Tu vincas was not a shout that went up at the coronation of any junior Emperor, conquest being the prerogative of the ruling Emperor. I could not even leave the crown on Tiberius, as I should have done had he been older. Once I had satisfied the symbolic requirement of placing it on his head, I took it away again. Tiberius reached for it, and howled when he could not get it.
More laughter rose and echoed from the dome. Theodora rocked Tiberius in her arms till he calmed. Having waited for that moment, I took the second crown from the hands of the ecumenical patriarch. The Augusta is more often crowned in the Augustaion, the enclosed open space south of the church of the Holy Wisdom, but I performed the ceremony inside the great church, combining it with the coronation of my son. Theophylaktos had grumbled a little at the proposal, but not much. And, being Emperor, I had my way.
At my gesture, Theodora slightly inclined her head. I set the crown on it, saying, "Behold the Augusta Theodora!" Tiberius, meanwhile, beheld the crown on his mother's head, let out a squeal of delight, and tried to get it, imperially certain it had been placed there for his amusement alone.
Over the echo of that squeal, more acclamations rang out. Most were in Latin, the ceremony for crowning the Augusta having changed less over the years than that for the Emperor. Indeed, it was my great-great-grandfather who changed the official title of the ruler of the Roman Empire from Augustus to the simple word Emperor.
"Thank you," Theodora said when the acclamations had faded. "God bless you." I nodded, well pleased, having wanted her to use those words to remind the grandees she was of Christian faith even if of Khazar blood.
I took the first crown from Cyrus once more and, accompanied by my wife (who still carried our son in her arms) and the ecumenical patriarch, went out through the narthex to the entranceway to the church of the Holy Wisdom. The crowd out there- people lacking the importance to be admitted to the great church to witness the coronation ceremony with their own eyes- burst into cheers to see Theodora adorned with the Augusta's crown. They cheered even louder when, as I had done inside the church, I set the junior Emperor's crown on Tiberius's small head.
Servants flung coins into the crowd from sacks they carried for t he occasion: gold and silver both here. Rather than watching the city mob struggle over the largesse thus distributed, I went back into the great church. Again, the nobles and high functionaries shouted out fulsome acclamations for the newly crowned Tiberius and Theodora.
They had, no doubt, acclaimed Apsimaros a year before. They had, no doubt, acclaimed Leontios as fulsomely ten years before. They would, no doubt, acclaim some other vile, worthless usurper as fulsomely should he chance to overthrow me.
I did not aim to give the whores the chance.
My mother beamed at me, saying, "I am very glad to see you using the grand palace once more. I know your memories of those who dwelt here before you came back are unpl-"
With a sharp chopping gesture of my right hand, I cut her off. "This palace has a larger dining hall than the one at Blakhernai."
"Reason enough," my mother said. "I am also pleased to see you reconciling yourself with some of the people who remained busy in the imperial city after you were forced to leave. That way lies security." I made no answer. She was in any case not seeking one, as she swung all her attention to Tiberius. "How is the littlest Emperor?" She punctuated that by tickling him under the chin. By way of reply, the littlest Emperor squeaked with delight.
One of the spatharioi I had appointed since returning to the city, a certain Helias, came up to me and said, "Emperor, everything is ready."
"Good," I told him.
He was about to go when a cook came running out of the kitchen, crying, "Who is this black devil who wants to work with us?" He made the sign of the cross. "I have never seen such an ugly man in my life!"
"Oh, that's my cook," Helias answered. "I call him John, because I can't pronounce his real name. He's an Indian or an Ethiopian: something like that. He is ugly, but he can really cook. He's put a belly on me since I bought him six months ago, I'll tell you that. When I heard the Emperor had a banquet in mind, I brought him along to help."
"Let me see him," I said, curious to learn whether he would resemble Auriabedas.
The cook trotted off, returning in a little while with a fellow who in fact did not much look like the little man who had restored my nose. This man was tall and muscular, with skin black rather than brown and hair growing in tight little curls. His features were hard and coarse, his nose, though seeming undamaged, even flatter than mine.
After clumsily prostrating himself, he spoke in bad Greek: "Emperor, you eat my food, you like my food."
"All right, John," I said, and, diverted by his strange appearance, gave him a nomisma, which he took with a loud, shrill whoop of delight. I turned to the cook who had brought him into my presence. "He may be ugly, but he seems to have no harm in him. Let him cook, so long as he does not bother the rest of you."
Bowing, the cook led John back into the kitchens. That proved well timed, for the invited guests began arriving shortly thereafter. One by one, they prostrated themselves, bowed to my mother and to my wife, and let eunuchs take them to the places assigned them at the tables. Having been seated, they began drinking wine and talking shop with one another, as men of similar trades will do when cast together.
None of them paid any special attention to the magnificence of the hall in which they were enjoying themselves. It was, for these functionaries of intermediate to high rank, a familiar setting. All of them had frequently come to the grand palace while Apsimaros and, before him, Leontios, had set their fundaments on the throne. Some of them I remembered from the days before my exile; a few I remembered from as far back as the days of my father's reign.
I greeted them with the nineteenth verse of the twelfth chapter of the book of Luke: "\a160'Soul, thou hast much goods laid up for many years; take thine ease, eat, drink, and be merry.'\a160"
My mother, whose piety, always deep, had strengthened further in the years of my exile, looked sharply at me. I returned my blandest stare, and she subsided. The bureaucrats and courtiers I had assembled- they must have numbered about sixty altogether- lifted their cups in salutation. "May you also be merry, Emperor," one of them called, whereupon the rest gave forth with loud agreement.
Food began coming out of the kitchen then: oysters and spinach, octopus and leeks, prawns in cheese with garlic. I had no idea what share in all this John the black man from India (or wherever his homeland lay) had had, but the dishes were uniformly excellent. My guests might have taken the dining hall for granted, but good food they appreciated, and were loud in its praises.
After the prawns came roast boar in garum, the piquancy of the fish sauce complementing the meat's fatty richness. Again, the courtiers lauded the viands to the skies. Pork is a poor man's meat, but the wild boar is of different substance from the humble, garbage-eating pig, and these connoisseurs recognized and appreciated the difference.
They sighed over geese stuffed with figs and plums and served on a bed of cabbage, and moaned almost as they might have done over a beautiful woman when the servants carried from the kitchen lambs glistening with the fat in which they had been baked. Crushed mint leaves were sprinkled over the carcasses, which still smoked from their time in the oven. To add flavor to the meat, the cooks had also inserted peppercorns and tiny quills of cinnamon into the flesh. Biting down on one of them prompted a man to reach for his wine goblet.