Harry Turtledove - Justinian

"We have Christians and Christian priests here in Atil," he said placidly, "and you brought one with you, even if we did not. She will become a Christian: I see it is needful. Her name, you should know, is Tzitzak."

"Tzitzak," I echoed. I looked down into my wine cup. It still had wine in it. I drained it, filled it, and drained it again. The chamber in which Ibouzeros Gliabanos, Barisbakourios, and I sat began to spin. "Tzitzak," I repeated. It sounded like the noise a small, hungry finch might make. I looked over at the khagan, who sat waiting courteously to see what I would do. Despite that courtesy, I knew he would not aid me if I said him nay. I tried to bow while sitting cross-legged, and almost fell forward onto my face. Having no choice and knowing it, I said, "I am honored to have you for my brother-in-law."

His face lit up. I think he, knowing something of Roman pride, had expected me to reject the offer even if that meant I should never see Constantinople again. That I did not gave him some clue as to the depth of my desire to regain what was and is rightfully mine, thought to this day I do not think he grasps it in fullness. He put both hands to his mouth and shouted for a slave: "More wine!"

Those words of the Khazar tongue I learned quite well that night: he and I both used them again and again over the next several hours. At the end of that time, the khagan slumped over sideways and began to snore. He and I had had nothing intelligible to say to each other for some little while, Barisbakourios having passed out before either of us.

I got to my feet, surprised to discover I could do so. Weaving down the halls from one wall to another like a ship making a series of tacks against the wind, I made my stumbling way out of the palace and to my tent. Barbarians though they were, the Khazars, as a result of their living in nomadic fashion, had great skill with tents, and the one with which they had furnished me was nearly as luxurious, in their fashion, as the pavilions in which I dwelt while on campaign at the head of the armies of the Roman Empire.

Instead of excubitores, two Khazar guards stood before the entranceway. They nodded to me; I was their charge if not their sovereign. After considerable fumbling, I succeeded in lifting the flap and going inside. There was an excubitor in there: he was snoring, as a matter of fact. I shook him.

Myakes' first move was to grab for the sword lying beside him. "Congratulate me!" I said, causing him to arrest the motion.

"Why is that?" he asked sourly. "For falling into a wine jar?" He was always testy on being suddenly awakened.

"No, for pledging my troth," I answered.

"Emperor, you're very drunk," he said, whic h, God knows, was true. "Tell me about this in the morning, if you remember any of it then. My bet is, you won't." He pulled a sheepskin up over his head, trying to go back to sleep.

I shook him again. He said something not becoming to my imperial dignity, something pungent enough I wish I could have remembered it come morning. I said, "I am going to be wed. Her name is-" I hiccuped, not, actually, a bad approximation of Tzitzak.

It might not have been a bad approximation, but it was not good enough, either. "Her name is what?" Myakes said from under the sheepskin.

"Tzitzak," I said carefully, managing to get it right this time.

Getting it right did me little good: "Sleep it off, Emperor," Myakes urged, and rolled over onto his side.

"She is the sister of Ibouzeros Gliabanos, khagan of the Khazars," I said, taking some little while to do so: being as drunk as I was, I spoke at about half one's usual speed to make sure Myakes understood me.

He did. He sat up again, letting the sheepskin fall where it would. "You're going to marry the khagan's sister, Emperor?" he repeated. I nodded, and wished I had not, the motion already being enough to make my head ache. Myakes whistled softly; he could see the implications in that. "And once you do, he'll help you?"

"So he says," I replied. "If he will not help his brother-in-law, whom will he help?" Myakes might have answered me. I do not know. The next thing I remember, it was morning.

I don't think I've ever seen anyone so drunk as Justinian was that night, Brother Elpidios. Believe me, that's saying something, too. You make your life as a soldier, you'll run into a lot of people who can pour down the wine. Justinian, though, I'm just amazed he woke up the next morning to remember anything. How did he get from the palace to that tent? Divine providence, you ask me.

And do you know, Brother, from that day to this I've never figured out whether Justinian got that drunk because he was glad he'd finally get the help he'd wanted for so long or because he was disgusted that he'd have to marry a Khazar to finally get the help he'd wanted for so long.

Matter of fact, I was hoping he'd tell me, but he doesn't, not really, does he? Maybe he didn't know himself. Maybe it was both at once. Here in the monastery, life is simple. It's not like that out past the walls.

When I did wake, I wished I would die. I had not spewed up any of the wine I drank the night before, which meant it all remained inside to finish the job of poisoning me. I staggered out of the tent in search of cool, fresh air. In finding it, though, I also found the sun. It sank spears of agony into my head through my eyes.

A new set of Khazar guards stood outside the tent. They had no trouble figuring out what was wrong with me and, I being merely a visitor and not their Emperor, they made scant effort to hide their mirth.

Most of the guards Ibouzeros Gliabanos gave me understood some Greek. This was for his benefit, not mine, but I used it then. "Cabbage," I croaked piteously. "Can you get me a raw cabbage and pure cold water?"

They found me a cabbage. The water came from the nearby river. It was not very cold and tasted of mud, but it had to do, there being no other. I methodically devoured the entire cabbage, washing it down with long draughts of the water. After a while, my headache and the remaining symptoms of imminent bodily dissolution receded.

Presently, Barisbakourios came out of the khagan's palace and toward the tents where my companions and I were quartered. He looked the way I felt, though rather worse. Seeing me, he said, "Emperor, do I rightly remember that-?"

"You do indeed," I answered. "How is the khagan?"

"Wretched," he answered succinctly. I smiled in much the same way as I had done on learning of Leontios's mutilation: misery does indeed love company.

One of the guards was a decent soul. Without being asked, he fetched the same cure for Barisbakourios as he had for me. While Barisbakourios was imitating a rabbit in a farmer's garden, Cyrus emerged from his tent, rubbing his eyes. I daresay our chatter had awakened him. At the sight of him, that part of my hangover the cabbage had not cured did disappear. "Just the man I was looking for!" I exclaimed, which was true, even if I had not known it until he came before my eyes. Ibouzeros Gliabanos had said there were Christian priests in Atil, but here was my own loyal follower. "I shall want you first to save a soul by converting a pagan to Christianity and then to yoke the two of us together in marriage."

Cyrus might not have drunk too much wine the night before, but he had not been awake long, and his wits still moved slowly. "You want me to- what?" he said, and dug a finger in his ear, as if certain he could not have heard rightly.

I explained. Then I explained again, for Stephen and Theophilos came out of their tens and also had to be brought up to date. Myakes kept on sleeping. But then, of course, he had already heard the news.

Cyrus's eyes glowed. "Emperor, this is the best news I have heard for you since\a160…" His voice trailed away. In the long years of my exile, bits of good news had been few and far between.