Harry Turtledove - Justinian

"I have," I declared, whereupon the Mardaite burst into cheers.

One of his companions, however, was imprudent enough to shout out, "Tiberius Apsimaros, Emperor of the Romans!" Two Bulgars were holding the man. I glanced at a third nearby, who was not at that moment tending to any prisoners. The Bulgar drew a knife. I nodded. He plunged it into the frontier guard's belly, again and again. The Bulgars holding him let him fall, writhing and shrieking, to the weeds and dirt.

With his screams as background, the rest of the Mardaites wasted no time in acclaiming me. Some, no doubt, were satanically dissembling, but I let them all go, to spread word of my coming and, I hoped and expected, to bring more Roman soldiers over to my side along with the Bulgars.

A few of the barbarians grumbled at watching the prisoners leave their hands still intact and breathing, but I said, "You have just entered the land of the Romans. Do you think you will have no chances for sport later?"

Tervel shouted something in his own language. The Bulgars calmed themselves. Shifting to Greek, Tervel told me, "You did right. You are right. The Romans you let go will do us more good alive than they would give us amusement."

"That was also my thought," I replied, and then, pointing southward, continued, "And now, shall we ride on?" Tervel dipped his head in agreement and waved to his host. We followed the frontier guards into Romania.

The main road running south and west from the pass toward Adrianople and away from the Queen of Cities, we abandoned it, traveling south along the seacoast toward Constantinople instead. Watching gentle waves slap against the shore, I found myself thinking of anything but the gentle waves I had survived out on that same sea.

As we came down toward Mesembria, the most northerly of the Roman coastal cities, we discovered that most of the villages in our path had been abandoned. Myakes snorted, saying, "Those frontier guards you let go, Emperor, they spread the news, all right- the news the Bulgars were coming. Nobody cared whether you were with 'em or not. People heard that, they ran."

"I fear you're right," I answered. "No help for it now."

A little later, Tervel rode up to me. "Shall we lay siege to Mesembria?" he asked.

I shook my head. "No. Taking it gets us no closer to seizing the imperial city, and besieging it wastes time we do not have."

"This is sense," he agreed after a moment's thought. "If you fail, we will capture this town on the way north." In his mouth, if you fail sounded like when you fail. As with most men, he did what he did primarily for his own purposes, not out of any special charity of soul.

That evening, we encamped only a couple of miles outside Mesembria. Some of the Bulgars rode out to pillage the suburbs beyond the wall. And, to my surprise, one of the locals rode into our camp. He did not come alone, either. but at the head of a flock of some five hundred sheep chivvied along by a couple of herdsmen who looked as if they wished they were somewhere, anywhere, else.

The man on horseback- a young fellow, probably born about the time I succeeded my father- dismounted and prostrated himself before me. In a loud voice, he said, "Emperor Justinian, I bring your army these sheep, and with them I bring myself." His Greek had some of the same Syrian flavor as that of the frontier guards the Bulgars had captured.

"Rise," I told him, and he did, with the fluid grace of a well-trained warrior. "I accept the sheep, and I accept you as well," I said. "Tell me your name, so that I may know whom I thank."

"Emperor," he said, "my name is Leo."

Yes, Brother Elpidios, that Leo, the one who's Emperor now. Up till then, nobody outside of Mesembria had ever heard of him, nor many folk inside Mesembria, either. But he found himself a way to get noticed, that he did. When everybody else was running away from Justinian, he ran toward him.

What? What would he have done if Justinian had lost? Probably gone back to Mesembria and tried like the devil to pretend he never had anything to do with him. He likely would have got away with it, too. Leo was the sort of fellow who could tell you the sun rose in the west, and you'd believe him.

Yes, you're right, Brother. It's just the same way as Leo has moved against the holy icons, as a matter of fact. When he took the throne, he swore he wouldn't fool around with the faith, didn't he? Of course he did. Every Emperor does. But then a few years later he started going on about whether it was proper to make images at all, and- what was it? last year? year before last?- didn't he toss the patriarch out on his ear and put in his own man?

What? Leo's chum Anastasios isn't limber enough to lick his own privates like a dog, so he licks Leo's instead? I'm going to have to watch out for you, Brother Elpidios. Every once in a while, you can still surprise me. Yes, of course I accept your apology. It's the Christian thing to do, after all. If you want me to set you a penance, why don't you read to me for longer than you'd planned?

"Well, Leo, when I tell you I am pleased to meet you, I want you to know I'm not saying it just for politeness' sake," I answered. "You are the first Roman who has not only shown me my proper respect but also helped me toward getting my throne back. On account of that, I name you my spatharios here and now."

He bowed low. His black eyes glowed in his narrow, swarthy face. "Emperor, you are generous to me," he said.

"You've earned it," I told him. Spatharios is a handy title. The spatharios of a petty noble who brags of his authority makes everyone around him laugh. An Emperor's spatharios, on the other hand, may be a person of considerable importance. Or he may not: he may be a man with no more power than the petty noble's spatharius, but one whom the Emperor, for whatever reason, has chosen to honor with the title.

I had no idea which sort of spatharios Leo would make. If he proved useful to me, I would give him power commensurate with his rank. If not, no harm done.

"Tell me of yourself," I said. "If you say you were born in these parts, I'll be surprised."

Smiling, he shook his head. "I cannot, Emperor. I spring from Germanikeia, on the edge of Syria. I was a little boy when my parents brought me here. That would have been at your order, wouldn't it?"

"So it would," I agreed. "And now you've given me another reason to be glad for that order." He bowed once more, pleased at the compliment. And I- I was pleased at the mutton. I shall not deny also being pleased at Leo, who, though young, seemed both clever and energetic.

I presented him to Tervel, as much to see how he would react as to honor him. His eyes widened, and he said, "Khagan, I tried to kill you once. I shot an arrow at you when you came down raiding into Romania, but I missed."

"When Justinian came up raiding into the land of the Bulgars, I tried to kill him," Tervel returned. "He tried to kill me, too. I failed. He failed. You failed. Now we are together."

"And now we shall not fail," I said. Tervel and Leo both nodded. "Once we get down to Constantinople," I added, "the soldiers will abandon Apsimaros the usurper, returning their allegiance to me. My family, after all, has ruled the Empire for almost a hundred years. What has this Apsimaros done, to make him worth keeping? Nothing, I tell you. Nothing! Nothing!" My voice rose to a shout.

Tervel and Leo nodded again.

From Mesembria down to the imperial city, the army I and Tervel led had but little fighting to do. The Bulgars who spoke Greek- perhaps one of them in four- would smile broadly at me on that journey, saying, "They fear us. See how they fear us."

"Indeed they do," I would answer, not wanting to discourage them. But, while some of it may well have been fear on the part of my foes, more, I think, was strategy. Constantinople had been attacked before, but no foreign enemy had ever taken it in battle. My great-great-grandfather, however, had put paid to a vile usurper. I expected to do no less.