Justinian

MYAKES

Ever since Justinian came back from Kherson, Brother Elpidios, I'd wondered now and whether he was drinking from a full jar of wine, if you know what I'm saying. I wondered more when he aimed everything he had at Kherson and the other towns on the far side of the Black Sea. Aye, some of the folks up there had done him wrong, but not that wrong. The one who'd done him real dirt was the khagan of the Khazars, but he let him live. Go figure.

When he got the news of what had gone wrong for the second fleet he sent up to Kherson, I really do think he went crazy for a while. What you were just reading there, it sounds like he went crazy, doesn't it?

It happened like this. I was-

What's that, Brother? Why did I keep on serving him if I thought he'd gone mad? No, it wasn't on account of I thought he'd take my head if I quit. I did think that, as a matter of fact, but it wasn't why I stayed. Why, then? You don't understand? I'll tell you why, Brother Elpidios. I guess the easiest way to put it is, I'd been serving him so long, it never even occurred to me I could do anything else. I'd been at his side thirty-five years by then, or maybe a bit more than that. Most marriages don't last so long. Somebody ups and dies, husband or wife.

And besides, every now and then he'd listen to me, a little bit, anyway, and what he'd do wouldn't be as horrible as what he might have done. And so I kept telling myself I was doing some good. And I was. Some good. Looking back, I've got to say it wasn't enough.

Does that answer your question? Good. Where was I, then? Oh, yes. I was heading up the throne-room guards when a messenger came running in. Poor bastard looked scared to death. I found out why a minute later, too- he was the one who had to break the news from across the sea to Justinian.

I've never seen a man who looked so much like he wanted to stay down there forever once he prostrated himself. Justinian had to tell him three different times he could get up before he finally went and did it. "Emperor," he said once he couldn't keep quiet any more, "it's all gone wrong up in Kherson."

"What do you mean, it's gone wrong?" Justinian's voice didn't have any feeling in it anywhere. His eyes, though- his eyes were measuring that messenger for a coffin. I've never seen anything like it in all my born days, and I never will now- that's certain sure.

"It's gone wrong," the messenger repeated, and then, the poor sod, he had to tell how. "We landed outside Kherson," he said, "and Helias and Bardanes and the Khersonites and the Khazars said they wanted a parley. So George and John and Christopher went into the city with the tudun and Zo\a239los- they were going to give them back anyway, you know- and-"

Justinian clapped a hand to his forehead. "Don't tell me they were such imbeciles as to go alone?" he said, like a man in pain.

"Emperor, they were," the messenger said miserably, "and the Khersonites slammed the gates shut on them, and there wasn't anything any of us could do about it, on account of we were outside and they were inside. And they didn't come out and they didn't come out, and then the gates opened up again all of a sudden, and our people didn't come out, but\a160… well, they did, because the Khazars had George's head on a pike and John's on another one, and we weren't ready to fight them, not really, so they must have captured a couple-three hundred of us, and then-"

"What of Christopher?" Justinian broke in.

"I don't know, Emperor," the fellow answered.

I didn't know then, either. Years later, cooped up here in the monastery, I found out. The Khersonites and the Khazars in Kherson sent the tudun and Zo\a239los and all the prisoners off to Ibouzeros Gliabanos. Along the way, the tudun died. They slaughtered Christopher and all the captured soldiers- I heard three hundred, but I don't know if that's right or not- to give him slaves in the next world. They aren't Christians, the Khazars, not even close.

"Emperor," the messenger said after a little while, "that's not the worst of it."

"God and His Son, what could be worse?" Justinian said, still in that toneless voice, like he couldn't take in what he was hearing. But he took it in, all right. He wasn't giving anything back, that's what it was, nothing at all.

The messenger licked his lips. I remember that. I was thinking, This is what he really, really doesn't want to tell. But he didn't have any choice, not any more he didn't, and so he blurted it out in a rush: "Emperor, they've declared Bardanes Emperor up there."

After that, nobody said anything for- oh, I don't know how long. If anybody breathed during however long it was, it must have been by accident. Theophylaktos the eunuch's eyes got big as hen's eggs. If he were here, he'd probably tell you mine were the same size.

Or maybe not, on account of maybe all he was doing was watching Justinian. That was most of what I was doing, too, but every now and then my eyes would move away for a heartbeat or two. Believe me, Brother Elpidios, that was most of what everybody in the Blakhernai throne room was doing.

Justinian couldn't very well watch himself. He watched the messenger instead, till the poor son of a whore must have thought his head would be the next one on a speak in front of the Milion. And then, in a quiet, even voice, Justinian said, "By the time I am through with them, Bardanes and Helias will wish they were Leontios and Apsimaros."

I think that was the most frightening thing I ever heard in my life, Brother Elpidios.

And then, just like he wrote it, Justinian asked, "Does Helias have a wife in the city? Does Bardanes?"

He didn't need long to find out.