Justinian

JUSTINIAN

I had hoped to get even more from the Arabs than we ended up acquiring, but they scored a victory or two of their own to begin balancing ours: they captured Kirkesion, our outpost on the eastern Euphrates, and raided west from Antioch. The arrival of that news made Mansour more stubborn than he had been.

Even so, thanks to the invasion of Armenia I won far better terms from Abimelekh than my father had from Mauias. Mansour agreed to pay us a slave and a high-bred horse for every week of the year, an arrangement much like the former one, but Paul the magistrianos, at the urging of Stephen the Persian, held out for a large increase in the amount of gold we were to receive each year.

When he came to me to report what Mansour had conceded, his eyes were round and staring. "A thousand nomismata a week, Emperor!" he exclaimed. "We were getting only three thousand a year before."

"You see?" I said triumphantly. "I knew we'd hurt the deniers of Christ. You may agree to that, Paul, but make certain you don't sound too eager doing it."

"I understand," he said. Then he coughed. "While the payment lies at the heart of the treaty, Emperor, it is not the only provision involved. In Abimelekh's name, Mansour has proposed an arrangement the likes of which I have never heard before; you must weigh its advantages and disadvantages for yourself."

"Tell me, then."

"He says that, while his master Abimelekh commonly controls Armenia and Iberia, our continued raids on those lands and the uprisings they spark create such disruption that he cannot collect the taxes owed him-"

"Good!" I said.

But Paul continued, "Mansour also says we do not bring in enough money from the raids to make them worth our while, either. Through him, Abimelekh proposes that both sides give over warfare in those provinces, that we let the Armenians and Iberians carry on their lives in peace, and that we then tax them and divide evenly the money we receive."

"That is a novel suggestion," I admitted, rubbing my chin. Whiskers rasped under my fingers; my beard had thickened to the point that I was letting it grow. "But is Abimelekh sincere in this, or only trying to keep us from raiding Armenia and Iberia?"

"I cannot judge, Emperor," Paul said. "Mansour seems sincere, but he is an ambassador. Did he not seem sincere, he would fail of his purpose."

"Let me think on it," I said, and sent him away. I summoned him again two days later. He having prostrated himself before me, I said, "So Abimelekh says we should stop these attacks because they cost both sides money, eh?"

"That is how Mansour represents the matter, yes," the magistrianos answered, diplomatically cautious.

I pounced: "Will Abimelekh then agree likewise to share the tax revenues from the island of Cyprus, and to order his fleets to leave off ravaging its coastal towns? If he is sincere, he will agree to stop raiding as well as to keep from being raided."

Paul's bow showed respect for my person now, not merely for the imperial office I happened to hold. "I shall put the question to Mansour, exactly as you have put it to me, and shall immediately report to you his response."

That response was in essence no response: on the grounds that the matter of Cyprus was beyond the scope of his instructions and that he dared not decide without having consulted his principal, Mansour felt compelled to write to the misnamed commander of the faithful in Damascus before replying. The letter went east, negotiations pausing while we awaited Abimelekh's reply.

With the impatience of youth, I chafed at the delay. Paul tried to calm me, saying, "Emperor, we remain at peace with the Arabs while the letter and its reply go thither and return hither. A bit of time-"

"A bit of time?" I burst out. "Weeks, a bit?" Waiting seemed unconscionable. Even now, when I have had to wait years to return to my throne, I hurl myself headlong into every enterprise. Then, I daresay, I had no patience whatever.

After what seemed a very long time, a messenger brought Abimelekh's answer to the imperial city. His arrival made the delay seem, if not worthwhile, at least tolerable, for the Arabs' ruler agreed to codominium over Cyprus as well as over Armenia and Iberia. That agreement, I had hoped, would let us complete the treaty, but Mansour, at Abimelekh's urging, raised yet another issue.

Paul the magistrianos brought the matter to me: "Emperor, the commander of the faithful"- almost like Leontios, he was so used to dealing with the Arabs, he did not append misnamed to Abimelekh's title-"urges you to take an unusual step in securing the border between his land and making sure no trouble that endangers the peace being arranged between us, which peace, he adds, he will at once assent to upon your agreement to his proposal."

"And that proposal is?" I asked.

"Emperor, he asks you to remove and resettle the Mardaites, whom he terms brigands and bandits and robbers and thieves, taking them into Roman territory and away from his own."

"You don't like the idea," I said. Though he had continued to speak dispassionately, diplomatically, Paul had made that very clear. By the way his nostrils flared, by the way he quivered ever so slightly, Abimelekh, as far as he was concerned, might have been demanding we serve him up a stew of Christian children as prerequisite for ratifying the treaty.

Having been given permission to speak his mind, he exclaimed, "Emperor, I do not! The Arab's offer is a snare, a delusion, a deception. For a generation and more, the Mardaites have stood like a wall of bronze on the Roman Empire's eastern frontier. Removing them, resettling them, would accomplish nothing but a mutilation of the Empire. Your father used them to keep the Arabs busy close to home so they could not attack us, and you yourself augmented Leontios's campaign by loosing them against Abimelekh at the same time as he invaded Armenia. What we have done before, we shall surely need to do again."

"And yet," I said musingly, "when the Arabs make a treaty, they generally honor it, don't they?- they being our most civilized neighbors." Though plainly reluctant, Paul had to nod. He could scarcely do anything else, since our other neighbors included, then as now, barbarians like the Lombards and the Bulgars, as well as Sklavinian tribes like the Croats and the Serbs, who hardly deserved to be called even barbarous. I went on, "If the deniers of Christ may be relied upon to keep agreements once made, would it not be wise to shift proven fighting men and their families to frontiers where fighting is likelier to break out unexpectedly?"

"It goes against all traditional usage," Paul said, his voice stiff with disapproval.

He spoke as if he were a bishop arguing a theological position by citing the view of the church fathers of old and the text of the Holy Scriptures. But the Scriptures are divinely inspired, while the Roman Empire's dealings with its neighbors (save insofar as God guards us) are but human, and therefore mutable.

Besides, arguing tradition to a man who has not yet seen twenty years is like arguing chastity to a billy goat: no matter how eloquent you are, he will not listen to you. I said, "Perhaps we can resettle some of the Mardaites elsewhere and leave some of them in place. We truly could use such warlike men in other parts of the Empire. Abimelekh has compromised in these negotiations before; maybe he will again. Put the matter to Mansour as I have stated it."

"But, Emperor-" Paul began to protest anew.

I cut him off. "I am the Emperor of the Romans, and as Emperor of the Romans I command you. Obey or abandon your office."

"Yes, Emperor," Paul said, in tones suggesting I had given him over to martyrdom. But obey he did, as all subjects of the Emperor of the Romans must.