Mary Reed - Eight for Eternity

“Shouldn’t you be at your brother’s side?” John asked.

Pompeius looked at him in surprise. “Chamberlain! What are….what do you mean?”

“I would have expected you to be basking in his glory.”

“What glory? He’s up on the scaffold. True, a scaffold higher and more elaborate then most.” Although he stank of wine and his robes were stained and rumpled, he wasn’t slurring his words. He sounded completely sober.

“Then you might try to talk him out of this folly. If you really believe it’s folly.”

“Oh, I do believe it.” He shook his head and gave a mournful laugh. “Thousands of ambitious men do everything in their power to advance and yet nearly every one fails, and often at a high price. You would think it would be easy enough to avoid advancement if you turned your efforts to it. And yet…as you see….”

“Fortuna has a strange sense of humor. There’s still time, however.”

“No. I’m afraid there isn’t. Events have gone too far.”

“Why are you here?” John demanded.

“I…I’m not sure…when I saw them drag Hypatius off…he’s my brother…I thought I could talk him out of it as you said…not that they would have let him go…and they won’t let him go now either…I wish I hadn’t followed. I wish I were at home….” Suddenly tears ran down his fat cheeks and his billowing robes shook with sobs.

***

“You think Julianna can make her father see sense?” Felix stepped out of the way of two servants hauling a litter piled with crates from the Daphne Palace.

“It may be the sight of his daughter will bring him back to reality,” John said.

“But the reality is that he has the whole population of Constantinople on his side.”

“Do you believe that?”

“Do you believe Justinian doesn’t intend to flee? Like the rest of the court?” Felix swerved to avoid a pile of sacks beside a door. “We haven’t seen a single guard. Just a steady stream of valuables being carted off. I wonder how many of these servants we’ve passed are actually thieves?”

“Or, more likely, both. And they might well slink away and enjoy what they’ve stolen when order is restored, but then they’re anonymous, they aren’t sitting on a throne in the Hippodrome and they’re taking a few trinkets, not the whole empire. How long do you suppose a man like Hypatius could manage to hold the throne? Besides, I want to make sure Julianna is safe. She was placed in my charge by Justinian. She’s my responsibility, despite Theodora’s meddling.”

A man’s raised voice issued from the open doors leading into Antonina’s quarters.

“Belisarius,” Felix growled.

John motioned for him to stop. They stood in the vestibule in front of a statue of Plato, not hiding but not revealing themselves either. He could make out Antonina and the young general in the atrium beyond, partly concealed by a potted palm.

Belisarius sounded agitated. “Fight? I wish he would let us fight!”

Antonina made an inaudible comment.

“How do I know why he’s so timid?” Belisarius replied. “I tried to explain to him, we need to strike while the mob’s in the Hippodrome. In the streets they elude us, but in that open space, and packed together so tightly they can barely move, we can cut them down like a scythe through a field of wheat. Yet he hesitates.”

“You must speak to him again.” Antonina’s voice had grown louder.

“He dismissed me, warned me about insubordination. He seemed angry, and frightened. And he is still the emperor.”

“You’ll come to no harm. I’ll have a word with Theodora.”

“Yes. Of course.”

“Consult Mundus. Make your plans and present them to Justinian as a necessity.”

“If Justinian hasn’t fled already.”

Belisarius turned to leave. Antonina put a hand on his arm. “By tonight it will be over. You will be victorious, and you will be in my bed.”

John and Felix entered the atrium as Belisarius left, casting a scornful glance toward Felix.

John spoke before Antonina could protest the intrusion.“I wish to talk to Julianna.”

“She’s not here. She went to retrieve her belongings from your house.” Her gaze went over John’s shoulder to Felix. The look in her brilliant blue eyes was not inviting.

“I’ll check the house, John,” Felix said. He departed with alacrity.

“You sent servants with her?” John asked.

“No. She said she only had a few trifles to carry back.”

“How could you be so irresponsible? She was given into your care!”

“Does this look like the imperial dungeons? Do you expect me to chain her to the wall?”

Had Antonina been too harried to attend to her make-up? She looked much older today. Her cheeks were not rosy and there were lines in her forehead.

“She’s just a girl. You’re old enough to be her mother. You’re old enough to be Belisarius’ mother. You ought to realize how dangerous it is for her to be wandering about.”

Antonina pursed her lips into a pout that emphasized the fine wrinkles at the corners of her mouth. “You are most unkind, Chamberlain.”

John controlled his anger. “How did you snare Belisarius, Antonina? One of your magickal potions? You are an ambitious woman. Do you see yourself as the wife of a general? Is that why you wanted to meet Felix at the Hall of Nineteen Couches? To test out your potion on him?”

“A man, or a woman, will succumb to a potion only if it is their wish!”

“A convenient philosophy. Do you by any chance have a potion that will impart courage to an emperor?”

“Even the strongest magick cannot bring forth what is not there.”

“I see. Then I will have to try reason instead.”

The silentiaries leaning on their lances just beyond the double doors of Justinian’s reception hall allowed John to approach with hardly a glance. He paused as a sound resembling a rising wind filled the air.

“That’s from the Hippodrome,” one of the guards remarked. “It’s swarming with rioters. Thousands of them. When the wind changes you can hear them baying for blood.”

“It’s a wasp’s nest,” another silentiary put in. “Before long they’ll come flying out. What will we do then?”

“What you need to do is set fire to the nest while the wasps are still in it,” commented his companion.

“Or run before they come out.”

Justinian may have made up his mind to flee, but he had not gone yet. Narses and Theodora stood at the base of the double throne, while Justinian paced back and forth like a terrified horse trapped in its stall. His red boots flashed against the tiled floor. He still wore the plain white garments he had appeared in when addressing the assembly in the Hippodrome, but he was now wearing his diadem.

Around the group sat an assemblage of crates, sacks and chests, mimicking on a larger scale the previous evening’s scene in John’s atrium. Justinian had ordered Hypatius and Pompeius to leave, and he was apparently preparing to do the same. A pair of husky servants arrived, shouldered sacks, and departed.

Courtiers were scattered in knots here and there. More than one glanced nervously over his shoulder, perhaps expecting a howling mob to break down the doors. One man made his way to the imperial couple and prostrated himself.

“Highness, I humbly petition for permission to leave the city.”

“Who is stopping you?” Justinian replied. He looked around and scowled. “I am not to be disturbed by petty details. Is there anyone left to obey my commands?”

Reluctantly John approached the emperor. “Caesar, I must report that Hypatius has been taken from his home. He has been crowned and installed in the kathisma.”