It was a good day to die. The sea was iron grey beneath a leaden sky and the waves slapped angrily against the quayside where he knelt. Dark clouds scudded overhead and the sun was hidden from view. Across the water the Queen of Cities lay subdued. The domes of Constantinople's palaces and churches that shone out like beacons for God on a fair day were a dull bronze. Even the raucous gulls of the harbour seemed somehow mournful. On such a day it was easier to take leave of the world. It was a good day to die.
The emperor allowed his gaze to settle on the troubled waters of the Bosphorus where the headless bodies of his six sons floated; their life's blood flowing away in a scarlet nimbus upon the waves. He had begged his captors and beseeched God to spare him the cruel sight of the extinction of his line but no mercy had been forthcoming from either. The judgement of the Almighty was clear. This was his punishment. This was just.
He took one last look at the jeering faces of the men who surrounded him. He saw no shame in the usurper's face, only a savage, wanton glee. He wanted to be free of this world. He did not care for what would come after his death for he no longer had any stake in the future. He did not doubt that his death would plunge the empire into crisis, as dark and chaotic as the waters that waited to receive him.
His executioner approached. The man's arm was slick to the elbow with the blood of the princes of the empire. The emperor bowed his head. He could not look at it.
'Thou are just Lord,' he cried out. The sword whistled through the air.
YOU ARE READING
Fall of Empires
Historical FictionFor centuries Rome and Persia have fought each other. This will be the last great war between them. The Roman Empire stands on the brink of annihilation. Its lands are overrun, its armies shattered. Only a truly remarkable emperor will be able to t...
