'Aye, maybe, if the Makuraners commit some outrage in the princes' lands, or they're troubled with foes farther west,' Krispos said. 'But that's not as sure a bet as it looks, because the Makuraners are always on the watch for it. The beauty of Rubyab's ploy was that it used our own people against us: Videssos has known so much religious strife over the years that for a long time I didn't see the Makuraner hand in the Thanasiot glove.'
'The beauty of it?' Phostis shook his head. 'I don't see how you can use that word for something that caused so much trouble and death.'
'It's like an unexpected clever move at the board game,' Krispos said. 'The board here, though, stretches all the way across the world, and you can change the rules you play by.'
'And the pieces you take off the board are real people,' Phostis said, 'and you can't bring them back again and play them somewhere else.'
'Can't I?' Krispos said. 'What do you think this resettlement is, if not capturing a piece and playing it on a better square?'
He watched Phostis chew on that. The young man said, 'I suppose I should have learned to stop arguing with you. No matter how well I start out. most of the time you end up turning things your way. Experience.' By the way that sounded in his mouth, it might as well have been a filthy word. It was something he lacked, at any rate, which of itself made its possession suspect.
Krispos pulled a silk handkerchief from a pocket of his surcoat and dabbed at his dripping forehead. He'd left some of the imperial army back in and around Etchmiadzin, both to watch the border with Makuraner-held Vaspurakan and to help uprooted arrivals settle in. More troops were strung out along the line of travel between west and east. With what remained, he was drawing near Videssos the city.
That meant, of course, that he and his men were passing through the coastal lowlands. In late summer, there were other places he'd sooner have been; at the moment, he would have welcomed some of Skotos' ice, so long as he did not have to meet its master. It was so hot and sticky that sweat wouldn't dry; it just clung to you and rolled greasily along your skin.
'By the good god, I wish I didn't have to wear the imperial regalia,' he said. 'In this country, I'd sooner be dressed like them.' He pointed to the peasants working in the fields to either side of the road. Some of them were in thin linen tunics that came down about half the distance from buttocks to knee. Others didn't even bother with that, but were content to wrap a loincloth around their middles.
Phostis shook his head. 'If I dressed like that, it would mean I lived here all year around. I don't think I could stand that.'
'You'd best be glad someone can,' Krispos said. 'The soil here is wonderful, and they get plenty of rain. The crops they bring in are bigger than anywhere else in the Empire. If it weren't for the lowlands, Videssos the city wouldn't have enough to eat.'
'The peasants aren't fleeing from us the way they did when we set out,' Katakolon said, stopping his horse by his father and brother.
'A good thing, too,' Krispos answered. 'One reason we have an army is to protect them. If they think soldiers are something they need to be protected from, we aren't doing the job as we should.' He knew as well as anyone else that soldiers plundered peasants when they got the chance. The trick was not giving them the chance and making the peasants know they wouldn't get it. He wouldn't have to worry about that much longer on this campaign—almost home now. He said that aloud.
Katakolon leered at him. 'You needn't be in such a swiv-et to get back to Drina, Father. Remember, she'll be out to here by now.' He held a hand a couple of feet in front of his belly.
'She's not giving birth to a foal, by the good god,' Krispos said. 'If she were out to
'He's just giving you twit for twat, Father,' Phostis said helpfully.
Beset from both sides, Krispos threw his hands in the air. 'The two of you will be the death of me. If Evripos were here, I'd be altogether surrounded. I expect I shall be when we get back to the palaces. That's the first decent argument I've heard for making this march take longer.'
'I thought it was an indecent argument,' Katakolon said, not willing to be outdone by Phostis.
'Enough, enough!' Krispos groaned. 'Have mercy on your poor decrepit father. I've got softening of the brain from too many years of staring at tax receipts and edicts; you can't expect me to throw puns about the way you do.'
Just then, the scouts up ahead started raising a racket. One of them rode back to the van of the main body. Saluting Krispos, he said, 'Your Majesty, the sharp-eyed among us have spied the sun glinting off the temple domes of Videssos the city.'
Krispos peered ahead. He wasn't particularly sharp-sighted any longer; things in the distance got blurry for him. But whether he could see them or not, knowing the temples and their domes were so close made him feel the journey was coming to its end.
'Almost home,' he said again. He looked from Phostis to Katakolon, daring them to make more wisecracks. They both kept quiet. He nodded, pleased with himself: the young bulls still respected the old bull's horns.
The folk of Videssos the city packed the colonnaded sidewalks of Middle Street, cheering as the triumphal procession made its way toward the plaza of Palamas. Phostis rode near the head of the procession, Olyvria at his side. He wore a gilded mail shirt and helmet to let the people know who he was—and to make sure no diehard Thanasiot assassinated him for the greater glory of the gleaming path.
As he rode, he waved, which brought fresh applause from the crowd. He turned to Olyvria and said quietly, 'I wonder how many of these same people were screaming for Thanasios and trying to burn down the city not long ago.'
'A fair number, I'd say,' she answered.
He nodded. 'I think you're right.' Rooting Thanasioi out from Videssos the city wasn't nearly so straightforward as uprooting and transplanting villages. Unless you caught someone setting fires or wrecking, how could you know what was in his heart? You couldn't; that was the long and short of it. Thanasios' followers surely lingered here. If they stayed quiet, they might go unnoticed for generations—those who cared to raise new generations, at any
