Harry Turtledove - Krispos Rising

"By which you mean Petronas—your cousin Petronas," Krispos said. "Let me remind you, most holy sir, that Petronas now wears the blue robe."

"Vows coerced from a man have been set aside before," Gnatios said. "He would make a better Avtokrator than you, as you must admit."

"I admit nothing of the sort," Krispos growled, "and you're mad if you think I'd give over the throne to a man whose first act upon it would be to take my head."

"You're mad if you think I'll crown you," Gnatios retorted.

"If you don't, Pyrrhos will," Krispos said.

That ploy had worked before with Gnatios, but it failed now. The ecumenical patriarch drew himself up. "Pyrrhos is but an abbot. For a coronation to have validity, it must be at my hands, the patriarch's hands, and they shall not grant it to you."

Just then Badourios knocked urgently on the door. Without waiting for a reply, the priest tried the latch. When he found the door barred, he called through it: "Most holy sir, there's an unseemly disturbance building in the street outside."

"What's happening in the street outside does not concern me," Gnatios said angrily. "Now go away."

Krispos and Mavros looked at each other. "Maybe what's happening in the street does concern you, most holy sir," Krispos said, his voice silky. "Shall we go and see?"

The lines on Gnatios' forehead and those running down from beside his nose to the outer ends of his mouth deepened in suspicion. "As you wish," he said reluctantly.

Krispos heard the deep-voiced shouting as soon as he was out of the chamber. He looked at Mavros again. They both smiled. Gnatios scowled at each of them in turn.

When the three men got to the front entrance, the shouting abruptly stopped. Gnatios stared out in dismay at the whole regiment of imperial guards, hundreds of armed and armored Halogai drawn up in line of battle before the patriarchal mansion. He turned to Krispos, nervously wetting his lips. "You would not, ah, loose the barbarians here on, ah, holy ground?"

"How could you think such a thing, most holy sir?" Krispos sounded shocked. He made sure he sounded shocked. "We were just having a nice peaceable talk in there, weren't we?"

Before Gnatios could answer, one of the Halogai detached himself from their ranks and strode toward the mansion. As the warrior drew closer, Krispos saw it was Thvari. Gnatios stood his ground, but still seemed to shrink from the northerner, who along with his mail shirt and axe also bore a large, round bronze-faced shield.

Thvari swung up his axe in salute to Krispos. "Majesty," he said soberly. His gaze swung to Gnatios. He must not have liked what he saw on the patriarch's face, for his already wintry eyes grew colder yet. The axe twitched in his hands, as if with a life of its own.

Gnatios' voice went high. "Call him off me," he said to Krispos. The axe twitched again, a bigger movement this time. Krispos said nothing. Gnatios watched the axe blade with fearful fascination. He jumped when it moved again. "Please call him off me," he said shrilly; a moment later, perhaps realizing what was wrong, he added, "Your Majesty."

"That will be all, Thvari. Thank you," Krispos said. The Haloga nodded, turned, and stalked back to his countrymen.

"There," Gnatios said to Krispos, though his eyes stayed on Thvari till the northerner was back into the ranks of the guardsmen. "I've publicly acknowledged you. Are you satisfied?"

"You haven't yet honored his Majesty with a proskynesis," Mavros observed.

Gnatios looked daggers at him and opened his mouth to say something defiant. Then he glanced over to the Halogai massed in the street. Krispos watched the defiance drain out of him. Slowly he went to his knees, then to his belly. "Majesty," he said as his forehead touched the floor.

"Get up, most holy sir," Krispos said. "So you agree I am the rightful Avtokrator, then?" He waited for Gnatios to nod before he went on, "Then can you show that to the whole city by setting the crown on my head at the High Temple when morning comes?"

"I would seem to have little choice," Gnatios said bleakly.

"If I'm to be master of the Empire, I will be master of all of it," Krispos told him. "That includes the temples."

The ecumenical patriarch did not reply in words, but his expression was eloquent. Though emperors traditionally headed ecclesiastical as well as secular affairs, Anthimos had ignored both impartially, letting Gnatios run Videssos' religious life like an independent prince. The prospect of doing another man's bidding could not have appealed to him.

Mavros pointed down the street; at the same time, Haloga heads turned in the direction his finger showed. A man carrying a large, heavy bundle was coming toward the patriarchal mansion. No, not a man—as the person drew nearer, Krispos saw beardless cheeks and chin. But it was not a woman, either... "Barsymes!" Krispos exclaimed. "What do you have there?"

Panting a little, the eunuch set down his burden. "If you are to be crowned, your Majesty, you should appear before the people in the proper regalia. I heard your orders to the Halogai, and so I knew I could find you here. I've brought the coronation regalia, a crown, and a pair of red boots. I do hope the rude treatment I've given the silks hasn't wrinkled them too much," he finished anxiously.

"Never mind," Krispos said, touched. "That you thought to bring them to me is all that counts." He put a hand on Barsymes' shoulder. The eunuch, a formal soul if ever there was one, shrugged it off and bowed. Krispos went on, "It was bravely done, and perhaps foolishly done, as well. How would you have fought back if robbers fell upon you and stole this rich clothing?"

"Robbers?" Barsymes gave a contemptuous sniff. "A robber would have to be insane to dare assault one like me, who is so obviously a eunuch of the palace." For the first time, Krispos heard a sort of melancholy pride in Barsymes' description of himself. The eunuch continued, "Besides, even a madman would think three times before he stole the imperial raiment. Who could wear it but the Emperor, when even its possession by another is proof of treason and a capital crime?"

"I'm just glad you got here safely," Krispos said. If thinking himself immune from robbers had helped Barsymes come, he would not contradict the eunuch. Privately he suspected Barsymes had been more lucky than secure.

"Shall I vest you in the regalia now?" Barsymes asked.

Krispos thought for a moment, then shook his head. "No, let's do it at the High Temple, where the ecumenical patriarch will set the crown on my head." He glanced over at Gnatios, who nodded without speaking. Krispos looked eastward. Ever so slightly, the horizon was beginning to gray. He said, "We should go there now, to be ready when the new day comes."

He called to the Halogai. They formed up in a hollow rectangle that took the whole width of the street. Krispos, Mavros, Barsymes, and Gnatios took their places in the middle. Krispos thought Gnatios still wanted to bolt, but the patriarch got no chance. "Forward to the High Temple," Krispos said, and forward they went.

The Temple, as was only fitting, lay but a few steps from the patriarchal mansion. It bulked huge against the brightening sky; the thick piers that supported the weight of its great central dome gave it a squat, almost an ungainly appearance from the outside. But within—Krispos knew the splendor that lay within.

The forecourt to the High Temple was as large as a couple of the smaller plazas in the city. The boots of the Halogai slammed down on slate flags; their measured tramp echoed from the building they approached.

Gnatios peered out between the marching guardsmen. "What are all these people doing, loitering in the forecourt so long before the dawn?" he said.

"A coronation must be witnessed," Krispos reminded him. The patriarch gave him a look filled with grudging respect. "For an adventurer who has just seized the state, you've planned well. You will prove more difficult to dislodge than I would have guessed when you came pounding on my door."