But I was their leader, and that surely meant something in this world of multiple betrayals.
As I spoke, a cheer went up. It began close by me, and spread backwards through the crowd. It was taken up by groups beyond the main crowd, and cheering rang back from the barricades in the streets beyond the square.
Women and children and very old men began pouring out of the Great Church. ‘Is it victory?’ I heard one calling. ‘Is it victory?’
I realised with a shock they also were all wearing blue.
Now it was no longer a matter of Phocas against Heraclius, the priests in the Great Church abandoned all neutrality. To still greater cheers, blue banners streamed from the windows fringing the upper dome. Priests emerged from another doorway in the church with blue ribands tied to their crucifixes.
I didn’t like the inattention to the approaching enemy. If the regulars still had a long way to go before they hit the centre, the Greens would surely be upon us at any moment. But the impromptu service and blessing of weapons put a fighting spirit into my men that I hadn’t expected ever to see.
With Martin beside me, I crossed the square. Now the ceremonial part of the battle was over, non- combatants were struggling like mad things to squeeze into the still open doorways in the Great Church. One despairing old Senator who’d come late with his wife waved a bag of gold to buy his way in. He was ignored.
My student band let up a cheer as I came in sight. In an almost passable imitation of the Palace Guard, they raised their weapons in salute.
‘Martin,’ I said, ‘go back and stand by the Great Church. It’s too late to get you into the main area, but the priests will let you back up to the dome if need be.’
I turned from him. ‘Right, my boys.’ I shouted. ‘Are we going to clear those fucking Heraclians out of this city? Or are we just going to show them how to fight?’
I tried to think of some battle cry that was both literary and relevant.
I was beaten to it.
‘Blue – Blue – Blue – Blue,’ chanted the true racing fans around me.
I’d expected the exit into Middle Street from the Forum of Constantine would be the weakest point in the defence. Though we had a stout wooden wall built across the street, there was a wide-open space beyond for an attacking force to gather. If you think of it in terms of a battering ram against a door, there was room here for a good, hard run.
The first attack on the wall came from the Greens. They poured into the Forum from the direction of the Main Harbour. I watched them from the platform that ran along the upper part of the wall and let us see over at breast height. There was no appearance of discipline among them. Their weapons and armour were as makeshift as those of my own men. Their big advantage was in numbers. We were strung out along a line that had to be held at all times. They could stay together in larger groups and make their attack at any point.
The Greens filled the wide expanse of the Forum. As they slowly came forward, they struck up one of their Circus chants. That low, rhythmical grunting a few days earlier had seemed part of the good-humoured badinage before the races. Now, it was in earnest. It had a sound about it of blood and death. At the back of the crowd, I saw pikes with heads stuck on them. It wasn’t hard to guess, from the imprecations that began around me, that these were the decapitated heads of Blues picked off after the sudden change of side at the Main Harbour.
The Greens marked every downbeat of their chant by striking their weapons on the pavement.
The Blues around me began a chant of their own. Then – just like at the races, though now with malevolence – the ritual insults and curses flew back and forth.
As the Greens came within striking distance, my Blues took up their slingshots and let fly with volley after volley of the excrement they’d taken the trouble to collect from around the Great Church. The smell was overpowering. The Greens let out a howl of rage as it splattered all over them. Their fine green banners turned brown. Some slipped on the splashes of shit littering the ground in front of them and fell heavily down.
The Blues screamed with laughter. Some of my more vulgar men even took to pelting each other. Their betters called them to order with canes, and turned their attention back to the advancing enemy.
The Greens were now coming on fast. Then, with a last and terrible scream of hatred, they broke into a run for the last twenty yards of the advance. As their twisted faces grew clearer, I heard the panted aftersound of their war chant and the scuffing of leather on pavement as the massed attack of the Greens came closer and closer.
With a sudden shock, they crashed into the wall. The wooden planks shook horribly at the impact of so many hundreds of bodies. I clutched at the inner frame of the wall to hold myself steady. I thought at first it would tumble down, and we’d be into open combat.
But the wall held. Now into another of their Circus chants, the Green attackers grabbed hold of the walls where they could and rocked backwards and forwards. I thought to jump down before I was pitched off, but the Blues beside me now went into action. They poked the attackers with sharpened stakes and poured cauldrons of boiling water over their heads.
It was very light work to break the force of the Green attack. After taking a few dozen casualties, they drew back. They stood about ten yards from the wall, throwing stones and chanting more factional insults. The occasional severed head bumped against the outer planks. Shaking their weapons, the Blues chanted back. No one seemed inclined to engage in more bloodshed.
I climbed down from the wall. ‘This all seems to be under control,’ I said briefly to one of my students.
At that moment a message was delivered from the barricade by the Saint Julian Church. This was one of the strongpoints, but now it was under attack by regular troops.
59
We arrived just as the enemy was battering at the wall. In scarlet cloaks and pointed silver helmets, the soldiers had marched straight down the shopping street beyond, and were now attacking the wall more effectively than the Greens had managed.
The citizen defenders hadn’t yet run away. But they stood nervously back from our side of the wall. Some of them were still throwing a few stones over the top. For all the good that did the defence, it might have been rain.
‘On to the rooftops!’ I shouted. I led the way up to the roof of the church. Some of the Blues already there were looking nervously over to the archers who stood further back from the attack force. Though not so dangerous in street-fighting as on an open battlefield, archers on the opposing side are bad news when you have none yourself.
I took up one of the cobblestones Priscus had made sure to put up there in great baskets. I threw it and hit one of the attackers straight on the forehead. He went down like a stunned ox. The soldiers beside him stopped their pushing at the wall and looked up.
‘Come on,’ I said encouragingly. ‘They die just like the rest of us.’
I threw another stone and this time caught an officer on the shoulder. There was a shout of sudden confidence around me, and a whole volley of stones followed mine.
‘Now for the glass,’ I said. The small catapult that had been dragged up there went into action. Heaps of glass dishes and drinking vessels flew about thirty yards down the street beyond our barricade. These didn’t hit anyone. Instead, their purpose was to hold the cavalry back. The enemy plan, it was clear, was for the infantry to smash the wall down so that mounted troops could sweep straight along the street to the city centre.
That had to be avoided whatever the cost. Now their blood was fully up, my Blues were a match for any regular troops so long as we had some advantage of cover. There was nothing we could do against heavy cavalry. That would go straight through us.
Well, we did avoid it. That set of barricades wasn’t going anywhere soon. And horses would now have to be led very carefully round those shards of glass.
I felt a surge of joy as I called the men back. The defence wasn’t going too badly so far.
A hand brushed my cloak. ‘My Lord,’ someone said from behind, ‘they are breaking through by the Urban Prefecture building.’
