The crown was heavy, almost oppressively so. It surprised me; gold combines small bulk with great weight. I wondered how my father had put up with wearing it hour after hour, day after day, year after year. And now, having worn it so long myself, I take its weight altogether for granted. When the mad-dog usurpers mutilated me and exiled me to lonely Kherson, on the peninsula jutting down into the Black Sea from the north, my neck felt curiously limber for some weeks, so accustomed had it grown to supporting the crown along with my head. I had to get used to it all over again when I took back what was rightfully mine, a burden I assumed with pleasure.
No matter how heavy the crown felt there in the great church, I knew I had to bear it without complaint or flinching. And so I stood very straight and very still, looking a challenge out to the dignitaries who were looking in at me and trying to take my measure.
I do not know what they thought of me as they shouted for the acclamations-"Tu vincas, Justinian! Many years to the Emperor Justinian!"- that, with those of the people, with my being raised on a shield by the soldiers, and with the patriarch's coronation, formalized my accession to the throne. What I thought was, Now I rule you all- and you had better obey.
BOOK B
"Romans!" I said loudly, pitching my voice to carry and doing my best to make sure it stayed deep, "Romans, I stand before you full of grief, grief that my father, who fought so fiercely to force back the followers of the false prophet, now no longer dwells among men and rules Romania, but has so soon gone to earn God's reward for his greatness here on earth."
I made the sign of the cross. So did the ecumenical patriarch. So did many of the dignitaries in the great church. Many of them were up on their toes, leaning forward slightly so as to be able to capture every word and from those words to try to divine the future course of the Roman Empire.
That suited me. I had no intention of hiding my aims- on the contrary. I said, "As much as my father wished to be most beloved by the barbarians, so he who is now Emperor of the Romans wishes to be most feared by them all. So that no barbarians might invade our provinces and do them harm, we shall, as soon as may be, trouble them with continuous attacks."
A sigh went through the church of the Holy Wisdom. The wars would not begin at once- it was too late in the season to start a campaign- but begin they would. My father had told me I could set my own course when the Empire rested in my hands, and I aimed to do just that.
"Romans, 'Tu vincas!' should not be only an idle acclamation, spoken and then forgotten," I said earnestly, "nor is passivity preferable to fighting. The peace we have with the Bulgars- a peace existing for no other reason than that it is bought and sold- is shameful and slavish. Better by far to bear wounds in our bodies than in our souls. Before long, the barbarians shall learn a lasting lesson."
I paused. The notables cheered. Nothing else was possible. I was the Emperor. I had defined, as I had the right to define, the direction the Roman Empire would take. Their task was to make it go in that direction, nothing more.
They sensed as much, giving me the cry of "Tu vincas!" again, over and over, till the ancient Latin words came echoing back from the great dome that, as some writer from the age of my namesake says, seems more as if it is suspended from the sky by a golden chain than a part of any merely earthly building. I paraphrase without the book before me, I fear.
Up to this time, all acclamations had gone to my father, save for rare moments like that in the Forum of Constantine. Hearing hundreds of prominent people shouting my praises was heady as strong wine. I had not yet learned those nobles and clerics and soldiers would acclaim a usurper, a rebel, a tyrant, as fulsomely as their legitimate lord.
With the crown on my head, I strode out of the great church to receive fresh plaudits from the people. I already knew the city mob was fickle; anyone attending two days' racing at the hippodrome could have said as much. But for now they were all with me, and I basked in their acclaim like a fence lizard basking in the sun.
On the procession returning to the palace, the servitors helped keep the people happy by throwing more coins out to them. As at the church of the Holy Wisdom, struggling over the nomismata and miliaresia seemed as enjoyable as having them. A tagline from some pagan play ran through my mind: "Man seeks God and, seeking, finds Him." And is not gold a god for far too many?
When I was back at the palace- my palace now- I thought of summoning a serving girl to my chamber and celebrating my accession in the most enjoyable fashion I could imagine. Then, all at once, I recalled my father's deathbed words to me. He had been more than half out of his wits with sickness and poppy juice, but that did not mean he had made no sense.
Instead of some lively wench, I called for Stephen the Persian. When he came before me, he prostrated himself. That took me aback: another reminder I was the Emperor. I told him to rise and then said, "Fetch my mother and, having brought her, you stay as well. I would take counsel with the two of you."
He bowed in obedience and hurried away. Like every palace servitor, he had always been attentive to my wants. What he was now was as far beyond attentiveness as that was beyond indifference. I had not realized the power the Emperor enjoys until it fell into my hands and I could feel of it.
Stephen returned with my mother a few minutes later. The eunuch parakoimomenos wore a fine robe of sea-green samite shot through with silver threads, a fitting bit of splendor for my coronation ceremony but an odd contrast to my mother's black wool of mourning. Her face bore a curious mix of expressions: partly the stunned sorrow that had held her since her husband died, partly pride that her son should have succeeded to the lordship of the world.
Both of them stood silent. After a moment, I saw they were waiting for me to speak, another imperial perquisite I had not before encountered. I came straight to the point: "I think I should wed, and as quickly as possible, too."
My mother nodded at once; she too remembered my father's words. "I think you are wise. You are the last man of your line, and God's will is unknowable to us. We have seen that." Her voice went ragged with pain as she crossed herself. "If the family is to go on\a160…" She nodded again.
"While I would not presume to disagree with the Emperor's wise words\a160…" Stephen's strange voice was, as always, dulcet, beautifully modulated. He was a courtier through and through, to disagree by denying he was disagreeing. His decorous pause allowed me to order him to silence if I so chose. When I waved for him to go on, he did, saying, "The treasury, having been strained by today's festivities, will for some little while be in poor condition to absorb the further expenses inherent in a wedding celebration, and so it might be more prudent to wait and-"
Now I did cut him off, with a harsh, chopping motion of my right hand. "The nomismata in the treasury are not yours, Stephen," I said sharply. "They belong to the Empire, and to the Emperor- to me. If I say they shall be spent on my wedding, they shall. Do you understand?"
Stephen bowed. "I do indeed, Emperor. My only thought was to serve both you and the treasury as well as I could."
Looking back on it, I suppose he hated me. At the time, I neither noticed nor cared. He would obey: that was what mattered. I turned to my mother. "But whom shall I marry?" I knew, by then, a good deal about bedding serving maids… and just enough to realize that was not the same as picking a wife. I did not even know which of the notable men of Constantinople had daughters of marriageable age; the women of the wealthy and prominent live sheltered lives, and are not casually seen by men outside their families. I certainly did not know which of those daughters of marriageable age might suit me.