well. So far as I could tell, he’d made no further trouble of any kind. There’s much to be said for a barbarian siege when you have a Church council to manage. I took a deep breath and prepared to outdo all my previous addresses to the council.
What I said is of little importance. Indeed, I said nothing I hadn’t said once or twice already. What was important was that I was back, and that I was now making every effort to keep my well-trained flock from straying.
I’d got to the second refill of the water clock when the sounds of battle that came through the high windows from all about suddenly rose in volume. I stopped in mid-sentence and glared at the Bishop of Ephesus as he got up from his place and hurried from the room. I’d barely resumed the thread of my argument than he was back.
‘The barbarians are within the walls!’ he cried. He fell down beside the minute clerk and pulled his robe over his head. Though it had been in Greek, the Dispensator had followed that meaning well enough. He sighed and put his stylus down.
I stepped forward into the space before the semicircle of seats and held up both hands for attention. ‘Reverend Fathers,’ I cried. The screams and clash of arms were undeniably coming closer, and I had to shout again for attention. ‘Reverend Fathers!’ I roared. This time, every face in the room turned back to me. I smiled weakly and cleared my throat. ‘Keep interpreting a phrase at a time,’ I whispered to Martin, who had covered both his eyes and was beginning to rock back and forth. ‘The residency slaves have their orders. The most we can do here is our duty.’ I stepped closer to the four dozen scared churchmen and continued in Greek.
‘You will all have read in your schooldays of how, in ancient times, when Rome was still a republic, its days of empire still in the future, the Gauls burst into the Senate House. Remember, then, how the Conscript Fathers faced the barbarians — sitting calmly, like statues, despising the violation of their proceedings.’ You can be sure I added nothing about the massacre that followed this. The Latins mostly scowled back at me. They might have blamed me as representative of an Emperor who’d called them into danger. But this sort of thing was, for most of them, an occupational hazard. To do them justice, the Greeks at least stayed in their seats.
Trying not to look at the closed door, I listened as the sounds of desperate battle came closer and closer. Then, as I took up my speech again — this time in a shout that would, before long, give me a sore throat — the noise began to recede.
This might have been the end of the scare. Even Martin was getting his voice in order as I elaborated on one of the supplemental decrees of the Council of Chalcedon. But, as I paused to unpick the tangled syntax of an unexpectedly long sentence, the door flew open, and an enormous barbarian swaggered into the room. He was followed by another who was nowhere near his size. He lowered his sword and looked about the now absolutely still and silent room.
‘Well, well, fucking well!’ he roared in Slavic. ‘What have we here?’ He tipped his great bearded face back and roared with laughter.
Over on my left, I saw the Dispensator tighten his grip on his stylus. Whatever his clerical vows, he’d not go down without a fight. But I was completely unarmed. I’d left my sword hanging in the room outside with my cloak and outer shoes. I looked quickly at the open door. For the moment, it was just these two.
I stood up and pointed calmly at the big man. ‘Get out of here!’ I said quietly in Slavic. ‘You are interrupting a council of Holy Mother Church.’ For a moment, I thought I’d got the man by surprise, and that he might even go away.
But Simeon broke the long silence that followed my words with a cry that fell somewhere between a squawk and a babble and pointed at the two armed men. And now the spell was broken. The big man laughed again, and waved his sword at Simeon, who threw himself forward on his hands and knees and tried to crawl under his chair.
I looked desperately about for anything I could use as a weapon. The jewelled crucifix set up behind me would never do. All else I could see was my big silver inkstand. I looked about once more — anything but this object of great beauty and great value. But it really was — unless I fancied going at two armed men with my own stylus — the only object readily to hand. While the big man was still teasing Simeon with his sword, I jumped forward from my chair and grabbed the inkstand with my right hand. I staggered from its weight, but managed to swing its yard length over my head. The big man saw me too late. He tried to move out of my path, but only fell against one of the more solid chairs. I nearly toppled sideways as the big end of the inkstand made contact with his right shoulder. With a shout of pain and surprise, he went down like a stricken beast. Not bothering to see if he could get up again, I bent and took his sword from where it had fallen. Before he could get out of the way, I lunged at the smaller man and got him straight in the belly. It was hardly an elegant blow. But I silenced his long scream with a kick to the head that broke his neck.
The room was silent again. Every face was turned in my direction. I saw that Martin had taken young Theodore by the shoulder, and got him safe behind the water clock. The bishops remained mostly in their places.
‘No others,’ the Dispensator said in a voice that even he couldn’t keep from shaking. He’d kept enough presence of mind to hurry over to the door and look out into the entrance hall. ‘It looks as if they were strays.’
Not answering, I pushed past him and we went together out into the hot sunshine. He was right. I could see that the tide of battle had rolled forward through Athens, all the way to the foot of the Areopagus. Now, it had receded, leaving a few bloody corpses. Apart from those still heaps, it might now have been business as usual. I looked around carefully. Somewhere, behind the shabby buildings that blocked my view, the battle was still raging with terrible intensity, and I felt a stab of shame that I’d left its conduct to others. I looked briefly at my bloody sword, and then at the Dispensator’s drawn face, and hurried back into the main hall.
The shock had now passed, and men were on their feet. A crowd of bishops had gathered about the fallen barbarian, and they were doing their best to kick him to death. Everyone fell back as I approached.
I stared down at the man. He’d landed badly on the floor, and looked as if he’d broken his left arm. His right shoulder I’d smashed beyond healing with my inkstand. ‘You can get outside and die like the others,’ I snarled in Slavic. ‘Show some respect for your betters!’ I gave the fallen man a vicious kick of my own, and watched as he began to push himself obediently towards the door. I glanced down at my velvet shoe. The man was leaving a trail of blood as he moved. But there was no stain on the bright yellow of my shoes.
I looked up at the high ceiling and tried to think if there was anything still to be said about the relationship between Nature and Substance. There must have been plenty. But none of it came to mind, and there were no questions from my little senate. I bowed to Simeon, who was clutching the back of his chair, and returned to my own place. The sounds of battle really had receded, and we could try to go back to our own work. The main sound in the hall was the clatter of wood as the minute clerk finished covering one of his waxed tablets and reached behind him for another. Now, almost as if it had been no more than notice of refreshments that had interrupted the proceedings, Martin even managed to interpret the last part of my previous sentence.
We might actually have gone back to work. Since I hadn’t run off in search of the battle, I could think of nothing else to do. I looked away from the corpse that no one had thought to clear away, and thought of a point arising from one of my earlier definitions. But, as I leaned forward to clear my throat and start another speech, the door opened again, and one of the militia leaders ran in.
He bowed to me and then to the assembly. He realised he was standing in the pool of blood that had oozed from the smaller barbarian, and stepped back with another bow. ‘My Lord,’ he cried in a strangled voice, ‘I must inform you that Priscus is dying, and he asks that you and the Lord Fortunatus of Rome should take over the defence of Athens.’
I got up and swallowed. I raised my hands again for silence. This time, no one paid attention. Everyone was on his feet and running about as if the building were on fire.
A grim look on his face, the Dispensator was beside me. ‘I think I got the meaning of that,’ he whispered into my ear. I nodded. ‘If it hasn’t been done already, we really must get the western gate closed. The plan is to concentrate forces where the main street is narrowed by the big statue of Hadrian. If we can hold the line there, the rooftop archers should be able to. .’
He trailed off as the Bishop of Iconium pushed his way between us and screamed something about getting ourselves over to the Acropolis. I reached forward and slapped his face twice. He stopped screaming, and it gave me time to get my own thoughts properly in order. I took the Dispensator by the sleeve and began to shove people out of the way as we made for the door.
‘It may already be too late,’ he shouted. ‘But we can still do our best.’ I waited by the door while he pushed
