Terror of Constantinople (53 page)

    I was glad I’d taken care to put on common leather boots before coming out. Anything else would have been ruined by all the blood I hadn’t seen on the floors.

    ‘I see that fucker Priscus has shat on me,’ said Phocas, still looking at himself in the mirror.

    ‘Your Majesty will surely agree’, Theophanes said, ‘that Priscus has served his purpose remarkably well since we discovered his intentions. Everything we told him was passed back, and was implicitly believed by Heraclius.’

    ‘I suppose he’ll be more of a danger to Heraclius outside the City than he was to me inside,’ Phocas said. He sank heavily into a chair covered in white kid leather. I could almost hear the squelching of his robe. I could certainly see the dark stain on the chair-back when he leaned forward.

    He looked at me. ‘Now, I find a vacancy has emerged at the head of the City defences. Bearing in mind the defection of almost all the qualified candidates – and the unreliability of those remaining – I am minded to appoint you to the position.’

    ‘Sir,’ I cried, aghast, ‘I – I....’

    I trailed off. I was too young. I was a barbarian. I was the Pope’s representative. I knew fuck all about the military. I didn’t want to die. All I wanted was to go home.

    ‘If I might be so bold as to suggest—’

    Phocas cut Theophanes off. ‘You suggest nothing,’ he snarled in sudden anger. ‘I’m Emperor yet. I still say what goes in this City. I’m keeping to my side of the bargain. You will therefore keep your mouth shut.’

    A strange look on his face, Theophanes did as he was told. He turned back to me.

    ‘I remove you from the post of Acting Permanent Legate,’ he said. ‘I now appoint you Count of the Palace Guard, which includes the newish post of Duke of the Sacred Defence.’

    As he spoke, he splashed wine from his cup over the black slave who was nodding off on the floor beside him. He too was sodden with blood. Like water from a squeezed sponge, it oozed from his clothing on to the floorboards. The man jerked into life and handed up the leather satchel he’d been cuddling. From this, Phocas produced yet another of his parchment sheets.

    ‘This gives formal effect to my wishes,’ he said. He tried to wipe a spot of blood from the sheet. Instead, his finger only made a broader dark smear over the writing. ‘I brought this along on the off-chance I’d catch you. How lucky we ran into each other downstairs.

    ‘With immediate effect, you are transferred to duties of equal rank to those from which I relieve you. I appoint you Count of the Palace Guard and so forth, with supreme power over all life and property for the purpose of your commission,’ he intoned. ‘You will see there is no mention of appeals to me from any decision you make. You have the same rank and powers as dear Priscus.’

    I struggled to find the words to extricate myself from this latest horror.

    Phocas flashed me a thoroughly evil smile. ‘Oh no, my lad,’ he said, ‘you don’t get out of this at all. You get yourself off to the palace where you’ll be kitted out in armour of gold and silver, and then greet your men. If you refuse my order, I’ll have you impaled before morning.

    ‘If you lose the battle on the streets, you either die or make whatever submission you can to Heraclius and Priscus. But let’s be reasonable – that means you die. If you win, you become my champion. Play things right, and I’ll think of chucking in my daughter and the succession. Since there’s no one else left, it might as well be you.

    ‘With hindsight, I can see that Priscus wasn’t the right man for Domentia. He didn’t use her well. You, on the other hand, will make an ideal husband. She might even fancy you. Certainly, you’ll need to give her another son. I can’t have a son of Priscus continuing my line.’

    Unable to think of anything remotely better, I stood in front of the Emperor, bowing my obedience to his will.

    ‘Go, my boy,’ Phocas called, with a return to full good humour. ‘You’ve a busy night ahead of you. I expect to find everything up to scratch on the streets tomorrow when – or if – I decide on my eve-of-battle inspection.’

    As I bowed out of the room, I threw a final glance at Theophanes. He looked ninety if he was a day.

‘It suits you better than the clerical robes,’ Martin agreed. ‘It’s a shame they’ve finally arrived.’

    Radogast untied the golden breastplate and I let out my first natural breath since leaving the Imperial Palace. Martin hadn’t missed the scale of this latest disaster. Given any choice in the matter, he’d have had the Legation gates locked, with us on the inside and the keys dropped into a sewer. On the other hand, I could sense some relief that the blasphemy of my position as Acting Permanent Legislator was at an end.

    But my new appointment – and I can’t sufficiently emphasise the fact – was a fucking disaster. All else aside, I knew as much about military tactics as I did about the laying of mosaics. Whatever plans of defence I might take over would have been already betrayed by Priscus. And that was assuming his plans were any good in the first place.

    On the other hand, the shock of the appointment had wondrously settled me after that horrid time with Priscus. Men often dull the pain of torture by biting their tongues. One pain cancels the other. So it was with me. Back in the Legation earlier, I’d thought the pain of that truth about Maximin would never pass. Now, it was almost forgotten with this latest turn of the page.

    And I looked absolutely lush in the suit of armour that had been waiting for me at the palace. It had been so skilfully adapted that it might have been made specially for me.

    I scooped Maximin out of the cot from where he’d been solemnly regarding me, and carried him triumphantly about the room. I’d taken many things from Priscus – his job, his armour, his son. None of them might do me much good, but I might as well try to enjoy them.

    ‘So he killed them all?’ Martin asked, now in Celtic.

    ‘Every last one of them, it seems,’ I replied, giving Maximin my helmet to pat. ‘On the way out, I’ll swear I saw blood dripping down the walls. They must have gone through each cell in turn. Even with the guards to help, I can’t say how the Emperor and his slave could still stand afterwards.

    ‘For what it may now be worth,’ I added after another look in the mirror, ‘I know it wasn’t Priscus who hired those Syrians. It was the Emperor. I had a good look at his bloody footprints in the Ministry. They were the same as the ones in the Permanent Legate’s bedroom. The left foot was decidedly shorter than the right.’

    God forgotten for the moment, Martin’s face turned grey.

    ‘I find it reasonable’, I went on, ‘to assume he had everyone under the Ministry butchered to save himself the embarrassment of being revealed as the man who hired those assassins. Having me put to death would itself have been embarrassing, bearing in mind what he’d appointed me to represent. But he was so eager to cover any trail that led to Demetrius that ordering me and Priscus to back away wasn’t enough.’

    ‘So Phocas killed the Permanent Legate?’ Martin asked. ‘And Authari?’

    ‘No,’ I said. ‘That was still probably Demetrius. But Phocas was in the Legation to help get rid of the body. If two monks really were seen there last Sunday, Phocas was one of them. That raises any number of new hypotheses to test against the facts. However, the investigation is ended – at least, for the moment.

    ‘Now, to other business,’ I said. ‘I’m going out shortly to see what forces I might have for tomorrow. I’d like you to start supervising the packing of boxes. I want all the more important papers and books safely stowed in the official areas of the Legation.’

    There was a knock at the door. Antony entered the room.

    ‘My Lord,’ he said, ‘I’ve drafted the documents you asked for. All is in order.’

    He’d been quick about his business. I’d only instructed him a while earlier in the main hall as I came back in.

    ‘Excellent,’ I said. ‘Martin, be so kind as to assemble all the slaves in this office. I have an important announcement to make.’

All my slaves stood before me, including Gutrune. With them were the three slaves Theophanes had passed over to me to keep the bathhouse in order. These had been kept away from anything confidential and, having been watched on and off over the past few days, seemed to fit nicely into the household. I didn’t know what they could have heard of the latest news, but they looked worried.

    ‘Martin,’ I said, ‘I shall make my announcement in Latin. I’d like you to interpret straight into Lombardic. That should make what I have to say comprehensible to everyone.’

    I stood up. ‘Dear friends,’ I began, ‘you will be aware that everyone expects an attack on the City tomorrow or the day after at the latest. It is now impossible to believe that a gate will not be opened to Heraclius. I cannot say what will happen when he enters the City. But I must act now so far as I can to ensure the safety of those who look to me.’

    I raised my voice and spoke slowly, stopping after every clause to make sure I was clearly followed.

    ‘By the authority vested in me by His Imperial Majesty, I believe that the safety of the Empire and of the City requires me to free certain persons from the servitude to which they were born or to which they have been reduced by the fortunes of war.’

    I named all the slaves present. As I did so, Martin took up the relevant deed and passed it to me for signing. I had no seal ready but Antony had assured me that a signature would be sufficient. As I signed each document, he added the seal of the Legation. I no longer had any right to this, so had passed it to him for safekeeping.

    ‘To those of you who know something of the law,’ I continued, ‘I say that this is an Act of State. Being so, it requires none of the formalities that must attend a private manumission. It is a legal and an irrevocable act. However, should anyone be inclined, once order has been restored, to question the legality of my act, each deed here granted is witnessed on behalf of His Holiness the Universal Bishop in Rome.

    ‘You are each, as of this moment, free. You are free to go when and where you please. In a moment, I must leave you on official business. When I am gone, Martin will give each of you a purse of gold and silver to start you in your new lives. It is my advice that you should stay in this Legation so long as it remains safe. If, in defiance of all law and all religion, it is entered by any hostile force, I advise you to leave at once. You must offer no resistance.

    ‘Gutrune’ – I turned to her and spoke in the simple Lombardic she was happiest with – ‘if it is necessary for you to leave the Legation, I want you to take Maximin with you. If possible, you will return him to Martin. If this is not possible, I wish you to bring him up as if he were your own child. Martin will make additional financial arrangements to cover this eventuality.’

    I raised my hand for silence. I had no time for extended thanks. Besides, I have never encouraged emotional scenes where they could be avoided. I had cleared my own accounts, and that would have to be an end of the matter. I embraced each free citizen as I handed out the deeds.

    In a babble of ‘God be with you!’ the room emptied.

    ‘Can you help me back on with this thing?’ I asked Martin, pointing at the breastplate. ‘I have no idea how to tie all these leather straps.’

    ‘Can’t we just run away?’ Martin asked with a shaking voice. ‘Surely we can disguise ourselves and hide out in one of the Latin districts. We can come out again when all this is over. Can’t you see that Phocas is sending you to your death?’

    ‘That seems to be part of his intention,’ I agreed. ‘Perhaps he wants to make a better job of it than he made last night with those Syrians. More likely, though, he just wants someone to slow things down in the streets while he prepares his own Thermopylae in the Imperial Palace.’

    I silenced whatever comment Martin had begun.

    ‘Listen,’ I said, dropping from pure habit into Celtic, ‘Phocas tells me he’s armed his eunuchs, and plans to lead them in a fight to the last at the entrance to the Throne Room. For the moment, he has enough control in the city to be able to track me down if I try making a dash for it. Once Heraclius is through the gates, however, I doubt I shall be the only defender buggering off out of sight.

    ‘Now, Martin,’ I went on, fixing him in the eye, ‘what I said to the slaves goes for you as well. I want you out of here at the first smell of trouble. Take whatever you need to get back to Rome. If you can get the child back to Gretel, so much the better.’

    ‘You have very little respect for my courage,’ he said, his exalted tone returning. ‘Perhaps I don’t always acquit myself well in the presence of the unexpected. But I know my duty.’