There was a certain pulse discernable in the occasional blare of the horns and the steady tramping of marching feet. The sound of sandals meeting stone provided the base rhythm, with the horns regularly adding their crowning blasts to accentuate and elevate the experience. So Selenus concluded as he stood on the balcony with the rest of the Imperial party, watching the troops marching past. These were
auxilia palatinii, the backbone of the eastern army, armed with intricate shield design and impeccable weaponry and armor. They carried themselves with the no-nonsense bearing of veterans, steadily moving down the wide avenue that passed in front of the Hebdomon palace. The grand building, in west of the city along the coast of the Propontis, was clearly designed for military reviews, with easy access for the Emperor and officials to view a strong and vital army, both to reassure and to impress upon.
Each was on display this day, he knew, as more of the
palatinii approached. There were several thousand at least, and his curiosity was piqued at why such a sizable force was currently massed so close to the city.. Around him stood the vast bureaucracy of Zeno's court, almost a thousand in all, trailing down from the Imperial box to an array of lesser balconies where they jostled with each other for a better view and a more prominent position versus their rivals. Few were foolish not to make the short trip of three to four leagues at their Emperor’s behest. Selenus knew that it was a high honor to be in the Imperial box, though the physical experience left something to be desired, stuffed on to the far end as he was. Far down the marble railing from Zeno and the Empress Ariadne, the jostling was in earnest.
His companion, assigned to him as a kind of guide, sensed his discomfiture and smiled reassuringly. Annaeus seemed a mirror of himself, though he had the noble birth Selenus sorely lacked. Young, thin and pale, he was at ease in a library as Selenus himself, and the two shared an interest in the great minds of past centuries and the preservation of learning. He was perfectly comfortable with the elegant silks that were in fashion at court, while Selenus was still struggling to overcome his awkwardness. In gait and height they were an uncanny pair and within days they had become fast friends. As an imperial ward of the court - rumors placed him as an illegitimate son of a now dead imperial relative, he was in a perfect position to accompany Selenus during his lengthening days in the eastern capital.
"Look," he said, pointing down the long line of infantry.
"Here comes the comitatensii."
Selenus, who knew of Remus' infantry by that name, stared in the direction of Annaeus' hand, clearly unimpressed.
"Oh, I've seen those before."
Reading his mind, Annaeus grinned with mischief.
"Not like these…"
And he was right. Like blinding images out of the midday haze, the next units of soldiers were a far contrast from the
auxilia palatinii. Gleaming in polished armor, colorful trimmed helmets, and swords that flashed proudly in the sunlight, a thousand
comitatensii marched past, their mail perfectly worn, their condition immaculate, their marching precisely in step. In contrast to the dole horns of the earlier units, these were accompanied by music that was far more hearty, boasting of elite soldiers that were passing under the Emperor's gaze. Across the avenue, the crowd roared its approval, and even Selenus joined in with those around him, enjoying the moment. Unlike the rest of the crowd, however, his eyes couldn't help trailing back to the departing
palatinii. Something…
"Their packs are heavier."
Annaeus raised an eyebrow and nodded approvingly.
"You have a military eye, then. Have you been on campaign?"
Selenus, remembering that horrible day near the
Aufidus Flumen, nodded darkly.
His friend held his gaze for a moment before turning back to the parade.
"Your eyes bear the truth of it. I've never seen an experienced soldier whose eyes don't show the weight of battle."
Shaking his head slowly, Selenus laughed ruefully.
"I am no experienced soldier, and what I've seen…it wasn't battle."
They stood awkwardly for a time, neither venturing to break the imposing silence, flinching under the occasional roar of the crowd. Finally, Selenus' memories had slipped enough to recall their conversation.
"Those palatinii are laden for the field, not for show like these guards.”
Again, Annaeus smiled.
"The Emperor is no fool. A large movement of troops through the city would attract attention, and questions. By holding a review, he can send out an army without much notice."
"Except from those with a military eye, hmm?" Now Selenus felt some of his color return. He knew all was not content in Constantinople, despite its majestic veneer. Few in the court wished to speak of such affairs, however.
He had spent over a month in the imperial city thus far, and although its grandeur had not worn thin, he was beginning to despair of his purpose here. Their one audience with the Emperor Zeno had been even more ritualistic than the first, and he had been so far away from them that Selenus still had not seen the man's face up close. The Senators had returned home, ostensibly recalled but certainly due to the lack of real accomplishment. Which left Addiaea, the Bishop's reclusive man, and Selenus. And as Addiaea spent most of his days arguing with the clerics in the city - something about the
Henotikon, Selenus believed - it fell to him to be the sole representative of Rome in Zeno's court. Him, a farmer's son who had helped to raise cows, was now Praetor and envoy of sorts. Not so the Imperial court noticed. No official word had come down from the Emperor since that one brief audience and save for Annaeus' unexpected arrival at his side, he would have assumed that he was forgotten in Constantinople. And perhaps he was, made worse by the fact that he was far too terrified to make any inquiries. The ritual and procedures at court were so cumbersome that he scarcely knew where to begin to ask for a meal, let alone an audience.
And then there the letters, those constant, hazy, pressing inquiries from the lady Barbaria in Italia. She incessantly reminded him of his service, his obligations, and demanded a constant stream of information, gossip, and political news. Selenus, isolated as he was in the chaotic social life of the court, knew little and said even less in his replies. It was the one consolation to his isolation in Constantinople. His being apart from the machinations of Barbaria and her son allowed him to breathe again. He was more interested in Italian news anyhow, of Claudius’ ponderous investment of Ravenna, Remus’ rapid campaigning into Cisapline Gaul.
"Watch, or you'll miss the scholae palatinii." Annaeus tapped him on his shoulder and gestured towards the cavalry that were coming closer. Like the
comitatensii, these were just as impeccable and imposing. Selenus' mind, however, was elsewhere.
"So where would the Emperor send out troops then?"
"Shhh…" Annaeus said, suddenly frowning.
"Not all of those are here to watch the parade.”
The hair rose on the back of Selenus' neck and he could suddenly feel the stares of those who were surely eavesdropping.
“Ilus then?”
Annaeus nodded warily.
”Dê'pou ,” he said, his voice dropping lower. Even Selenus, who was fluent in Koiné Greek, had difficulty understanding.
”That’s Leontius himself there,” indicating the heavily armored figure then leading the
cataphractoi down the avenue.
”The Emperor’s sending him against Ilus in Syria. The Empress herself tried to have Ilus killed once, did you know?”
Selenus, whose head fogged whenever someone discussed court intrigue in Constantinople, nodded indifferently.
”Of course it was back when Ilus was in favor. They say Zeno’s recalling the King of the Goths to the city.”
Now Selenus’ brow rose.
”Strabo?”
”No, no, the other one. The Amal. If Leontius fails, he’s sure to send the Goths to Syria. Zeno’s made him his magister militum”
”Like Remus then,” Selenus mouthed wordlessly.
’Yes, exactly!” Annaeus said, his eyes lighting up as they were wont to do whenever the name Remus was mentioned. To him, the western general was Caesar reborn, and his reputation was making some inroads in Constantinople.
As if fated for that moment, a guard stepped up behind him and cleared his throat. Selenus recoiled, thinking an informant had called them out, but instead the officer placed a scroll in his hand and nodded gruffly, before storming off without a word. Nervously, Selenus undid the seal, reading with mounting horror the words of the short note from Italia, about Remus and his fall at Mediolanum.