In the Heart of Darkness

Barracks, however, simply wouldn't do. No privacy. Immodest. Their wives were simple women, but decent. They were not camp followers.

They wanted huts. Each family its own hut. (A tent, of course, would do for the route camps.)

The generals explained the absurdity of such an arrangement. Violation of military tradition.

The peasants explained the absurdity of military tradition.

In the end, while a monk watched-smiling, smiling-young peasants disciplined generals.

No huts?

No grenadiers.

In a different way, another clash of wills was taking place in the villa.

'It is much too dangerous, Antonina,' insisted the bishop. 'I thought so last night, and I feel even more strongly about it today.' He pushed his plate of food away. 'Look!' he said accusingly. 'I've even lost my appetite.'

Antonina smiled, studying his rotund form. As modest and plain-living as Bishop Cassian undoubtedly was, no-one had ever mistaken him for an ascetic. Not, at least, when it came to meals.

She shrugged. 'It could be, yes. Not for the moment, however. I assure you, Anthony, the last thing the Malwa will do is harm me. I'm their pride and joy. The very apple of their eye.'

Cassian stared stubbornly at his uneaten lunch. Antonina sighed.

'Can't you understand, Anthony? After Ajatasutra `trapped' me-quite a trap, too! — what with me being overheard by two deacons crying out for the death of Justinian! — they had me in a vise. As they see it. They're squeezing for all it's worth. Before I left Constantinople, they got from me every detail of the Hippodrome factions' internal politics.'

She broke off for a moment, grimacing.

'I still don't know why they're so fascinated by that subject. Mother of God, it's all I ever heard about from my father, growing up. This Blue did this and that Green did that, and those Blues are so many clowns but keep your eyes out for that set of Greens.'

She threw up her hands with exasperation.

'I even had to track down some of my father's old cronies-the ones I could find in Constantinople, at any rate-in order to bring my knowledge of the factions up to date. God in Heaven, what a sorry lot of ruffians!'

'Were they pleased to see you again?' asked Cassian mildly. 'After all this time?'

Antonina looked startled. Then she grinned, quite merrily.

'To tell the truth, they fawned all over me. Local girl makes good, comes back to visit the home folks. I hadn't realized how famous Belisarius has become among those circles.'

She shrugged. 'So, in the end, I was able to give Balban every detail of the doings of the Hippodrome factions. And I still don't know why the Malwa-'

'I don't think it's so odd, Antonina,' interrupted Cassian. 'There must be twenty or thirty thousand of those bravos in Constantinople. Not an insignificant military force, potentially.'

Antonina snickered.

'Hippodrome thugs? Be serious, Anthony. Oh, to be sure, they're a rough enough crowd in the streets. But against cataphracts? Besides, they're about evenly divided between the Blues and the Greens. More likely to whip on each other than do any Malwa bidding.'

The bishop rubbed two fingers together, in the ancient gesture for coin.

Antonina cocked her head quizzically.

'That's Irene's opinion, too. But I think she's overestimating the strength of the factions, even if the Malwa can unite them with bribes.' She shook her head. 'Enough of that. At least now the Malwa are demanding some sensible secrets from me. By the time I get back to Constantinople, a few months from now, I'm to provide them with a detailed breakdown of all the military units in the east. All of them-not just here in Syria, but in Palestine as well. Even Egypt.' She grinned. 'Or else.'

Cassian stared at her, still unsmiling. Antonina's grin faded away.

'It's that `or else' you're worried about, isn't it?'

Cassian took a deep breath, exhaled. 'Actually, no. At least, not much.'

He rose from the table and began pacing slowly about the dining room.

'I'm afraid you don't really grasp my fear, Antonina. I agree with you about the Malwa, as it happens. For now, at least, they will do you no harm at all.'

Antonina frowned. 'Then what-'

It was Anthony's turn to throw up his hands with exasperation.

'Can you possibly be so naive? There are not simply Malwa involved in this plot, woman! There are Romans, also. And they have their own axes to grind-grind against each other's blades, often enough.'

He stepped to the table, planted his pudgy hands firmly, and leaned over.

'You have placed yourself in a maelstrom, Antonina. Between Scylla and Charybdis-and a multitude of other monsters! — all of whom are plotting as much against their conspirators as they are against the Roman Empire.' He thrust himself back upright. 'You have no idea where the blade might come from, my dear. No idea at all. You see only the Malwa. And only the face they turn toward you.'

Antonina stared grimly back at him. Unyielding.

'And so? I understand your point, Anthony. But I say again-so?'

Her shrug was enough to break the Bishop's heart. It was not a woman's shrug, but the gesture of a veteran.

'That's war, Cassian. You do the best you can against the enemy, knowing he fully intends to return the favor. One of you wins, one of you loses. Dies, usually.'

A thin smile came to her face.

'Belisarius-Maurice, too, I think my husband got it from him-has a saying about it. He calls it the First Law of Battle. Every battle plan gets fucked up-pardon my language, Bishop-as soon as the enemy arrives. That why he's called the enemy.'

Cassian stroked his beard. There was weariness in the gesture, but some humor also.

'Crude, crude,' he murmured. 'Altogether coarse. Refined theologians would express the matter differently. Every sound doctrine gets contradicted, as soon as the other dogmatists arrive at the council. That's why they're called the heretics.'

Finally, he smiled.

'Very well, Antonina. I cannot stop you, in any event. I will give you all the assistance which I can.'

He resumed his seat. Then, after staring at his plate for a moment, pulled it back before him and began eating with his usual gusto.

'Won't be much, when it comes to military matters and Hippodrome factions.' He waved his knife cheerfully. 'Church conspirators, on the other hand-and there'll be plenty of them, be sure of it! — are a different matter altogether.'

He speared two dates.

'Glycerius of Chalcedon and George Barsymes, is it?'

The dates disappeared as if by magic. He skewered a pear.

'Rufinus Namatianus, Bishop of Ravenna,' he mumbled thoughtfully, his mouth full of shredding fruit. 'Know'm well.'

The last piece of pear sped down his throat, like a child down the gullet of an ogre.

'Babes in the woods,' he belched.

After the generals returned, at sundown, Antonina listened to their ranting and raving for half an hour. Tact and diplomacy, she thought, required as much.

Then she made her ruling.

'Of course they won't live in barracks. The idea's absurd. These men aren't conscripts, gentlemen. They're volunteers-established farmers, with families. They marry early here, and start raising children by the time they're fifteen. Younger, the girls.'

The generals gobbled. John of Rhodes began to stump. Antonina examined them curiously.