drastic necessarily. Look at Hypatius. He’s served both Justin and Justinian. Not only was he a favorite of Emperor Anastasius, he was a family member. If Hypatius hadn’t been in charge of the armies in the east, far away from the capital, when his uncle died, he would have been proclaimed emperor rather than Justin.”

“And then Justin couldn’t have made his own nephew, Justinian, his successor. Does the throne descend through nephews now?”

John smiled slightly. “You see my point, though. Emperors need experienced men.”

“Even if they are experienced at failure? Everyone says his military record was dismal. Justinian removed him as eastern commander and replaced him with Belisarius hardly three years ago, you’ll recall. He might bear a grudge. Doesn’t that make him a threat to Justinian now?”

“Justinian might think so. But I can assure you, Hypatius wants no part of being emperor. I suspect he has made a realistic assessment of his own abilities.”

“As opposed to just being a coward.” Haik turned away from John to peer into the garden. John heard what had caught his attention, a rustling sound, like a rodent scurrying through dead leaves. The wind had grown even stronger. A gust of frigid air blew into the room.

Haik got up stiffly and shut the door.

“What about your own profession?” John said. “It would worry me if my life depended on pistachios.”

“They’re more reliable than an unpopular emperor. Need barely any water. Live practically forever. On a quiet night, if you stand under a tree which has reached perfect maturity, you can hear the sound of the shells bursting open. That’s said to bring the listener good fortune.”

“There was a time when I dreamed of simply owning a farm.”

“Why not now?”

“My life has changed.” He did not add that he had dreamt of sharing his life with Cornelia. Where was she? Still touring with the troupe? Was she alive? Even if he had some way to find her they could no longer share a life together, given what had happened. The city was preferable for the solitary creature he had become. The crowds, the noise and danger, kept him from slipping away completely from the rest of mankind.

“And you must have resources, considering the position you hold,” Haik was saying. “Buy a small estate. You can grow anything you want. Breed horses. Or we could be partners.”

“There are days when I might almost consider what you suggest.”

“Such as the day Justinian flees the city? If you were to purchase some land, now, then you’d have a place to go. It might be too late for that, but you could at least make sure you have enough of your assets in gold, ready for transport.”

“Are you preparing to replace Justinian yourself, Haik? You sound convinced that his days-and mine-are numbered.”

“I’m just going by what I’ve seen since I arrived. Riots, fires, the factions rising up together. It’s not like this in the city all the time is it?”

John laughed, without humor. “It is usually much more restful, although hardly bucolic.” He put his wine cup down. “I need to get some sleep, my friend. As far as I know Justinian is still the emperor and I am still under orders to investigate the murders of those two faction members.”

“Have you learned anything useful?”

“I may have, but if so, I haven’t recognized it yet. Maybe Porphyrius will know something helpful. After that exhibition of his at the races, I want to talk to him.”

Haik frowned. “Talk to Porphyrius? Surely you don’t suspect him of anything? He was just trying to be even-handed, or so I’ve heard.”

“Is that all? I hope so. Nevertheless, I want to know if he’s been approached by anyone from the factions. He’s a highly respected man and very influential, when he wants to be.”

Haik stared at the guttering flame of the lamp. “John, if you’re going to be asking Porphyrius about his visitors, I know of one he will probably mention. Myself.”

John looked at his friend in surprise.

“You traveled here to see Porphyrius?”

Haik shook his head. “No. Not at all. I have business in the city, as I said. But Porphyrius spent years racing in Antioch. I knew him in passing. I just wanted to pay my respects.”

“Is that all?”

“Well, I hardly spoke to him. We were interrupted by a visitor.”

“You did speak, however.”

“Yes. I’m thinking of expanding my business. I won’t bore you with the details. Nothing was settled anyway. I didn’t think to visit him until the day before those botched executions. You know the state the city’s been in since then. He hasn’t been able to see me again.”

“You say the meeting was about business.”

“It’s a new venture. And, Porphyrius is respected in Antioch too. I thought he might put in a good word for me. I see you disapprove. You’re thinking your old military friend has turned into just another conniving businessman. What can I say? Once a mercenary, always a mercenary.”

Chapter Nineteen

The woman peered over the low brick parapet. From the tenement roof she could see into the Augustaion. Tongues of fire outlined the Great Church. The leaping, flickering red light revealed dozens of men and women howling and dancing in obscene drunken delight. Shrill screams resounded across the square, littered with broken and spoilt goods from nearby shops which had been forced open and pillaged.

She had seen thieves dart into the burning church and emerge, coughing and retching, clutching treasures which flashed in the firelight. They vanished into the warren of alleys beyond, to whatever life gold and silver would buy in a world that seemed to be coming to an end.

The woman behind the parapet was more interested in the group of men clustered in the alley below. They had pursued her. She had managed to escape their forceful attentions, but for how much longer?

As if in reply came a hoarse shout from above. She looked up toward the roof of the adjoining building which leaned crazily over her temporary sanctuary, nearly touching the timbers she stood on. She saw the dark outline of a figure against the night sky.

“They will not harm any green thing!” cried the figure.

The woman wept with fear and crouched lower, shrinking into the shadow of the parapet.

The hoarse-voiced man continued to shout over the background noise-screams of pain, and the dull roar of men drunk on stolen wine and violence.

“I tell you they won’t harm any of them! Success is assured! Why are not the armies of the righteous storming the gates of the palace?”

There was a brief pause and then a lower pitched voice, still strong enough to carry to the woman, replied. “Greens, Blues, what does it matter who they are? They just need a strong leader. Someone not afraid to confront the demon emperor!”

She could not see the other man.

“I am here to do that! And I see-” The first speaker moved suddenly. The woman flinched. She thought he was leaping down toward her. Instead he lurched sideways, landed at the very corner of the building and tottered on the edge. “I see necklaces of fire cleansing the city of its filth! Hear the sinners scream!”

“Is it as foretold?” asked the other.

The reply was uttered in a weary tone. “No. The horsemen, the four horsemen are overdue. Ah, but did you ever see Porphyrius race? Now there’s a man who’s won me many a wager. How the women love him! I’ve often wished I were a charioteer.”

Fearful as she was, the woman continued to stare upwards, intrigued. Who were these men, conversing as if they were at a social gathering while the city burnt round them?

Now they appeared to be discussing horses.

“The Greens raced several chestnut horses last week,” one observed. “Red horses…it was an omen of peace departing. I said so at the time. Porphyrius just laughed, the great fool. There’s always strife, he said, and especially when we Greens are winning. Why, he even said I should contribute a bag of silver coins toward his expenses, as if I hadn’t contributed more than most of the faction to ensure the team’s victory!”

A quieter voice answered, pointing out that a greater victory hung in the balance.

“The horsemen are late! Where is the black horse carrying the man with the scales?” The speaker’s voice rose into a shriek. “Where is death, riding a pale horse with hell following? Hell is here already! Where-”

A hand fastened on the woman’s shoulder. She screamed.

One of the men in the alley must have guessed where she had gone and made his way up the tenement’s staircase while her attention was diverted.

She jerked away with the strength of desperation, raking the leering face with her nails. She jumped to her feet, ran across the timbers, and clambered up onto the overhanging roof where the two men had been talking.

She had no way of knowing if they were different than the men who pursued her. They couldn’t be worse.

The ragged figure perched at the corner of the building took no notice of her. She stumbled and scrambled over to him on her hands and knees. She saw her assailant pulling himself up onto the roof.

She clutched the ragged man’s leg and begged him for protection.

“A scarlet woman! An abomination!” the invisible speaker proclaimed.

“Away with her!” shouted the man whose leg she was holding.

The woman had time to realize there had been but one person on the roof before the bloody, ragged man grasped her by the waist and threw her over the edge.