by Tony Roberts
Constantinople was still recovering from the effects of the plague that had devastated so many households the previous year; and the Emperor Justinian was eager to accept anyone returning to his capital, hence the guards at the city gate only gave Casca a cursory check before he was admitted. Ahead of him rose the hill upon which the church of St. Sophia was being built, the huge construction rising up against the skyline. The last time he had been in the city, over a year ago, it had just been a mess of stones, wooden scaffolding and builders scurrying over the ground like disturbed ants. Now it was half complete and beginning to take form.
Casca snorted. The Christian belief had totally replaced the other deities of old and now struggled against itself, Greek against Roman, Orthodox against Arian. What would come next? From his experiences so far there would always be something new to come, whether tomorrow, next year or next century. He would probably live to see the church of St. Sophia fall into ruin or become a temple to another religion in time.
The smells of the city wafted past him. Fish and rotting garbage vied with animal excrement and the salty tang of the sea. He breathed in deeply. Now he was back in the city he would have to go much more slowly. He paused while he orientated himself and considered his options. He could either go directly to his old employer Sicarus the mercenary or find some place to stay awhile and change his horse for some new clothes. His grumbling stomach added to the indecision and he decided to trade in his horse which he wouldn't need now that he’d made his way to the capital, where he’d he able to buy a set of new clothes. Looking like a scruffy street beggar wouldn't go down well if he wished to find somewhere to stay, so a change was the most pressing of matters.
He ignored the insistent pleas of the spice seller at his elbow who maintained his were the best anyone in the Empire could possibly buy and pressed past the throng of people gathered around a few fish stalls pushed up against the walls. His horse followed obediently, its hoofs clip-clopping on the stone cobbled street that led from the arched entrance from the harbor.
He made his way to the Via Honoria and there found a trader who was prepared to exchange his horse, saddle and harness for a new set of clothes that changed his appearance to that of a reasonably wealthy man, just the impression he wished for. Next he needed a shave and a haircut, for in the months he had spent in the wilderness he had allowed his hair to grow unchecked.
After parting with one of the silver coins he had he felt much better and regarded himself in a handy mirror. His reflection stared back at him with that slight leer his scar created, clean shaven and tidy. Casca grunted in satisfaction and headed off towards the old imperial barracks, pausing briefly to buy some food from a street stall, and continued on his way, eating as he did so. He needed a bath, or at least a damned good wash, but that could wait until he’d sorted out one outstanding matter. He knew he had time, all the time in the world, in fact, but his temper demanded action and sitting around contemplating Plato or Aristotle was not going to kill members of the Brotherhood. He needed a way in, and information was required.
The mercenary company he had enrolled in the previous year was still there at the barracks although there were a few imperial troops rushing around as he neared, indicating that there was some sort of trouble coming. Perhaps the war with the Vandals in Africa had gone wrong, although he couldn't see how because their forces had been well and truly beaten at Carthage and their king Gelimer had been in flight after having the only other possible ruler, Childeric, put to death. Maybe Sicarus would bring him up to date with events in the Empire.
Sicarus! His family had been butchered by the Brotherhood so it was more than likely he would aid him in seeking these vipers out and putting them to the sword. Besides, it would be good to see an old friend. He didn’t have many; his Curse saw to that.
Walking boldly up to the gates he announced himself to the two men on guard, one of whom recognized him from before. In no time he was taken to Sicarus, in the same office he’d first seen the man. Sicarus stood up in shock and disbelief, then rushed out from behind his desk and received him like a long lost brother, embracing him warmly. Casca stood back and regarded his former employer. He looked the same but there was an additional sadness there, a sure sign of his grief over the death of his family.
“I thought you dead,” Sicarus began. “Hrolvath gave me a garbled story of your family being held captive and mine being murdered before running off after you, and that's the last I saw of the two of you. I came back on the next ship and found.... found...”
Casca knew that it was still difficult for him to talk about it. “I know what happened, old friend. My family was also butchered by these swine, and I chased their leader all over Asia before finding him.” Casca related the story of how he had killed all those who Gregory had sent in his way, and the tragic incident with Hrolvath.
Sicarus had sat quietly through it all, now he put his head in his hands. “Oh, dear God,” he said, drawing in a deep breath, “now I know the one who’s responsible for my family’s murder is dead. That eases my mind a little. My gratitude…” he looked about, still trying to find the words. He’d loved his wife and children, and their deaths had hit him hard.
Casca knew Sicarus would be a willing ally in his mission, and he brutally went on. “Now I'm back to root out the others responsible.”
Sicarus looked at him sharply. “Others? There are others?”
“Oh, yes, there are others. Many others, so I believe. One is Narses.”
“The Sacellarius of the Spathos-cublicar?” Sicarus sat upright and stared hard at Casca.
The scarred mercenary looked serious, and nodded an affirmative. “It was he who provided the soldiers who destroyed your farmstead and who protected them until I found one. I interrogated one of the two officers who led them on the attack before killing him.”
“Narses!” Sicarus clenched his fists. “He's never liked us since we came to Justinian's aid in the Nika riots. Why would he help these killers?”
Casca had to tread carefully here, for Sicarus must not learn of his war with the Brotherhood lest it lead to the revelation he was cursed with immortality. “The man I killed was the leader of a secret group of people within the Empire who one day hope to take power for themselves, and in the past I have stopped one or two of their little activities which has earned their wrath. I'm sorry that your family was caught up in this quarrel but I never thought they would be this desperate to take such action.”
Sicarus waved the apology aside. “It does not matter. What’s done is done. They must be stopped before they do any more damage or butcher more innocent people. You and I have a common grievance now and together we will find a way to deal with Narses, although how I cannot think of at the moment. He’s recently been promoted to the post of Imperial Chamberlain. He’s looking after the bedchambers of the Emperor and Empress.”
Casca sucked in his breath. This made things really tricky! He had visions of having to crawl into the very inner sanctum of the palace to get at the eunuch. This was sounding less and less possible with each moment. “I also have another name for you, the surviving officer who carried out the actual attack on your farm. He is a captain in the Spathos-cublicar by the name of Miklos.”
The mercenary commander stared at Casca for a moment before breathing deeply. “Well, that’s better! We can get at him! Let me do a deal with you, Casca. Promise me I can deal with this – Miklos – and I’ll do all I can to help you in getting at Narses, although what I can do is beyond my thinking at the moment!”
Casca nodded. “He’s yours with my blessing. Narses is mine; I’ll skillet that scrawny bastard if it’s the last thing I do!” After that the conversation turned to more general matters. Sicarus informed Casca that after dealing with the Vandals Justinian had another problem, that of the Ostrogoths in Italy. It appeared that a dynastic problem in the Ostrogothic Kingdom had occurred following their king Theoderic's death some eight years ago. He had been succeeded by his grandson Athalaric, a mere
child, and he had been guided by his mother Amalasuntha during his reign, but when the youth had reached teenage years the Gothic warriors and nobles had taken him in and introduced him to drink and women. The youngster had quickly deteriorated and soon died, exhausted and ruined by alcohol. That had been a year ago and things had really gone downhill. The Goths wouldn't let a woman rule them so she gave her support to Theoderic’s elderly nephew, Theodehad. Once elected the first thing he did was to imprison Amalasuntha which went to show how grateful he was.
Justinian was outraged when he received reports of her subsequent death in prison and although Theodehad protested his innocence the Emperor had threatened military intervention unless he abdicated, which he looked as though he might well do. All that changed when some Goths took the law into their own hands and launched an attack on the Empire in Dalmatia where, at a battle near Salona, they killed the Master of Soldiers in Illyricum, a certain Mundus who had been one of the three generals who had supported Justinian in the Nika riots. That had pissed the Emperor right off and war had been declared on the Goths. The problem Justinian had was that he hadn't enough soldiers to send to Italy, having just conquered Africa, and a fair number of the soldiers in Belisarius's army had since married Vandal women and weren't exactly thrilled at being sent over the Mediterranean to fight their new wives’ cousins. Besides, much of the Empire's forces were Germanic in origin anyway, so they needed good money to prompt them and there wasn't all that much in the coffers to pay them. As a result only seven and a half thousand troops were sent into Sicily with Belisarius which didn't look like it was going to be enough, and the great general himself was having to leapfrog back to Africa to quell mutinies in the army there over pay and conditions. Sicarus threw his hands in the air and made a reference to imperial fits of pique. The only good thing the Emperor had done was to secure a treaty with the Persians so they wouldn't attack his rear while his army was involved in regaining parts of the old Roman Empire.
Casca thought deeply on Justinian's motives. To go to war using a woefully outnumbered army twice in three years against different kingdoms was crazy, particularly when on each occasion the pretext was a dynastic squabble in the Vandal and Ostrogothic kingdoms. He had no doubts that if the barbarians had poked their nose in the Empire's business at Justinian's accession over his brother Germanicus he'd have told them to fuck off. What was Justinian up to? Would he not rest until Gaul or even Britannia was regained? Didn’t he learn from history that the Roman Empire had collapsed under its own weight due to its enormous size and that he was lucky to hold on to what he had? The man was power mad, he surmised.
Sicarus grunted. “Maybe it’s the Empress. She’s the one really holding the reins of power. She’s not someone to mess about with, I can tell you, man. You know she’s a former actress?”
“What?” Casca exclaimed, staring at his friend. He saw Sicarus nod and then, for the first time in maybe a year, laughed. He threw his head back and roared in mirth. “An actress! The Empress is an actress!!”
Sicarus looked alarmed. “Sshh! For heaven’s sake! You want us to get arrested? She’s made it clear she doesn’t want to be reminded about it on pain of death!”
Casca shook his head and chuckled. An ‘actress’ was a polite term for a whore. The money actresses got was paltry so they generally tended to supplement their income with other sort of lessons, mostly at night. “Well, well! She certainly must’ve been good!”
Sicarus agreed. “But don’t go shouting it out. People have been known to vanish who can’t keep their traps shut. She may be a real beauty, or so those who’ve seen her say, but she’s deadly as a scorpion. The Emperor is one lucky guy. He’s got the power she wants and she won’t give the throne up at any costs. You know when the riots were on Justinian was all for running but she stood there and told him to have some balls and squash the unrest? Belisarius told me; he should know, he was there! She told the Emperor outright she’d rather die than go back to what she was before. She then got Belisarius, Narses and Mundus to round up the soldiers and slaughter the rioters. Justinian just sat there and nodded!”
Casca puffed out his cheeks. Theodora sounded one hell of a woman. He turned back to the subject of the Emperor’s war, voicing his doubts about the sense in it. Sicarus nodded but pointed out that it was profitable because he needed the mercenary units to supplement the imperial army and it was likely they would be required shortly to assist Belisarius in Italy. The latest news was that he was heading north for Naples against little opposition, the Goths seemingly unable to organize themselves against the pitifully small army.
Casca shook his head in amazement. When the Goths had plundered the Empire in the days of Alaric they had been a warlike, irresistible horde who had no equal on the battlefield. Had the hundred years since turned them into pale reflections of themselves? Is that what civilization did to this once proud people? What of the other barbarian nations - the Visigoths and Suevi in Spain, the Franks and Burgundians in Gaul, the Saxons in Britannia - were they also fading as warlike people?
Sicarus offered Casca his old position in the company back but Casca declined with a smile, explaining if he took on Narses and his connection with Sicarus or his company was revealed, who knows what may happen in retaliation? Casca had to take care of Narses and his cronies. Sicarus on his part accepted Casca’s reasoning and pledged help for him if it was ever needed. The mercenary commander was pleased that the scarred warrior was back, even if tragedy and death never seemed far from his side. Besides, he needed a reliable man in his vendetta against this Miklos and Casca would be just the man he needed. Sicarus called in one of the men standing outside his office and asked him to take Casca to an inn where one or two of his men were already staying. As Casca only had his sword and the clothes he was wearing for possessions, there would be no problem in getting him sorted out. Sicarus called after him to return in the afternoon to discuss more of the situation in connection with Miklos after he had settled in his accommodation.
* * *
An Emperor's lot is a busy one, thought Justinian, Emperor of the Eastern Roman Empire. In the eight years or so of his reign he had already faced innumerable problems, from dealing with the Nika riots when he nearly fled the city, to regaining the lost parts of the Empire the barbarians had taken a century before. So far he had regained the granary of the Empire, Africa, and subjugated the Vandals. Gelimer himself had been happy to ‘retire’ to a villa in a picturesque part of the city's environs which had finished off the royal lineage of that tribe, and the surviving warriors had been absorbed into the imperial army to add to their numbers.
He sighed, leaning back in his carved chair, and cast his eyes over the arched interior of the throne room in the Imperial Palace, admiring the architecture and symmetry of the columns that rose up all round. Behind him stood the white robed advisors and attendants while to his left stood Theodora, Empress and his strength, for when he had been ready to flee she alone had spoken up to face the two factions and their fury which had given the quaking men around her courage to restore order, stating that she would rather die than give up her throne. She stood resplendent in her purple and blue robes and on her head she wore a tasseled head dress of the same color.
Justinian once again thanked God that he had met this remarkable woman and had decided to make her his Empress. He would not hear of the lies whispered about her, lies perpetrated by envious toadies who were probably supporters of the Green faction, damn them all to hell. He knew she was a faithful wife, no matter what she may have done in her past. And if she had expensive tastes, then wasn't that the prerogative of an Empress?
He turned to face the man who stood before him, Narses the eunuch, the commander of the Spathos-cublicar, the body of eunuchs that often accompanied the Emperor on his journeys. Unknown to Justinian Narses was one of the Inner Circle of the Brotherhood of the Lamb, the elite top thirteen of the secret order commanded only by the Elder. Since Gregory's disappearance a year ago the Broth
erhood had met to discuss the election of a new Elder and had eventually nominated one Thassus, a former member of the Inner Circle and an important official in the Empire's administration. Narses had been frustrated as he thought he might be elected Elder, but no matter, as a member of the Inner Circle he was but one step from possibly achieving the pinnacle of his ambition, to lead the Brotherhood! Narses had been summoned by Justinian to explain what he meant in a recent letter to the Emperor concerning Belisarius.
“Narses, my trusted friend,” Justinian began, “We read with interest your latest letter to us, but we are puzzled by what you say about our general and his ambition. Could you explain further to both the Empress and me?”
Narses eyed the haughty figure of Theodora. Long ago he’d assessed that she was by far the more dangerous of the two. Justinian was a mere puppet in her hands but the Empress had a mind of her own and a ruthless streak that she used to cover up her own indiscreet outbursts of passion. It was well known to Narses that this former whore had a string of lovers and once had even been confronted by a young man who insisted he was her son. Theodora had quickly disposed of him without fuss and had him cast into the waters of the Bosphorus. Anyone who publicly denounced her was imprisoned or merely disappeared so that the Emperor didn't get to hear of the things she got up to behind his back. She outrageously flirted with those who had an audience in the throne room that she took a fancy to, stood as she was behind Justinian so he couldn't see her, and the attendants knew better than to open their mouths lest they suddenly find their heads at their own feet. Her charms were lost, though on the eunuch and she recognized him as a dangerous man which accounted for her attitude whenever he stood there. “My Emperor,” Narses bowed, “as you know Belisarius is a very popular man with his own troops, even with the mercenary units you wisely attach to the imperial forces during times of conflict. However such popularity is dangerous for the Empire if a general allows this adulation to go to his head and he begins to think he is greater than the Empire he serves.