He felt as if he were being buried alive.
“I’m hot,” he complained.
“Of course you’re hot,” whispered Theodora. “You’re wearing imperial robes on a warm day in April. What do you expect?”
Unkindly:
“Get used to it.” Then:
“Now, act properly. The ambassador is here.”
Twenty feet away, the Persian ambassador’s retinue came to a halt. The ambassador stepped forward two paces and prostrated himself on the thick, luxurious rug which had been placed for that purpose on the tiled floor of the throne room.
That rug, the Emperor knew, was only brought out from its special storage place for the use of envoys representing the Persian King of Kings, the Shahanshah. It was the best rug the Roman Empire owned, he had heard.
Persia was the traditional great rival of the Roman Empire. It wouldn’t do to offend its representatives. No, it wouldn’t do at all.
The Persian ambassador was rising. Now, he was stepping forward. The ambassador extended his hand, holding the scroll which proclaimed his status to the Roman court. The motion brought a slight wince to the face of the ambassador, and the Roman Emperor’s fear multiplied. The wince, he knew, was caused by the great wound which the ambassador had received to his shoulder three years before.
The Emperor’s real father had given him that wound, at a famous place called Mindouos.
He’s going to be mean to me.
“I bring greetings to the Basileus of Rome from my master Khusrau Anushirvan, King of Kings of Iran and non-Iran.”
The ambassador spoke loudly, so everyone in the huge throne room could hear. His voice was very deep, as deep as anyone’s the Emperor had ever heard except church singers.
“My name is Baresmanas,” continued the ambassador. “Baresmanas, of the Suren.”
The Emperor heard a whispering rustle sweep the throne room. He understood the meaning of that rustle, and felt a moment’s pride in his understanding. For weeks, now, his tutors had drilled him mercilessly in the history and traditions of Persia. The Emperor had not forgotten his lessons.
Officially, the Suren were one of the sahrdaran, the seven greatest noble families of Persia. Unofficially, they were the greatest. Rustam, the legendary hero of the Aryans—their equivalent of Hercules—was purported to have been of that family. And the Persian general who shattered Crassus’ Roman army at Carrhae had been a Suren.
Sending a Suren ambassador, the Emperor knew, was the Shahanshah’s way of indicating his respect for Rome. But the knowledge did not allay his fear.
He’s going to be mean to me.
The stern, haughty, aristocratic face of the Persian ambassador broke into a sudden smile. White teeth flashed in a rich, well-groomed beard.
“It is a great pleasure to meet you, Your Majesty,” said the ambassador. Baresmanas bowed toward Theodora. “And your mother, the Regent Theodora.”
The Emperor reached out his hand to take the scroll. After unrolling the parchment, he saw with relief that the document was written in Greek. The Emperor could read, now, though still with no great facility. And this document was full of long-winded words that he didn’t recognize at all. He began studying it intently until he heard a slight cough.
Out of the corner of his eye, the Emperor saw the Empress Regent nodding graciously. Remembering his instructions, the Emperor hastily rolled up the parchment and followed her example. Then, seeing the hint of a frown on Theodora’s brow, he belatedly remembered the rest of her coaching.
“We welcome the representative of our brother,” he piped, “the Basileus of Pers—”
The Emperor froze with fear at his blunder.
By long-standing protocol, the Emperor of Rome always called the Emperor of Persia the “Basileus” rather than the “King of Kings.” By using the same title as his own, the Roman Emperor thereby indicated the special status of the Persian monarch. No other ruler was ever granted that title by Romans, except, on occasion, the negusa nagast of Ethiopia.
But Persians never called themselves Persians. That term was a Greek bastardization of the Persian province of Fars, the homeland of the old Achaemenid dynasty. Persians called their land Iran—land of the Aryans. They were immensely snooty on the matter, too, especially the distinction between Aryans and all lesser breeds. Many non-Aryan nations were ruled by the Shahanshah, but they were not considered part of the land of the Aryans itself. Those were simply “non-Iran.”