Tim Severin - King's Man

'Too clever by half,' muttered Halldor. 'No wonder they have to hire foreigners to protect the emperor himself. They're so busy scheming that it's become a habit and they forget who their real enemies are. They finish up by stabbing one another in the back, and no longer trust their own people.'

Harald, who had been listening to us, said nothing. Maybe he already knew what I was talking about, though years later I was to remember that conversation with Halldor and wonder if, once again, I had helped to shape the course of Harald's life. If so, then I was an unwitting agent, if not of Odinn, then of the Norns, or — as Trdat would have said — the Fates.

Leaving Harald and his men at the barracks, I lost no time in going to visit Pelagia, for I had been missing her while I was away in the Holy Land. Until now we had been friends, not lovers, but I was coming to sense that if our relationship continued to develop she might soon mean more to me than agreeable companionship and wise advice. Hoping to find her at home, I felt a pang of disappointment to discover that she was no longer living at her old address. I was redirected to a luxurious apartment in a more fashionable part of the city. When I complimented her on the move as well as the expensive furnishings of her new home, she was typically down-to-earth in her response.

'I have the coming war to thank,' she said. 'It's amazing how much money can be made from army contracts. It's such a relief not having to chase creditors in private commerce. The government always pays up, provided you grease a few palms in the commissariat.'

'Surely the army can't be buying its bread already,' I said. 'I know that army bread is rock hard and stale, but the campaign is several months away. Nothing's going to happen until spring, and by then the army will be in Italy and will be able to obtain bread locally.'

'I'm not selling them bread,' said Pelagia. 'I've got the contract to supply them with emergency rations, the sort you use on a forced march. The department of the new strategos asked for tenders, and I located someone who could supply sea onions at a good price. It was simple enough for me to assemble the other ingredients.'

'What on earth's a sea onion?' I asked.

'A plant like a giant onion. The bulb can be the size of a man's head. It's boiled, washed in water, dried and then sliced very thin. The army contract stipulated that one part of sesame was to be added to five parts onion, and one part poppy seed to fifteen parts onion, the whole lot crushed and kneaded together with honey. Nothing that a competent baker can't organise easily.' 'What's it taste like?' I asked.

Pelagia grimaced. 'Pretty foul. But then it is only eaten in emergencies. The soldiers are issued with two olive-sized pills of it per day. The stuff is claimed to be sweet and filling, and doesn't make a man thirsty. Just the sort of thing which the new strategos would want for his troops. He's a stickler for detail.'

'That's the second time I've heard about this new strategos,' I said. 'Everyone seems to be in awe of him.'

'So they should be. Comes from somewhere on the eastern frontier where he used to be just a local town commander. He made a reputation for himself by wiping out a raiding column of Saracens when the imperial army was very low on morale. The Saracens laid siege to his town and demanded its surrender. He pretended to be scared and promised to hand over the place next morning without a fight, even sent supplies to the Saracens to show his good intentions. But he deliberately included plenty of wine in the shipment and the Saracens got themselves drunk. That night the city defenders rushed the Saracen camp and killed every one of them. He presented himself in front of the Basileus with a sack out of which he tipped a torrent of Saracen ears and noses. The emperor promoted him to corps commander on the spot. Since then he's never lost a battle. He's a brilliant tactician, and his troops would follow him anywhere.'

'He sounds very like Harald.' I said, 'Is this military paragon going to command the campaign in Italy?'

'Only the land forces,' said Pelagia. 'My sister, who's still got her job in the women's quarters at the palace, tells me that the naval contingent will be commanded by John's brother-in-law, Stephen. It's the usual set-up. The palace doesn't trust anyone enough to give them sole command, so they divide the leadership.'

'And what's the name of this general who'll command the land forces?

'George Maniakes,' she told me.

RATHER TO MY surprise I heard nothing from the Orphanotrophus directly. I had been expecting a summons to his office to report on Harald's conduct in the Holy Land, but as my guardsman's salary continued to be paid - and I arranged for Pelagia to receive and hold the money — I presumed that I was to carry on the duties the Orphanotrophus had given me. Doubtless he had more important matters to occupy him, because the Basileus's health was showing no signs of improvement despite a frenzy of pious work. More and more of the civil administration had passed into the hands of the man the public referred to as John the Eunuch.

'You want to be even more cautious than before if you are called to his office,' Pelagia warned. 'The strain is telling on John. To relax, he organises debauches at which he and his friends get blind drunk and conduct bestial acts. But next morning his friends regret what they have done and said. The Orphanotrophus calls them in to explain any loose talk they have uttered the previous night. It's yet another of his methods of exercising control.'

'What does his brother, the Basileus, think of this behaviour?' I asked. 'I thought he was very religious.'

'More and more so. Besides sending Trdat to the Holy Sepulchre, Michael is lavishing money on monasteries and nunneries all over Constantinople. He's spending a huge sum on a church dedicated to St Cosmas and St Damian over on the east side of the city. The place is being remodelled. It's being given new chapels, an adjacent monastery, finest marble for the floors, walls covered with frescoes. You should go and see it some time. The Basileus hopes that his donations will result in his own cure because Cosmas and Damian were both physicians before they were martyred. They're known as the Anargyroi, "the Unpaid", because they never accepted any money for what they did, unlike some physicians in this city that I could think of. That's not all. The Basileus is paying for a new city hospice for beggars, and he's come up with a scheme to save all the prostitutes in the capital. He's having a splendid new nunnery built, and the public criers are circulating in the streets announcing that when the building is ready, any harlot who agrees to go and live there as a nun will be accepted. Doubtless the place will be dedicated to St Pelagia.'

The exodus of the tagmata began the week after we, the Old Believers in Harald's war band, celebrated our Jol feast, and the Christians observed the Nativity of their God. Watching the orderly departure of the troops, I had to admit that I was impressed by the efficiency of the army's organisation. First to leave the capital were the heavy weapons units, because they would move the slowest. Their petrobolla for firing rocks, the long-range arrow launchers and the cheiroballistra shaped like giant crossbows were dismantled and then loaded on to carts which ground their way out of the western gate of the city. From there they began the long overland plod to Dyrrachium, where they would be put on transports and ferried to Italy. When the column was halfway along the road, the army signallers flashed back the news along a chain of signal stations and the army despatchers released the light infantry battalions, the slingers and the archers to follow. Everything was tidy and methodical. The regiments of archers were accompanied by squads of sagittopoio, experts in repairing their bows, while the infantry had platoons of armourers who could mend or replace iron weapons. The squadron of Fire operators marched with a dedicated cavalry troop whose task was to protect the munitions wagons loaded with the mysterious ingredients for their secret weapon. Naturally each brigade also had its own field kitchen, and somewhere in the middle of the column was a team of army doctors with chests of surgical instruments and drugs.