Krispos Rising

'Try again,' Dara said, those eyes meltingly soft. 'For me.'

'All right, I'll try,' Krispos said with no great optimism. Again he thought how strange it was for Dara to use her lover to improve her husband. He wondered just what that meant—probably that Anthimos was more important to her than he was. Whatever his flaws, the Avtokrator was handsome and affable—and without him, Dara would be only a westlands noble's daughter, not the Empress of Videssos. Having gained so much status through his connections to others, Krispos understood how she could fear losing hers if the person from whom it derived was cast down.

She smiled at him, differently from a moment before. 'Thank you, Krispos. That will be all for now, I think.' Now she spoke as Empress to vestiarios. He rose, bowed, and left her chamber, angry at her for changing moods so abruptly but unable to show it.

Having nothing better to do, he went to bed. Some time in the middle of the night, the small silver bell in his bedchamber rang. He wondered whether Anthimos was summoning him, or Dara. Either way, he thought grouchily as he dressed and tried to rub the sleep from his eyes, he would have to please and obey.

It was Dara; the Emperor was still out roistering. Even the comfort of her body, though, could not completely make up for the way she'd treated him earlier. As he had with Tanilis, he wanted to be more than a bedwarmer for her. That she sometimes remembered him as a person only made it worse when she forgot. One day, he thought, he'd have to talk with her about that—if only he could figure out how.

Krispos carried the last of the breakfast dishes to the kitchens on a tray, then went back to the dining room, where Anthimos was leaning back in his chair and working lazily on his first morning cup of wine. He'd learned the Avtokrator was more willing to conduct business now than at any other time of day. Whether 'more willing' really meant 'willing' varied from day to day. I'll see, Krispos thought.

'Your Majesty?' he said.

'Eh? What is it?' Anthimos sounded either peevish or a trifle the worse for wear. The latter, Krispos judged: the Emperor did not bounce back from his debauches quite as readily these days as he had when Krispos first became vestiarios. That was hardly surprising. Someone with a less resilient constitution might well have been dead by now if he abused himself as Anthimos did.

All that was beside the point—the Avtokrator in a bad mood was less likely to want to listen to anything that had to do with imperial administration. Nonetheless, Krispos had promised Dara he'd try—and if Anthimos was going to keep other people from becoming Emperor, he'd just have to handle the job himself. Krispos said, 'Your Majesty, the grand logothete of the treasury has asked me to bring certain matters to your attention.'

Sure enough, Anthimos' smile, lively enough a moment before, became fixed on his face. 'I'm not really much interested right at the moment in what the grand logothete is worrying about.'

'He thinks it important, your Majesty. After listening to him, so do I,' Krispos said.

Anthimos finished his cup of wine. His mobile features assumed a martyred expression. 'Go on, then, if you must.'

'Thank you, your Majesty. The logothete's complaint is that nobles in some of the provinces more remote from Videssos the city are collecting taxes from the peasants on their lands but not turning the money over to the treasury. Some of the nobles are also buying up peasant holdings next to their lands, so that their estates grow and those of the free peasants who make up the backbone of the army suffer.'

'That doesn't sound very good,' the Emperor said. The trouble was, he didn't sound very interested.

'The grand logothete wants you to put out a law that would stop the nobles from getting away with it, with punishments harsh enough to make even the hardest thief think twice before he tries cheating the fisc. The logothete thinks it's urgent, yourMajesty, and it's costing you money you could be using to enjoy yourself. He's written a draft of the law, and he wants you to review it—'

'When I have the time,' Anthimos said, which meant somewhere between later and never. He peered down into his empty cup, held it out to Krispos. 'Fill this up again for me, will you? That's a good fellow.'

Krispos filled the cup. 'Your Majesty, the grand logothete gave me his draft. I have it here. I can show it to you—'

'When I have the time, I said.'

'When will that be, your Majesty? This afternoon? Tomorrow? Next month? Three years from now?' Krispos felt his temper slipping. He knew it was dangerous, but could not help it. Part of it was pent-up frustration over Anthimos' refusal to hing that didn't gratify him right then and there. He'd been trying to change that ever since he became vestiarios. More irritation sprang from the anger he hadn't been able to let out at Dara the night before.

'You want to give me this stupid law your boring bureaucrat dreamed up?' Anthimos was angry, too, scowling at Krispos; not even Petronas had spoken to him like that. Breathing hard, he went on, 'Bring it to me now, this instant. I'll show you what I think of it, by Phos.'

In his relief, Krispos heard the Emperor's words without paying attention to the way he said them. 'Thank you, your Majesty. I'll fetch it right away.' He hurried to his chamber and brought Anthimos the parchment. 'Here you are, your Majesty.'

The Avtokrator unrolled the document and gave it one quick, disdainful glance. He ripped it in half, then in quarters, then in eighths. Then, with more methodical care than he ever gave to government, he tore each part into a multitude of tiny pieces and flung them about the room, until it looked as though a sudden interior blizzard had struck.

'There's what I think of this stupid law!' he shouted.

'Why, you—' Of itself, Krispos' fist clenched and drew back. Had Anthimos been any other man in all the Empire save who he was, that fist would have crashed into his nastily grinning face. A cold, clear sense of self- preservation made Krispos think twice. Very carefully, as if it belonged to someone else, he lowered his hand and made it open. Even more carefully, he said, 'Your Majesty, that was foolish.'

'And so? What are you going to do about it?' Before Krispos could answer, Anthimos went on, 'I'll tell you what: quick now, get broom and dustpan and sweep up every one of these miserable little pieces and dump 'em in the privy. That's just where they belong.'

Krispos stared at him. 'Move, curse you,' Anthimos said. 'I command it.' Even if he would not act like an