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With a practiced eye, she surveyed the flotillas of short-oared galleys, crimson sails furled, drawn up on the slips of the harbor, their bronze beaked prows gleaming in the afternoon sun. Hundreds of merchantmen crowded the harbor as well, swarming with sailors, laborers, and a vast confusion of supplies, materiel, and men. Under the aegis of the walls, the wind died and the sailors aboard the Mikitis unshipped the long oars. The splashing of their first strokes was overborne by the sudden beat of a deep-voiced drum. Thyatis swung around on her perch and saw one of the galleys nose out of a shed built on the western rim of the harbor. Like a great hunting cat, it surged forth from concealment, a hundred oars on each side flashing in the sun like a thicket of spears. The drum beat a sharp tattoo and the ship leapt ahead as the oars, rising and falling as one, cut into the water.

The galley strode across the low chop of the harbor like a great water spider, each beat of the drum a stroke. The wicked shape, the glaring eyes on the prow, the unison of the rowers brought a lump to Thyatis’ throat. To command such a creature of war! she exulted. To be like a god, speeding across the waters… In too few moments the galley had crabbed out of the harbor and into the open waters of the Propontis. Sadly she gazed after it.

Within the half hour the Mikitis had slid into its assigned space at dock, and Nikos and the other men in Thyatis’ command were unloading all of their gear with practiced ease and speed. Thyatis had changed back into her nondescript garb, with the voluminous hood of her heavy cloak brought up, though now she had added a shirt of closely woven iron links underneath her other garb. The weight on her torso, and the close feeling of the padded cotton doublet that underlay it, gave her a comfortable feeling. Now that they were on land, she rationalized that its weight would not be a detriment. Besides, this was an unknown city-at least to her, though Nikos had been here before-and that meant it was more than usually dangerous. She moved through the crowd of men, speaking to them individually, double-checking that no one had forgotten anything.

Finishing her inspection brought her to the landward end of the dock and a young Imperial officer in a light boiled leather cuirass, a red cloak, and strapped leather boots. He wore a short fringe of beard in the eastern manner, though his hair was cropped short. He was peering down the dock while fidgeting nervously. A message pouch was slung over his shoulder and a bored-looking horse was tied up to a post on the dockside.

“Can I help you?” asked Thyatis, guessing that he had to be their guide into the city.

“Ah, well, perhaps… I’m looking for the centurion commanding this, ah, detachment. I have orders for him as well as quarters for his men.” He continued to peer past her, though she had moved to place herself directly in front of him. He suddenly turned to her, apparently seeing her for the first time. “Do you know which one he is? They all look kind of, well, scruffy.”

Thyatis smiled and pulled a leather orders pouch from one of the pockets on the inside of her cape. She handed it to him, flipping back the waxed cover. The sun flashed for a moment on the Imperial Seal and the smaller, though no less ornate, blazon of the house of Orelio.

“We all look scruffy* Optimate, it’s our job. I’m the centurion in command, Thyatis Julia Clodia.”

The optimate stared at her, the mill wheels in his head obviously jammed for the moment. His mouth opened, then closed. Then he shook his head and he made a short salute. “My pardon, lady, my brief did not include the gender of the commander. I apologize for any insult I may have given.”

Thyatis looked him up and down for a moment, theft shook her head. “I’m not in the mood for a duel today, and getting to quarters sounds pretty good. I’ve got twelve men instead of ten, will that be a problem?”

The optimate shook his head, relieved to have avoided a problem with the odd-looking Western officer. His tribune had taken great pains to impress upon him the necessity of keeping a steady ship with all the new crew aboard. Getting on the wrong side of a “special” unit was a quick way back to the farm with his head on a platter. He looked over the Western crew as they hauled what seemed to be an inordinate amount of kit up to the end of the dock. Their appearance did nothing to allay his sinking feeling that the junior officer had gotten the biggest hassle in this muster. None of the men was well kept at all; their beards were straggly or far too long. Their clothes were a jumble of rag pickings and armor, without any semblance of uniform. All of them had a villainous look, none more so than a quartet of short, bandy-legged men with long mustaches and slanting eyes. With a start the optimate realized that they were Huns, or at least Sarmatians.

Looking around, he realized that there was a serious problem. He turned partially away from the crew standing around behind the young woman, gesturing for her attention.

“Milady, I’m afraid that I was told that this was an infantry detachment-I didn’t think to bring any horse transport, or wagons, and your men have far too much to carry. Can I beg your indulgence to wait here for an hour or so while I round up something to carry your gear in?”

Thyatis tugged at one ear, glancing back over her shoulder at Nikos, who drifted toward them in his customary, silent manner.

“Well…” she said, dragging it out, “all this kit is awfully heavy to carry. I wouldn’t want to wear my men out, they have too much drinking and wenching to do later.”

She gently took the optimate by his elbow, her thumb digging into the pressure point behind it just enough to get his attention. Then she leaned close and whispered into his ear. “My men and I can carry this gear twenty miles in the hot sun without animals. Your city is barely two miles across. I think that we can make it. Now, if you’re too busy to give us directions, I’ll just let them follow their noses- they do have an instinct for finding someplace to stay, whether the locals like it or not.”

The optimate did not flinch, which bought him a point of favor with Nikos, who had come up on his other side. The Greek idly removed the orders from the waxed leather pouch at the young under-officer’s side and began leafing through them.

• “Ah… milady,” the optimate said, struggling to keep his voice even, “you misunderstand. My orders are to give you and your men all assistance in getting to your quarters and you to the staff meeting this evening. If you want to walk all the way to the…”

“… Palace of Justinian,” Nikos said, finishing his sentence. “The royal treatment, as it were.”

Thyatis grimaced at her second.

“What is it now,” she said, “a prison? Fallen down in ruins? They’re not going to put us up in a palace, for Hermes’ sake.” Nikos grinned and passed her the orders tablet. She read it over and shook her head in amazement, handing it back to him. The optimate sighed in relief as she let go of his elbo“w.

“We’d really better walk then,” Thyatis said with a resigned tone in her voice. “Best to get everyone settled down before they start breaking things.”

Martius Galen Atreus, Augustus Caesar Occidens, stood in the window embrasure of the suite of rooms that he occupied while in the Eastern capital. From the third floor of the Palace of Justinian, now commonly referred to as the “Other Palace,” he could see out over the rooftops of the Imperial precincts. The bulk of the “Great” Palace loomed almost due north, blotting out the skyline save for, beyond it in turn, the huge dome of the Temple of Sol Invictus. To the west the gardens filled the space between Justinian’s old brickwork palace and the rising wall of the Hippodrome. Beyond that the city, a vast teeming hive of people, three-, four-, and five-story apartment buildings, forums crowded with merchants, the great Mile Stone, and the rest of the sprawl of the Eastern capital. Leaning against the sill, Galen was stricken by an unaccustomed despair. By the count of his secretaries the precincts of the Constantinople held almost as many people as lived in Rome, Ostia, and their surrounding provinces. The plague had devastated Italy, but it seemed to have barely touched the East.