Free Terror of Constantinople by Richard Blake Page B

stuffed into the first ships out of Richborough.
        But I continued with the sanitised version of the man’s doings in Kent. Theophanes prodded me along with short supplementals that showed a far greater knowledge than he was willing to admit.
        ‘Of course,’ he said at length, ‘we have never officially accepted the loss of the Western Provinces. With the extinction of the Imperial line in the West, sovereignty devolved in full upon our own Emperor in Constantinople. Whenever possible – as, most importantly, in the time of the Great Justinian – we have been eager to restore Imperial rule in the West. Our recent embarrassments in Italy do not affect the solidity of the restored Empire in Africa. You will find this rebellion by the African Exarch a trifling matter set against what has been achieved there.
        ‘We have plans to extend our rule from southern Spain. That the barbarian King who rules much of that Province has converted out of heresy will not prolong his sway over the many multitudes of the orthodox who sigh for their rightful allegiance.’
        ‘So you’re thinking of a reconquest of Britain?’ I asked, trying to keep the derision from my voice. I’d have thought the Slavs running wild below the Danube, and the Persians marching in from the east, would have been more important items on the Imperial agenda.
        ‘I am not sure if the present correlation of forces would permit a reconquest,’ Theophanes said smoothly.
        Too right there! I thought. My people took by the sword, and will hold by the sword. Given a choice between Ethelbert and a swarm of Greekling tax gatherers, even I’d go back and fight.
        But Theophanes continued. It was as if he’d read my thoughts.
        ‘A military intervention so far into the West would not be convenient at present,’ he said. ‘But it is most edifying to learn about the progress of civilisation in regions we had almost given up for lost. Do tell me, though,’ he asked lightly, ‘would it be fair to say that your King Ethelbert was a friend more of His Holiness in Rome than of the Lord Exarch in Ravenna?’
        ‘If Ethelbert has even heard of Smaragdus, I’ll be surprised,’ I said emphatically. ‘Given the present chaos among the Franks, and the state of the roads passing through their territories, a journey from Rome to Canterbury is at least three months. Missionaries can do it easily enough. To put the sort of pressure on Ethelbert you can put on the Goths in Spain would take another Julius Caesar, let alone another Justinian.’
        Theophanes smiled. He now turned to Martin, with questions about the political and theological position of the Celts. Was there any chance their own Church would accept communion with Rome via Canterbury? Or was the national hatred between them and the English too great to allow of reconciliation?
        Martin gave closed and cautious answers to the questions. He said he’d left Ireland when he was ten and hadn’t been back since.
        I couldn’t see why he should so want to avoid discussions of Ireland. The place was of no importance to anyone. I just assumed it was that tooth troubling him again. He’d been sucking it and wincing ever since Corinth. I’d have a dentist to him once I could get my own bearings in the City.
        Theophanes gave up on the questioning – but not without exacting his own price.
        ‘I have no doubt’, he said to Martin with a sympathetic smile, ‘you will find Constantinople a more friendly place than you did when last here with your father.’
        He stopped a moment to relish the sudden strain on Martin’s face. ‘You may not be aware’, he added, ‘that the Professor of Rhetoric Anthemius is no more.’
        He smiled gently as Martin’s face changed colour. ‘It was found last month’, he continued, ‘that the Illustrious Professor way paying too little attention to his ancient books, and was circulating material