The Blood of Alexandria a-3

by Richard Blake

  ‘My dear fellow,’ Priscus said, his face turning darker and darker with suppressed rage, ‘I will remind you once again that we have a city of five hundred thousand ready to go off beneath us like a volcano, not to mention a Persian attack by sea. We need those traitors out of circulation, and we need an immediate show of force using the men we have.’

  ‘But it won’t be five hundred thousand all rioting together,’ Nicetas replied. He covered his eyes as he tried to blot out the pain of the latest ministrations. ‘If it’s five thousand who riot, that will be the limit,’ he said at last. ‘And I won’t remind you that the Greek and Egyptian mobs are just as likely to turn on each other as on us.’

  ‘We’re looking at mobs, each one five or ten times that size,’ Priscus said. He was breathing heavily as he repeated the obvious for perhaps the third time. ‘The Greek trash is already gathered on our side of the Wall. The Palace approaches are all blocked. Alaric and I pushed our way through on foot with drawn swords. There’s an unverified report that the Master of the Works was torn from his chair and disembowelled as he tried to get in to the Palace.’

  ‘And the mobs are being directed,’ I said. ‘They are being directed on both sides of the Wall. If they are allowed to come within sight of each other, they will combine.’

  ‘If you were that concerned about the mob,’ Nicetas asked suddenly, ‘why did you let the grain fleet go? Everything was fine before you bullied me into sealing those orders. Are you trying to tell me that if I don’t seal everything else you push under my nose, things will get worse?’

  I thought Priscus might explode. But if I still hadn’t discovered any infallible way of making this bloody Viceroy take action, I did know how to make him not act at all.

  ‘We have clear proof,’ I said, pointing at the confessions that Priscus was still clutching, ‘that fourteen of the lesser land-owners have been engaged in a treasonable correspondence with the Brotherhood, which is, in turn, allied with the Persians. We know further that the traitors have sent hired agitators to stir up sedition among both main communities in Alexandria. And we know that all the deliberations of your Council have been passed to these people by your own secretary. Where treason is concerned, we have an overriding duty of care to the Emperor. I know that he will be most concerned if Alexandria and Egypt are endangered by any conspiracy that might have been avoided.’

  ‘And why has everyone turned traitor?’ Nicetas howled. As if he were now being threatened with the rack, his voice echoed about the high room. ‘If you hadn’t come here, demanding what I’m sure Heraclius, given proper advice, would never have intended for Egypt, would there have been this “treasonable correspondence”? If you hadn’t discovered it and insisted on arrests, would there now be paid incitements to rioting? I don’t think so. All my troubles began that day when you showed up here with your schemes of “improvement”.

  ‘I even think you brought on my bad leg. I was ever so healthy before you began making trouble. I think you’re just jealous because you’re a barbarian and I’m not.’

  ‘Alaric and I are both members of the Imperial Council,’ Priscus said through gritted teeth. ‘If, in our joint written opinion, you are unfit to perform your duties, it is within our power to-’

  ‘Don’t you presume to threaten me!’ Nicetas roared.

  I shuffled a little to my right so he had his back to me. I tried mouthing warnings to Priscus to drop this line at once. It was too late.

  ‘Don’t you dare threaten me,’ he went on, his voice cracking into a scream. ‘I don’t like to remind you, Priscus, but, whatever your actual reason for being here, you are out of your area without permission. You have only so much position in Alexandria as I allow you. As for you, Alaric, you may represent the Emperor. But I am the Emperor here in every sense that matters. Your power of deposition applies to provincial governors, not the Viceroy of Egypt.’

  He shut up and gave us both fierce looks. I glanced at the window. Though shuttered, and though positioned away from the sun, there was that slight change in the colour of the light creeping through that indicated the afternoon was almost over. Nicetas looked down at his leg. As his face had grown redder, this seemed to have taken on a blueish tinge. Managing somehow not to move his leg, he twisted round and thrust his face into a cushion. As the slaves redoubled their fanning, he began to sob bitterly.

  ‘I won’t seal anything more,’ he said indistinctly. ‘You can’t make me do anything against my will. All we have to do is sit quiet, and the conspirators will send round for an amnesty. This is what always happens. If we do nothing, the trouble will go away. As for the Persians, the Red Sea tides won’t let them across. The way you both talk about them, anyone would think they were led by Moses.’

  ‘In ancient times, the poor understood their place in the order of things,’ some old fool in a cloth wig intoned for the third time. ‘They starved without involving themselves in the affairs of their betters.’ For the third time, there was a burst of appreciative comment about him. Someone else stamped hard and called on the Judgement of Heaven.

  ‘I hear the perimeter about the Harbour has gone down,’ I said, leaning on the rail that went round the roof of the Palace. ‘We’ll know soon enough if the incense warehouses take fire.’

  ‘My dearest boy,’ Priscus sniffed, ‘even now, I could stop all this with three hundred men. Give me the right seal on wax, and I could pacify Alexandria for a century to come.’ He went back to looking over the rail. ‘Has Martin turned up my relic?’ he asked with a sudden change of subject.

  It was coming towards the midnight hour. The Viceroy’s belief now that doing nothing would help settle things down hadn’t turned out yet to be right. Seen from the Palace roof, Alexandria was beginning to look like the constellation of lights on a fresh grave. As yet, most of them might only have been bonfires in the public squares. But here and there, it was plain that public buildings were being fired. Every so often, as the breeze shifted from the north, snatches of wild shouting and a smell of burning were carried up from the city. The one large exception to the rising tide of chaos was a district bounded by the Library, the Wall and the sea. From here on the Palace roof, it showed up as an oval of unbroken darkness against the scattering of flares all around. I tried to remember what district this was, but I was too fixed on other matters. I looked round again at Priscus.

  ‘I think we need to speak about your piss pot,’ I began.

  I got no further, as it was now that the Master of the Works came on to the roof. Reports of his murder, he assured us, had been exaggerated. Even so, he’d had a close escape. Everyone gathered round as he described how the mob had seized and cut the throats of his carrying slaves. Luckily for him, he’d managed to get into a public toilet, where he’d hidden until a Syrian banker had taken the mob’s fancy. It had been his entrails wrapped about the statue of Julius Caesar.

  A crowd now formed round Priscus, who began his lecture about the need for a show of force before the mob ran out of all control. Except our meeting with Nicetas hadn’t gone as hoped, he’d had a wonderful day: crisis management, and torture that had actually worked. The cup in his hand ever refilled, he was sliding into his confident military hero act that had so pissed me off in Constantinople. How he didn’t drop from exhaustion was testimony to a superb constitution – or advertisement for the powders he was alternating with the wine.

  ‘We are quite safe in here, though, aren’t we?’ Martin asked. We’d moved across the roof and were now looking over the Egyptian quarter. As yet, this was less brightly lit than the centre. I had no doubt, however, things were running out of control there as well.

  ‘The Palace was built with this sort of thing in mind,’ I said reassuringly. ‘I did read that one of the Ptolemies was torn to pieces by the mob when it broke in. However, he had just raped and murdered his sister, and the guards may have been on strike. I’m not sure of the details, but I believe the Palace defences were strengthened after that. I really dou
bt if we are in any danger.’

  Martin gave me the scared look he kept in reserve for my reassuring tone.

  I thought of our families, huddled together in my quarters down below.

  ‘That bloody Jewboy’s here again,’ the man in the cloth wig shouted behind me. ‘Is there no security in this place?’

  Martin looked even more scared. I turned and looked at the youth. He bowed low.

  ‘So it’s arranged?’ I asked softly.

  He nodded.

  ‘Excellent,’ I said. ‘Do tell Isaac I’m in his debt – not that he doesn’t know that already.’ I’d set up my lamp at dusk. Unregarded by all on the roof, it was still burning away in the inspection room. I turned to Martin. I ignored the question on his face.

  ‘Now,’ I said, ‘unless you fancy the entertainment of watching Alexandria begin to go up in flames, with Priscus to provide the commentary, I suggest there are better uses of our time.’

  ‘You’ll not be knocking yourself out on opium?’ he asked.

  I smiled and shook my head. After what I’d seen today, who would blame me for seeking oblivion in two brown pills and a jug of wine? Bearing in mind what I was about to try, who could forgive me?

  Priscus, I could see, had been pretending not to glance in my direction ever since Isaac’s clerk had shown his face. But the crowd about him of nervous, twittering eunuchs and the few persons of quality who’d managed to take refuge in the Palace was too large and too appreciative of his own proposals for settling matters with a massacre. He now looked openly at me, and seemed inclined to come over.

  ‘Come downstairs with me,’ I said hurriedly to Martin. ‘There’s business where you might be of use.’

  In my office, the lamps were turned up full. The two hooded figures who sat together on the sofa got up and bowed to me as we walked in. The men who stood behind them went down on their knees. I nodded briefly and pulled out the chair from behind my desk.

  ‘I must thank you, My Lords,’ I began, ‘for your goodness in coming out on this most dangerous of nights.’ I stopped and turned to Martin.

  ‘Get up off the floor,’ I said gently. ‘This is an informal meeting. Even so, I need you to take a full record.’

  Chapter 40

  Next morning, we went up to the roof and then climbed into the inspection room. Seen from up here, Alexandria looked much the same as ever. The early mist was joined by smoke from the fires that continued to burn. But there had as yet been no general conflagration. The great buildings were all still in place. The shops wouldn’t be opening today. But Alexandria was a city big enough to absorb a few nights of rioting. Ignorant or uncaring of purely human events, the birds still whirled and circled above Lake Mareotis. Nicetas had summoned a meeting of his Council for just after morning prayers. There, we’d learn exactly what the damage had been overnight. We’d also discuss my plan of pacification.

  ‘Are those bodies down there?’ Martin asked, pointing at the square in front of the Palace.

  I followed his finger and squinted. ‘I rather think they are,’ I said. I looked harder. ‘Some of them may be dead. But look – that one’s sitting up. I don’t believe the Office of Supply would fall straight away. It’s nearly as well fortified as the Palace itself. More likely, the wine shops have been plundered.’

  ‘It’s all so peaceful,’ Martin said. ‘Do you suppose the rioting is over?’

  ‘Hard to say,’ I said. ‘Alexandria isn’t Constantinople. Whatever experience we have of things there doesn’t seem to apply here.’

  ‘Priscus is coming up,’ Martin said.

  I turned from my inspection of the still sleepy city and looked down to the roof. Priscus was indeed coming. Bathed and dressed and painted, he’d put aside some of his military swagger. But, even at a dozen yards – even under the paint – I knew him well enough to recognise the expression on his face. He paused as he looked at the steep flight of stairs to where we were standing. I sighed as I saw him take firm hold of the rail and heard the rasp of his boots on the bronze of the lower stairs.

  ‘So who’s been the slippery shit overnight?’ he barked as he walked in. He left the glass door open behind him. There was a sudden cooling of the air inside the room, and I could hear the distant calling of the birds. ‘Who’s been selling out the honour of the Empire for the sake of a little peace?’

  ‘We’ll need all the Schedule D maps in one box,’ I said to Martin.

  He nodded gratefully and took the hint. With a small bow to Priscus, who paid him no attention, he was off. I felt him close the door and the heavy thud of his feet as he scampered down to the Palace roof. Priscus had no right to be upset. But I knew he was, and it was probably for the best if I didn’t stand on my own rights in front of Martin and tell him to get stuffed.

  ‘I’ve just seen Nicetas seal the general amnesty,’ he said accusingly.

  ‘Good,’ I said firmly. My arms loosely folded, I turned back to look over Lake Mareotis. The distant line of Egypt was beginning to loom into view, now the mist was clearing. I’d done it, I thought. And it was a job well done. Dragging Nicetas from his bed, and waiting for the stimulants and painkillers I’d fed him to have effect, had been the hardest part of the night’s business. But having two patriarchs with me to explain the deal had kept him from the usual dithering fit. Still, there was always some doubt where Nicetas was concerned whether he would take the smallest action required of him. Though I’d have preferred it from someone else, Priscus had brought me good news. ‘Did he tell you what’s been agreed?’ I asked.

  ‘He was busy fixing up the surrender meeting,’ Priscus said, now bitter. ‘But I did gather that you’ve brokered a complete sellout.’

  ‘Not a sellout, Priscus,’ I said, now mildly. ‘It was a compromise.’

  Taking care not to crack the film of white lead, he twisted his face into a sneer. ‘You don’t hold an empire together by compromise,’ he snapped. ‘At least, if you do compromise, you do it from a position of strength. You then don’t call it compromise, but clemency. Compromise from weakness, as we did in the West – give to your enemies in the hope they’ll be appeased – and you’ll soon find it would have been better to stand and fight. You were with me yesterday. You saw what weakness brought about. I meant what I said last night. Hit these shitbags with concentrated force, and-’

  ‘We haven’t the forces to concentrate,’ I said, interrupting the steady rise of his voice. ‘Whatever Nicetas cares to believe, you know as well as I do that there are no tides in the Red Sea – nor many storms at this time of year. Assuming the Persians can hire ships on the Saracen side, they can land at any one of a dozen points. You said yourself that, if Alexandria goes up in smoke, the Persians will certainly try for a landing. There was no choice but to compromise. Without the landowners to glue the mob together with silver, there’ll be no rising. Without that, and without loss of Alexandria, there’ll be no Persian attack.

  ‘And there will be no massacre.’ I paused. ‘That’s what you really came here to arrange, isn’t it?’ I asked of Priscus.

  He sniffed and looked out of the window.

  ‘I knew there was something odd about your turning up here, and latching straight on to that cock and bull story about the piss pot. You might as well admit that you picked up something on the Cappadocian front about an attempt on Egypt. You hurried here to try to stop it. Well, I’ve stopped it for you – and without the cataract of blood you had in mind!

  ‘And your presence here was useful for the avoidance of more force. It’s only because you are here that we could make any agreement at all.’ I clamped a moderately friendly smile on my face and waited for the irony to sink in. I thought of reaching out to pat Priscus on the shoulder. But that was more than I could manage. ‘With you around, there was no doubt that we could eventually restore order. This being so, we could have a full investigation, followed by trials and exemplary punishments and confiscations. The opposition leaders knew this, and were as eager for a compr
omise as we were. Their change of heart, we agreed last night, was the news of Persian involvement. But it was your presence that made everyone think again.

  ‘The deal is that the rioting is called off while it still can be. In return for this, we pardon everyone in sight. There will be special church services both sides of the Wall, and the bread distribution will go ahead as planned, if a few days late.’

  ‘And the new law – what about that?’ Priscus asked. ‘Have you given up at last? Will you go back and tell Heraclius that you’ve failed?’ So far as he dared through the paint, he’d twisted his lips into a bitter smile.

  I smiled back and thought fast about how little I needed to say to take from him even that consolation.

  ‘The opposition has capitulated,’ I said. ‘Calling off the rioters wasn’t enough for the amnesty I was offering. The warrants will be sealed later today.’ This was the minimum I needed to say – and the minimum I wanted to say. What we’d agreed was more than the repeated suggestion by His Heretical Holiness of warrants that would never be executed. But it was the barest scheme of implementation I’d prepared with Martin. Leaving the landowners with more than half their best land, it had been a scheme we’d prepared as an absolute last resort. It hadn’t been a defeat. Still less had it been a victory. Yes, Priscus had helped terrify the landowners into a better view of their interests. And if I’d never confess it to anyone – not even to Martin – what I’d seen of Priscus in action under the Prefecture had robbed me of all desire to press on through perhaps still more blood for total victory.

  A slave was making his way up the stairs. We composed our features and moved to stand arm-in-arm as he opened the door. We read the message together. Not bothering to hide our confusion, we looked at each other.

  ‘Not your suggestion?’ Priscus breathed. ‘It certainly wouldn’t have been mine. If I didn’t know him better by now, I’d say he’d gone mad.’