In the Heart of Darkness

"Firebombs?" he asked. "Or gunpowder?"

The general nodded toward Ashot, who was still standing in the bow of the dromon.

"Ashot told me you discovered the secret of gunpowder already," he said approvingly.

John nodded.

"Yes—although I'm sure you'll have suggestions for improving the powder's quality. But these aren't gunpowder. For a naval battle, I thought firebombs would be better. They're my own special formula. I added saltpeter to the naphtha. Beautiful stuff! Beautiful! But you have to be very careful with it."

The movement of Belisarius' eyes now imitated that of John's, not two minutes earlier. Scorpions—galley—enemy fleet; scorpions—galley—enemy fleet.

"You've got a battle plan," he stated.

"Yes," affirmed John. "I'd only hoped to be able to destroy enough of those ships to give Sittas and Hermogenes a fighting chance after they landed. But now—with your galley—we can do better. Much better."

"Give me the entire situation," commanded Belisarius.

John blew out his cheeks.

"The heart of the traitors' conspiracy is at the Hippodrome. The Malwa bribed both the Blues and Greens—can you imagine how much money that must have taken?—and are relying on them for the real dirty work." He glanced up at the sun, which had just cleared the horizon. "In three or four hours—by noon, at the latest—they'll be assembled in the Hippodrome. Twenty, maybe thirty thousand of those street toughs. Irene also discovered that they've smuggled in several hundred Malwa soldiers. With gunpowder weapons. Rockets and grenades, we think."

Belisarius nodded. "Most likely. They'll be kshatriya. I doubt they were able to smuggle in any of their cannons, though."

The general glanced at the enemy fleet. All of the transports had now cleared the harbor at Chalcedon and were well into the Bosporus.

"So," he mused. "They'll use the kshatriya as a spearhead, with a huge mob of faction thugs to provide the mass of their fighters. What else? Where do the military units in Constantinople stand?"

John shrugged.

"All of them are standing aside. Stinking cowards are hiding in their barracks."

He nodded toward the fleet of transports.

"That's the Army of Bithynia. General Aegidius is part of the conspiracy. He's got eight thousand men on those transports, including a thousand cataphracts and their horses. According to Irene, his main function is to neutralize any military units that might come to the Emperor's aid."

John's head turned to the west, studying the shoreline of Constantinople.

"Which amounts to Sittas and Hermogenes, and the small army they were able to bring here from Syria. Five hundred cataphracts and two thousand infantrymen. They've been hidden away in ships at Portus Caesarii since they arrived. But they should have marched out this morning. By now—I hope—they've taken up positions guarding the Harbor of Hormisdas. That's the landing site nearest to the Hippodrome and the Great Palace. It's where the Army of Bithynia is planning to disembark, according to Irene's spies."

Belisarius nodded.

"Which means, I assume, that the only forces we have immediately available to suppress the kshatriya and the mob in the Hippodrome are my three hundred cataphracts and Antonina's cohort of grenadiers."

"It's worse than that, Belisarius. John of Cappadocia has assembled almost a thousand bucellarii of his own. I'm sure he'll use them against the excubitores guarding Justinian at the Great Palace."

Belisarius scowled fiercely. "For the sake of God! Why didn't Justinian disband them?"

John winced. He understood Belisarius' astonished outrage. Under Roman law, private armies—bucellarii—were illegal for anyone to maintain except serving generals like Belisarius and Sittas. That law had been enacted over fifty years earlier, by Emperor Leo, precisely in order to prevent public officials and landowners from becoming too powerful.

"Justinian gave John of Cappadocia an exemption," he explained. Then, with a harsh laugh: "Not even that! He made the Cappadocian a general. Just a few months after you left for India."

Belisarius rolled his eyes in disgust. "That stinking chiseler's never been in a battle in his life," he snarled. Suddenly, the snarl turned into a crooked smile. "Which, now that I think about it, isn't such a bad thing."

The general rubbed his chin, eyeing the transports.

"Have you got a count?" he asked John.

The naval officer nodded. "There are thirty-one ships in Aegidius' fleet. Most of them—the bigger ones—are corbita."

Seeing the blank look in Belisarius' face, John elaborated.

"We seamen call them `basket ships.' Corbita are freight haulers, general. They operate by sails alone, without rowers. They're slow under the best of circumstances, and they'll be even slower here in the Bosporus fighting against the northerly winds. But—they've got a big capacity. Each one can carry up to four hundred passengers, although I doubt they're holding more than three hundred apiece. They've got to haul the arms and equipment, also."