David Pilling - The Red Death

“Stay in my quarters,” he said, as though I had a choice, “my servants will attend to your needs, and Kleinias is on hand to tend your injuries. I will be back by sundown.”

He left me to anxiously chew my nails and wait for news. At midday the soft-spoken Kleinias changed my bandages and rubbed on fresh ointment, but otherwise I had to amuse myself.

Narses kept a number of old books and papyri stacked on shelves in his study, histories for the most part, and I slew a few hours reading about the Etruscans.

I had read seldom during my adult life, and made excruciatingly slow progress. The Etruscans seemed a dull, silly lot, so I quickly lost patience and skipped to the end. It came as no surprise to discover they were eventually conquered by the Romans.

“Like everyone else,” I muttered, and returned the book to its shelf.

As he had promised, Narses returned as the afternoon of a golden day was sliding into dusk. He looked drawn and tired, and fiddled nervously with the ruby ring on his little finger as he informed me of the latest.

“I have nothing good to tell,” he said wearily. “The Empress employs her own network of spies and agents, a few of whom also work for me. She has recalled all of them and diverted their energies towards your destruction. What do you know of a man called Leo, a former trainer of the Blues?”

This took me aback. I had not thought of Leo since the end of the Nika riots in the previous year.

“The Leo I knew was one of the chief organisers and leaders of the riots,” I replied, “he escaped the massacre in the Hippodrome. I assumed he had fled the city.”

Narses subsided onto a couch. We were alone in his study, and he had dismissed most of his servants for the night.

“Theodora’s agents have dug him up from somewhere,” he said, “I don’t know what use she intends to make of him, but he is currently closeted in her chambers. The Emperor is busy enthusing over the building of his new church, and takes little interest in his wife’s private affairs. Was Leo a friend of yours?”

“The opposite,” I said vehemently, “he taught me how to ride and to drive a chariot, but never had any love for him, nor him for me. He is a traitor, and I would gladly see him hanged.”

“He is a weapon. One that Theodora means to use against us. Against you.”

Narses ordered supper to be brought in. We ate in pensive silence. I could feel the walls closing in around me, and wondered how anyone could bear to live in the palace, with its greasy, claustrophobic atmosphere of paranoia and treachery. I came to the conclusion that people like Narses thrived on intrigue, just as soldiers thrive on action.

The eunuch picked moodily at his fish stew. He was clearly waiting for something, and leaped from his chair when there was a knock at the door.

“Come in!” he cried. One of his Armenians entered with a little ferret-faced man in tow. Narses excused himself and hurried out to confer with them.

I had lost my appetite by the time the low murmur of voices ceased. Narses returned, walking slowly and chewing his lip. He closed the door and leaned his short back against it.

“You mind I told you that some of Theodora’s agents work for me?” he said. I replied that I did.

He laughed and clasped his hands together. “Well, it seems that one of the duplicitous bastards has been playing us for fools. Someone has been leaking information. Theodora knows you are here.”

I shot to my feet. “I must get to the barracks,” I said, “now, before she sends men to get me. She can try nothing once I am safe with my comrades.”

“Too late. The guards cannot protect you. Belisarius himself could not. The Empress has no need to stoop to bloodshed in the corridors. She has issued a charge of treason against you.”

“Treason?” I shouted. “What treason? She must be insane!”

“Her mind is in perfect working order. It is all wheels and gears. Much like mine, I suppose. Oh, she is clever. This man Leo has been prevailed upon to accuse you of a leading role in the Nika riots. He is going to claim that you were one of the chief conspirators.”

“But that is madness! I was the one who came to the palace to warn the Emperor of the revolt. You saw me speak to him in person!”

“True, but it might count for little. According to my spy, Leo is going to claim that you deserted the rebels in the hope of a reward from the Emperor. That is not enough to clear you of the charge of helping to stir the Blues into open revolt. Leo has other witnesses to support his words. Other survivors of the massacre.”

I started to pace up and down the room, and may have even torn at my hair in frustration.

“And the word of these men, these known traitors and rebels, is going to be valued above mine?” I demanded.

Narses shrugged helplessly. “People have short memories, especially if the Empress wants blood. It is much easier to let her have it. There will be a trial. The Emperor himself may sit as your judge. I will speak for you, and so will Belisarius. He must know where you are by now. If not, he is the deafest man in the palace.”

It was monstrous. More than that, it was absurd. I was to be put on trial for my life against a trumped-up charge of treason, the crime that I had always reviled. The crime that had brought down my grandfather, led my father to his death, and destroyed the peace and stability of my homeland. God, it seemed, had a wicked sense of irony.

“You should have run when you had the opportunity,” said Narses, “it will be impossible to get you out of the palace now. All the ways are guarded, even the secret ones.”

I was enmeshed. The trap had closed around me.

For a moment I had to fight for breath. I could almost feel the burn of a rope around my neck, and hear the jeers of the crowd as the stool was kicked away from under me. I would dangle in mid-air, caught between Heaven and Hell, and my last sight on this earth would be the lazy smile on Theodora’s hateful face.

The trial was held in the Praetorium, a Roman law-court, close to the central forum of the Augusteum. Theodora was intent on making my destruction as public an event as possible. She insisted that the trial be staged here, though it might have been kept a private affair inside the palace.

It took time for her to persuade the Emperor that such a course was necessary, and to tear his attention away from his pet project, the construction of the new church of Hagia Sophia.

He had lavished money on this, and hired thousands of expert foreign labourers and craftsmen to make his dream into a reality. The walls and minarets were already rising into the sky, but as yet few suspected that Justinian meant to break with tradition and cap the church with a huge cupola or dome instead of the usual basilica design.

While this increasingly magnificent edifice took shape, I was taken from Narses’ quarters and consigned to one of the prisons under the palace. There I was held, in cold and darkness and total ignorance of what was going on above my head. The burns on my back continued to pain me for a time, but Kleinias had done his work well and they healed quick and clean, despite the clinging damp and unclean air of prison.

Theodora knew that my fate was not sealed. Though she loathed and despised Narses, she might hope to induce him not to speak for me. He was as bribable as anyone in the imperial court. Belisarius was a different matter. She could count on Antonina to influence him in most things, but he would consider it a matter of personal honour to support me. I was one of his soldiers, and he trusted me.

The verdict was not quite a foregone conclusion, so the Empress committed her able mind to ways of making it so. Typically, the strategy she chose was both cruel and unexpected.