by Alan Gordon
“Proving he had what it took.”
“To take over, yes. To govern, no.”
“What about Alexios’s coup? Was that helped along by you?”
Thalia shook her head. “That happened out of town. That was one we would have tried to prevent, but we can’t be everywhere. Anyway, when Tiberius brought us the latest rumor, we agreed to start working our usual sources to see what we could find out, and then pool our knowledge. But there was nothing to find. Nothing out of Blachernae Palace, nothing from the Church, nothing from the Senate, nothing from the Blues and Greens in the Hippodrome, nothing from the Great Palace. Then I got a message that Demetrios had left at the Rooster calling for a meeting. Unfortunately, Euphy was in one of her moods and needed my shoulder to cry on for the rest of the night, so I couldn’t make it.”
“Then that was your message I found in his pouch. Do you know what he had discovered?”
“No. And then when I was coming home from Blachernae late that night, a man came out of the dark with a knife.”
She was looking down, her hands shaking.
“He was fast, Theo. I barely had my own knife out before he was on me. And that was the last thing I remembered for a long time.”
She stopped, and leaned into me, pulling my arm around her.
“Someone found me in a sea of my own blood,” she continued. “Yet I survived. I lay on a bed for months before I could even speak. When I ventured out on my own at last, the others were long gone. So I hid, Theo.”
“Why didn’t you contact the Guild?”
“How?” she cried. “There was no one I could trust with a letter. I figured Fat Basil would come looking for us, or a new troubadour. Then I heard there was a new fool in town. I came to the Amastrianum, and there you were, come to rescue me at last. You were pretty good, by the way. You’ve lost a step or two since I last saw you, but you were still pretty good.”
“Thank you. I almost lost a leg since I last saw you. Was that you following me in the cowl then?”
“Yes, but I decided not to interrupt you. You were intent on trailing that little bearded fellow, the one that’s standing in the doorway with his mouth hanging open.”
I glanced up. There was Claudius, looking daggers at us. Not just daggers, but swords, crossbows, poison, Greek fire, and stampeding elephants.
I stood up a bit too hastily and helped Thalia to her feet.
“Look who survived,” I said. “Thalia, this is . . . this is Claudius, my apprentice. Claudius, this is Thalia, still among the living.”
“Hello,” said Thalia. “I know I’m supposed to say something insulting here, but I’m tired. Forgive me for not following tradition.”
“That’s too bad,” said Claudius. “I had a real good response ready. Nice tonsure, by the way.”
Thalia turned back to me.
“What’s the plan, Theo?” she asked. “I don’t know how much good I can be to you. It took all I had to walk here. I’m not up to serious fooling yet. But I’ll do what I can.”
“There’s no real plan,” I said. “We’re playing the Hippodrome tomorrow. Hopefully, we’ll do well enough to worm our way into Blachernae. Who are the main players around the Emperor?”
“Apart from the Empress, there are several. The Eparch is Constantine Tornikes. He’s a pathetic little man who’d flee his own shadow. The Grand Chamberlain is a eunuch named George Oinaiotes. He’s a sneaky one. The Emperor once sent him as an envoy to a Vlach rebel. George ended up tipping off the fellow that there was a Byzantine army right behind him. The eunuch in charge of the Imperial Wardrobe is called John. No fashion sense whatsoever. You’ll know him by his garments. He favors these horrible green buskins that make him look like a frog. The Keeper of the Imperial Inkstand is Leonitos, very lecherous and very bribable, a bad combination. And there’s Constantine Philoxenites. He’s another eunuch, but he has a head on his shoulders. He runs the Imperial Treasuries. Niko always said that for a eunuch, he had balls.”
“What about other family members? Potential claimants?”
“There are three daughters: Irene, Anna, and Evdokia. The older two are each on a second husband. Irene’s is Alexios Palailogos. He’s very close to the Emperor, fights a lot of his battles. Anna’s is Theodore Laskaris. I’m pretty sure he has ambitions, but he’s close to Euphy, so he’s probably not interested in over-throwing anyone, at least not yet. He’d be more likely to plot against his brother-in-law. Evdokia was kicked out of her marriage for adultery, which is a family tradition, so she came running back to daddy. She’s still married officially, although that could be fixed in a hurry if anyone wanted to have her. I think they’re waiting for the best connection they can make.”
“And women?”
She snorted. “An ever-changing procession. The current favorite is this Egyptian courtesan.”
“Egyptian?”
“Oh, don’t worry, Theo. She’s been checked out thoroughly.”
“By the Guild?”
“No, by Euphy. The Empress has the best network of spies in the city, especially when it comes to the Emperor’s women. The Egyptian is probably working for her.”
“Isn’t marriage wonderful?” I sighed.
“I used to think so,” said Claudius.
“What a cynical little man you are,” said Thalia. “I don’t know if it’s even worth my while flirting with you.”
“It would be amusing to watch,” said Claudius.
“Well, I’d better get back before the Vigla come out,” said Thalia.
“Where can I find you if I need you?” I asked.
She shook her head. “I’ll track you down tomorrow.” She stood on tiptoe and kissed me again. “I’m so happy they sent you,” she said, and glided out.
“Thalia was a particular friend of yours, was she not?” sneered Claudius. “Your makeup’s smeared.”
“Hush, Apprentice,” I said. I slipped down the stairs and peered out the front doorway, but there was no sign of her. I went back to our room.
“You have this odd affinity for women who dress as men, don’t you?” commented Claudius. “Why didn’t you introduce me properly? Didn’t want her to know you were married and had the wife along?”
“Something bothers me about her being alive,” I said.
“Well, we’re finally in agreement. I’m not happy about her being alive, either.”
“A Thracian king once captured six wolves while hunting,” I mused. “He put them into a dungeon in the lowest reaches of the palace and locked the door. He came back six months later and found one wolf.”
She looked at me skeptically.
“Are you saying that you suspect her?” she asked.
“Do I detect some hope in your voice?” I responded.
“I found you in each other’s arms.”
“She needed comforting.”
“She looked comforted.”
“She caught me by surprise, all right?” I protested, nearly shouting. “It took me some time to finish picking my wits off the floor.”
“A good fool is ready for anything at any time,” she reminded me.
“Enough, Apprentice.”
“Stop calling me that!”
“What do you want me to call you?”
She turned away.
“Wife,” she said softly. “Beloved. Viola. Any endearment would be welcome right now.”
I went up to her and put my arms around her.
“How about I give you that bath I promised?” I said.
“That’s a start,” she replied.
I went downstairs to the back where Simon had his rooms. The tub was beside his bed. The bed itself was a grand, four-posted affair that I eyed with envy. One’s host should not sleep so much better than his guests.
I lugged the tub upstairs, then fetched a bucket and filled it with water. By the fifth trip, the tub was full and Viola was sitting in it, scrubbing vigorously.
“I remember you,” I said, kissing her on the b
ack of the neck.
She tossed a cloth at my face. I caught it and began doing her back.
“I used to have servants,” she said. “A bevy of maidens caring for my clothes, my rooms, my children. To think that I gave up that life for a tub of cold water in a tiny flea-ridden room with you. And we don’t even get to sleep together.”
“We will again. Be patient.”
She pointed to her right shoulder blade.
“Scratch right there, husband, and I’ll forgive you much.”
I did, and she sighed happily.
She got up and dried herself. I bailed out the tub with the bucket, heaving the bathwater out the window, first making sure no one was beneath it. Then I lugged the borrowed items back to Simon’s room.
He was still out back, roasting the pigs. I noticed an immense wardrobe standing slightly open. I’m a nosy person by nature. I peeked in. There was the usual collection of linens, leather aprons, and cloaks. And a large white mantle with a red cross on it.
Oho, I thought, isn’t that interesting?
Claudius had reassembled himself and come down to dine by the time I returned. The pigs were done to perfection and served to cheering from the gathering, with special thanks to Peter for providing them. I gathered that this was how he paid his rent.
I had first watch. As she pulled the thin covers over her, I told Claudius everything I had learned from Thalia.
“So far, we’ve drawn out a pair of fools,” she said sleepily. “I wonder when the fool killers will come our way.”
“Maybe they’re long gone,” I said. “Maybe they gave up.”
“You don’t really believe that,” she said.
“No. Oh, and here’s a bit of gossip. Our host wasn’t just a Crusader. He was with the Knights of the Temple. I saw an old mantle in his bureau.”
“Simon’s a Templar?” she exclaimed. “He doesn’t seem the type at all. He’s too happy.”
“Maybe because he survived,” I said. “Now, he’s gone back to the simple life of selling wine to drunks and telling war stories to soldiers.”
“Preaching to the converted,” she said, drifting off. “Funny, you wouldn’t expect to run into a Templar in Constantinople.”
“Sleep tight, beloved wife, Viola,” I whispered, kissing her. “Tomorrow, we play the Hippodrome.”
We were up at dawn for a change. We loaded our cart with the bricks and the rest of our gear and trundled it toward the Hippodrome. We passed through the square where we had encountered Zintziphitzes. He was there again, haranguing the merchants as they opened their stalls. I gave him a quick signal to meet us, then took Claudius to break our fasts at the same tavern we had been in previously.
He came in quickly, looking around until he saw us.
“You should be in church, sinners,” he said.
“We are with a holy man,” I replied. “What could be more religious than to worship at your feet?”
“Mockery, mockery,” he sighed. “I sometimes wonder if Our Savior was ever heckled when He preached. And if He had the proper retorts ready. He certainly had His humorous side. Are you off to the Hippodrome for the games today?”
“We are,” I said. “And I was wondering if you could give a more precise location as to where that conversation took place. If I can place the seats, I might be able to pin down who was using them.”
“That’s a bit tricky,” he said, thinking. “The sounds trickle down from different directions, and if I can’t recognize the voices, it’s extremely difficult to say where they are coming from.”
“It was just a thought,” I said.
“I’ll tell you what I can do,” he said. “I’ll take a bit of green wood and get it burning. The smoke will rise up through the same drain that the sounds came down. Watch the Kathisma at the first imperial fanfare, and look to the right.”
“That would be very helpful,” I said. “Thank you.”
We rose to leave.
“Knock ’em dead,” he said, giving the sign of the Cross in blessing.
“Peace be with you,” I replied.
We entered through the stables, searching for Samuel. The activity was about triple the level of our last visit, with the horses being rubbed down and their manes being braided with gold ribbons. We passed stall after stall with their highly strung occupants whinnying after us. One stall brought forth a deep growl from its depths. Claudius glanced in, then leapt sideway a good eight feet.
“That is not a horse,” she pronounced. “That is a bear. A really large bear with several hundred teeth.”
“I’m sure he’s friendly,” I said. “Probably a trained one working with some acrobats.”
“Actually, he’s quite savage,” shouted Samuel from the top of a ramp. “They’re going to put him in a ring with a lion and see which one emerges. That’s the lion to your left.”
Claudius glanced that way and was greeted with a roar. This leap brought her to the exact middle of the path.
“I’ll bet on the lion,” she said.
“Greetings, noble patron,” I said, handing the gold coin to Samuel.
“Pass, fools,” he said after inspecting it closely. “The entertainment will stay in the pen by the euripos during the races. We’re doing the usual four races in the morning, four in the afternoon. Barriers in the morning, chariots in the afternoon, with the usual footraces, gymnastics, animals, and the man who says he can fly. You can do your act between the races. Don’t perform in front of the Kathisma until you are invited to do so. The Eparch will have his scouts watching the performances, and they’ll let you know if the Emperor wants to see you.”
We thanked him and pushed the cart up the ramps through the gates to the arena.
“What’s the euripos?” Claudius asked.
“There,” I said. “That structure in the center.”
“Oh, my,” she said.
The course was so long that you could launch an arrow from one end, walk for several minutes, pick the arrow up in the middle, and send it to the far end. At the center was a long, narrow, oblong platform on which was scattered a variety of columns and statues. This was the euripos.
The entertainers’ pen was by the Egyptian Obelisk, brought in triumph by Theodosios himself nearly a thousand years ago. Near it was the Serpent Column, part of the tripod from the Oracle of Delphi, its carved serpents so lifelike you’d swear you could hear them hiss. At the other end was the Column of Constantine Pophyrogenitos, a giant pile of masonry sheathed in bronze that caught the sun and tossed it around the stadium like a plaything.
In between these rivals to Babel were the statues depicting animals of nature and of nightmare, and humans of history and of myth. All bronze, they were all fighting for attention so that the observer would become dizzy as his eye was captured by one, then another. Of all these statues, my favorite was the giant Heracles by the legendary Lysippos. Rather than choosing a standard heroic pose, Lysippos sculpted the half-god without weapons, weary from the imposition of impossible labors, yet unbeaten. His refusal to bow before adversity had made him a favorite whipping boy of the Empress, yet even she had yet to conquer him.
“What happened to the nose of that poor boar?” asked Claudius as we set up our cart inside the pen.
There was a massive bronze boar facing down a lion. Its snout had been sheared away.
“Euphrosyne,” said a young man limbering up with a group of acrobats, and that was all the explanation anyone needed.
“We have time for a walk,” I said, and we ventured up the tiers of the Sphendone, the great curved end, to the colonnade that ran along the top of the stadium. More statues surrounded us, and we had a splendid view of the city, indeed, of the entire world beyond it. The Hagia Sophia loomed ahead of us, and we could see all the way across the straits to Chrysopolis.
“The Kathisma is that two-story building in the center of the south side,” I explained. “The Emperor and his retinue sit in the second story. Most of the imperial staff sit to the
right, and the senators sit to the right of them. That’s where we have to watch when the fanfare is sounded. On the north side are the two great factions, the Blues and the Greens. That’s where the trouble can come from. They each have their favorites in the races, and will use any small excuse to start a fight. That’s why we’re only doing physical comedy in here. No politics.”
“But won’t there be soldiers keeping the peace?” she asked.
“You’d better believe it. Several centuries ago, there was a riot that started right in that section. They say that the army ended up massacring thirty thousand people inside this pretty little stadium. Those drains must have run blood for weeks afterward.”
“How horrible,” she said.
We walked down to a sculpture of some long-forgotten charioteer.
“The races start down at the other end where the gates are,” I said.
“Under that sculpture of the four horses?”
“Yes. Make sure you’re well to the center of our pen before they start. If we’re caught outside, just get to the euripos and climb up one of those statues.”
“How will we know when they’re going to race?”
“Listen to the fanfares. And do you see that bronze eagle there, the one with the snake in its claws? Look at the underside of its wings.”
She looked at the sculpture, which was mounted so that it soared high over the rest. The wings had a series of lines scored on the bottom.
“Those will mark the hour according to the sun,” I said.
“Wonderful!” she exclaimed.
We made our way back to our pen and began our preparations. I watched the gymnasts contort with no small amount of envy, but as we joined them in our stretches, I found that my leg was proving remarkably cooperative. On an impulse, I crouched, then did a standing backflip.
“Not bad, old man!” called one of the youths.
“Well?” I said, looking at Claudius.
She looked back impassively, then duplicated the trick.
“Well?” she said. I grinned.
The gates opened, and the Imperial Guard marched in, followed by members of the Emperor’s administration and the Senate. Next came the two factions, waving flags of their respective colors and shouting clever things like “Green! Green!” or “Blue! Blue!” I was glad that purple was reserved for the crown, as the extra syllable might have been too much for these idiots to handle.