Tom Harper: The mosaic of shadows

Count Hugh’s splendour was much diminished by his errand, though his pride was unbowed. There were gaps on his lorum where gems must have been shaken loose by the violence of his ride, and mud was splashed halfway up the skirts of his dalmatica. The jewelled cap he wore so constantly had slipped over one ear, which glowed as if it had been slapped.

Krysaphios still waited before he had performed the full homage before letting him speak.

‘My Lord,’ he said indignantly. ‘It is as I warned you: they are completely deaf to reason and charity. They called me a slave — me , a lord of the Franks and brother of a king. Their king, no less. How can I treat with such men?’

‘How did you?’ Krysaphios was unsympathetic, but Count Hugh’s answer was delayed, for the three priests suddenly processed from behind their screen and walked solemnly before the Emperor. One held a tall cross on a wooden staff, the second a censer, and the third a golden cup. He tipped it to the Emperor’s lips, while the others flanked him and sang their acclamations. When he had drunk, all three retreated, never once acknowledging the watching multitude.

Count Hugh glared at them, and continued. ‘I did as my lord the Emperor wished. I told them that all should offer their allegiance to the greatest power in Christendom. I reminded them that they were far from home and allies, and that rather than seek to overthrow the noble Romans they should be grateful of their aid. I appealed to their love of all good things in earth and heaven, and they laughed at me. Me , the brother of. .’ A stare from Krysaphios ended his aside. ‘They said: “Why beg for a treasure we can seize ourselves, and from a king whose crown will have fallen before we are even within his walls?” I would have argued, but they grew tired of the interview and I feared they would kill me if I delayed longer. “Run to the Greeks,” they said as I left, “but you will find no safety there. For we are coming, and none can resist us.”’

‘And they are coming indeed.’ The Sebastokrator Isaak spoke from beside the windows, through which the lines of the Frankish cavalry could now be seen advancing towards us arrayed for battle. ‘Now will you hear me, brother?’

Krysaphios looked to the Emperor, still as a rock, and back to Isaak. ‘Your brother reminds you that unless they have built an army of siege engines in the night, the walls are secure. We can withstand a thousand such attacks.’

‘And every time our men will die.’ Isaak was speaking to the entire room now, as much as to those about the throne. ‘Are we to widow our women and orphan our children because we do not dare oppose the barbarians? I say it is better that a few should die in the glory of battle, than that the barbarians should pluck us from the walls one by one.’

‘Your pardon, Lord,’ Count Hugh broke in. ‘I beg the Emperor’s indulgence, and leave to retire to my apartments. The effort of my embassy has exhausted me.’

Krysaphios waved him away, though I saw that the Patzinaks followed when he left. Hugh would not be resting, I thought: he would be stuffing his trunks with all he could salvage, lest the barbarians make good their threats.

‘My Lord.’ Now Krysaphios addressed the Emperor. ‘It is plain the barbarians distrust Count Hugh. They fear he has betrayed his race, and so they do not respect his overtures. But Christians should not fight while there remains a hope of peace. Send another envoy, one who would awe the barbarians with his resolve and stature. Send one of your generals with a light escort, for the words will carry more weight from a soldier.’

‘And a legion of cataphracts will carry more weight still.’ Isaak stood in silhouette under the window arch, while behind him the barbarians drew ever closer. ‘You yourself could ride out, brother, and still they would not heed you. Do you hear that?’ He paused, allowing a distant roar to penetrate the room, as of a waterfall or high wind. ‘That is the mob. They know the barbarians approach, and they demand action.’ He crossed to the throne, and I too moved nearer, for I had not relaxed my suspicion of him. ‘You cannot deter the Franks with words. In this course you will not weaken them by a single man, while your enemies in the city will pull us down in riot and murder. If we attack, in a single stroke we will restore the loyalty of our people and destroy the barbarian threat.’

‘And leave ourselves open to the Turks.’ For the first time since entering the room, Alexios spoke. ‘If we hold firm we will see off the mob, the barbarians and the Turks, but if we waver, any one of them can destroy us.’

‘Forget the Turks!’ Isaak was shouting now, heedless of protocol and decorum. ‘Do you see Turks hammering on our gates demanding our blood? We have survived these fifteen years because we focused always on the greatest danger, not on those which might come later. This is not some game where you can plot your tactics many moves in advance, and sacrifice the lesser pieces for a greater end. Here every move risks destruction, and all you will sacrifice is yourself. Ourselves. Please, brother, forget this madness before it overwhelms us.’

It was astonishing watching these two brothers, so alike in form and so disparate in temper. The greater Isaak’s frenzy, the greater Alexios’ composure, and when at last he gave his answer it was still Krysaphios who spoke for him.

‘We will send the captain of the Immortals, with ten of his men, to warn the barbarians of their folly.’

Isaak seemed about to tear himself apart with rage, but Krysaphios continued: ‘Meanwhile, order all the legions of guards to assemble behind the gates.’

‘I will summon them myself. And send your words to the captain of the Immortals.’ Isaak hissed between his teeth, made the slightest of bows, and strode from the room. The noise of the mob grew loud as the doors opened, then subsided when they snapped fast. Again the chants of the priests were the only sound we heard. The courtiers looked at the floor and did not speak, uncertain perhaps how to respond to the Emperor’s public confrontation, or worrying whether they were bound to a doomed allegiance. I watched them each in turn, flicking my eyes from one to the next for any hint of rebellion. All were sullen, but none seemed fired with murder.

‘There.’ Krysaphios saw it first — or perhaps the Emperor signalled it to him — the first horses of the Immortals’ expedition. They rode on massive beasts bred for the purpose, capable of bearing a man cased entirely in armour into the heart of battle. I had seen them charge several times during my time in the army, and on each occasion I had marvelled how seldom they needed lance or mace, how quickly their weight alone tore through enemy lines and scattered men before them. Isaak was right: nothing could convince the barbarians of the might of our arms if they did not.

I counted them as they came into view from under the walls. Their captain rode in front, with four cataphracts flanking him and another four after them. That should be force enough, I thought. But there were more, trotting forward row after row: twenty, then sixty, then a hundred.

‘I ordered ten men.’ Every man in the room looked to the Emperor, who had half-risen from his throne to stare at the sight before him. There was nothing of the statue about him now: his face was alive with horrified anger, and every limb shook with rage. ‘Call them back now, before the barbarians take them for an assault.’

Orders were shouted out of the doors, and I heard trumpets sound from the ramparts, but the cataphracts had little ground to cover and already the head of their column neared the barbarian vanguard. They were too far away to hear, and too close to the barbarians to turn: we could only stare, as if watching a mime-show. Neither army slowed; the cataphracts kept to their unforced pace, and the Franks to their relentless advance. They were barely fifty feet apart now, and still closing; I watched for an opening in the Frankish ranks, wondering if they would admit the embassy, but they stayed locked together.