He sneered and left me to polish saddles. Leo and his underlings thought me harmless, at worst something of a fool, and took little account of how closely I watched them. I suspected some conspiracy with the Greens, and it didn’t take a wise man to detect the rising tide of discontent and resentment in the city. Justinian openly preferred the Blues, and his naked partiality, combined with the increasingly severe taxes that he and the Emperor’s ministers screwed out of the people, added fuel to the fire.
In the midst of this dangerous and uncertain atmosphere, Theodora did something extraordinary. The demure wool-spinner was secretly weaving far more dark and complex webs, and in one of these she succeeded in entrapping Justinian.
He, poor fool, became enamoured of Theodora’s beauty and wit. Before long he fell hopelessly in love with her, and wanted to make the former actress, prostitute and dancer his wife. The law prohibited Roman officials from marrying courtesans, but Justinian was not to be denied, and eventually had the law repealed.
I witnessed these events with mounting horror. Justinian was in all likelihood destined to be the next Emperor, and Theodora would be his consort. That would make her the second most powerful person in the Empire, and in an ideal position to wreak vengeance on old enemies.
The Emperor Justin died after a reign of nine years. To no-one’s surprise, his nephew was elected to the vacant throne, and all my worst fears came to pass. Theodora, daughter of a bear-trainer and an actress, was now Empress of the civilised world.
I decided to quit the city. Apart from the threat of Theodora’s growing influence, and the rising tension between the Greens and the Blues, I was plagued more than ever by dreams of Caledfwlch, and desperate to go in search of my birthright. At almost thirty years of age, poor and alone and despised, it was time to shape my own destiny.
I knew Leo would never permit me to leave the Hippodrome, so I made secret plans to flee the arena and the city at night. It was a risky venture, and the skin would be flayed from my back if I was caught. Knowing Leo’s taste for the exotic, he might also subject me to more cruel and unusual punishments. The image of the white tiger’s jaws loomed large in my mind.
Then, in the winter of 532, the city exploded.
Chapter 11
By this time the tension between the Blues and the Greens had infected Constantinople with a kind of madness. The adherents of both factions risked their fortunes and livelihoods and braved the severest laws, all for the sake of their darling colours. Bitter skirmishes resulting in injuries or even death had become commonplace, and the palace guard and tiny city watch were inadequate to deal with the sheer number of disturbances.
Justinian and his ministers continued to ignore the threat, and the Emperor’s partiality for the Blues continued to fan the flames of civil revolt. The more fanatical supporters of the Blues took to growing their hair long and wearing loose garments, in imitation of the barbaric Huns, and pillaging the houses of wealthy citizens at night.
Most of these acts of robbery and violence were systematically planned and organised by the ringleaders of the Blues. I frequently witnessed Leo and his confederates return to the arena in the small hours of the morning, flushed with stolen wine and dragging heavy sacks of plunder. Like parasites, they grew fat on the blood and toil of their fellow citizens, but they had more then mere brigandage in mind.
Besieged by complaints, Justinian at last woke from his dream and took action to restore order to the streets. Too late. His guards arrested a few of the ringleaders, including Leo, and imprisoned them at the palace. In an effort to make all seem normal, he then allowed the January games to be held at the Hippodrome.
This proved an appalling mistake, as the Blues and the Greens clustered around the imperial box in the arena, demanding the release of the prisoners and bellowing their watchword of “Nika! Nika!” (Conquer! Conquer!). The Emperor was no coward, but in the face of such howling aggression he and Theodora had to retreat back inside the palace, though not before that vulgar woman had traded obscenities with the mob.
Up until now I was a passive spectator of events, and had given some thought to fleeing the city. Only my deep-rooted hatred for all forms of treachery, drummed into me by my mother, compelled me to stay.
Within days Constantinople was plunged into anarchy. The prisons containing Leo and his confederates were forced open, and the guards murdered. I saw the freed men being brought back into the arena, carried like heroes on the shoulders of their friends. Silence fell over the multitude as Leo climbed onto the back of an equestrian statue.
“Friends and former enemies!” he shouted, “the hour we have long planned for is here! Our corrupt Emperor and his cowardly ministers have run like cheeping mice back to their palace, leaving the city in our hands!”
He waited, grinning, for the deafening storm of approval to die down. “No more shall we endure the tyranny of Justinian! We who rule this city in all but name shall dictate its future, and the future of the Empire! Let us crown a new Emperor, chosen by us, the people. One who shall heed our desires and do our bidding!”
Now all became clear. The riots had been carefully planned with the aim of deposing the Emperor and installing a puppet in his place. No concern of mine, you might think, but I had lived in Constantinople for over twenty years. It was my home, and I was not prepared to leave it in the hands of self-serving traitors.
Another man was hoisted onto the statue beside Leo. I recognised him as Rufinus, a senior overseer of the Greens.
“You all remember the reign of Anastasius, who ruled this city with justice and fairness,” he bellowed through cupped hands, “let us choose a man of his blood to rule us. I propose Senator Hypatius!”
This was the signal for certain planted members of the crowd to cheer in approval. Their shouts were taken up by the rest, and soon the Hippodrome echoed to the name of Hypatius.
I knew of the senator, one of old Anastasius’s nephews, an unassuming no-mark who owed his rank entirely to his noble birth. Leo and his allies could not have chosen a better man to act as their dupe.
No-one in the baying crowd paid me any heed as I sidled through their ranks, ducked down a passage and left the Hippodrome via a postern gate.
I emerged onto the street facing the Palace of Antiochos. This was full of rioters charging to and fro, waving makeshift weapons and flaming torches and shrieking “Nika!”, while others set about beating up innocent citizens and stripping them of their valuables.
The air smelled and tasted of smoke and burned flesh. I glanced to my right, and saw the wooden roof of the basilica church of Hagia Sophia had been fired. Black smoke poured from the doorway, and the steps were littered with bits of plundered vestments and the broken bodies of priests who had tried to defend them.
Such shameless blasphemy made my stomach churn, and filled me with a desire for revenge on the perpetrators. I picked up a discarded bit of wood and ran up the street towards the Mese, shouting “Nika!” to blend in with the rioters. Fortunately, I wore a blue garland tied around my upper arm, and none gave me a second glance.
I headed for the Chalke or Bronze Gate that was the main entrance to the Great Palace. It was located on a corner of the Augustaion, the main ceremonial plaza of the city. I snatched up a fallen cloak and wrapped it around my face against the smoke from the fires that seemed to be springing up everywhere. The rioters seemed intent on burning the entire centre of the city to the ground. There was no-one to hinder them, for the authorities were paralysed with fear.
I saw no troops until I came within sight of the gate, which was guarded by a troop of Excubitors. They wore iron helmets and mail over padded leather coats, and carried large oval shields, spears and spathas. Despite being armed to the teeth, these men did nothing to deter the outrages being committed right in front of them. Instead they huddled together like a pack of frightened sheep.