"Ah, Tervel the Bulgar," the khagan of the Khazars said. "We do not always get on well with the Bulgars, either those to our north or those to our west. How do you like Tervel as a neighbor?"
"Without him, I'd not be here talking with you today," I said, "but that does not mean he has not been difficult sometimes." Bulgar raiders had begun harassing Thrace in larger numbers lately. The embassy I sent to Tervel to complain of that had, for the first time, returned without obtaining satisfaction of any sort.
"Maybe we could both fight him at the same time," Ibouzeros Gliabanos said, "and squeeze him between us like a seed between thumb and forefinger."
"Maybe," I said unenthusiastically. Having the Khazars on the northern border of the Roman Empire struck me as being no more desirable than having the Bulgars there. My preference would have been for all the steppe nomads to vanish off the face of the earth and, in so doing, to take the Arabs with them.
I installed Ibouzeros Gliabanos and his retinue in the Blakhernai palace. Aside from scandalizing the servants with demands for fermented mare's milk and molesting one of the maids, they behaved well enough. The khagan spent much of his time talking with his sister and making the acquaintance of his nephew. Having had any number of children by his retinue of wives, he knew well how to ingratiate himself with Tiberius.
Not caring to be in his company more than necessity demanded, I dedicated to others the task of showing him around the imperial city. I did have hopes that encountering Cyrus, whom he had met in Atil, in the splendid surroundings of the great church might cause him to be persuaded as to the truths of our holy and orthodox Christian faith, as his sister had been. In this, however, I was disappointed. I consoled myself by remembering how richly he deserved to burn in hell for eternity for having tried to slay me. God's justice surely would not be denied in the world to come.
If Ibouzeros Gliabanos intended any moves in concert with the Roman Empire, as I believe he did, he also was disappointed. I tolerated him on account of past favors and his relationship to my wife, but I would never, ever, trust him.
He realized this after a time, saying, "I could give you all the herds and all the gold I have, and you would not send me a single soldier in exchange."
"That is true," I replied. "Tell me, though, whom you would rather have for a neighbor: a man who will do nothing against his will even in exchange for gold, or a man who will do anything at all, so long as he is paid for it."
Despite their swarthy cast, his cheeks flushed red. Having taken Apsimaros's gold in payment for the blood of his own brother-in-law, myself, he recognized the point of the gibe.
Perhaps that was what made him decide to take ship once more a few days later. But the sailing season was drawing to an end, and I can understand his desire not to be away from his barbarous people through the winter season. Were one of them to prove as devious and disloyal as he was himself, he might have found himself in a predicament with which experience had made me entirely too familiar.
Then again, too, he might have wondered whether, if I had him in Constantinople the whole winter long, I would yield to temptation and arrange for his sudden, untimely passing from this life to that of eternity. I confess I was wondering the same thing myself. Had he not been Theodora's brother\a160…
But he was, and so I had to let him go, however much I regretted it. Not even the Emperor of the Romans realizes every dream in full.
Before boarding the ship that would take him across the Black Sea, he embraced his sister and said to me, "I thank you for letting me live."
Since he chose not to dissemble hypocritically, I followed the same course, answering, "Thank your sister, not me."
"I have already thanked her. I thank you as well." All his retinue had gone aboard the ship by then. He hurried after the rest of the Khazars, as if worried yet that I might change my mind.
With Theodora beside me, I could not. But, as I watched his ship sail toward the Bosporos, I regretted not having had the foresight to post a couple of dromons at the strait's outlet to the Black Sea so they might incinerate the vessel, him in it, with liquid fire. A storm at sea would almost surely have been blamed for his demise. The sailors who did the deed would not have blabbed, knowing as they must how I requited those betraying me.
For my wife's sake, I let him go: such are the follies of uxoriousness. He is khagan of the Khazars even yet. Once I settle with Kherson and the other cities thereabouts, that will be time enough to deal with him.
The Bulgars' raids having grown intolerable, I resolved to punish them as they deserved despite their being ruled by a man whom I had myself created a Caesar of the Romans. Assembling the cavalry forces from the military districts of Anatolia, I ordered them to cross into Thrace so they could teach Tervel that his exalted rank did not bring with it the privilege of preying on the Roman provinces adjacent to the lands he ruled, lands themselves Roman by right. This was in the twenty-fourth year of my reign, the fourth since my return from unjust exile.
When I returned to the imperial city, I-
MYAKES
Wait a minute, Brother Elpidios. Where's the rest of it? What do you mean, what do I mean, the rest of it? The part where Justinian talks about the campaign against the Bulgars, that's what. Didn't you skip a leaf or two or three in the codex there?
What? You didn't? That's all he says? Well, I will be- no, that's something I've finally learned it's better not to say in a monastery. But it's hard to believe, all the same. Up till now, he's pretty much told the whole story, even if he and I don't always remember things the same way. There's a lot missing here, though, one devil of a lot.
What do you mean, why didn't he tell it? How should I know? I'm not Justinian. I can think of a couple of reasons off the top of my head, though, that might have something to do with it. For one thing, this part would have been written right near the end of his reign. Revenge was all he had in his mind, or pretty close to all, anyhow. He didn't get much revenge against the Bulgars.
And that ties in with the other reason I can think of. Justinian botched this campaign every way you can think of. He was never a man who was easy to embarrass, but when he looked back on things here, if he wasn't embarrassed, he bloody well should have been.
Was I there, Brother Elpidios? Oh yes, that I was. I saw the whole mess, right up close. I was lucky to get away with my own neck. So was Justinian.
All right, I'll tell you about it, since Justinian didn't, and since most of the people who were there are bound to be dead by now. So Justinian didn't let out a peep, eh? Isn't that something? I can hardly believe it, and that's a fact.
Like he says, the cavalry from the military districts crossed over from Anatolia into Thrace. They rode up the Black Sea coast. Justinian sailed up to Ankhialos, just south of Mesembria, to meet them there. He brought the excubitores along, which was how I got lucky enough to come.
Ankhialos, of course, means "next door to the sea." If the place weren't next door to the sea, there'd be no reason for it to exist. Now that I think about it, there isn't much reason for it to exist anyhow. Why anybody would bother having it and Mesembria both is beyond me. Yes, I know nobody asked my advice. Justinian sure didn't, for true.
Anyway, there we were, waiting for the cavalry from the military districts to come up and join us so we could attack the Bulgars. You can see the Haimos Mountains, the border between Thrace and the Bulgars' country, from Ankhialos, and you can see Ankhialos from the mountains, too, because they dip south close to the coast. The Bulgars were watching us, though we didn't know it yet.