Traveller Manifesto

Constantinople – 11th Century.

Their stay had become even more luxurious. Professor Taylor began to suspect that there was something more to their hospitality than simply being held until the return of a shipment of ribbon.

First, it was the treatment meted out to their merchant hosts. Leon Hadrianopolis of the leather workers guild and Florian tou Christophorou of the textile guild made no secret that their new role as ‘Friends of the Court’ had offered valuable opportunities that significantly enhanced their fortunes. As their court access was made possible because of the Travellers, ostensibly known as the ‘Embassage from Aengland’, Professor Taylor was credited with their significant jump up the prestigious Constantinople social ladder. As the City was the beating heart of the great Byzantine Empire, a vestige of the empire of ancient Rome and an unrivalled nation of power and influence the world had not witnessed for generations, it was the flower of Christian art and culture and was immeasurably prosperous and corrupt. What was most fortuitous was how the Travellers’ original hosts now had access to some of the wealthiest and most influential families of the known world.

Good to his promise, the Emperor permitted McFee free admission to the officer’s training yard where the Scottish SAS soldier spent hours engaged in all too familiar exercises. Armed with his sword recovered from the Customs office at the Golden Gate, McFee’s advanced personal training attracted attention from every young man who was of a family elite enough to train there.

Naturally, this attracted sparring partners, all of whom attempted to better the foreigner with spear and sword. But McFee’s skills were dazzling. One by one the young officers, many who were very proficient, were soundly defeated. Some were enormously arrogant and lost their bouts with all too little grace. Professor Taylor recalled the uncut footage of McFee besting the Viking leader in man to man combat in the epic Battle for Giolgrave. With their anger often directed at the barbarian who bested them, perhaps it was best they did not know of what the Scottish SAS officer was capable.

The surprise came when the Emperor himself opted to duel McFee. He had been watching the training ground and, though in his 50’s, Basil the Bulgar Slayer went into battle with gusto. It was not too long before he conceded, panting in exhaustion, his arm in friendly comradery around McFee’s shoulders.

It was then when Professor Taylor noticed something he had not seen before.

Emperor Basil, ruler of the Byzantine Empire, liked Captain McFee.

He liked him … a lot!

The academic frowned. Was it that obvious? Did Emperor Basil keep them as hostages not only because he wanted to ensure the trade of the valuable ribbon, but also because he had taken more than a shine to McFee?

There were the rumours that the Emperor tended to prefer the intimate company of men. That was commonly considered to be salacious gossip spread by his fractious political enemies, both within Constantinople and from as far afield as the city of Rome.

But perhaps it was not just gossip?

He doubted McFee even noticed.

***

The track was lined with magnificent bronze statues of famous horses and charioteers, tragically not one of which had survived in its entirety to the 21st Century. The Hippodrome was an imposing gallery of gods, emperors and heroes. Among them were famous works Professor Taylor could recognise, such as a Heracles by Lysippos, Romulus and Remus as suckled by their wolf, and the great Serpent Column, originally an ancient Greek sacrificial tripod still supporting its shining gold cauldron. But there were so many more that dazzled the eyes and stunned the senses. Beautiful purple hangings and rare tapestries hung in an opulence that could never be rivalled in modern times. The Hippodrome was the centre of the city’s social life and a locale of the all too rare occasions in which the Emperor and the common citizens could come together in a single venue.

Every morning, Professor Taylor felt ever more relieved that they had been able to put off their pending rescue. Each day offered more sensational discoveries and insights. Thankfully, he never felt threatened or unsafe. Not only was he accompanied with a modern warrior of few peers and was under the blessing of the Emperor of the greatest empire of the era, but they were also overseen by two Varangian Guard and a UAV that also kept a careful watch. The larger craft could hover higher than the great eagle that had destroyed its predecessor. Some thought the craft might hover much lower as it was too large for the eagle to take down, but nobody wanted to test the theory.

To have a second Unmanned Aerial Vehicle plunge to the streets of ancient Constantinople was not a stunt any wanted to repeat.

It was with a feeling of expectation that the Emperor’s party walked the covered walkway from Great Palace to the Kathisma, the Emperor’s opulent lodge at the eastern side of the Hippodrome track. The colonnaded and ornately carved entertainment and relaxation area ended with a private box that gave a spectacular view of the racetrack while the regal inhabitants could be viewed by the public in all their glory.

Marble benches were covered with pillows of deep red, while slaves and servants busily served foods and wine. Though the Emperor was the principal host, his brother, Constantine, also accompanied him. The antithesis of his short and more solidly built brother, Constantine was once tall and graceful but now, in his 50’s, looked bowed and soft. Professor Taylor had heard rumours that the grey-bearded Constantine was technically the co-emperor, though he did little more than enjoy life. Since the death of his wife some years before at childbirth, the co-emperor had left the business of ruling to his older, more capable brother. He was attended by his attractive, regal daughters, Theodora and Zoe, both of the Porphyrogenita, the purple chamber in which the truly royal were born, so the Travellers were surrounded by the Byzantine equivalent of Britain’s Royal Family. Zoe’s husband, Romanos, who the Travellers knew would one day be emperor himself, appeared bored, not only by the entire Royal display, but especially by his wife.

Merchants Leon and Florian, accompanied by Leon’s business partner Ergil, were plainly overwhelmed by the majesty of the occasion, which was to publicly celebrate the Emperor’s return and victory over the vile Bulgars. The citizens of the Great City had witnessed the riches looted from the feared enemy, seen the lines of wretched prisoners of a people the Empire had fought for generations, and then witnessed those same ragged men, blinded and bleeding, as they were led by a desperate man with only one remaining eye.

There had been little sympathy for their conquered foes. Many believed it a Christian mercy the Bulgars were permitted to even live.

The Byzantine Empire was healthy, wealthy, and safer than it had been in years. International trade was brisk and the people weren’t hungry, so they had faith in this strong Emperor who, for many, was the only Emperor they had known. So when Basil stood to the fore of their private viewing area the crowd roared their heartfelt approval. To make the event even more exceptional, cartloads of bread and sweets were tossed into the jubilant crowds in a manner similar to the Roman Emperors of old.

For they were the Rumi, the Romans, whose greatness stretched back almost two-thousand years.

Yes, thought Professor Taylor with satisfaction as he watched and surreptitiously recorded the spectacle, this was the best Traveller mission ever. Not only did they meet Emperor Basil, they had insinuated themselves into his inner circle. In preparation for their public appearance, the Emperor had gifted Professor Taylor with a tunic decorated with a hunting scene of lions and hounds in gold thread. Meanwhile, McFee was dressed in the imposing formal attire of a senior Byzantine military officer.

Chariots paraded with excessive pomp, the eight teams of four horses drawing the small chariots driven by the celebrity drivers who were treated with adulation. An orchestra on the La Spina at the centre of the track blared out popular tunes to which many in the audience clapped and sang. The long, narrow traffic island of La Spina was, in itself, a grandiose structure, decorated with statuary and obelisks pilfered from countless peoples through military victories that spanned the ages.

The academic had never witnessed such spectacle.

Below them sat many of the wealthy families who were also dressed to attract attention and envy. There were frequent covetous looks that bordered on resentment and outright hostility, looks that seemed to be mostly directed at himself and McFee.

As servants served delicacies, Leon and Florian took turns to explain. “Oh Lord Taylor, what a privilege,” exclaimed Leon of the leatherworkers guild. Professor Taylor most appreciated how the trader had taken their original party under his wing and nurtured their contacts in this great City. Though he would never miss the stench of the leather tanning works near their original residence, he had grown genuinely fond of the merchant. “Ridiculous amounts are being bet on these races,” Leon explained. “Once they were held every week, but not now.” He looked out at the crowds than buzzed with excitement in the carnival atmosphere. “The Emperor is a genius. This is just what the City needs and they have come out to give him their respect and love. Only four chariots originally took part in these races, each one sponsored and supported by a different Deme, which is a political party within the Roman Senate. Now, there are two chariots per Deme. See! Look over yonder. There are the Blues or Venetoi, the Greens or Prasinoi, the Reds or Rousioi, and the Whites or Leukoi. This is a celebration of the power of the Great City and the Emperor, so the old colours have been displayed for the sake of tradition and the celebration of his great victory. For the Rousioi and the Leukoi have, for some time, been absorbed by the other two major factions.”

They dipped bread into caviar. Resinated wine was served, which seemed particularly popular. The white wine into which pine resin had been dissolved tasted more like cough elixir, so Professor Taylor drank from his goblet with only a tiny sip at a time. It almost made him gag.

“So, the Emperor tends to favour the Blues, the Venetoi?” asked Professor Taylor.

Leon chuckled as he continued, “Only the Emperor knows whom he truly favours. Once it was important for the people to know, but in the case of our dear great Emperor, Basil the Younger, I doubt we will never know. If he had his own Deme, his own chariot would be out there.”

“I heard rumours of rivalry between the colours?” began Professor Taylor.

Leon only shrugged off the comment. “Yes, once. Once the factions had real power and paid the price for their arrogance. This does not matter now, not with this Emperor. He is strong and the people love him.”

“And he is also besotted, I should think,” added the ever flamboyant Florian with a nod of approval. He sucked in his breath as a servant brought around small bowls of Kaymak, where fresh buffalo cream had simmered for hours until a rich lather remained. When left to cool it was rolled into cylinders, spooned onto white bread, and drizzled with honey. As a desert it was heart-cloggingly glorious.

At Florian’s comment, Professor Taylor frowned as he looked to the Emperor, who seemed distracted. Beside him sat McFee, whom Basil the Bulgar-slayer watched with fascination, his blue eyes wide as he twirled his grey, bushy sideburns around his fingers.