Eight for Eternity

Chapter Five

John stood impatiently outside the Chalke gate and waited for General Belisarius to pass. He had already been stopped on his way out of the palace by the arrival of Mundus. The previous day, including his mission to the church, had been a long one. Then he barely slept. As soon as he dozed, the darkness closed in over him like inky water. Finally he lit a lamp and was able to drift off, only to come awake coughing up imaginary water, drenched in real sweat. Now the two boiled eggs hurriedly gulped down for breakfast sat in his stomach like stones at the bottom of a cistern.

He did not look forward to investigating the murders of the Blue and the Green. He didn’t know where to start, except at the Hippodrome, the center of everything to do with the factions. And the Hippodrome was a very big place.

As John debated whether he should try to push through the crush which had cleared the street to make way for the mounted force, he saw Belisarius pause. His eye was drawn to a stocky, dark haired man, with whom the general exchanged a few words before continuing on into the palace grounds.

John knew the man. He had grown a slight paunch in the fifteen years since John had last seen him, but aside from that he looked no different than when they had served together as mercenaries outside Antioch.

“Haik,” John called, as he strode through the crowd.

The man turned at the sound of his name. His face was long and sun browned, his hair and eyes glistening black. He had a great, triangular beak of a nose. More than once, his companions had remarked in coarse jest that if Haik were slain on the battlefield the vultures might be reluctant to feast on one of their own.

“Is it John?” Haik flashed the wide grin John recalled well. The teeth were large and even, but half of a front tooth was missing. Haik looked John up and down and his dark eyebrows rose. “Imagine running into you in the capital. And you’re not dressed like a soldier either.”

“Neither are you, my old friend. That cloak you’re wearing is worth several months of a mercenary’s pay. But you seem to have an acquaintance with at least one prominent soldier.”

“Yes. Only in passing. Belisarius allowed me to travel from Antioch with his troops. I have business here.”

The two men stood facing each other. They did not embrace as colleagues often do upon meeting. It was not John’s way.

“Business, you say? Then you are no longer a military man?”

“No. I’m a pistachio farmer. I own a small estate.”

“And what are you doing in Constantinople?”

“Right now, I’m looking for lodgings. I’ve been staying with Belisarius’ retinue this past week and I don’t want to strain his generosity.”

“Stay with me, Haik. I have a big house all to myself. It isn’t in the most salubrious part of the palace grounds, but right behind the stables.”

“You have a house in the palace grounds? You are no longer a soldier yourself then?”

“We’ll talk later. I have an urgent assignment. Ask anyone at the stables. They’ll direct you to my house. I’ll see you this evening.”

***

The narrow and hilly peninsula where Emperor Constantine built his new Rome two hundred years earlier had not offered an area of flat land large enough for a race track close to the palace grounds. At the Hippodrome’s southern extremity, where the land sloped abruptly down toward the Sea of Marmara, a series of massive vaults supported the curved end of the track. From the base of the towering back wall, higher than most of the city’s buildings, a series of archways opened directly into a vast substructure.

John stepped through one of the archways out of sunlight and into subterranean gloom. He waited until his eyes had adjusted, glanced around, then proceeded across an empty chamber to a wide corridor. Lit by torches even in daytime, the corridor mirrored the curve of the track above. It gave access to storerooms for chariots and other racing equipment, stables, offices, supplies for the maintenance of the Hippodrome, temporary barracks for guards, makeshift jail cells, tiny chapels-all the appurtenances of a small city. When filled with 80,000 spectators the Hippodrome’s population rivalled that of most of the empire’s cities.

The secluded environs also served the needs of both trysting lovers and street women. Down here, during racing season, a prostitute could earn in a single day as much as she could make in a week in a dark alley, and while staying in out of the rain.

It was a place where criminals could work in private. More than one corpse had been found in the shadowy maze. John used caution upon entering.

A few paces down the corridor he met a man carrying a looped pile of reins. The chubby, dirty faced fellow glared at John with obvious suspicion. “You don’t belong here. What are you up to, lurking about?”

“Looking for advice. I hear the Blues have a new charioteer.”

“Word gets round faster than our best team. How did you hear about him?”

John waved a hand. “It’s the talk of the taverns.”

The other shifted his grip on his burden, and dropped several reins. “Can’t keep anything quiet in this city,” he grumbled. “But let them Greens try anything and they’ll be sorry. Just so you know, we’ve men guarding the horses day and night and if anyone can sneak past our grooms to bury a curse tablet in the track they’ll be demons indeed.” He spat on the ground.

“I wouldn’t put my money on a few lines of gibberish scratched on a piece of rolled-up lead. I’ll wager on a driver with skill and brains. I was going to wager on this new man to win next time out but I hear he had an accident?”

“That’s right. A bad accident. Some Greens caught him a couple of nights ago and broke his legs. Those kinds of accidents are happening all the time. Last week someone tried to poison Porphyrius.”

“I’d like to meet one of your charioteers.”

The chubby worker looked dubious. “It might be arranged….” His dirty fingers closed over the coins John handed him. “Yes, you’ll want to talk to Junius. He’s checking chariots to make certain nobody has tampered with them. If you hurry, you’ll just catch him. You never know but what some Green has managed to bribe someone to do a little damage.”

John found Junius, a tall, lean man with sinewy arms, in a cavernous storage room filled with chariots. He and a short companion were examining the underside of a quadriga propped up against one of the many pillars supporting the vaulted ceiling. John paused for a moment, half concealed by another pillar.

“Axle and pins in place, pole well seated,” Junius said. “Perhaps that shadowy figure Porphyrius saw last night was a shade of the wine jug rather than the human sort.”

“And perhaps not.” The shorter man spun the left wheel. “Three spokes are partly sawn through from the inside. How long do you think the wheel would stay on once the race began?”

Junius uttered an oath. “Have it repaired and don’t let it out of your sight while you do. Isn’t there anything Porphyrius doesn’t see?”

The other shook his head. “He’s not human. Imagine anyone needing to sabotage the chariot of a graybeard like Porphyrius. He’s too old to be driving chariots, let alone winning.”

John stepped forward. “Junius?”

The charioteer didn’t appear surprised by the interruption, just annoyed. “What of it?”

“I wish to talk to you. In private.”

Junius laughed. “And a blade in the ribs in private too? You Greens must be desperate to think I’d fall for that.”

“I’m not from either faction. I’m here on behalf of the emperor.”

The wheel examiner guffawed. “A nomisma says otherwise, if I had a nomisma to wager!”

Junius stared at John for a heartbeat. “I’ll talk with this man,” he told his companion. “Leave us alone.”

“You look familiar,” Junius said, when his assistant had departed. “Haven’t I seen you in the imperial box at the races?”

“You have a keen eye. There are always a lot of people in the kathisma.”

“Few as tall. And you have the bearing of a military man. Very noticeable among all those perfumed flowers trying to brush up against Justinian’s robes. What do you want to know?”

“First, one of those perfumed flowers is a prominent courtier who owns horses in which the Blues may be interested. I can put you in touch with him. If the races continue. Justinian is considering closing them down forever.” He paused to let the statement sink in. “The emperor is not pleased with the factions. He’s been told that there’s talk of replacing him with one of Anastasius’ heirs.”

Junius pulled a rag from his belt and wiped grime off his hands. “You’ve been sent to deliver a warning.”

“No. I’m looking for information. What about this seditious talk?”

“Nothing specific. There’s always some malcontent ready to stir up the factions. Even a one-eyed fool can see the riots aren’t always connected with who won the latest race. Some fight for the love of fighting. Some skulk round the edges looking for a chance to loot. Others brawl to defend the honor of their team.”

“Indeed. I didn’t need to venture into the depths of the Hippodrome to learn that. Tell me about those two who escaped execution.”

“Nobody seems to know where they are. It’s being whispered if they are not brought forward and pardoned there will be another riot. But then you must be aware of that too.”

“So the rumors are true. What are the men’s names?”

“I have no idea. I don’t know every member of the factions personally. Everyone who attends the races is a faction member.”

“Yes, but few of them are singled out for execution by the emperor. I would have expected word to spread quickly. Someone must know their names.”

“No one around here knows the names of the emperor’s enemies.”

“No one would want to risk seeming connected to such men, you mean. How serious is all this talk? The usual grumbling or something more?”

Junius tossed the rag he had been using to the concrete floor. “I’m a charioteer, not a politician. I concern myself with chariots and horses, not plots. If you want to know more, ask Porphyrius. He’s a palace favorite and I’ve noticed lately he seems uneasy.”

“What makes you think so?”

“He’s got a mansion in the city but the past few weeks he’s been sleeping at the Hippodrome, on a bed of straw. Says there’s evil abroad and he’s staying here to help guard against it. I don’t believe him. He can afford any number of watchmen and he’s always boasted he’s not superstitious.”

“What is your explanation?”

Junius did not hesitate before replying. “I’ve thought about that. Of course the Greens are just as alert and have their own men here day and night. But consider, there are plenty of unused, out-of-the-way rooms and passageways down here. It’s a perfect place to meet people unobserved, isn’t it? Yes, I would certainly interview Porphyrius, but don’t expect him to be as straightforward with you as I’ve been.”