In the Heart of Darkness

Narses sighed with exasperation. He, too, was being excessively clever. But—he was old. He had little choice. Narses did not have the time to wait, for years, while Justinian exhausted the Roman Empire in his grandiose attempt to reconstruct its ancient glory.

Another rocket. Properly behaved, this one. But the fourth, after an initially promising lift-off, suddenly arced down and exploded in the Hippodrome itself. Fortunately, the section of the tiers where it landed was unoccupied.

Narses sighed again.

Too clever.

He was startled by another explosion. A section of the tiers near the Blue faction erupted in flame and smoke. No one was hurt, however.

Narses frowned. He had seen no rocket.

Another explosion. This one erupted on the fringe of the Blue crowd, killing several thugs and hurtling shredded bodies onto their nearby comrades.

Balban, seated next to the "Emperor" Hypatius, leapt to his feet. He turned and glared at Ajatasutra.

"Did you give grenades to the factions, you fool?" he demanded.

Ajatasutra began to deny the charge, but fell silent. There was no need for his denial.

The truth of the matter was suddenly obvious.

A series of explosions now rocked the tiers, killing Blues and Greens indiscriminately. The giant mob was scrambling to their feet, shouting and brandishing their weapons.

Brandishing them, not in triumph, but at their new enemy—who was even now marching into the Hippodrome through the wide entrance in the unoccupied southwestern portion.

Cataphracts—on foot, for a wonder—flanking a small army of men—and women?—who were hurling grenades at the Hippodrome mob. With slings!

Everyone in the kathisma lunged to their feet, now, and pressed forward against the stone wall overlooking the Hippodrome.

Everyone except Narses. Who simply remained in his seat, sighing. Faintly, Narses could hear the battle cries of the newly arrived enemy.

"Nothing! Nothing!"

Much too clever.

Belisarius, standing on the wharf, heard the same explosions.

"That's Antonina!" exclaimed Irene. "The battle in the Hippodrome's already started!"

Sittas and Hermogenes looked at Belisarius.

"The Hippodrome can wait," he stated. "Antonina can hold her own against that mob, at least for a while. We need to make sure the Emperor and Empress are safe, before we do anything else."

Sittas pointed out to sea.

"There are still some ships left from Aegidius' fleet. They'll be landing at Portus Caesarii soon."

Belisarius shrugged. "Let them. Most of that army's been shattered. Aegidius is probably already dead. Even if he isn't, it'll take him time to rally his troops and start marching them to the inner city. We'll deal with them later."

He pointed up the hill. "We must secure the Great Palace. Now."

Without another word, he began striding off the wharf. Irene and his Thracian bucellarii followed. Very quickly, Sittas and Hermogenes had their own troops marching away from the harbor.

The Great Palace was only a quarter of a mile away. With Belisarius in the lead, the little army of five hundred cataphracts and two thousand infantrymen reached the wall surrounding the Great Palace in minutes.

The Great Palace of Constantinople was a vast complex, not a single structure. It was almost a small city within the city. The many buildings of the Palace were separated by peristyle porticoes alternating with open courtyards and gardens. The porticoes were decorated with mosaics, the courtyards and gardens with statuary and fountains.

It was perfectly designed terrain for defense, and Belisarius knew that he had to overwhelm any enemies before they could organize such a defense. So, for one of the few times in his life, he decided to order a straightforward frontal assault.

He looked to Hermogenes.

"Did you bring scaling equipment?"

Hermogenes answered by simply pointing to the rear. Turning, Belisarius saw that squads of infantrymen were already rushing up with ropes and grappling hooks.

He was pleased—somewhat. He studied the wall more closely. It was at least eight feet tall.

"We really need ladders, too," he muttered, "to get enough men over in time to—"

He broke off, seeing the look of restrained exasperation on Hermogenes' face.

"We trained for this," growled Hermogenes. "I didn't want to haul a lot of bulky ladders around, so instead—" He took a deep breath. "Just watch, general. And relax."

Belisarius smiled. Watched. Smiled very broadly.

At thirty-foot intervals, down a two hundred yard stretch of the wall, ten-man squads of infantrymen anchored grappling hooks. Immediately, two men from each squad scaled the wall and dropped over into the gardens beyond. The others divided into two-man teams. Each team began hoisting a stream of soldiers by using a shield held between them as a stepping stone. After the first wave of soldiers went over the wall, the hoisting teams were replaced by fresh soldiers and went over the wall themselves.