"I know," Drosos said distantly, not leaving the window.
"The Guard is waiting." Chrysanthos kept his words level and without feeling but this served only to mask his deep concern for his superior. "You requested they accompany you."
Drosos nodded, his broad back rigid under his ceremonial armor.
"It is after midnight," Chrysanthos said as tactfully as he could.
"The nights are long," Drosos remarked inconsequentially.
"It is the dark of the year," Chrysanthos agreed, staring at the whitewashed walls, noting the smudges above the braziers.
"The Copts are fasting tonight and tomorrow. They do not feast until Epiphany." He said the last word as if it were gall.
"Yes; I know."
"They say it's heretical of them." He stopped talking, his eyes fixed on the large buildings that loomed out of the jumble of darknesses that was the city. "God," he whispered. "He does not know what he is asking."
Chrysanthos suddenly found it difficult to speak. "Drosos. If it is so unendurable—"
"I am Captain here," Drosos said in a still voice that silenced the other man. "I have been given a command by the Emperor. I am sworn to carry it out."
"There are others who will do it if you give the word," Chrysanthos told Drosos, wishing that he would turn and face him.
"Would you!" He asked it lightly but his hands closed into hard fists at his sides.
Chrysanthos hesitated. "No."
"You are the Emperor's officer, as I am." He looked up at the remote stars. "They say God watches the stars as He watches men, to the end of the world." Under the metal of his lorica his chest was aching.
"Your escort—" Chrysanthos reminded him.
"Yes." At last he turned away from the window and his face was blank with suffering. He crossed the room to Chrysanthos. "I am ready."
"They're in the courtyard. Four of them, armed." Chrysanthos looked closely at Drosos, seeing how much he had changed from the man he knew on campaign in Italy. "Are you all right, Captain?"
Drosos met Chrysanthos' eyes. "No."
"Is there—"
"No. Nothing." Drosos moved past him, walking directly and purposefully to the door. He stopped there, and said without looking at Chrysanthos, "If you want to leave, I understand."
"Thank you," Chrysanthos said, longing to take advantage of the offer. "I will remain here for the time being."
"Um." Drosos nodded, unable to express the painful gratitude he felt at his subordinate's loyalty. "When I return… share a skin of wine with me."
"If you like," Chrysanthos said carefully, thinking that he had never needed to guard his tongue as much as he did now.
"I'll need a drink by then," Drosos said, and left the room. As he descended the stairs to the ground floor, he tried to calm his thoughts. He was the Emperor's officer and he had orders to carry out and there was nothing more to be said. He walked more quickly as he approached the escort waiting in the courtyard. "Let's get this over with," he told them as he strode to the door, letting them scramble to keep up with him.
The streets were almost empty and those few, furtive men who saw the soldiers hurried away from them, wanting nothing to do with anyone from the Byzantine garrison. Neither Drosos nor his Guard paid any attention to the others, going quickly to the enormous buildings Drosos had watched from his window.
Two Greek scholars waited for Drosos at the gates to the Library, and they admitted him with deference.
"You are most welcome," the younger said to Drosos.
"Am I?" Drosos asked, his words brittle and light. "Well, I will strive to remember that."
The older scholar regarded Drosos with curiosity and puzzlement. "Captain?"
"Pay no mind to what I say," Drosos told them. "It's late and I want to get this settled as soon as possible. I must send a full report to the Censor before we… before we start the fires."
"May God aid our endeavors," said the younger, pious ardor in his face. "This has been a long time coming. If the vision of the Emperor is to be fulfilled, we must see that temptation is expunged from the world so that we may better serve the cause of Heaven."
"Yes. Of course." Drosos motioned to his four Guards to remain at the gates. "Show me…"He was not able to finish his request.
Neither scholar appeared to notice this. "Yes, there is much to see," said the older. "If you will follow us, I will be pleased to explain this place to you."
"If you would," Drosos said, trying to be polite. He let the two scholars lead the way into the largest of the four buildings that surrounded the vast central courtyard.
"This," said the younger as they approached the largest building, "is called the Mother. It is the oldest of the libraries and was built in the time before the birth of the Christ. It has two warehouses where materials not yet catalogued are stored. We have already determined that what is in them is not Christian, and so we need have no reluctance about burning them along with the Library itself." He stepped aside so that Drosos could enter ahead of them.
"On the main floor are works of philosophy from several lands. I understand that some are from lands far to the east and that there are records about the peoples in the heart of Africa." The older scholar rubbed his hands together. "These works would lead the unwary soul to great error."
"Indeed?" said Drosos. "I am only a soldier, and I do not understand how that information might hurt the faith of one who read these works."
The younger scholar shook his head. The uneven light from the braziers made his shadow dance on the walls, huge and misshapen. "The Emperor has determined that those who pursue studies of material that is not Christian often are seduced into following areas of learning that imperil the soul. You think, as most soldiers must, I suppose, that you might have strategic reasons to want to know about… the peoples of Africa, for example. Surely you would seek out such intelligence if you were expected to campaign there."
"That had crossed my mind," said Drosos, relieved that the scholar had provided him an excuse for his reluctance. "It would make the campaign more effective if we knew what we were getting into. The same might be said of many other areas of learning, because a soldier never knows what information might give him the advantage in battle."
The older scholar chuckled. "You soldiers are such pragmatists. But I suppose you need to be."
The younger scholar was not as amused. "And for a simple military campaign you would imperil your soul. What are scouts for, if not to obtain the information you require? And they do not lead you into doubt and error as much of these records might. Think what would become of you if you or your men should be captivated by the terrible gods of the barbarians around us. You assume that this cannot happen, but we know that it can." He was leading the way down the hall. "There are texts here on plants and animals found through the world."
"Where is the harm in studying that?" Drosos wondered aloud.
"You are not aware of the subtle ways in which these texts turn the mind from the adoration of God and the veneration of his Saints," said the older scholar. "The
Emperor is aware of this, and we must praise him for his wisdom in sparing others from the dangers that are present here."
They had entered a cavernous room that was lit by braziers. Huge pigeon-hole shelves lined the walls and stood in serried ranks down the length of the chamber. Drosos stared at the mass of rolled and fan-folded scrolls that were stored around him and the breath nearly stopped in his throat.
"You see we have an enormous task ahead of us," remarked the older scholar. "Luckily there are excellent records for this room and we can identify every work here."
"So many," Drosos said dreamily.
"Yes. The oldest scroll here is a treatise on shipbuilding from Samos. From what we have determined, it was written at the time of Perikles." The older scholar pursed his lips. "They worshipped idols, those old Greeks."