"A day, at the very least," said Ashot immediately. "He's got to have the support of his soldiers. Most of them, anyway. That'll take time."
"Speeches," amplified Hermogenes. "Perorations to the assembled troops. Negotiations with his top officers. Promises to make to everybody."
"For sure he'll promise a huge annona if he takes the throne," added Ashot immediately. All the officers nodded, their faces grim. The annona was the pay bonus which Roman emperors traditionally granted their troops upon assuming the throne. During the chaotic civil wars three centuries earlier, when Rome often had two or three simultaneous emperors—few of whom survived more than a year or two—the claimants for the throne had bid for the loyalty of the armies by promising absurd bonuses.
"Pay increases," elaborated Hermogenes, "after he's been made Emperor. Better retirement pensions. Anything else he can think of."
"He'll be talking nonstop for hours," concluded Ashot. "All through the day and halfway through the night."
Antonina rose. "Right. The gist of it is that I've got a day to deal with the Patriarch's mob, without interference from the Army of Egypt."
Ashot and Hermogenes nodded.
"Let's get to it, then. How big is that mob?"
Ashot spread his hands. "Hard to know, exactly. Thousands from the crowd packing St. Michael's. Most will be his fanatic adherents, but there'll be a lot of orthodox sympathizers mixed in with them. Then—"
He turned to Theodosius.
"How many hardcore Chalcedonian monks are there, residing in the city?"
The Patriarch grimaced. "At least two thousand."
"Five thousand," added Zeno, "if you include the ones living in monasteries within a day's march of Alexandria."
Ashot turned back to Antonina. "Every last one of those monks will be in with the mob, stirring them up."
"Leading the charge, more like," snarled Hermogenes.
Ashot barked an angry little laugh. "And you can bet that the Hippodrome factions will join the fray. The Blues, for sure. They'll be interested in looting, for the most part. But they'll throw their weight in on Paul's side, if for no other reason than to get his blessing for their crimes."
"They'll head for Delta quarter, right off," added Zeno.
Antonina nodded thoughtfully. Alexandria was divided into five quarters, designated by the first five letters of the Greek alphabet. Delta quarter, for centuries, had been the city's Jewish area.
She moved her eyes to Euphronius. Throughout the preceding discussion—as was usual in these command meetings—the commander of the Theodoran Cohort had said nothing. The young Syrian grenadier was too shy to do more than listen.
"How do you feel about Jews?" she asked him abruptly.
Euphronius was startled by the question.
"Jews?" He frowned. "Never thought much about it, to be honest. Can't say I like them, but—"
He fell silent, groping for words.
Antonina was satisfied. Anti-Jewish sentiment was endemic throughout the Roman Empire, but only in Alexandria did it reach rabid proportions. That had been true for centuries. Syrians, on the other hand, had managed to co-exist with Jews without much in the way of trouble.
"I want you and the Cohort to march to the Jewish quarter. It'll be your job to defend it against the Hippodrome thugs. Take one of Hermogenes' infantry cohorts for support."
It was Ashot and Hermogenes' turn to be start-led, now.
"What for, Antonina?" asked Hermogenes. "The Jews can take care of themselves. Won't be the first time they've fought it out with Blues and Greens."
Antonina shook her head. "That's exactly what I'm afraid of. I intend to"—she clenched her fist—"suppress this street violence. The last thing I want is for it to spread."
"I agree with Antonina," interjected Theodosius. "If the Jews get involved in street fighting, Paul will use that to further incite the mob."
"Whereas," said Antonina, "if the mob is stopped before it can even start the pogrom—by the Empress' own Cohort—it'll send a very different signal."
She straightened, back stiff. "I promised their representatives that Alexandria's Jews would be unmolested if they remained loyal to the Empire. I intend to keep that promise."
She began moving toward the great set of double doors leading out of the audience chamber, issuing commands as she went.
"Hermogenes, detail one of your cohorts to back up the grenadiers in the Delta Quarter. Find one with officers who are familiar with Alexandria. The Syrians'll get lost in this city without guides."
"Take Triphiodoros and his boys, Euphronius," said Hermogenes. "He's from Alexandria."
"He's a damned good tribune, too," agreed the Syrian grenadier, nodding with approval.
Antonina stopped abruptly. She turned to face the commander of the Theodoran Cohort. Her expression was stern, almost fierce.
"Good tribune or not, Euphronius—you're in charge. The infantry's there to back you up, nothing more."
Euphronius started to make some protest, but Antonina drove over it.
"You've always been subordinate to someone else. Not today. Today, you're leading an independent command. You're ready for it—and so are the grenadiers. I expect you to shine."
The young Syrian commander straightened. "We will, Antonina. We will not fail."
Antonina turned to Ashot and Hermogenes.
"Get your troops ready. I want all of them in full armor. That includes the cataphracts' horses. Full armor—nothing less. Make sure of it. In this heat, a lot of the men will try to slide through with half-armor."
"Full armor?" Ashot winced. "Be like an oven. Antonina, we're not dealing with Persian dehgans here, for the sake of Christ. Just a pack of scruffy—"
Antonina shook her head firmly. "That's overkill, I know, against a street mob. But your troops won't be in the middle of the action, anyway, and I want them to look as intimidating as possible."
Ashot's eyes widened. So did Hermogenes'.
"Not in the middle of it?" asked the Armenian cataphract.
Antonina smiled. Then, turned to face Zeno.
"I believe it's time for the Knights Hospitaler to take center stage."
Zeno nodded solemnly. "So do I, Antonina. And this is the perfect opportunity."
"I'm not so sure about that," muttered Hermo-genes. He gave Zeno a half-apologetic, half-skeptical glance. "Meaning no offense, but your monks have only had a small amount of training. This is one hell of a messy situation to throw them into."
Antonina started to intervene. But then, seeing the confident expression on Zeno's face, decided to let the Knight Hospitaler handle the matter.
"We have trained much more than you realize, Hermogenes," said Zeno. "Not"—he waved his hand—"with your kind of full armor and weapons in a field battle situation, of course. But we took advantage of the very long voyage here to train on board the grain ships. With quarterstaffs."
Hermogenes stared at the Knights Hospitaler as if the man had just announced that he was armed with bread sticks. Ashot was positively goggling.
"Quarterstaffs?" choked the Armenian cataphract.
Now, Antonina did intervene. "That was my husband's idea," she stated. "He said it was the perfect weapon for riot duty."
Hearing the authority of Belisarius invoked, Ashot and Hermogenes reined in their disdain. A bit.
Zeno spoke up again. "I do not think you fully understand the situation here, Hermogenes. Ashot." He cleared his throat. "I am Egyptian myself, you know. I wasn't born in Alexandria—I come from Naucratis, in the Delta—but I am familiar with the place. And its religious politics."
He pointed through the open doors. "We must be very careful. We do not want to create martyrs. And—especially—we don't want to infuriate the great masses of orthodox Greeks who make up a third of Alexandria's populace."