orthodox, whereas the Greens are heretics, monophysites?”
“When it suits them. Which is to say when it makes a pretext for a good fight. They’ll support any cause that gives them an excuse to wreck havoc. Remember, we were going to have a drink.”
The tavern was nearly deserted. Recently, residents went about their business and then hurried to the safety of their homes. They could feel the great beast of the city stirring within its brick and marble carapace. The hard-eyed youths who usually loitered in groups of three or four now congregated half a dozen together. Their stares lingered on passersby for longer than usual. The beggar who always sat beside the baker’s doorway was not in his accustomed place. A line of guards had rushed through the Forum Constantine for no apparent reason. The air smelled faintly of smoke. The fights between the street urchins had become more ferocious.
John and Haik went past the waist-high counter at the front of the tavern. Large pots were sunk into the mortar, some filled with wine, others with porridge and lentils, steaming fragrantly. Only after they sat down at the round wooden table in the back of the room did John notice that the wall mosaic at his shoulder depicted a race in the Hippodrome and a charioteer holding a trophy. It might well have been a portrait of Porphyrius. He couldn’t help smiling ruefully to himself.
Haik raised an eyebrow.
“It’s nothing,” John said.
The tavern keeper rushed over, wiping his big red hands on the greasy tunic billowing over his belly. “Good day to you, sirs. How can I help you, sirs?”
He bowed and beamed when he addressed them and returned speedily with what they had ordered.
John and Haik were dressed too well for a place like this. Provincials with mud on their boots gaped at them while a couple of laborers in leather breeches glanced in their direction and whispered to each other. A young man in filthy clothing embroidered in gold thread sat hunched with his head in his hands. A long braid of hair dangled down into the puddle of wine on his able. He took furtive looks at John and Haik.
John saw Haik’s gaze move to the drunken Blue, then away. “I hope none of our young combatants end up like him.” Haik pushed a lank strand of black hair off his forehead. “You’ll have to direct me to a tonsor, John. I’ll be mistaken for a ruffian or a chickpea.”
He had always been vain, John thought. “There is a fellow at the baths who won’t nick your skin with a razor or nick your ears with too much gossip.”
“It’s lucky I met you.” Haik stuck his knife into one of the sausages on his plate.“Imagine us running into one another in a city this size.”
“If you had stayed around the palace for long we would surely have seen one another. I am surprised I didn’t see you earlier since you arrived with Belisarius. You have been here a week already.”
“Yes. But I have been very busy. It doesn’t seem that long.” Haik chewed thoughtfully. “Imagine you, my old military friend, with a house next door to the emperor.”
“You told me you owned an estate, Haik. That’s a large step up.” John took a sip of his wine. He had not ordered anything to eat. He had no appetite. When he found himself engaged in a project he did not like to eat. Food was a distraction.
“My holdings aren’t enormous. I grow pistachios mostly. Do your remember we camped for a few weeks near Telanissos?”
“Northeast of Antioch.”
“That’s right. That’s where my land is. You can see my orchards from Saint Simeon’s Church on the hill overlooking the town. The column Simeon lived on for decades is located inside the church.”
“We have a lot of saints here. Some whole saints, and parts of others.”
His companion’s frown reminded John that, unlike many soldiers John had known, Haik was not a Mithran but a Christian. A heretic, John seemed to recall, a monophysite. Speaking to a friend from his youth had made his
“When it suits them. Which is to say when it makes a pretext for a good fight. They’ll support any cause that gives them an excuse to wreck havoc. Remember, we were going to have a drink.”
The tavern was nearly deserted. Recently, residents went about their business and then hurried to the safety of their homes. They could feel the great beast of the city stirring within its brick and marble carapace. The hard-eyed youths who usually loitered in groups of three or four now congregated half a dozen together. Their stares lingered on passersby for longer than usual. The beggar who always sat beside the baker’s doorway was not in his accustomed place. A line of guards had rushed through the Forum Constantine for no apparent reason. The air smelled faintly of smoke. The fights between the street urchins had become more ferocious.
John and Haik went past the waist-high counter at the front of the tavern. Large pots were sunk into the mortar, some filled with wine, others with porridge and lentils, steaming fragrantly. Only after they sat down at the round wooden table in the back of the room did John notice that the wall mosaic at his shoulder depicted a race in the Hippodrome and a charioteer holding a trophy. It might well have been a portrait of Porphyrius. He couldn’t help smiling ruefully to himself.
Haik raised an eyebrow.
“It’s nothing,” John said.
The tavern keeper rushed over, wiping his big red hands on the greasy tunic billowing over his belly. “Good day to you, sirs. How can I help you, sirs?”
He bowed and beamed when he addressed them and returned speedily with what they had ordered.
John and Haik were dressed too well for a place like this. Provincials with mud on their boots gaped at them while a couple of laborers in leather breeches glanced in their direction and whispered to each other. A young man in filthy clothing embroidered in gold thread sat hunched with his head in his hands. A long braid of hair dangled down into the puddle of wine on his able. He took furtive looks at John and Haik.
John saw Haik’s gaze move to the drunken Blue, then away. “I hope none of our young combatants end up like him.” Haik pushed a lank strand of black hair off his forehead. “You’ll have to direct me to a tonsor, John. I’ll be mistaken for a ruffian or a chickpea.”
He had always been vain, John thought. “There is a fellow at the baths who won’t nick your skin with a razor or nick your ears with too much gossip.”
“It’s lucky I met you.” Haik stuck his knife into one of the sausages on his plate.“Imagine us running into one another in a city this size.”
“If you had stayed around the palace for long we would surely have seen one another. I am surprised I didn’t see you earlier since you arrived with Belisarius. You have been here a week already.”
“Yes. But I have been very busy. It doesn’t seem that long.” Haik chewed thoughtfully. “Imagine you, my old military friend, with a house next door to the emperor.”
“You told me you owned an estate, Haik. That’s a large step up.” John took a sip of his wine. He had not ordered anything to eat. He had no appetite. When he found himself engaged in a project he did not like to eat. Food was a distraction.
“My holdings aren’t enormous. I grow pistachios mostly. Do your remember we camped for a few weeks near Telanissos?”
“Northeast of Antioch.”
“That’s right. That’s where my land is. You can see my orchards from Saint Simeon’s Church on the hill overlooking the town. The column Simeon lived on for decades is located inside the church.”
“We have a lot of saints here. Some whole saints, and parts of others.”
His companion’s frown reminded John that, unlike many soldiers John had known, Haik was not a Mithran but a Christian. A heretic, John seemed to recall, a monophysite. Speaking to a friend from his youth had made his
Similar Books
