“The empress wields tremendous influence,” John replied truthfully, thinking of Anatolius’ plight as he spoke.
“Indeed? You have finally said something I can believe. But there again perhaps you can tell me why I should not simply remain here and take the patriarchy of Constantinople itself?”
John pointed out that continued stubbornness in the matter would eventually bring much larger detachments of military men with which to contend.
“Certainly in that case there is no doubt that they would prevail,” Michael said with a slight smile. “But it would be a pyrrhic victory indeed. Need I remind you that the mob in the street vastly outnumber all of the emperor’s men?”
“Will the mob follow one who is dead?” John countered.
“More readily than one who is alive.”
It was true enough, John thought ruefully. He knew he was not speaking persuasively, yet having delivered Theodora’s communication as ordered, he now wanted only to escape the other’s unsettling presence.
Michael rested his hand on the stone sill. His sleeve slid down, revealing a skeletal wrist. John was struck by the impression that he was observing a prisoner yearning for unobtainable freedom. It occurred to him that quite possibly Michael would be happy to die.
Michael spoke in a near whisper. “Do not your emperor and empress possess eyes, Lord Chamberlain? Did they not see the holy fire strike down preachers of blasphemy atop their columns and reach inside the houses of the wealthy to destroy their whores? Did they not observe how the waters burned?”
John did not reply.
“Then carry back this message. Should Emperor Justinian wish to convey his views to me personally, I will listen,” Michael continued. “But I see little point in you and I speaking further on this matter.”
John bowed and began to leave, but then paused. “If I may ask, is there a man here by the name of Felix? A big, bearded soldier?”
“We took in all the wounded and are nursing even our assailants back to health, Lord Chamberlain. I believe I know the great bear you mention. He may go back with you, as a token of our mercy. He is, I think, just about recovered enough to travel. One of our sisters has taken special pains to nurse him.” Michael stepped forward to look directly into John’s face, as if he were searching for something in those lean, sunburnt features. “I fear, however, that you are beyond our healing power.”
Before John could frame a reply, the other continued. “I was not thinking of the physical infirmity we share, Lord Chamberlain. I meant I could not exorcise the demons I see behind your eyes. You need a god who is as forgiving as he is demanding.”
Chapter Twenty-four
Perhaps there was heavenly intervention even so, for John was spared the ordeal of reporting his failure to Theodora. When he arrived at the palace, she was inexplicably absent. He went home and awaited a summons which never came.
The arrival of a courier the next morning explained the mystery. Justinian had emerged from his theological labors to repossess the reins of power. His Lord Chamberlain was to attend an audience immediately.
On his way, John debated how he could inform Justinian about his investigations into the deaths of the stylites, not to mention that of the beggar, without revealing that he had been alerted to a possible connection by perusing, albeit at second hand, Michael’s initial letter. Justinian had a tenacious memory and John could be certain that he would recall exactly what he had and had not revealed to John at their last meeting. Then too, more urgent yet was the plight of Anatolius.
As he entered the reception hall, John glanced at its bronze doors. Their depiction of a procession of nations presenting tribute to an impossibly handsome and elaborately garbed and crowned emperor was so familiar that he usually did not give them a second thought. This morning however he could not help noting the bronze emperor’s towering stature and wondered if this flattering portrait was calculated to personify imperial glory or to save the hands and eyesight of some exceedingly shrewd craftsmen.
He realized that he would need to exercise more than his usual degree of shrewd discretion himself. Luckily, the emperor’s demeanor was almost cheerful despite his tired eyes.
“Caesar,” John began, “my felicitations. May I take it that congratulations on an imperial victory on the harrowing battlefield of theology are in order?”
“Alas, no, Lord Chamberlain,” came Justinian’s surprising reply. “After much reflection, I have come to the conclusion that attempting to join Michael’s heresy to orthodoxy would be more difficult than sewing feet to a flounder.” He laughed heartily.
“I am most sorry to hear that.” John kept his voice level. He had been about to begin his plea on behalf of Anatolius. Now he was wary. To what could Justinian’s apparent good humor be attributed if his efforts to reconcile religious viewpoints had come to nothing?
“The city is in a ferment.” Justinian waved away a fly buzzing at his face and heaved a sigh that belied the strange lack of urgency in his tone. “In addition, I have received disturbing information to the effect that some of my excubitors are deserting their emperor. Such disloyalty pains me, but in due course it will pain them much more, I assure you.”
John bowed his head. There was no doubt that Justinian would be aware that one high ranking excubitor was even now recuperating at John’s house. Or had Felix already been arrested? “It is my understanding that the majority of the men have remained at their posts,” he ventured.
Justinian waved his hand airily. “For how long, Lord Chamberlain, for how long? We both know the seductive power of a rampaging mob, just as we are both aware that stern measures are required to contain it. We have had to take such measures before, as you will doubtless recall.”
He sighed again. “But,” he went on briskly, “emperors must be subtle as well as wise. Brute force of arms is not the only way to rule. At times, my subjects are like children, appeased with golden toys, a delightful entertainment, unaccustomed delicacies to eat, a handful of coins. Failing that, there are always sterner measures of persuasion, such as the removal of their ringleader’s head. After all, if their leader cannot keep his, what chance have his miserable followers?”
John remained silent. Was the emperor about to order a second attack on the pilgrims’ encampment or would he require John to return to the shrine and personally remove Michael’s head? With Justinian, anything was possible. Perhaps the emperor’s mention of coins indicated he had decided to purchase a peaceful solution, as with the Persians who had been rattling their spears at the gates of the empire for years.
The emperor’s hand flashed out. The drone of the fly stopped abruptly and he dropped its tiny carcass to the floor.
“That is how such agitators should be dealt with,” Justinian remarked casually, “but unfortunately with a host as large as is buzzing in the streets, there are neither fists big nor numerous enough to catch them all. And so, dear Lord Chamberlain, given such a dilemma, what action would you take were you emperor?”
So that accounted for the emperor’s cheerful manner, John realized. Although his theological efforts had failed, he had formed another plan of attack and for some reason wished the Lord Chamberlain to venture guesses at it, a childish game carried on in a marble sarcophagus while a lawless populace continued roaming the streets.
Justinian laughed. “I see that you are puzzled, John. Then I shall give you a hint. The house that you live in. What happened to its former owner?”
An icy hand squeezed John’s heart. The hated tax collector’s head had been handed to the mob. It was suddenly and horrifyingly clear that Justinian proposed to solve his current problems by utilizing the same method.