Free Two for Joy by Mary Reed, Eric Mayer

ill chosen and his expression grew even more stricken. He apologized.
    “You don’t have to excuse yourself for reminding me of what I have endured, Aurelius,” John replied. “But although you might choose to leave us prematurely for your own reasons, think of Anatolius. He is certainly a man of many talents, but…”
    “Yes, yes, I know,” Aurelius muttered, sparing John the impossible task of finding some tactful phrase to describe Anatolius’ dangerous blend of impetuosity and impracticality. “I’m sure he has informed you about his new prospects?”
    “He went on at greater length about the banquet, but he did mention you are planning to launch him upon a legal career.”
    Aurelius winced, perhaps from the jolt of his horse stepping down harder than hitherto. “You sound almost as enthusiastic as my son about the prospect, John.”
    “It’s a good plan, though. Anatolius tends to drift with his fancies and those ponderous legal phrases may serve to anchor him. However, he still needs occasional guidance.”
    Aurelius shook his head wearily. “Not guidance, John. Let us be honest. He still needs to be protected from himself.”
    The senator fell silent and few words were exchanged during the remainder of the tedious journey. Both men knew that just as they had been ordered to observe Michael and report back to Justinian, so one or more of their escorts would be under orders to observe the emissaries.
    Having passed beyond the high mortar and stone walls built to protect Constantinople on its only side exposed to land attack, the mounted party proceeded northward around the end of the Golden Horn and then back east along that narrow drowned valley. The way was lined with small settlements alternating with fields and villas set amid country estates. The city they had left was visible across glassy water bristling with ship masts. Tenements and churches clung to the side of a long ridge whose highest points formed six of the seven hills of Constantine’s new Rome.
    Their journey was more rapid than John anticipated. Other riders, pedestrians and the drivers of carts and wagons, realizing at a glance that the company was about imperial business, readily vacated the narrow road at their approach. Although such highways were a boon to trade their real purpose was military, having been built wide enough to accommodate the passage of a single war chariot.
    Only when they turned north in the direction of the Euxine Sea were the travelers forced to slow their pace as the road grew increasingly congested with people on foot, predominantly peasants and laborers by their simple tunics. As they neared the shrine, more than one slave-borne litter and even a covered carriage could be seen, swept along in the human tide flooding the road.
    “This crowd reminds me of the day before a celebration,” observed Aurelius, before leaning down to address a sturdy farmer leading a donkey burdened with baskets of fruit. “Shouldn’t you be going in the other direction, to the market?”
    The farmer looked up fearfully. “I would on any other day, excellency, but today I am taking an offering to Michael, to ask for his blessing upon me and my family.”
    “Justinian will not be pleased to learn how quickly the man’s fame is spreading,” John remarked.
    The senator made no reply. His eyelids had narrowed to slits and his lips, drawn tight for hours now, looked nearly bloodless as his horse, made restive by the crowd, snorted and pawed at the ground, jolting its rider painfully.
    The guards, who earlier had been talking and laughing in a relaxed manner, became as restive as the horses. They shouted warnings, shaking spears to underline them.
    “Take care,” John admonished the nearer of their guards. It would not take much to touch off a disturbance. A carelessly handled weapon drawing blood, for example.
    They finally saw St Michael’s shrine after cresting a long hill. A rectangular marble building with a flight of steps