Constantinople are best avoided unless the call of nature is particularly imperious. But the University Library had a nice, clean one that I didn’t scruple to use. It was scrubbed and polished three times a day, and gave off very little smell.
I took off my outer robe, hitched up my tunic, and sat on the common bench. Just as I was preparing to finish off, someone else sidled in and sat beside me.
Small, balding, he had the look of a Syrian or Egyptian. He wore good but nondescript clothing. He was rather old for a student, but might have been one of the Sunday lecturers. As I sat there with open bowels, I thought with vague interest that I might have seen him before.
There were five other places on the common bench, and I took a little more interest when the man chose to sit right beside me. Did he fancy me? I wondered, as I unfolded some of the linen scraps I carried for such purposes and leaned forward to dip one in the water channel. I didn’t fancy him at all, with his hairy legs and pallid skin.
But I was thinking most about what I’d been reading. Perceiving the truth and having a good shit are both pleasures, so far as they lead to peace of mind. But how to compare them? If they produce the same end, they do so by very different means. There had been nothing in Epicurus to suggest any answer. An idea was floating through my head about comparing not whole experiences, but small increments of each…
I got no further. The man next to me cleared his throat and shifted his position slightly.
‘That’s a good practice, young man,’ he said, with an approving look at the wet cloth in my hand. ‘I normally carry my own sponge with me. You never can tell what contagion may lurk in these places.’
In the Greek of an educated Syrian, he described various modes of cleansing he had observed on his travels through the East.
I grunted and set about wiping myself. Since he evidently had no sponge with him, I wondered if it might invite more familiarity if I were to offer him one of my private bum-wipes. I decided it would.
‘But you are’, he continued, ‘rather a fastidious young man in all respects. Isn’t that so, Alaric of Britain?’
‘What business have you with me?’ I asked, keeping my voice neutral. This wasn’t an attempted pick-up. More likely, I was being approached by some agent of provocation. If he was fishing for treasonable words, he’d get none out of me.
‘Why have you followed me here?’ I varied my question.
‘Partly because getting hold of you in any other way was proving difficult,’ he said in a voice so quiet I had to lean towards him even in that little room. ‘It was pure luck that I saw you coming into the University on a morning when we’d be alone.
‘I believe you tried to save Justinus of Tyre.’
‘Your belief is mistaken,’ I said flatly.
‘You may not yet be aware,’ he continued, his voice still low, ‘that Heraclius has moved from Cyprus. I was with him just before he set out. He’ll be at the Straits within the next few days, and Abydos will open its gate to him without a fight. With a secure base there, he’ll move forward to the City. The gates will then open without any need for violence.’
I wondered if I should just grab my clothes and bolt for the Legation. Instead, I leaned forward to wash off the shit I’d smeared over my shaking hands.
‘I’m a stranger to the city,’ I said at length. ‘I’ve no interest in politics. If you are as you seem, I ask you to understand that I cannot and will not get involved in your affairs. If I see you again, I’ll denounce you.’
As I got up to leave, he said in the same level tone: ‘I’m not here to recruit you to our band. I only wanted to make your acquaintance, and to commend you for your brave attempt to see right done by poor Justinus. But it was foolish of you to interfere. The work you have been sent here to do is too important to be risked for the life of any one man.’
I looked hard at the man again. I did know him.
‘You’ve changed your mind’, I sneered, ‘since you tried to kill me with those roof tiles.’
He looked back at me and grinned. He’d given up on his air of mystery.
‘Call that a mistake,’ he said lightly. ‘I follow my orders as given. Let’s say that they weren’t so clear last month as they have become since. I won’t ask if Justinus did tell you anything before the eunuch cut his throat.’
I got up again.
‘Keep to your work, Alaric,’ he said. ‘And remember – God is on our side. What Heraclius is doing, he does not for himself, but for the Greater Glory of God.
‘God is with us,’ he continued, as if telling the way to the spice market. ‘God is before us. When the Blessed Heraclius rules the world as His Universal Exarch, Justice and Peace and Glory will be restored.’
He gave up on trying to sound committed to his cause, continuing in his normal voice: ‘But if you want to see something remarkable, that will explain the exact importance of your work, be at the Great Church this afternoon. I can’t say more, but the Patriarch himself will be there, and perhaps the Emperor. The service will end before you normally go back to the Legation for your evening entertainments.’
He smiled at the stony look I gave him.
‘You will see me again, Alaric, and when you do, it will, I assure you, be to your advantage. In the meantime, you are under our quiet protection.’
Back at the Legation, I called for a jug of wine. And then I called for another.
‘Where’s Authari?’ I grunted at Martin, who had come in with the wine.
‘I thought it best to ask him to stay with Gutrune,’ he said.
I grunted at no one in particular. At least someone was having a good time in Constantinople.
‘Another altercation with Demetrius, I’m afraid,’ Martin added.
‘Not again?’ I sighed. Perhaps I really should beat Authari this time. I was frightened. Much more, though, I was angry. For months, we’d had no more trouble. I had chosen not to ask further questions. Seemingly, in return, whatever was truly going on had retreated from direct view, or did so far above my head or behind my back. I had just learned that I was under the ‘protection’ of people who had already tried once to murder me.
The last thing I wanted was another whining complaint from Demetrius.
‘He told me he’d expect to see you in his office the moment you got back,’ Martin said. He flinched as I sat back and opened my mouth.
But I controlled myself. ‘If you see Demetrius as you go about your duties,’ I said with icy calm, ‘you will ask him to attend on me in my office. You will remind him that my status as a guest of the Emperor is considerably higher than his. If he has a complaint, therefore, he must bring it to me, and at my convenience.
‘Before then, you will ask Authari to unhook himself from Gutrune and come to me at once. I will do such things…’
I trailed off. I would, of course, do nothing. I hadn’t laid violent hands on a slave since leaving Rome. I’d not start now – not on the say-so of bloody Demetrius, and certainly not with Authari.
I looked at the empty jug. If I asked politely, would Martin bring me another?
I pulled myself together. I’d show what I thought of that spy and his advice, and I’d put off any contact with Demetrius until I was less likely to knock his teeth out.
‘Martin,’ I said. ‘The dispatch we were intending to write this afternoon can wait. Today is the Feast of Saint Victorinus. I believe that means a holiday outside the City walls, and no need of any special permit. Let’s get changed. If Authari is sober enough to stand, he can come with us.’
22
It seemed the whole City had had the same idea. It took an age to get along the wide Middle Street to the Charisian Gate and then out into the ruined suburbs. Old and young, rich and poor, all wearing their best, the people of Constantinople were streaming as one out of the City. We had to push our way through crowds of the semi- washed, and thread our way through the chairs of the great.
The Terror forgotten for the moment as we passed through that massive gate, everyone chattered brightly. I even heard natural laughter, as children ran about playing with balls and little sticks.
