I thanked God we had people back there in Kherson. They let Justinian know what Apsimaros was up to, and he knew it before Ibouzeros Gliabanos did, too. Me, I couldn't imagine the khagan of the Khazars turning against the man he'd just married to his own sister.
Justinian, he'd always had more imagination than me.
Turning to Theodora, I asked, "How likely is your brother to betray me?"
"I do not know," she answered. Had she indignantly denied the possibility, I should have been certain her primary loyalty lay with him, not me. As things were, she went on, "If Apsimaros gives him enough, I think he will take it, though."
I wanted to kiss her for that answer, but would not because of the presence of Myakes and Moropaulos. "I think you are right," I said. "I think your brother would sooner align himself with someone calling himself Emperor who is in Constantinople than with a true Emperor in exile."
"That means trouble," Myakes said. "If the khagan tries to seize you or kill you, what do we do?"
"If that happens, we cannot stay any longer in lands the Khazars rule," I said, to which both Myakes and Theodora nodded. I looked toward Moropaulos. "God bless you for bringing this news. Tell my followers in Kherson to be ready for whatever may happen, and you be ready there to bring me word if Apsimaros sends more envoys to the khagan, or the other way round."
"I'll do it, Emperor," he promised. Dipping his head, he hurried out of the chamber. Though as thorough a supporter as anyone could wish, he was always shy in my presence.
"If we have to leave, where do we go?" Myakes asked. "Straight for Constantinople?"
My heart cried yes. Myakes' tone, though, suggested he did not think that a good idea. And the more my head examined the idea my heart loved, the more I was- reluctantly- inclined to agree with him. "If we show up outside the imperial city with no more force than a handful of men in a fishing boat, Apsimaros will crush us like a man smashing a cockroach under his heel," I said, hating what logic and reason told me.
Myakes let out a loud sigh of relief. "I think that's just right, Emperor. I don't know how to tell you how thankful I am you think the same way."
"You need men with you, to strike a blow against this Apsimaros," Theodora said- statement, not question- having followed our Greek. Her frown, which I had seldom seen, was amazingly like her brother's. After spending some little while in thought, she said, "Maybe, my husband, the Bulgars. They are not friends to the Romans, and they are not friends to the Khazars, either."
As I had started to say yes to Myakes' notion of sailing straight for the imperial city, so I started to say no to Theodora. Having fought against the Bulgars, I was not inclined to think of them as allies. But those wars, now, were more than a decade behind me. Asparukh, their khagan, had died while I was in Kherson. Of his son and successor, a certain Tervel, I knew little.
Glancing over to Myakes, I saw he liked the idea. The more I thought on it, the more I liked it, too- if it proved necessary. "Theou thelontos, we are worrying over nothing," I said. "If Ibouzeros Gliabanos shows proper loyalty to his family, I am perfectly safe here."
"Yes, God willing," Theodora said, making the sign of the cross; her acceptance of the true and holy orthodox Christian faith had sprung from deep conviction, not merely the desire to keep from hindering her brother's scheme. "Is it so in Romania, that all family is always loyal to all family?"
"No, it is not so," I said, remembering my father and my Uncle Herakleios and my Uncle Tiberius- and, before that, the struggle between my grandfather's backers and those supporting the descendants of my great-great-grandfather's second wife.
"It is not so among the Khazars, either," Theodora said.
"I didn't think it was," I answered. "We shall hope everything turns out for the best. And if everything does not turn out for the best- which God prevent- if that happens, we shall also be ready there."
Days flowed past, one after another. Having made the journey myself, I knew that Apsimaros's envoy, whoever he was, would be some time traveling across the plains to Atil. If he persuaded Ibouzeros Gliabanos to treachery, word that treachery had been ordained would have to make its way back to Phanagoria before any move against me could take place.
In the meanwhile, Theodora's belly began to bulge with the child she carried. She quickly reached the point of surfeit with salt fish and dried fish, a development surprising me not at all. Thanks to the money I had of her brother the khagan, we had no trouble affording better. The cook Balgitzin gave us also went out every so often and bought fresh fish from the men bringing them off the boats.
Theodora stared in some considerable dismay the first time he brought in a squid as long as his forearm. "You eat that?" she asked me incredulously. "It is not a proper fish. I do not like the way it stares at me, and I do not like all its-" She wiggled her fingers back and forth, lacking the proper word.
"Tentacles." I did my best to be helpful.
"Whatever they are." She made as if to push the squid away. But when, instead of seeing it whole, she ate slices of it fried in butter (a flavor I tolerated better than she did that of olive oil, to which she took years to become accustomed), she praised its delicate taste and grumbled only a little at its chewy texture. The cook bought more squid after that, and she ate them with good appetite. She did not, however, care to look at them before they were cooked. Nor does she even now, here on the day on which I set down these words.
Every time I saw Balgitzin after Moropaulos came to Phanagoria, I wondered whether the Khazar had yet received orders to make away with me. This was at first foolish, for I knew more about Apsimaros's effort against me than he did- unless, of course, the tudun at Kherson had sent him word at the same time as the fisherman came to me. I doubted that, Balgitzin remaining for some time cordial to me and not striking me as a man schooled in the art of dissembling.
And then one evening, having drunk myself cheerful if not sozzled at Phanagoria's finest tavern (a dubious commendation in such a limited field) along with Myakes, I discovered a squad of armed men- Khazars- outside the doorway to the house in which I and mine were living. They had not been there when the two of us left the place.
Myakes set a hand on my arm to hold me back, the Khazars having four or five presumably sober men to each of us. I shook him off and went straight up to them. "Any of you speak Greek?" I asked. When a couple of them nodded, I found the next logical question: "What's going on?"
They might have answered that question by drawing their swords, in which case I should not be scribbling now. One of the men who had shown he understood Greek answered, "Balgitzin say, you have Romans wanting to kill you. Is true?" It was my turn to nod; I could hardly deny it. The Khazar continued, "We are guards to you- for you- to be sure no Romans kill you."
"Oh," I said, and then, "Thank you very much." I could not object if Balgitzin set guards on me using such a pretext. For that matter, it might not have been a pretext: if Ibouzeros Gliabanos had rejected Apsimaros's request for my person or some significant fraction thereof, he would have reason to think the usurper might resort to more direct means of disposing of me. But if the khagan had decided to go along with the usurper, he gained a plausible excuse for placing warriors near me.
Which was it? I did not know. I could not know. I could only wait. I hated waiting. I had waited a decade for the slim chance I now had. How I hungered to slay them all! But they were many, and I had only faithful Myakes at my side. Suppose we did slay them? Balgitzin could summon soldiers without number. I could not.