At the top of the stairs a number of rooms, including a small dining hall, opened off the corridor leading to the imperial box itself. The place was crowded with a noisy conglomeration of citizens-faction members clothed in their colors, wealthy aristocrats wearing rich robes, other men whose ripped and stained clothing made it clear they had been fighting in the streets. There was even a beggar with a cup. Whether he’d come in for the warmth, or with the idea of earning extra coins, or simply found himself swept up there by accident, John couldn’t say. The man had, however, sat down beside a doorway, as was his custom outside.
More men milled around the cold imperial box, but here John recognized several senators and palace officials. They looked startled and quickly turned their backs to him.
Hypatius sat on the elevated throne, looking out over the packed Hippodrome. It was peculiar, seeing him there rather than Justinian. He looked much more an emperor.
From far below the masses they would see the noble profile, the square chin and aquiline nose, the very image of his uncle Anastasius. They would see the purple drapery around his shoulders and be able to make out the sparkle of sunlight off the gold encircling his head. They would not be able to make out the pouches under his eyes, or the way his lips trembled. They would not see that the sparkling diadem was a woman’s gold hair chain and the purple drapery a torn piece of a silk gown.
John made his way to the throne and spoke quietly. “Hypatius.”
The would-be emperor looked down. “Chamberlain, if you have come to save me, you are too late.”
The crowd roared his name and Hypatius raised his hand tentatively and the roar grew louder. “Long live Hypatius! Long live Hypatius!”
The trembling of his lips subsided and he waved his hand again, more confidently.
“There’s still time, Hypatius. I am told you were taken from your house against your will. You can hardly be blamed for that. Advise the rioters to return to their homes.”
“I doubt they would love me so well if I did.”
“Then simply leave with me.”
“I am afraid I am outnumbered.” He gestured at the ranks below who broke into cheers again.
“You don’t have to fight your way through them. The stairs to the palace aren’t far away, and I spotted more than a few men who would be happy to let you go in return for my forgetting to tell Justinian that they were here.”
“Does anyone still fear Justinian? I heard he had already sailed.” Hypatius caught the eye of a nearby man dressed in a green tunic. “Isn’t that right?”
“Yes,” said the Green. “Justinian fled to Trebizond this morning.”
“Porphyrius said so,” confirmed his companion.
“No, it came straight from Narses,” someone else said.
A dissenting voice chimed in. “Narses only saw the ship in the harbor. It was one of Justinian’s officials said it had sailed. A chamberlain I think.”
“You see,” Hypatius said. “If Justinian has ceded his position to me than I have nothing to fear except the wrath of the crowd. It would be foolish to betray them. Besides, it is my duty. The empire should not go rudderless because the coward who was at the helm has chosen to flee.” He raised both hands and smiled as the tumult rolled across the stadium and crashed in waves across those in the imperial box.
John realized there was no point in arguing. He swept the box with his gaze and saw Pompeius. He had wedged his bulky figure into a far corner from where he stared dolefully at the back of the throne.
“Shouldn’t you be at your brother’s side?” John asked.
Pompeius looked at him in surprise. “Chamberlain! What are….what do you mean?”
“I would have expected you to be basking in his glory.”
“What glory? He’s up on the scaffold. True, a scaffold higher and more elaborate then most.” Although he stank of wine and his robes were stained and rumpled, he wasn’t slurring his words. He sounded completely sober.
“Then you might try to talk him out of this folly. If you really believe it’s folly.”
“Oh, I do believe it.” He shook his head and gave a mournful laugh. “Thousands of ambitious men do everything in their power to advance and yet nearly every one fails, and often at a high price. You would think it would be easy enough to avoid advancement if you turned your efforts to it. And yet…as you see….”
“Fortuna has a strange sense of humor. There’s still time, however.”
“No. I’m afraid there isn’t. Events have gone too far.”
“Why are you here?” John demanded.
“I…I’m not sure…when I saw them drag Hypatius off…he’s my brother…I thought I could talk him out of it as you said…not that they would have let him go…and they won’t let him go now either…I wish I hadn’t followed. I wish I were at home….” Suddenly tears ran down his fat cheeks and his billowing robes shook with sobs.
***
“You think Julianna can make her father see sense?” Felix stepped out of the way of two servants hauling a litter piled with crates from the Daphne Palace.
“It may be the sight of his daughter will bring him back to reality,” John said.
“But the reality is that he has the whole population of Constantinople on his side.”
“Do you believe that?”
“Do you believe Justinian doesn’t intend to flee? Like the rest of the court?” Felix swerved to avoid a pile of sacks beside a door. “We haven’t seen a single guard. Just a steady stream of valuables being carted off. I wonder how many of these servants we’ve passed are actually thieves?”
“Or, more likely, both. And they might well slink away and enjoy what they’ve stolen when order is restored, but then they’re anonymous, they aren’t sitting on a throne in the Hippodrome and they’re taking a few trinkets, not the whole empire. How long do you suppose a man like Hypatius could manage to hold the throne? Besides, I want to make sure Julianna is safe. She was placed in my charge by Justinian. She’s my responsibility, despite Theodora’s meddling.”
A man’s raised voice issued from the open doors leading into Antonina’s quarters.
“Belisarius,” Felix growled.
John motioned for him to stop. They stood in the vestibule in front of a statue of Plato, not hiding but not revealing themselves either. He could make out Antonina and the young general in the atrium beyond, partly concealed by a potted palm.
Belisarius sounded agitated. “Fight? I wish he would let us fight!”
Antonina made an inaudible comment.
“How do I know why he’s so timid?” Belisarius replied. “I tried to explain to him, we need to strike while the mob’s in the Hippodrome. In the streets they elude us, but in that open space, and packed together so tightly they can barely move, we can cut them down like a scythe through a field of wheat. Yet he hesitates.”
“You must speak to him again.” Antonina’s voice had grown louder.
“He dismissed me, warned me about insubordination. He seemed angry, and frightened. And he is still the emperor.”
“You’ll come to no harm. I’ll have a word with Theodora.”
“Yes. Of course.”
“Consult Mundus. Make your plans and present them to Justinian as a necessity.”
“If Justinian hasn’t fled already.”
Belisarius turned to leave. Antonina put a hand on his arm. “By tonight it will be over. You will be victorious, and you will be in my bed.”
John and Felix entered the atrium as Belisarius left, casting a scornful glance toward Felix.
John spoke before Antonina could protest the intrusion.“I wish to talk to Julianna.”
“She’s not here. She went to retrieve her belongings from your house.” Her gaze went over John’s shoulder to Felix. The look in her brilliant blue eyes was not inviting.