Maurice gave him a startled look. Valentinian and Anastasius started to squawk. Aide began to make some mental protest.
Belisarius rode them all down.
'Things have changed!' he announced gaily. 'The battle's reaching its turning point. I
Maurice smiled. Valentinian and Anastasius choked down their squawks. Aide sulked.
'Safe,' sneered Belisarius. He took a moment to don his armor.
'Safe,' he sneered again, as he began the long trek down the hill.
Behind him, Maurice said, 'Do be a little careful, will you? Going down that miserable path, I mean. Be a bit absurd, it would, you breaking your fool neck climbing down a pile of rocks.'
'Safe,' sneered Belisarius.
Two eager steps later, he tripped and rolled some fifty feet down the hill. When he finally came to a halt, piling up against a boulder, it took him a minute or so to clear his head.
The first thing he saw, dizzily, was Maurice leaning over him.
'Safe,' muttered the gray-bearded veteran mor-osely. 'It's like asking a toad not to hop.'
He reached down a hand and hauled Belisarius back onto his feet. 'Will you mind your step, from here on?' he asked, very sweetly. 'Or must we have Anastasius carry you down like a babe in swaddling clothes?'
'Safe,' Belisarius assured one and all. None of whom believed him for a moment.
Chapter 33
Alexandria
Alexandria was famous throughout the Mediterranean world for the magnificence of its public thoroughfares. The two greatest of those boulevards, which intersected each other west of the Church of St. Michael, were each thirty yards across. The intersection itself was so large it was almost a plaza, and was marked by a tetrastylon-four monumental pillars standing on each corner.
The buildings which fronted on the intersection were likewise impressive. On the north stood a huge church, measuring a hundred yards square. The edifice was hundreds of years old. Originally built as a temple dedicated to the crocodile god Sobek, it had been converted into a Christian church well over a century earlier. Most of the pagan trappings of the temple had been discarded-the crocodile mummies in the crypts had been unceremoniously pitched into the sea-but the building itself still retained the massive style of ancient Egyptian monumental archi-tecture. It loomed over the intersection like a small mountain.
Across from it, on the south, stood a more modern building: the gymnasium which marked Greek culture everywhere in the world. And, next to it, the public baths which were a hallmark of the Roman way of life. The eastern side of the intersection was taken up by another archetypal public structure, a large theater in which the city's upper crust was entertained by dramatists and musicians. Only on the west were there any private buildings- three stately mansions, as similar as peas in a pod.
Taken as a whole, the entire effect was one of grandeur and magnificence.
But Antonina, studying that intersection from her vantage point atop the steps of her palace, was not impressed. She had grown up in a part of the city which was very different from the Greek aristocracy's downtown splendor. She had been born and raised in the native Egyptians' quarter, which still bore its old name of Rhakotis. There, the streets were neither wide nor well-paved. They were dirt alleys, which doubled as open sewers. The buildings in Rhakotis were ancient only in the sense that the collapsed mudbrick of one house served its successors as a cellar. There were no gymnasiums-no schools of any kind. As for public baths-
She snorted, remembering. The human population density in Rhakotis was bad enough. The animal population was even worse. The quarter teemed with cattle, pigs, donkeys, camels, goats-and, of course, the ubiquitous pigeons. And their pigeon shit.
The snort became an outright laugh. Zeno, standing next to her, eyed her quizzically.
'I was just thinking of the provisions of a typical Alexandrian rental agreement. For a house or an apartment. You know, the one about-'
Zeno smiled, nodding. 'Yes, I know.' His voice took on a sing-song cadence: ' 'At the end of the term, the tenant shall return the house to the lessor free of dung.' '
He laughed himself, now. 'It was so embarrassing for me, the first time I rented an apartment in Constantinople. I was puzzled by the absence of that provision in the contract. When I inquired, the landlord looked at me as if I were crazy. Or a barbarian.'
Antonina began to say something, but broke off.
'They're coming!' she heard someone shout. One of the Knights Hospitaler, she assumed.
The entire boulevard in front of her was packed with them. A thousand Knights were arrayed there, in rigid formation. They stood in lines of twenty men, covering the entire width of the boulevard, and fifty lines deep. Each man carried a quarterstaff in his hand, held erect. Their only armor, as such, were leather caps reinforced by an iron strip across the forehead. But thick quilted jerkins and shoulder-pads lay under the white tunics emblazoned with the red cross of their order, providing added protection against blunt weapons. And most of the Knights had wound heavy linen around their forearms, as well.
The majority of the other Knights were positioned in the various side-streets debouching onto the main thoroughfare, but Zeno had crammed hundreds below the street itself. Familiar with Alexandria, the Knights' commander had taken advantage of the labyrinth of cisterns which provided the great city with its water supply. If necessary, those men could either pour out onto the street from the basements of nearby houses, or they could move surreptitiously elsewhere. Zeno had twenty couriers standing nearby, ready to carry his orders when the time came.
All in all, Antonina was more than satisfied with Zeno's dispositions. It remained to be seen, of course, how well the Knights would do in an actual fray. But Zeno, at least, seemed fully confident of their capabilities.
'There they come!' came another shout.
Peering at the distant intersection, Antonina saw that a huge mob was pouring into it from the east. Within two minutes, the intersection itself was packed with people, and the first contingents of the crowd were advancing down the boulevard toward her palace.
'Ten thousand, I make it,' murmured Zeno. 'Not counting those who are still out of sight.'
As it drew near, the mob began to eddy and swirl. Seeing the stern-looking and disciplined formation of the Knights Hospitaler filling the street-not to mention the much scarier sight of armored cataphracts behind
For a minute or so, Antonina even hoped that the mob would grind to a stop and retreat. But that hope vanished. Soon enough, the disparate elements which made up the huge crowd had separated themselves out. Those who were timid, or vacillating, or merely curious, fell to the rear or pressed themselves against the walls of the various shops which lined the boulevard. The diehards surged to the fore.
The great majority of them were monks, thought Antonina. It was impossible to be certain, since the custom of monks wearing distinctive habits was still in the future. The uniform of the Knights Hospitaler was another of Belisarius' innovations. But Antonina knew the breed well. Only fanatic monks, as a rule, were quite as disheveled, shaggy-maned, and just generally dirty-looking as most of the men leading the mob. And the practiced, familiar way in which they handled their clubs and cudgels reinforced her supposition.
Antonina smiled ruefully, remembering Belisarius' description of a vision Aide had once given him of the monastic orders of the future, a time which would be called the Middle Ages. He had described to her the good works and gentle demeanor of the Bene-dictines and the followers of a man who would be called St. Francis of Assisi.
His Alexandria-born-and-bred wife had goggled at the description. The monks
