What? Leo's chum Anastasios isn't limber enough to lick his own privates like a dog, so he licks Leo's instead? I'm going to have to watch out for you, Brother Elpidios. Every once in a while, you can still surprise me. Yes, of course I accept your apology. It's the Christian thing to do, after all. If you want me to set you a penance, why don't you read to me for longer than you'd planned?
JUSTINIAN
"Well, Leo, when I tell you I am pleased to meet you, I want you to know I'm not saying it just for politeness' sake," I answered. "You are the first Roman who has not only shown me my proper respect but also helped me toward getting my throne back. On account of that, I name you my spatharios here and now."
He bowed low. His black eyes glowed in his narrow, swarthy face. "Emperor, you are generous to me," he said.
"You've earned it," I told him. Spatharios is a handy title. The spatharios of a petty noble who brags of his authority makes everyone around him laugh. An Emperor's spatharios, on the other hand, may be a person of considerable importance. Or he may not: he may be a man with no more power than the petty noble's spatharius, but one whom the Emperor, for whatever reason, has chosen to honor with the title.
I had no idea which sort of spatharios Leo would make. If he proved useful to me, I would give him power commensurate with his rank. If not, no harm done.
"Tell me of yourself," I said. "If you say you were born in these parts, I'll be surprised."
Smiling, he shook his head. "I cannot, Emperor. I spring from Germanikeia, on the edge of Syria. I was a little boy when my parents brought me here. That would have been at your order, wouldn't it?"
"So it would," I agreed. "And now you've given me another reason to be glad for that order." He bowed once more, pleased at the compliment. And I- I was pleased at the mutton. I shall not deny also being pleased at Leo, who, though young, seemed both clever and energetic.
I presented him to Tervel, as much to see how he would react as to honor him. His eyes widened, and he said, "Khagan, I tried to kill you once. I shot an arrow at you when you came down raiding into Romania, but I missed."
"When Justinian came up raiding into the land of the Bulgars, I tried to kill him," Tervel returned. "He tried to kill me, too. I failed. He failed. You failed. Now we are together."
"And now we shall not fail," I said. Tervel and Leo both nodded. "Once we get down to Constantinople," I added, "the soldiers will abandon Apsimaros the usurper, returning their allegiance to me. My family, after all, has ruled the Empire for almost a hundred years. What has this Apsimaros done, to make him worth keeping? Nothing, I tell you. Nothing! Nothing!" My voice rose to a shout.
Tervel and Leo nodded again.
From Mesembria down to the imperial city, the army I and Tervel led had but little fighting to do. The Bulgars who spoke Greek- perhaps one of them in four- would smile broadly at me on that journey, saying, "They fear us. See how they fear us."
"Indeed they do," I would answer, not wanting to discourage them. But, while some of it may well have been fear on the part of my foes, more, I think, was strategy. Constantinople had been attacked before, but no foreign enemy had ever taken it in battle. My great-great-grandfather, however, had put paid to a vile usurper. I expected to do no less.
Fewer Roman soldiers than I s hould have liked abandoned Apsimaros to come over to me. Many of those resuming the cause of their rightful master did so at the urging either of Myakes, whose acquaintance with some of their officers went back to the days before my throne was stolen from me, or of Leo, who demonstrated for the first time but not the last a gift for persuasive speech remarkable in one of his years.
Apsimaros's men did not try to hold us at the Long Wall. I thought briefly of Philaretos, my former father-in-law, who had commanded the garrison along the wall, and wondered if he still lived. We reached Constantinople on the seventh day after passing Mesembria. The last glimpse of the city I had had was from the deck of the dromon taking me, freshly mutilated and half blind with pain, off into exile. Apsimaros, I remembered, had captained that dromon: one more requital needed.
"Coming home, Emperor," Myakes said, pointing to the walls looming up over the southeastern horizon.
"Coming home," I agreed. "I've been away too long."
We rode closer. As the true height and length of Constantinople's fortifications became clear to Tervel, he brought his horse close to mine. "I have seen Roman cities," he said. "Men I have sent to the city here have told me of it, as I said when you first came before me. I always had trouble believing them. Now I see with my own eyes they were telling less than the truth, not more."
We encamped outside the northern part of the city wall, the tents of the Bulgars and those Romans who had joined us extending from Blakhernai hard by the Golden Horn south and west as far as the Kharisian Gate, about a quarter of the distance down toward the Sea of Marmara. Near that gate, the aqueduct of Valens enters the imperial city. It has, unfortunately, been useless to Constantinople since the days of my great-great-grandfather, when the Avars, during their siege of the city, destroyed almost a mile of it. No Emperor since had enjoyed the leisure or the resources to make the necessary repairs.
Soldiers on both the outer and inner walls stared out toward us, watching our every move. Mounting one of the ponies on which I had ridden down from the land the Bulgars had stolen from us Romans, I approached the walls so I could speak to the warriors manning them, being certain that, once they were certain it was indeed I who came before them, they would renounce Apsimaros the illegitimate and acclaim me once more.
Myakes rode with me, offering his usual pragmatic advice: "Don't draw within bowshot of the walls, Emperor. If Apsimaros hasn't put a price on your head, I'm a big green sheep."
"We already know he has put a price on my head," I said. "He was willing enough to pay it to my brother-in-law, that's certain. And as for the confidence you show in me, I do thank you very much." Myakes blew air out through his lips, a snorting sound likelier to come from a horse than a man.
Tervel rode along, too, a few paces behind me. Though wishing he had stayed in our camp, I could hardly tell him so, he having served as my benefactor since I arrived in his country seeking aid. But I did not want him to see me fail, and feared his presence would make me more likely to do so.
With no help for it, I rode on, ignoring him as best I could. Also ignoring Myakes, I drew close to the walls, close enough to let the soldiers see me, to let the veterans among them recognize me, and to remind them of where their loyalty should lie. They stirred, up on the walls, waiting for me to speak. They could have pincushioned me with arrows, but no one shot. I took that for a good sign. Tervel, prudently, had stopped at the distance Myakes had suggested for me. Myakes himself, whatever he thought of my boldness, remained at my side.
"I am Justinian, Emperor of the Romans!" I shouted to the soldiers. "Justinian son of Constantine son of Constans son of Herakleios Constantine son of Herakleios, of the house that saved the Roman Empire from the fire-worshiping Persians and the followers of the false prophet both. I have returned to reclaim the throne rightfully mine."
For a moment, only silence followed my words. I quietly sat my horse, awaiting the great roar of approbation and delight that would lead to opened gates and to my sweeping back to power. From the top of the outer wall, a soldier cried, "Hey, Justinian, aren't you missing a nose for this kind of duty?"