‘Then you should try getting up in the morning, like everyone else,’ I replied. He groaned loudly and the bed shook from his continual twisting. I paid no attention. If I wanted to see out of the window, I’d need to stand on something. I walked across to the nearest chair. I’d been with him when these clothes were brought in, washed and neatly pressed and folded. Instead of wearing them, he’d used them as a hiding place for uneaten food. I lifted one of the cloaks of fine wool I’d given him as a New Year present and only just avoided being splashed with the stinking slime in one of my best silver dishes. Carefully, I lifted all the clothes as a single unit. The babble of chanting and angry shouts that drifted through the window went straight out of mind.
‘Where did you get all these new silver coins?’ I asked. The sealed pouch had been slit open, and I had to bend down to retrieve the loose coins I’d disturbed.
Priscus lifted one of the blankets and looked out briefly. ‘Oh, don’t worry about that,’ he said vaguely. ‘I took them from a bandit I killed and was keeping them for a rainy day.’ Another lie! There were only a few hundred of these yet in circulation. He must have been dipping into one of the sealed cash boxes stored under lock and key in the cellars. I controlled myself and finished stuffing coins through the gap in the leather. There was one missing from its compartment. I looked about but the floor was too cluttered to justify the effort of a search. A thought drifted through my head. I’d leave that for the moment, however. It required too much elaboration. I carried the now empty chair to the window. Though on the top floor, the quarters I’d given Priscus had their only window set back from the street. I had to squeeze my shoulders through and block most of the light that came in before I could see anything below.
Now out of bed, Priscus stood behind me. ‘Impressive size by the sound of it,’ he allowed, ‘but still no sign of positive direction.’ I heard him pull the stopper from another jar of my best wine. ‘We faced down a bigger mob when my grandfather had this place. Word had gone round again that he was eating human flesh. We had fifty thousand of these animals screaming their lungs out till the authorities finally decided to do their job. I don’t think we’ll have much trouble from the mob now assembled to call for your head on a spike.’ From the gulping noise that followed, he was draining half the jar in one go.
As I scrabbled forward another few inches, a loud roar went up from every direction. It went on and on, growing louder. It only died away to become a huge and grunted chorus of ‘Kill! Kill’ Kill’ Kill!’ Maybe Priscus was right about numbers. To be sure, the fall of population since the old days had diminished the size of any potential mob. But there must be thousands and thousands down there. It was a nuisance I couldn’t see them. I’d hoped I could avoid showing myself on one of the balconies. I slid back till my feet made contact again with the chair.
Priscus took this as a sign of alarm. ‘I’ve told you many times, Alaric,’ he laughed, ‘this place was built with trouble in mind. Haven’t you ever noticed the curve in all the outer walls, or the handy murder holes above every gateway? I think I heard the portcullis let down before each gate. The iron trelliswork on them is four inches by four. Though you may not appreciate their military value, think of them as saving on the expense of repairs to the bronze sheeting on the gates.’ He drank again. I heard his shuffling step across the floor and the renewed squeaking of his bed. ‘The only weakness is the front balconies. Make sure the guards you put there stay sober. I did think of having them bricked up when I took over. But you do need some air in this place.’
I stood down from the chair. ‘Do you fancy coming up to the roof with me?’ I asked. Not for the first time, his prejudice against the daylight was an affectation that got on my nerves.
Under the blankets, he curled himself into a ball. ‘You are joking, my dear!’ he giggled. ‘If you want to look down from there and shit yourself with fright, don’t expect me as your witness. Now, do pull that blind down again and leave me to get some sleep.’
I leaned both elbows on the front parapet. I stood away. Walking backwards up the tiled roof, I got my body more or less horizontal. I couldn’t see the front steps or the ten feet or so beyond them. But I could see how, for a hundred yards or so both ways, the Triumphal Way was packed with the noisy, swarming bodies of the poor. I tried to settle my nerves by calculating the size of the crowd. Priscus had sneered that it might have reached ten thousand – as if that were itself just a mild expression of the people’s disapproval. It looked to me closer to fifty, or even a hundred, thousand. The rest of the City must be deserted.
No one seemed to be looking in my direction. I slithered down again and put my hands on the top level of bricks in the wall and pulled back and forth. No movement. I pulled myself forward and, ignoring the pressure on my sunburn, kept my upper body straight. This gave a better view of things. Because I could see more of it, the crowd seemed much larger. Now its rightmost extremity was in sight, I could see how it was still being joined by newcomers. Right at the back, I could see a couple of closed and unmarked carrying chairs. Most of the crowd wore the dark clothing of the very poor. Here and there, though, were individuals or groups dressed in white. One of these robes was topped by a splash of red hair that could only belong to one of the senior managers in the Food Control Office. ‘A favourite has no friends’ was a saying I’d often had cause to repeat to myself. To be fair, I hadn’t gone out of my way, in the previous few years, to win friends in the administration or among the people at large.
But my attention was pulled back to the main area before my palace. Big men of the usual type were pushing and threatening to clear two spaces within the crowd about fifty feet apart. In these spaces, high stepladders were being set up.
I stretched forward still more to see what more was happening. With a slight jolt, the wall moved outwards a little. Scared, I threw myself back and knocked all my breath out on the tiles. I shut my eyes, trying not to remember the terrors of that roof in the poor district. I slid down on to the bubbled lead. I looked at the parapet wall. There was a horizontal crack halfway up its rendering. I pushed gently against it. No more movement. All else forgotten, I looked up at the lovely blue of the afternoon sky. It didn’t matter how rich I’d made myself: the money I spent on maintenance alone for this palace would have made me the richest man in Rome. That took my mind off the sudden death I may just have avoided. I looked again at the wall. Beyond it, all was now silent.
I picked up the chair I’d brought up with me and carried it along to another part of the wall. Making sure this time not to lean forward, I stood on the chair and looked down. Both ladders were occupied. At the top of each stood a man dressed in white. Their heads looked swollen far beyond any normal variation. I blinked and looked harder. Up here, the sunshine was still pitilessly bright. Far below, it was dappled by increasingly long shadows. One of the men was in shadow, the other half in shadow. Before I could focus properly, though, I had my answer. The man nearest me let out a loud and inarticulate buzzing. He reached up and tapped at his head. Leaning forward so he didn’t lose balance, he put up his other hand and pushed at his face. They were wearing the masks actors used in the Circus when they had to stand away from the permanent amplifying walls.
‘Will you now share my own judgement, Alexius?’ one of those bastard seditionaries cried in a voice that boomed and echoed about the confined space. He took both hands from the rail at the top of his ladder and stretched them cautiously in the direction of my palace. The movement pushed his amplifying mask out of its correct position against his face, and what he said next was a muffled shout. Buggery things to use, these masks. Worn properly, they could project a voice to the back rows in the Circus. You could sometimes hear the voices if you looked out from the top windows in the Great Church. But it was a matter of getting exactly the right distance between a wearer’s face and the mask’s inner wall. I think that’s one reason why, even without masks, actors don’t look round by turning their necks, but twist their whole upper bodies – it’s the long training, you see, to keep a mask in the right place.
Alexius was having better luck. Then again, the natural sound of his own voice indicated some prior training. A failed actor, perhaps? ‘Oh, my oldest and dearest friend, Constans,’ he cried with perfect clarity, ‘I freely admit that I was too indulgent in my opinion of the young barbarian. I never supposed he would go so far as to abduct the pure and beauteous daughter of our most beloved Commander of the East.’
That, and the resulting shouts of anger from the crowd, gave Constans time to put his mask right. ‘I freely pardon you,’ he said, no longer needing to raise his voice above the conversational. ‘How could a man of your inborn goodness imagine the depths of infamy to which Alaric the Degraded has finally sunk? Indeed,
who
could imagine that the sweet and virginal daughter of the Lord Nicetas could be snatched, even by the Persians, from her monastery, and be carried off to shriek and twist in such lascivious embraces?’ He stopped for breath, then: ‘Oh, but I can shut my eyes and see her now. I see her penetrated again and again by the stinking meat that swings between those barbarian thighs. I see a tongue that is filthy from lies and blasphemies, thrust into secret places that the very angels in Heaven do not permit themselves to see.’
His mask went out of position again and his voice trailed off into more buzzing. ‘Daddy always did have a theatrical touch,’ Antonia said behind me. I turned and stepped down beside her. She was back in men’s clothing, a short sword strapped about her waist. Sword in hand, Rado stood beside her, looking fierce and protective.
‘Is everyone armed downstairs?’ I asked in a voice that was just too high to be commanding. Looking more relaxed than I was feeling, she nodded. I waited for another roar of anger to gather force and die away. ‘It’s about the worst choice your father could have made,’ I said, trying to match her lack of concern. ‘In his place, I’d have used my powers as Regent to deprive Alaric the Degraded of his offices. I’d then have sent the Prefect with a unit of the city guard to demand entry. Better still, I’d have made a better try at negotiating. Instead, we have an apparently spontaneous riot in the making that may easily run out of control. Whether or not this hails Nicetas as Emperor, it won’t break in here, and I imagine every property owner in the City is cursing his name.’
As if he’d read my thoughts, Alexius was back in action. ‘Why does the Lord Nicetas not take action against this enemy of God and man?’ he asked in a rising tone of question. ‘Why does he not declare Alaric a traitor and an outlaw? Why is it for us, the Roman People, to cry aloud for justice.’
‘You surely forget, Alexius,’ Constans replied, ‘that Nicetas has no power to remove from office those appointed by the Emperor. Whom an emperor has appointed only an emperor can remove.’ That was an odd view of the law but it got a predictable if ragged cry of ‘Nicetas to the Purple! Down with Heraclius!’ I got on the chair again and looked over the wall. Someone at the bottom of his ladder was waving frantically up at Constans. He’d gone beyond his brief. Not caring how he wobbled, he raised his arms for silence. ‘The very furniture in that palace is of gold and silver,’ he improvised. ‘Every room is stuffed with silk and other precious fabrics. The slaves Alaric has about him are of surpassing beauty and all are gagging for the touch of our clean-limbed Romans. Everything within those walls has been taken from our mouths and the mouths of our children. Why do we wait outside this house of
our
treasures?’
That got everyone off the subject of who should be Emperor. I watched the great, enraged mass of the poor surge forward. Every gate was protected by its portcullis. The beating of many wooden clubs against the bronze sheeting of the normal gates was loud but ineffectual. The gap about his ladder closed up, Alexius swayed and wobbled. He slid to the ground just in time for his ladder to go over and be swallowed in the swirling crowd. I didn’t need to walk round to see what was happening against the other walls of the palace. The noise alone told me we were under attack on every side.
‘All is in order up here,’ I said to Rado. ‘I appoint you commander of everyone not guarding the balconies. Form them into a mobile force, ready to give support wherever needed.’ He puffed his chest out and gave a lovely smile. Antonia nodded her agreement, and he hurried from the roof.
She watched him go. ‘I’m not marrying you for them,’ she said, leaning close to me. ‘But I was wrong about your slaves. I do like them a lot. I’m surprised Daddy wasn’t murdered by his long ago.’
I thought of the look on Rado’s face. ‘They like you as well,’ I said. I was glad at once there was too much noise for me to be heard. I was jealous of poor Theodore. I was jealous of my slaves. If I wasn’t careful – and if I survived – I’d turn into a proper bastard.
I think I was heard. Antonia smiled. ‘Unlike Eboric, I’d not call Rado talkative,’ she said. ‘But I know he worships you. Never mind going to bed with you – he’d cut off his right hand if you asked.’
I thought. I felt a surge of pity, then of tenderness that ended in guilt. ‘I’ll never ask for that,’ I said firmly. ‘But it may be time for promotions within the household. Let’s see how the boy does with his mobile force.’