Frowning, Dara listened to what he proposed. At one point, he raised a hand to stop him. 'Not Gnatios,' she said.
'No, by the good god, and I'm twice an idiot now for thinking of him,' Krispos exclaimed, mentally kicking himself. Dara looked a question at him, but he did not explain. Instead, he went on, 'I keep forgetting that even holy men have politics. The abbot Pyrrhos would serve as well, then, and he'd leap at the chance.' He finished setting forth his scheme.
'Maybe,' Dara said. 'Maybe. And maybe, right now, looks better than any other chance we have. Let's try it.'
'How may I serve you, your Majesty?' Petronas asked offhandedly. His indifference, Krispos thought, was enough by itself to damn him and confirm all suspicions. If the Sevastokrator no longer cared what Anthimos did, that could only be because he was preparing to dispense with him.
'Uncle, I think I may have been hasty the other day,' Anthimos said. Dara had suggested that he sound nervous; he was having no trouble following the suggestion.
'You certainly were,' Petronas rumbled. No, no sign of give there, Krispos thought. The Sevastokrator went on, 'That's what you get for heeding the rascal who keeps pretending to dust outside there.' Krispos felt his ears blaze. So he hadn't gone unnoticed, then. Even so, he did not stop listening.
'Er, yes,' Anthimos said—nervously. 'Well, I hope I can make amends.'
'It's rather late for that,' Petronas said. Krispos shivered. He only hoped he and Dara were not too late to save Anthimos' crown.
'I know I have a lot to make amends for,' the Emperor said. 'Not just for ordering you to stand down the other day, but for all you've done for me and for the Empire as regent when my father died and also since I've come of age. I want to reward you as you deserve, so, if it please you, I'd like to proclaim you co-Avtokrator before the whole court three days from now. Having done so much of the work for so long, you deserve your full share of the title.'
Petronas stayed quiet so long that Krispos felt his hands curl into tight fists, then his nails biting into his palms. The Sevastokrator could seize the full imperial power for himself—would he be content with the offer of part of it, legally given? He asked,
'If I am to rule alongside you, Anthimos, does that mean you'll no longer try to meddle in the army and its business?'
'Uncle, you know more of such things than I do,' Anthimos said.
'You'd best believe I do,' Petronas growled. 'High time you remembered it, too. Now the question is, do you mean all you say? I know how to find out, by the Lord with the great and good mind. I'll say yes to you, lad—if you cast that treacherous scoundrel of a Krispos from the palaces.'
'The moment I set the crown on your head, uncle, Krispos will be cast not only from the palaces but from the city,' Anthimos promised. Krispos and Dara had planned to have the Emperor tell Petronas just that. The risk remained that Anthimos would do exactly as he'd promised. If he feared Petronas more than he trusted his wife, his chamberlain, and his own abilities, he might pay the price for what he reckoned security.
'Hate to wait that long,' Petronas said; then, at last, 'Oh, very well, nephew, keep him another three days if it makes you happy. We have ourselves a bargain.' The Sevastokrator got to his feet and triumphantly strode out of the chamber in which he had talked with Anthimos. Seeing Krispos outside, he spoke to him for the first time since he'd returned from the west: 'Three days, wretch. Start packing.'
His head lowered, Krispos dusted the gilded frame of an icon of Phos. He did not reply. Petronas laughed at his dismay and strutted past him down the corridor.
Fine snow fell outside the Grand Courtroom as the grandees and high ministers of the Empire gathered to see Petronas exalted. Inside, heat ducts that ran under the floor from a roaring furnace kept the throne room warm.
When all the officials and nobles were in their places, Krispos nodded to the captain of Anthimos' Haloga bodyguards. The captain nodded to his men. Axes held at present-arms before them, they slow-marched out in double row to form an aisle down the center of the hall, through which the Avtokrator and his party would advance. Their gilded chain mail glittered in the torchlight.
Once that aisle was made, Anthimos, Dara, Pyrrhos, and Krispos walked along it toward the throne—no, thrones now, Krispos saw, for a second high seat had been placed beside the first; if there were to be co- Avtokrators, each required his own place of honor. A crown lay on that second seat.
Silks rustled as courtiers prostrated themselves when Anthimos passed them. As they rose, the nobles whispered among themselves. 'Where's Gnatios?' Krispos heard one say to the fellow beside him. 'Ought to have the patriarch here to crown a new Emperor.'
'He's down with the flux, poor chap,' the other grandee answered. 'Pyrrhos is a very holy man in his own right. The good god won't mind.'
Everyone at the patriarchal mansion was down with the flux, Krispos thought. Considering the number of goldpieces he'd spent to make sure a particular potion got into the mansion's kitchen, he was not surprised. Poor Gnatios and his clerical colleagues would be dashing to the outhouse for the next several days.
Anthimos climbed the three steps to the thrones and seated himself in the one that had always been his. Dara stood at his right hand on the highest step, Pyrrhos in the center of the lowest step. Krispos was also to the Emperor's right, but off the steps altogether. He had helped plan the spectacle that was to come, but it was Anthimos' to play out.
The Avtokrator sat unmoving, staring without expression back toward the entrance to the Grand Courtroom. Beside and in front of him, Dara and Pyrrhos might also have been statues. Krispos wanted to fidget. With an effort, he controlled himself. Petronas came into the Grand Courtroom. His robe, of scarlet silk encrusted with gold and gems, was identical to Anthimos'. Only his bare head declared that he was not yet Avtokrator. Marching with military precision, he approached the thrones. A tiny frown crossed his face when he saw Krispos, but then his eyes went back to the crown waiting for him on the throne that was to be his. He looked at Krispos again and smiled, unpleasantly.
Then, for the last time, he performed the proskynesis before his nephew. He rose and bowed to Anthimos as to an equal. 'Majesty,' he said. His voice was strong and proud.
