Fall of Empires

Chapter 10

The sides of the flimsy silken pavilion flapped in the stiff breeze that blew across the Thracian plain as the entire structure threatened to blow away. Heraclius scowled up at the scudding, rain-heavy clouds and hoped that the weather did not worsen and reduce the display of imperial pomp to a sodden mess. He could well imagine the amusement it would cause the Avar Khan to find the careful preparations of the Roman delegation ruined by the elements. The expensively embroidered hem of his tunic was already spattered with mud and the ornate throne which had been brought for his audience with the Khan had partially sunk into the waterlogged ground. He cursed the lengths that must be gone to in order to impress barbarians and dissuade them from mounting an invasion of his territory whilst he sought desperately to focus all of his energies on fighting the Persians.  

Despite the dullness of the day and the distasteful business that lay ahead it felt good to be out in the clean air once more. Heraclius felt a sense of keen anticipation and an optimism which had entirely deserted him during the past four months amongst the cloistered bureaucracy of Constantinople. The emperor had worked tirelessly to gather the resources of the empire, summoning men from Greece, Thrace and Anatolia, gathering ships from every port in the Aegean, rounding up every horse and beast of burden that could be spared from the land and commandeering bronze statues and church plate from throughout the capital to be melted down and made into currency to finance this war of survival. The forges of the imperial armoury had worked day and night, turning out swords, spear and arrow heads, mail and helmets, horseshoes and nails. As the materials of war had accumulated in the warehouses along the Golden Horn, the question had been endlessly debated as to how to take the war to the Persians. Few had supported Heraclius' bold plan to strike back at the enemy in their own homeland. Only his brother had shared his vision. The rest had urged caution and recommended that he stay on the defensive, or that he try again to send ambassadors to the Great King to ask for peace. 

Heraclius had offered generous terms to the Persian King; surrendering the imperial claim to a swath of territory west of the Euphrates, giving up cities that had long been regarded as part of the empire. He had asked only for the return of the True Cross and the withdrawal of the Persian armies from Palestine and Syria. Khusrow had refused even to receive his emissaries and had even threatened to have them executed if they remained at his court. It was clear that there was no point in seeking further dialogue. The Great King would only listen if he was made to listen and so Heraclius had prepared for war.  

At last all of his preparations were complete. The mighty walls of Constantinople had been repaired and reinforced and he was certain that the city could withstand any attack upon it. It was a necessary precaution. With the Danube frontier stripped of defenders to bolster Heraclius' army, it was only a matter of time before the barbarous Avars poured across the river and ravaged the lands of the empire. All that he could hope for from this peace conference with the Khan was to buy time with a large payment of tribute which he could ill afford. If it bought him a year or two however before the Khan unleashed his armies against the empire, it would be money well spent.  

Hope. That was all that Heraclius had to sustain him with enemies all around. Hope that his cousin Nicetas would be able to hold the line against the Persians in Egypt. Hope that the small army he had sent east under the command of Priscus would be able to slow the Persian advance in Cappadocia. Hope that the defences of Constantinople would prove strong enough to stand up to any assault that was made upon them. Most of all he hoped that his bold plan to set sail at the head of his fleet into the Euxine Sea and make a landing in the port of Trebizond would take the Persian King entirely by surprise.  

The strategy was a simple one. With the armies of the Great King spread far and wide subduing the cities of the empire, his own lands had been left virtually defenceless. A bold strike south from Trebizond, marching through the Armenian highlands, would allow Heraclius to fall upon the vulnerable Persian lands, forcing Khusrow to recall at least some of his forces. The intended destination of the fleet was a closely guarded secret known only to a trusted few, whilst much misinformation was being spread throughout the capital for the benefit of Khusrow's spies. 

Many had questioned the wisdom of the plan but Heraclius had held firm to his view that only through such daring means could the onslaught of the Persians be halted. Only a direct threat to the Persians' homeland would stop their inexorable advance. 

The emperor was jolted from his thoughts by the sound of hoof beats that announced the return of his brother. 

'Flavius. Lovely day for a picnic is it not?' Theodore had dropped the deferential honorific Basileus as soon as they had left the stifling air of Constantinople and found themselves amongst soldiers once more. Heraclius had not picked him up on it. 

'What news from the scouts?'  

'No sign of the Khan's party approaching yet.' 

Heraclius scanned the view of the thickly forested hills beyond the camp and the distant purple smudge of the mountains on the horizon and envied the swooping birds of prey above him their aerial perspective. He did not like this waiting. 

Theodore sensed his brother's discomfort and sought to distract him.  

'The barbarous old villain has probably lost his way, got himself addled with drink and forgotten what he came for.' 

'Perhaps,' Heraclius responded in a low growl. 'But when did you ever hear of an Avar turning up late for a hand-out of gold?' 

'These are strange times, Brother.'  

'Yes. And dangerous ones.' 

Theodore sighed. 'You worry too much, Flavius. By this time tomorrow this sordid business will be concluded and we can look forward to setting sail without further ado to pay Khusrow an unexpected visit.' 

Heraclius gave a firm nod. 'Tomorrow we begin,' he agreed. 'Tomorrow we start to fight back.' 

'I should like to see the Great King's face when he receives the news that we are on his doorstep.'  

Heraclius grinned at last, his mood suddenly lightened.  

'By the time he knows what we are about, Brother, we shall be tearing his house down around his ears.' 

The sudden thundering of hooves made both brothers look around with a start to see a scout approaching at full gallop, his cloak streaming out behind him and his horse foaming at the mouth from the effort of the ride. He was shouting out his message before he even began to slow his mount. 

'Trap! It's a trap. The Avars are moving around behind us with their entire army. They mean to take the emperor.' 

Panic gripped the camp as men ran hither and thither, some hitching up the wagons piled high with tribute whilst others attempted to pull the heavy throne out of the muddy ground where it had settled. In his haste one of the emperor's pages slipped in the mud and fell into the side of the pavilion with a sharp rending of cloth.  

'Leave it. Just leave it all, it's too late,' Theodore shouted. 'The treacherous bastards can have it. They would have proved just as faithless if we had actually given it to them.' 

'I think you are probably right, Brother.' Heraclius agreed, tearing off the heavy, jewel-encrusted dalmatic that he wore and flinging it down into the mud, hitching up his tunic and tucking it into his belt. 'Riches will not save us now.' The emperor mounted his horse Dorkon as the animal was brought to him. Theodore picked up the imperial diadem which had fallen from his brother's head and handed it back to him.  

'Shouldn't leave this behind though. Bad luck.' 

'I suppose not.' Heraclius tucked the fallen crown under his arm. He leant forward, patting Dorkon's neck and whispered into the big bay horse's ear. 'We must be swift, my fleet footed Antelope. Let us be away from here and quickly.' 

Digging in his heels, the emperor galloped out of the camp, attended by his bodyguard and with Theodore bringing up the rear. In their wake they left chaos as the remainder of their party either made haste to follow their emperor or else fell to plundering the wagons of Avar tribute in the hope of securing swift riches before also making their escape.