Bonosus saw the Empress accept the brilliant white square of silk. Alixana was magnificent. She always was. No one wore-no one was allowed to wear-jewellery about their hair and person in the way Alixana did. Her perfume was unique, unmistakable. No woman would even dream of copying it, and only one other was permitted to use the scent: a well-publicized gift Alixana had made the spring before.
The Empress lifted a slender arm. Bonosus, seeing the swift, theatrical gesture, suddenly remembered seeing that arm lifted in the same way fifteen years ago, as she danced, very nearly naked, on a stage.
‘The vestments of Empire are seemly for a shroud, my lord. Are they not?’ She had said that in the Attenine Palace two years ago. A leading role on a very different stage.
I am growing old, Plautus Bonosus thought. He rubbed his eyes. The past kept impinging upon the present: all he saw now appeared shot through with images of things seen before. Too many interwoven memories. He would die on some tomorrow that lay waiting even now, and then everything would become yesterday-in the god’s mild Light, if Jad were merciful.
The weighted handkerchief dropped, fluttering like a shot bird towards the sands below. The wind gusted; it drifted right. Auguries would flow from that, Bonosus knew: fiercely vying interpretations from the cheiromancers. He saw the gates at the far end swing open, heard horns, the high, piercing sound of flutes, then cymbals and martial drums as the dancers and performers led the chariots into the Hippodrome. One man was adroitly juggling sticks that had been set on fire as he capered and danced across the sand. Bonosus remembered flames.
‘How many of your own men,’ Valerius had said two years ago, into the rigid stillness that had followed the Empress’s words, ‘would it take to force a way into the Hippodrome through the kathisma? Can it be done?’
His alert grey eyes had been looking at Leontes. His arm had remained casually draped over the back of the throne. There was an elevated, covered passageway, of course, from the Imperial Precinct across to the Hippodrome, ending at the back of the kathisma.
There had been a collective intake of breath in that moment. Bonosus had seen Lysippus the taxation officer look up at the Emperor for the first time.
Leontes had smiled, a hand drifting to the hilt of his sword. ‘To take Symeonis?’
‘Yes. He’s the immediate symbol. Take him there, have him defer to you.’ The Emperor paused for a moment. ‘And I suppose there will need to be some killing.’
Leontes nodded. ‘We go down, into the crowd?’ He paused, thinking. Then amended: ‘No, arrows first, they won’t be able to avoid them. No armour, no weapons. No way to get up to us. It would create chaos. A panic towards the exits.’ He nodded again. ‘It might be done, my lord. Depends on how intelligent they are in the kathisma, if they’ve barricaded it properly. Auxilius, if I can get in with thirty men and cause some disruption, would you be able to cut your way out of here to two of the Hippodrome gates with the Excubitors and move in as the crowd is rushing for the exits?’
‘I would, or die in the attempt,’ Auxilius said, dark-bearded, hard-eyed, revitalized. ‘I will salute you from the sands of the Hippodrome. These are slaves and commoners. And rebels against Jad’s anointed.’
Jad’s anointed crossed to stand by his Empress at the window, looking at the flames. Lysippus, breathing heavily, was on his overburdened bench nearby.
‘It is so ordered, then,’ said the Emperor quietly. ‘You will do this just before sundown. We depend upon you both. We place our life and our throne in your care. In the meantime,’ Valerius turned to the Chancellor and the Master of Offices, ‘have it proclaimed from the Bronze Gates that the Quaestor of Imperial Revenue has been stripped of his position and rank for excess of zeal and has been exiled in disgrace to the provinces. We’ll have the Mandator announce it in the Hippodrome, as well, if there’s any chance he’ll be heard. Take him with you, Leontes. Faustinus, have your spies spread these tidings in the streets. Gesius, inform the Patriarch: Zakarios and all the clerics are to promulgate this in the sanctuaries now and this evening. People will be fleeing there, if the soldiers do their task. This fails if the clergy are not with us. No killing in the chapels, Leontes.’