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  By this time, Theodosius and Zeno had joined the little circle around Antonina. "It's happened before," commented the Knights Hospitaler. "The prefect Petronius was stoned by the mob, during Augustus' reign. And one of the Ptolemies was dragged out into the streets and assassinated. Alexander II, I think it was."

  Antonina pursed her lips. "How long do you think Ambrose will sit on the sidelines, Ashot?"

  The commander of her Thracian bucellarii shrugged. "Depends on his troops, mostly. Ambrose only has three options." He held up his thumb. "One-accept his dismissal."

  "Not a chance," interjected Hermogenes. "I know the man. Sittas was being polite when he called him a stinking bastard. Ambitious, he is."

  Ashot nodded. "Rule out that option, then. That only leaves him two." He held up his other thumb. "Mutiny. But-"

  Hermogenes started shaking his head.

  "— that'd be insane," continued Ashot. "Every one of his soldiers knows the penalty for mutiny in the Roman army. The risk isn't worth it unless-" He held up his forefinger alongside his thumb.

  "Option two. Ambrose declares himself the new Emperor. His soldiers hail him, start a civil war, and hope to enjoy the bounty if they win."

  Hermogenes nodded vigorously. "He's right. A Patriarch can play games with street violence. A general can't. For him, it's all or nothing."

  Antonina looked back and forth between the two officers. "You still haven't told me how long I've got before he decides."

  "A day, at the very least," said Ashot immediately. "He's got to have the support of his soldiers. Most of them, anyway. That'll take time."

  "Speeches," amplified Hermogenes. "Perorations to the assembled troops. Negotiations with his top officers. Promises to make to everybody."

  "For sure he'll promise a huge annona if he takes the throne," added Ashot immediately. All the officers nodded, their faces grim. The annona was the pay bonus which Roman emperors traditionally granted their troops upon assuming the throne. During the chaotic civil wars three centuries earlier, when Rome often had two or three simultaneous emperors-few of whom survived more than a year or two-the claimants for the throne had bid for the loyalty of the armies by promising absurd bonuses.

  "Pay increases," elaborated Hermogenes, "after he's been made Emperor. Better retirement pensions. Anything else he can think of."

  "He'll be talking nonstop for hours," concluded Ashot. "All through the day and halfway through the night."

  Antonina rose. "Right. The gist of it is that I've got a day to deal with the Patriarch's mob, without interference from the Army of Egypt."

  Ashot and Hermogenes nodded.

  "Let's get to it, then. How big is that mob?"

  Ashot spread his hands. "Hard to know, exactly. Thousands from the crowd packing St. Michael's. Most will be his fanatic adherents, but there'll be a lot of orthodox sympathizers mixed in with them. Then-"

  He turned to Theodosius.

  "How many hardcore Chalcedonian monks are there, residing in the city?"

  The Patriarch grimaced. "At least two thousand."

  "Five thousand," added Zeno, "if you include the ones living in monasteries within a day's march of Alexandria."

  Ashot turned back to Antonina. "Every last one of those monks will be in with the mob, stirring them up."

  "Leading the charge, more like," snarled Hermogenes.

  Ashot barked an angry little laugh. "And you can bet that the Hippodrome factions will join the fray. The Blues, for sure. They'll be interested in looting, for the most part. But they'll throw their weight in on Paul's side, if for no other reason than to get his blessing for their crimes."

  "They'll head for Delta quarter, right off," added Zeno.

  Antonina nodded thoughtfully. Alexandria was divided into five quarters, designated by the first five letters of the Greek alphabet. Delta quarter, for centuries, had been the city's Jewish area.

  She moved her eyes to Euphronius. Throughout the preceding discussion-as was usual in these command meetings-the commander of the Theodoran Cohort had said nothing. The young Syrian grenadier was too shy to do more than listen.

  "How do you feel about Jews?" she asked him abruptly.

  Euphronius was startled by the question.

  "Jews?" He frowned. "Never thought much about it, to be honest. Can't say I like them, but-"

  He fell silent, groping for words.

  Antonina was satisfied. Anti-Jewish sentiment was endemic throughout the Roman Empire, but only in Alexandria did it reach rabid proportions. That had been true for centuries. Syrians, on the other hand, had managed to co-exist with Jews without much in the way of trouble.

  "I want you and the Cohort to march to the Jewish quarter. It'll be your job to defend it against the Hippodrome thugs. Take one of Hermogenes' infantry cohorts for support."

  It was Ashot and Hermogenes' turn to be start-led, now.

  "What for, Antonina?" asked Hermogenes. "The Jews can take care of themselves. Won't be the first time they've fought it out with Blues and Greens."

  Antonina shook her head. "That's exactly what I'm afraid of. I intend to"-she clenched her fist-"suppress this street violence. The last thing I want is for it to spread."

  "I agree with Antonina," interjected Theodosius. "If the Jews get involved in street fighting, Paul will use that to further incite the mob."

  "Whereas," said Antonina, "if the mob is stopped before it can even start the pogrom-by the Empress' own Cohort-it'll send a very different signal."

  She straightened, back stiff. "I promised their representatives that Alexandria's Jews would be unmolested if they remained loyal to the Empire. I intend to keep that promise."

  She began moving toward the great set of double doors leading out of the audience chamber, issuing commands as she went.

  "Hermogenes, detail one of your cohorts to back up the grenadiers in the Delta Quarter. Find one with officers who are familiar with Alexandria. The Syrians'll get lost in this city without guides."

  "Take Triphiodoros and his boys, Euphronius," said Hermogenes. "He's from Alexandria."

  "He's a damned good tribune, too," agreed the Syrian grenadier, nodding with approval.

  Antonina stopped abruptly. She turned to face the commander of the Theodoran Cohort. Her expression was stern, almost fierce.

  "Good tribune or not, Euphronius-you're in charge. The infantry's there to back you up, nothing more."

  Euphronius started to make some protest, but Antonina drove over it.

  "You've always been subordinate to someone else. Not today. Today, you're leading an independent command. You're ready for it-and so are the grenadiers. I expect you to shine."

  The young Syrian commander straightened. "We will, Antonina. We will not fail."

  Antonina turned to Ashot and Hermogenes.

  "Get your troops ready. I want all of them in full armor. That includes the cataphracts' horses. Full armor-nothing less. Make sure of it. In this heat, a lot of the men will try to slide through with half-armor."

  "Full armor?" Ashot winced. "Be like an oven. Antonina, we're not dealing with Persian dehgans here, for the sake of Christ. Just a pack of scruffy-"

  Antonina shook her head firmly. "That's overkill, I know, against a street mob. But your troops won't be in the middle of the action, anyway, and I want them to look as intimidating as possible."

  Ashot's eyes widened. So did Hermogenes'.

  "Not in the middle of it?" asked the Armenian cataphract.

  Antonina smiled. Then, turned to face Zeno.

  "I believe it's time for the Knights Hospitaler to take center stage."

  Zeno nodded solemnly. "So do I, Antonina. And this is the perfect opportunity."

  "I'm not so sure about that," muttered Hermo-genes. He gave Zeno a half-apologetic, half-skeptical glance. "Meaning no offense, but your monks have only had a small amount of training. This is one hell of a messy situation to throw them into."

  Antonina started to intervene. But then, seeing
the confident expression on Zeno's face, decided to let the Knight Hospitaler handle the matter.

  "We have trained much more than you realize, Hermogenes," said Zeno. "Not"-he waved his hand-"with your kind of full armor and weapons in a field battle situation, of course. But we took advantage of the very long voyage here to train on board the grain ships. With quarterstaffs."

  Hermogenes stared at the Knights Hospitaler as if the man had just announced that he was armed with bread sticks. Ashot was positively goggling.

  "Quarterstaffs?" choked the Armenian cataphract.

  Now, Antonina did intervene. "That was my husband's idea," she stated. "He said it was the perfect weapon for riot duty."

  Hearing the authority of Belisarius invoked, Ashot and Hermogenes reined in their disdain. A bit.

  Zeno spoke up again. "I do not think you fully understand the situation here, Hermogenes. Ashot." He cleared his throat. "I am Egyptian myself, you know. I wasn't born in Alexandria-I come from Naucratis, in the Delta-but I am familiar with the place. And its religious politics."

  He pointed through the open doors. "We must be very careful. We do not want to create martyrs. And-especially-we don't want to infuriate the great masses of orthodox Greeks who make up a third of Alexandria's populace."

  He nodded approvingly at Antonina. "You saw how well Antonina handled the guilds, earlier. But you musn't forget that almost all of those men are Greeks, and orthodox. They completely dominate the city's commerce and manufacture. They are the same men we will be relying on-tomorrow, and for years to come-to forge the Roman arsenal against the Malwa. For doctrinal reasons, most of those people are inclined to support Paul and his diehards. But they are also uneasy about their fanaticism, and their thuggery. Bad for business, if nothing else."

  Antonina pitched in. "It's essential that we drive a wedge between Paul's fanatics and the majority of the orthodox population. If we have a massacre, the city's Greeks will be driven into open opposition. And you know as well as I do-better than I do-how the cataphracts and the regular infantry will hammer into that mob if they're in the forefront."

  She stared at Ashot and Hermogenes. The two officers looked away.

  "You know!" she snapped. "Those men are trained to do one thing, and one thing only. Slaughter people. Do you really want to unleash a volley of cataphract arrows against a crowd? This is not the Nika revolt, God damn it! There, we were dealing with Malwa kshatriya and thousands of professional thugs armed to the teeth. Here-"

  She blew out her breath. "Christ! Half of that crowd will be there more out of excitement and curiosity than anything else. Many of them will be women and children. You may be crazy, but I'm not. Theodora sent me here to stabilize imperial rule in Egypt. To stop a civil war, not start one."

  Ashot and Hermogenes were looking hangdog, now. But Antonina was relentless.

  "That's the way it's going to be. I have complete confidence that the Knights Hospitaler can handle the situation. I simply want you there-in the background, but fully armed and armored-to add a little spice to the meal. Just to let the crowd know, after Paul's goons have been beaten into a pulp and routed, that it could have been one hell of a lot worse."

  She chuckled, very coldly. "You may sneer at quarterstaffs, but my husband doesn't. And I think, by the end of the day, you won't be sneering either."

  She straightened, assuming as tall a stance as she could. Which wasn't much, but quite enough.

  "You have your orders. Follow them."

  Hermogenes and Ashot left then, very hastily. An unkind observer might have said they scurried. An instant later, Zeno followed. His pace, however, was slower. Very proud, that stride was.

  Euphronius, also, began to leave. But after taking three steps, he stopped. He fidgeted, then turned around.

  "Yes?" asked Antonina.

  The Syrian cleared his throat. "My grenadiers are also not trained to do anything other than-uh, slaughter people. And grenades are even more indiscriminate than arrows. I don't understand how you expect me to-"

  Antonina laughed. "Euphronius! Relax!"

  She walked over, smiling, and placed a reassuring hand on his arm.

  "First of all, you're not going to be dealing with a crowd. You're going to be dealing with gangs. There won't be any innocent onlookers in that mob, believe me. Hippodrome thugs, they'll be, looking to pillage the Jews. Robbers, rapists, murderers-nothing else."

  The smile vanished. Her next words were almost snarled.

  "Kill as many of them as you can, Euphronius. The more, the better. And then have Triphiodoros and his infantry hang whatever prisoners you take. On the spot. No mercy. None. If you wind up draping the outskirts of the Delta Quarter with intestines, blood, brains, and corpses, you'll make me a very happy woman."

  Euphronius gave out a little sigh of relief. "Oh," he said. Then, with a sudden, savage grin:

  "We can do that. No problem."

  Now he, too, was hurrying out of the room. Antonina was left alone with Theodosius.

  For a moment, she and the new Patriarch stared at each other. Theodosius had said nothing, during the preceding discussion. But his anxiety had been obvious to Antonina. The anxiety was gone, now. But she was uncertain what emotion had replaced it. Theodosius was giving her a very odd look.

  "Is something troubling you, Patriarch?"

  "Not at all," replied Theodosius, shaking his head. "I was just-how can I explain?"

  He smiled, fluttering his hands. "I suppose you could say I was contemplating God's irony. It's an aspect of the Supreme Being which most theologians miss entirely, in my experience."

  Antonina frowned. "I'm afraid I don't-"

  Again, the fluttering hands. "When the fanatic Paul calls you the Whore of Babylon, he demonstrates his ignorance. His stupidity, actually. The essence of Christ is his mercy, Antonina. And who, in this chaos called Alexandria, could find that mercy-other than a woman who understands the difference between sin and evil?"

  Antonina was still frowning. Theodosius sighed.

  "I am not explaining myself well. Let me just say that I am very glad that you are here, and not someone else. Someone full of their own self-righteousness. I will leave it at that."

  Her frown faded, replaced by a half-rueful little smile. "I suppose I've adopted my husband's crooked way of looking at things."

  "Crooked? Perhaps." The Patriarch turned to go. "But I would remind you, Antonina, that a grapevine is also crooked. Yet it bears the world's most treasured fruit."

  When she was finally alone, Antonina walked slowly back to her chair and took a seat. She would not be able to enjoy that rest for long, for she intended to take her place with the cataphracts backing the Knights Templar. Within minutes, she would have to don her own armor. And wear it, throughout the day, under the hammering sun of Egypt. She grimaced, thinking of the sweltering heat that armor would bring.

  But she needed that moment, alone. To remember the crooked mind-and the straight soul-of her absent husband.

  "Be safe, love," she whispered. "Oh, please-be safe."

  Chapter 32

  The Euphrates

  Autumn, 531 A.D.

  "This is ridiculous!" snarled Belisarius. "This isn't 'safe'-it's absurd!"

  "We gave our oath, general," said Anastasius solemnly.

  "To the Persian Emperor himself," added Valen-tinian, trying-and failing quite miserably-to look suitably lugubrious.

  Belisarius glared at both of them. Then, transferred the glare onto the enemy, some distance away.

  Quite some distance away. Belisarius, along with Anastasius and Valentinian, were standing on top of the huge pile of stones which the Kushans had dug out of the Nehar Malka. The Syrian infan-trymen who defended that man-made hill had constructed an observation platform from which Belisarius could watch the progress of the battle. They had also built a narrow, winding road-more of a path, really-which led up to the summit from the protected northern side of the rockpile.

  As a vantage point
from which to observe the battle, Belisarius could find no fault with the thing. Even without his telescope, the rock-hill's elevation gave him an excellent view of the enemy's dispositions on the south side of the Euphrates and the Nehar Malka. The telescope enabled him to pick out even small details of the enemy's formations.

  But-

  "God damn it," he growled, "I'm too far away. By the time a courier gets up here and back again-no way to ride a horse up that so-called road-I might as well have given orders for yesterday's breakfast."

  It's safe, insisted Aide.

  Before Belisarius could make a reply, one of the Malwa rockets fired at the Roman troops defending the dam below veered wildly off course. For a moment, it seemed as if the missile was heading directly for the rockpile. Close enough, at least, that Valentinian and Anastasius began to take cover behind the low wall surrounding the platform.

  Growling with satisfaction, Belisarius stood as erect as possible.

  Get down! Get down!

  Belisarius, sarcastically:

  "Safe," remember? "Safe," you said.

  And, in truth, safe it was. With typical unpre-dictability, the rocket suddenly swerved to the east. A few seconds later, it exploded harmlessly over the middle of the Nehar Malka.

  Wisely, Aide refrained from comment.

  Belisarius took a deep breath, controlling his temper. There was no point in trying to force the issue, at the moment. Valentinian and Anastasius were obviously ready and willing to enforce a strict compliance with their vow to Emperor Khusrau. For that matter, all of Belisarius' officers had made clear their own agreement with Khusrau's position. Belisarius had been shocked, actually, when he realized how adamant his commanders were that he stay out of the direct line of fire in the coming battle.

  "There's no need for you in the front line, sir," Agathius had argued, at the command meeting on the eve of the battle. "No need-and a lot to be lost if you're killed or injured. This is just going to be a slugging match, at least in the beginning."

  On that point, Agathius had been correct.

  It was late afternoon, and the battle had been raging for hours. The Malwa had made their first probes at dawn, on both sides of the Euphrates. Encountering the large body of Persians guarding Ormazd's camp on the south bank, the Malwa had early on decided to take a purely defensive stance there. They were obviously more than happy to let Ormazd and his twenty thousand heavy cavalry sit on the sidelines while they concentrated their attack on the Roman forces.