Justinian

JUSTINIAN

"Well, Leo, when I tell you I am pleased to meet you, I want you to know I'm not saying it just for politeness' sake," I answered. "You are the first Roman who has not only shown me my proper respect but also helped me toward getting my throne back. On account of that, I name you my spatharios here and now."

He bowed low. His black eyes glowed in his narrow, swarthy face. "Emperor, you are generous to me," he said.

"You've earned it," I told him. Spatharios is a handy title. The spatharios of a petty noble who brags of his authority makes everyone around him laugh. An Emperor's spatharios, on the other hand, may be a person of considerable importance. Or he may not: he may be a man with no more power than the petty noble's spatharius, but one whom the Emperor, for whatever reason, has chosen to honor with the title.

I had no idea which sort of spatharios Leo would make. If he proved useful to me, I would give him power commensurate with his rank. If not, no harm done.

"Tell me of yourself," I said. "If you say you were born in these parts, I'll be surprised."

Smiling, he shook his head. "I cannot, Emperor. I spring from Germanikeia, on the edge of Syria. I was a little boy when my parents brought me here. That would have been at your order, wouldn't it?"

"So it would," I agreed. "And now you've given me another reason to be glad for that order." He bowed once more, pleased at the compliment. And I- I was pleased at the mutton. I shall not deny also being pleased at Leo, who, though young, seemed both clever and energetic.

I presented him to Tervel, as much to see how he would react as to honor him. His eyes widened, and he said, "Khagan, I tried to kill you once. I shot an arrow at you when you came down raiding into Romania, but I missed."

"When Justinian came up raiding into the land of the Bulgars, I tried to kill him," Tervel returned. "He tried to kill me, too. I failed. He failed. You failed. Now we are together."

"And now we shall not fail," I said. Tervel and Leo both nodded. "Once we get down to Constantinople," I added, "the soldiers will abandon Apsimaros the usurper, returning their allegiance to me. My family, after all, has ruled the Empire for almost a hundred years. What has this Apsimaros done, to make him worth keeping? Nothing, I tell you. Nothing! Nothing!" My voice rose to a shout.

Tervel and Leo nodded again.

From Mesembria down to the imperial city, the army I and Tervel led had but little fighting to do. The Bulgars who spoke Greek- perhaps one of them in four- would smile broadly at me on that journey, saying, "They fear us. See how they fear us."

"Indeed they do," I would answer, not wanting to discourage them. But, while some of it may well have been fear on the part of my foes, more, I think, was strategy. Constantinople had been attacked before, but no foreign enemy had ever taken it in battle. My great-great-grandfather, however, had put paid to a vile usurper. I expected to do no less.

Fewer Roman soldiers than I s hould have liked abandoned Apsimaros to come over to me. Many of those resuming the cause of their rightful master did so at the urging either of Myakes, whose acquaintance with some of their officers went back to the days before my throne was stolen from me, or of Leo, who demonstrated for the first time but not the last a gift for persuasive speech remarkable in one of his years.

Apsimaros's men did not try to hold us at the Long Wall. I thought briefly of Philaretos, my former father-in-law, who had commanded the garrison along the wall, and wondered if he still lived. We reached Constantinople on the seventh day after passing Mesembria. The last glimpse of the city I had had was from the deck of the dromon taking me, freshly mutilated and half blind with pain, off into exile. Apsimaros, I remembered, had captained that dromon: one more requital needed.

"Coming home, Emperor," Myakes said, pointing to the walls looming up over the southeastern horizon.

"Coming home," I agreed. "I've been away too long."

We rode closer. As the true height and length of Constantinople's fortifications became clear to Tervel, he brought his horse close to mine. "I have seen Roman cities," he said. "Men I have sent to the city here have told me of it, as I said when you first came before me. I always had trouble believing them. Now I see with my own eyes they were telling less than the truth, not more."

We encamped outside the northern part of the city wall, the tents of the Bulgars and those Romans who had joined us extending from Blakhernai hard by the Golden Horn south and west as far as the Kharisian Gate, about a quarter of the distance down toward the Sea of Marmara. Near that gate, the aqueduct of Valens enters the imperial city. It has, unfortunately, been useless to Constantinople since the days of my great-great-grandfather, when the Avars, during their siege of the city, destroyed almost a mile of it. No Emperor since had enjoyed the leisure or the resources to make the necessary repairs.

Soldiers on both the outer and inner walls stared out toward us, watching our every move. Mounting one of the ponies on which I had ridden down from the land the Bulgars had stolen from us Romans, I approached the walls so I could speak to the warriors manning them, being certain that, once they were certain it was indeed I who came before them, they would renounce Apsimaros the illegitimate and acclaim me once more.

Myakes rode with me, offering his usual pragmatic advice: "Don't draw within bowshot of the walls, Emperor. If Apsimaros hasn't put a price on your head, I'm a big green sheep."

"We already know he has put a price on my head," I said. "He was willing enough to pay it to my brother-in-law, that's certain. And as for the confidence you show in me, I do thank you very much." Myakes blew air out through his lips, a snorting sound likelier to come from a horse than a man.

Tervel rode along, too, a few paces behind me. Though wishing he had stayed in our camp, I could hardly tell him so, he having served as my benefactor since I arrived in his country seeking aid. But I did not want him to see me fail, and feared his presence would make me more likely to do so.

With no help for it, I rode on, ignoring him as best I could. Also ignoring Myakes, I drew close to the walls, close enough to let the soldiers see me, to let the veterans among them recognize me, and to remind them of where their loyalty should lie. They stirred, up on the walls, waiting for me to speak. They could have pincushioned me with arrows, but no one shot. I took that for a good sign. Tervel, prudently, had stopped at the distance Myakes had suggested for me. Myakes himself, whatever he thought of my boldness, remained at my side.

"I am Justinian, Emperor of the Romans!" I shouted to the soldiers. "Justinian son of Constantine son of Constans son of Herakleios Constantine son of Herakleios, of the house that saved the Roman Empire from the fire-worshiping Persians and the followers of the false prophet both. I have returned to reclaim the throne rightfully mine."

For a moment, only silence followed my words. I quietly sat my horse, awaiting the great roar of approbation and delight that would lead to opened gates and to my sweeping back to power. From the top of the outer wall, a soldier cried, "Hey, Justinian, aren't you missing a nose for this kind of duty?"

The wretch, the scoffing Thersites, could not have been above thirty yards from me. He and his comrades could see perfectly well that I bore a nose which, if perhaps less lovely than the magnificent appendage with which God had graced me, was nonetheless adequate for all legitimate purposes, including the purpose of establishing my own legitimacy as ruler.

But, caring nothing for whether he lied or spoke the truth, he continued to cast scorn on my physiognomy. And, emboldened by his licentious freedom of speech, others showered me with differing sorts of insults. "How do you like riding the barbarian mare you bought?" one of them shouted. I shook my fist at him, that surely being a reference to Theodora rather than to the gelding on which I was then mounted.

"You come down here with an army of Bulgars and you call yourself Emperor of the Romans?" another soldier said. "If you love them so well, why don't you go off and be Emperor of the Bulgars?"

More abuse and insults rained down from the walls. At last, a couple of soldiers shot arrows that stood thrilling in the dirt not far from my horse's forefeet. I rode away, believing they would next shoot at me intending to hit, not to miss.

Tervel's face remained impassive on my coming up to him. "They did not hail you as you hoped," he said, a statement of the obvious I could have done without.

"They mocked your men as much as they mocked me," I said. Tervel said nothing, and his face continued to reveal nothing. Myakes suffered one of his unfortunate, unbecoming, and untimely coughing fits. Despite that, my own words gave me an idea. "Let the Romans come forward," I told Tervel. "Let them and me go up and down the whole length of the wall, showing the garrison that Romans do support me and persuading the soldiers to abandon the usurper and return to me."

"We will do this," Tervel said, with no hesitation I could discern. "It is the best hope you have." How good a hope it was, he did not express an opinion. Nor did he say what he might do if it failed.

The next morning, small bands of Romans rode up and down the length of the wall, haranguing the soldiers inside the city and urging them to come over to my cause. Accompanied by Myakes and, at his usual discreet interval, by Tervel, I myself traveled down past the Kharisian Gate, the southern limit of the Bulgars' encampment.

I spoke as I had on first approaching the city walls. Now Myakes added his voice to mine. Among others, the formidable Leo was speaking on my behalf elsewhere along the walls. If I could not persuade the soldiers myself, I reckoned the two of them most likely to do it for me.

What sort of promises Apsimaros was making inside the imperial city, I cannot say with certainty. Whatever they were, they and the familiarity of having been ruled for seven years by the usurper kept the soldiers on the walls from going over to me. I judged them to feel a certain amount of sympathy for my cause, as none of them, no matter how close I approached, tried to slay me with an arrow or a stone flung from a catapult. But none of them made any move to admit me into Constantinople, either, nor did I note any signs of strife among them implying one faction wished to do so but was prevented by another.

Having shouted myself hoarse to no visible effect, I returned dejected to the encampment the Bulgars had established. Shortly thereafter, Leo also rode into camp. "What news?" I called to him. This was foolishness on my part, for any news he had worth giving would have been sent to me on the instant. Knowing as much now, however, did nothing to help me then.

Leo shook his head. "I'm sorry, Emperor," he said. "They seem very stupid and stubborn."

"Justinian, how are we going to get into the city?" Tervel said. "By my sword, everything I had heard of these walls is only a piece of the truth. I would be mad to throw my army at them."

"I did not ask you to do that," I answered. I had not asked because I did not think he would do it, and I did not think an attack would succeed if he did do it. I had not adequately considered the walls from outside until then. When I was a child, the Arabs had assailed the Queen of Cities with siege engines of the sort the Bulgars lacked, and to no avail. They had also challenged us Romans on the sea, where the Bulgars had no ships whatever.

Tervel had that same thought in a different context, saying, "We cannot make this city starve, either, not when boats bring in food in spite of everything we are able to do on land." In truth, we could not do that much on land, either, lacking as we did the manpower to extend a tight siege line along the whole length of the wall. I had counted on the soldiers' renouncing Apsimaros at my return. To find that hope mistaken was a bitter blow.

"Can't hardly quit now," Myakes declared. "We've come too far for that."

"Yes," Tervel said, but I liked neither his tone of voice nor the look on his face. He could quit our venture without a qualm, return to the lands north of the Haimos Mountains, and, by means of booty and slaves taken, reckon the raid a success. He could take me with him, to use as pretext whenever he cared to attack Romania again. Only gaining the city now would keep me from that fate, but how to gain it?

"We'll try again tomorrow," I said, with luck sounding more confident than I felt.

I went to different parts of the wall that next day, traveling past the Golden Gate down toward the Sea of Marmara in my effort to persuade the soldiery with in the Queen of Cities to abandon the usurper and return to their rightful and proper affiliation. I had no more success, however, than I had enjoyed, or rather not enjoyed, on previous days. Some soldiers continued to revile me on the grounds that I was noseless, despite the refutation of that argument being there before their eyes. More cursed me for having come with a host of Bulgars at my back.

To that charge, I found myself hard-pressed to respond. Perhaps I should have been received more favorably had I come straight down to Constantinople in Moropaulos's fishing boat. At the time I began the journey, I had thought it more likely I would be seized and beheaded.

That still struck me as having been highly likely. In any case, I had no choice. The die, as Julius Caesar said, was cast. I harangued the soldiers on the walls from first light of dawn till dusk deepened into night. They would not open the gates for me. More dejected than I had ever been in all my life, even in the black days shortly after my mutilation, I rode back toward Tervel's encampment, back past the Golden Gate, back past the Kharisian Gate, back past the ruins of the aqueduct of Valens.

My supporters seemed as downhearted as I was. The men from Kherson had marveled no less than Tervel at seeing Constantinople. Now, though, its splendor took on a sinister meaning for them. "How are you going to get in there, Emperor, if they won't open up?" Barisbakourios asked gloomily.

"Whatever you do, Emperor, it's going to take something special," Leo agreed. He had again been unable to persuade the garrison to renounce the usurper.

Tervel stood listening quietly to our conversation. Eventually, the khagan of the Bulgars would suggest withdrawing to the lands he ruled, the lands north of the mountains. I saw no choice ahead but to go with him, to pursue my dream even as it receded before me, to become the glove inside which rested his hand. Part of me would die every day, but the breathing husk that remained would be enough for him and to spare.

Moropaulos, in his earnest, dull way, ticked off points on his fingers: "We can't go over the walls- we're not hawks. We can't go under the walls- we're not moles." He knew nothing of mining, but the Bulgars knew nothing of mining, either, which made him correct. He went on, "We can't go through the walls- we're not woodpeckers." He laughed, but only for a moment. Then his heavy face curdled to sadness. "That doesn't leave anything."

The rest of my followers looked similarly dejected. So did Tervel, although art might have substituted for emotion on his features. For one moment, downheartedness threatened to overwhelm me, too. Then, ever so slowly, I straightened, where before I had slumped. "We are not hawks," I said in a voice that made my comrades turn toward me and pay my words close heed. "We are not moles. But perhaps, by God and His Mother, we can be woodpeckers."

"Only person a wood pecker'd do any good is a eunuch," Myakes said.

I glared at him so fiercely that he subsided, mumbling apologies. Pointing south toward the aqueduct of Valens, I said, "The channel there does not bring water into the imperial city these days, nor has it for eighty years or so. But it still goes into Constantinople. God willing, so shall we."

"What if they have guards in there, Emperor?" Stephen exclaimed.

"Then we'll fight them," I replied. Then they'll kill us, I thought. "But I never remember guards being posted in the aqueduct. Do you, Myakes?"

Where a moment before he had been good for nothing but making crude jokes, now he sounded surprisingly thoughtful. "No, Emperor, I don't, not ever. Nobody thinks about the aqueduct, not these days."

I was thinking about it, thinking about the prospect of making my way through several hundred yards of pitch-black pipe. I wondered how big around the pipe was. Would I be able to stand upright in it, or would I have to crawl all that way? If I did have to crawl, finding guards there was less likely. But who could guess what might have denned there in the many years since water had stopped flowing?

"Who's with me?" I asked, deliberately not thinking of any of these things.

Faithful Myakes spoke first, I think, but he beat out my followers from Kherson- and also Leo- by only a fragment of a heartbeat. None of the other Romans who had joined me since I came down with the Bulgars said a word. Neither did Tervel. I tried to make out his expression in the fading light, tried and failed. Was he discomfited at seeing what he had reckoned certain failure suddenly sparked with another chance at success?

If he was, he was not so discomfited as to keep me from making the effort. On the other hand, he did not offer any aid, either. He simply stood aside and let me and my backers do as we would- washed his hands of us, so to speak, as Pilate had done with our Lord. All the risks were ours, and all the planning was ours, too.

Not, I must say, that much planning was involved. We had to get up into the opening, go through the pipe, and get down into the city. It would be simple- or it would be impossible.

"Torches," Stephen said, "so we can see what-"

"No." I cut him off. Pointing toward the aqueduct once more, I continued, "We have no way to tell whether bricks have fallen out or mortar come loose, or whether the pipe itself has cracked. If the usurper's soldiers see light in the aqueduct, whether everything has been dark and quiet since my great-great-grandfather's day, they'll be waiting for us inside the city, and that will be the end of everything."

"All that way in the dark?" Theophilos shuddered.

Though dreading that myself, I told him, "Stay here, then." My voice, I daresay, had a lash to it. Having seen what might be a way into the city, I was wild to try it.

"A pry bar," Myakes exclaimed. "No telling what we'll have to move."

"I know where to get one," Leo said. That, I confess, made me raise my eyebrows. This was only the third day on which he had been in the neighborhood of the imperial city. But he hurried away with every sign of confidence. My new spatharios was proving a man of no small resourcefulness.

"Rope, too," Myakes called after him. He waved to show he had heard. To me, Myakes said, "Rope'll give us a way down where we might not have one otherwise."

Leo came back a few minutes later with a coil of rope around one arm and a stout iron crowbar about a cubit long in his other hand. "Excellent," I said, and then turned to Tervel. "Have we a ladder tall enough to let us climb up into the water channel of that aqueduct?"

"I don't know," he answered. When he seemed inclined to say no more, I folded my arms across my chest, making it plain I should not be satisfied without his giving me a more responsive reply. Grudgingly, he went on, "I will see. If we do not, we can make one by lashing two or three shorter ones together."

"Good enough," I said. "Now, I have one more favor to ask of you."

"What is it?" He did not sound happy. What he sounded like was a man who felt what he had thought to be a puppet jerking his arm.

"When we go up into the pipe, I want your men to attack the wall," I told him. "I want them to make an enormous din, so any noise from us goes unnoticed." When he simply stood there, saying neither yes nor no, I added, "By this time tomorrow, you will be revealed either as my son-in-law or as a Caesar of the Roman Empire."

His face did not show what he thought. It seldom did. Up in the country he ruled, he had seemed hopeful about my prospects, but that hope must have faded when few Romans came over to me, and faded again when the garrison of the imperial city held it closed against me. Maybe hope revived in him. Maybe he simply thought he would be rid of me. "I shall do it," he said.

The ladders the Bulgars had were not long enough. When they lashed two of them together, the resulting contraption still had a bend in the middle on being forced more or less upright, as a man's leg has a bend at the knee. My followers examined it with doubts that, had they been applied to religion, would have amounted to wicked atheism.

Although having those same doubts myself, I suppressed them. "It will serve," I insisted. "It does not have to hold us long- only long enough to get us up into the aqueduct."

I wanted to wait until midnight to enter the aqueduct, but was persuaded to begin earlier, around the start of the fourth hour of the night, because I had no way of knowing how long the journey through the channel would take. I hoped to drop down into Constantinople while it was still dark, so as to be able to pick for myself the way in which I would first confront the soldiers and people of the city.

Several grunting Bulgars carried the spliced ladder to the base of the ruined aqueduct and raised it high. I wonder if they should have joined three, not two, together, it being barely long enough for its required purpose. Changing matters at that point, though, would have taken time I did not wish to spend.

I started up the ladder. It did flex at that joint, as a man's knee might have done. I climbed as fast as I could. If it broke under my weight and sent me tumbling to the ground, drama would turn to unseemly farce in the blink of an eye.

It held. Gasping, I got to the top. I reached into the opening of the channel, which was something less than a yard wide: a tiny thing, seemingly, to have supplied the imperial city with so much water. My fingers closed over sticks and twigs. I threw the bird's nest away and scrambled up into the pipe.

It was too narrow for me to turn around in it. "I'm in!" I shouted, almost as if I had entered a woman. I had to hope they would hear me down below.

The ladder scraped against the broken end of the aqueduct: someone else was on it. I scuttled farther down the pipe, to give whoever it was room to climb in. "Don't put more than one man on this cursed thing at a time." It was Myakes' voice. I might have known he would let no one come between me and him. Cursing, he made it into the pipe in the same ungainly way I had used. "You there, Emperor?"

"I'm here." His bulky body cut off what little light had come from the opening of the channel. "We'll both move down now."

That came none too soon, for someone else was already climbing toward us: Barisbakourios, followed by Stephen, then Leo, then Moropaulos, with Theophilos last of all. By the time Theophilos joined us, I was some distance down the pipe, moving ahead in utter darkness.

Some men, I have heard, suffer a deadly fear of being enclosed in a small space. Had any such sufferer been among us, he would without a doubt have gone screaming mad. Not only were we literally in a space of small compass, again and again banging our heads or barking our backs when we rose up more than the pipe would permit, but it seemed even smaller than it was because of the utter lightlessness there. It would have been easy to imagine the pipe closing in on us until it squeezed us as an Aesculapian snake squeezes a rat. Fortunately, none of us was afflicted by this sort of morbid imagining.