he had planned to give her, into her grubby hand, and said he would visit again soon. As he went back along the alley he found himself thinking that a man as famous and recognizable as Barnabas surely could not hide for very much longer.
***
“Look out!” the emperor cried.
A small round object flew in a rising arc past John’s face to explode in a shower of twigs through the canopy of one of the tall cedars edging the sea wall. It vanished into the heat haze shimmering over the Sea of Marmara.
John’s glance at the grassy playing field to his left revealed a horse being reined to a halt a short distance away. A polo stick was grasped in its rider’s hand.
“My apologies, Lord Chamberlain. I’ve only just learned this particular athletic activity and I’m not fully expert at controlling the direction of the ball.”
John recognized the rider. It was the boy Hektor, now grown perilously large for his duties as an ornamental court page. There were several mounted players on the field, on the far side of which two other pages and three girls stood giggling together in conspiratorial fashion. Hektor wheeled away to rejoin the game, giving John no opportunity to reply.
Justinian strolled up to John, clapped him on his shoulder and laughed.
“It’s a stroke of good fortune, so to speak, that that ball didn’t hit your head, Lord Chamberlain.” The emperor’s tone was almost jovial. “Yes, I’ve put some of the older pages to work entertaining the young ladies. Less paint on their faces and more perspiration, that’s what I’ve advised for those youths.”
John looked thoughtfully after the players. In the oppressive stillness the shouts of the players announced a new ball was in play. Beyond the far edge of the field, dusty landscaped grounds rose in terraces toward the stolid rectangular mass of the Daphne Palace. Several buildings, his house among them, could be seen scattered here and there amid groves of trees and flower gardens on the slopes above. Here by the sea wall the sultry air smelled of brine, trodden grass and the nearby stables, beyond which the cages of the imperial menagerie lay in quiet shadow. Only one of its cages was occupied and its resident, a large bear, was fast asleep, half buried in a bed of straw. John wished he could likewise lie down and rest but unfortunately for now that was not going to be possible.
“Is it wise to encourage that young man’s development, excellency?”
“He is a favorite of the Master of the Offices,” Justinian replied, “and I always like to keep an eye on court officials’ proteges. But it’s too hot to be standing about in the sun. Sit.” He indicated a marble bench set in the shade of the cedars, waving his ever-present guards away. They stationed themselves watchfully at a distance of several paces.
Wiping his ruddy face with a piece of purple silk, Justinian suddenly chuckled. “I suppose you’re wondering why I am not hearing petitions, Lord Chamberlain? It’s because I decided to abandon the task when the reception hall became so hot that its bust of Constantine began sweating.”
John offered a thin smile with the comment that the petitioners waiting to be heard were doubtless disappointed not to have been granted an audience with their emperor.
Justinian sat down next to John. He was in an unusually expansive mood, it seemed, for usually he explained his actions or reasoning to no one. Nor was it necessary, for as emperor he held absolute power over the life and death of everyone within the empire.
“There were nothing but minor matters to be heard,” he said. “Tax abatements, license disputes, that sort of thing. So just for today I empowered a silentiary to render a positive verdict in every case. Tomorrow I will be extolled in every corner of the city as a paragon of magnanimity. If only the sun god would have such mercy on me, as pagans would doubtless say, would they not, Lord Chamberlain?” He gave John a sly
***
“Look out!” the emperor cried.
A small round object flew in a rising arc past John’s face to explode in a shower of twigs through the canopy of one of the tall cedars edging the sea wall. It vanished into the heat haze shimmering over the Sea of Marmara.
John’s glance at the grassy playing field to his left revealed a horse being reined to a halt a short distance away. A polo stick was grasped in its rider’s hand.
“My apologies, Lord Chamberlain. I’ve only just learned this particular athletic activity and I’m not fully expert at controlling the direction of the ball.”
John recognized the rider. It was the boy Hektor, now grown perilously large for his duties as an ornamental court page. There were several mounted players on the field, on the far side of which two other pages and three girls stood giggling together in conspiratorial fashion. Hektor wheeled away to rejoin the game, giving John no opportunity to reply.
Justinian strolled up to John, clapped him on his shoulder and laughed.
“It’s a stroke of good fortune, so to speak, that that ball didn’t hit your head, Lord Chamberlain.” The emperor’s tone was almost jovial. “Yes, I’ve put some of the older pages to work entertaining the young ladies. Less paint on their faces and more perspiration, that’s what I’ve advised for those youths.”
John looked thoughtfully after the players. In the oppressive stillness the shouts of the players announced a new ball was in play. Beyond the far edge of the field, dusty landscaped grounds rose in terraces toward the stolid rectangular mass of the Daphne Palace. Several buildings, his house among them, could be seen scattered here and there amid groves of trees and flower gardens on the slopes above. Here by the sea wall the sultry air smelled of brine, trodden grass and the nearby stables, beyond which the cages of the imperial menagerie lay in quiet shadow. Only one of its cages was occupied and its resident, a large bear, was fast asleep, half buried in a bed of straw. John wished he could likewise lie down and rest but unfortunately for now that was not going to be possible.
“Is it wise to encourage that young man’s development, excellency?”
“He is a favorite of the Master of the Offices,” Justinian replied, “and I always like to keep an eye on court officials’ proteges. But it’s too hot to be standing about in the sun. Sit.” He indicated a marble bench set in the shade of the cedars, waving his ever-present guards away. They stationed themselves watchfully at a distance of several paces.
Wiping his ruddy face with a piece of purple silk, Justinian suddenly chuckled. “I suppose you’re wondering why I am not hearing petitions, Lord Chamberlain? It’s because I decided to abandon the task when the reception hall became so hot that its bust of Constantine began sweating.”
John offered a thin smile with the comment that the petitioners waiting to be heard were doubtless disappointed not to have been granted an audience with their emperor.
Justinian sat down next to John. He was in an unusually expansive mood, it seemed, for usually he explained his actions or reasoning to no one. Nor was it necessary, for as emperor he held absolute power over the life and death of everyone within the empire.
“There were nothing but minor matters to be heard,” he said. “Tax abatements, license disputes, that sort of thing. So just for today I empowered a silentiary to render a positive verdict in every case. Tomorrow I will be extolled in every corner of the city as a paragon of magnanimity. If only the sun god would have such mercy on me, as pagans would doubtless say, would they not, Lord Chamberlain?” He gave John a sly
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