Anagathios nodded in the affirmative and pointed off into the pile of bedrolls and kit.

“Go get it,” she said, slapping the side of his head affectionately. “I’ve work for you to do before evening comes.”

The Syrian sprang up from his crouch and then fairly bounded away into the gloom to the rows of packs. Thyatis shook her head in amusement. She turned back to Nikos, but her face was concerned now. He knew that face. It was the mission face.

“Do we have anyone that speaks Valach well? I mean really well.”

Heraclius, Augustus Caesar Oriens, looked down the long marble table with something akin to disgust in his heart. Though his impassive face showed none of the growing rage within him, his eyes were beginning to betray his temper. Theodore, sitting at his side and a little lower, nudged his arm gently and shook his head. Heraclius sighed; his impetuous younger brother was the one he was supposed to keep in check, not the other way around. To his left hand, in watchful silence, sat the Western Emperor, Galen, his Legion commanders, and a few underofficers and couriers. To his right, in loud confusion, milled the thematic commanders, their aides, in two cases their concubines, and a constant procession of underlings. Of them, only Mikos Andrades, the drungaros of the fleet, showed any sign of organization or respect.

At last, Heraclius rose, his face carefully ordered, and tapped loudly on the tabletop with the hilt of his dagger. The sharp sound rang off the marble and through the whole long chamber. Some of the Eastern commanders looked around and, grudgingly, began seating themselves. After almost ten minutes there was something approaching quiet in the room. Heraclius looked them over slowly.

The comparison between the richly attired and bejeweled Eastern commanders, each a Duke or better, commanding thematic provinces from Egypt to Anatolia, with their beards and long curled hair, and the little collection of Romans on the opposite side of the table grated on Heraclius. The Eastern Empire had not been ravaged with plague, invasion, and civil war like the West, yet for all the robust survival of the East, the Western officers carried themselves better, were politer, and more… Roman… than the rabble that Heraclius had struggled to lead for the last five years.

“Gentlemen,” he said at last, “today we are to discuss the planning and execution of the greatest Roman military expedition in almost two hundred years. The specifics of our intent have been discussed with all of you separately, either in person or by letter, so I will not belabor them.

“I will, however, formally- introduce my counterpart in the west, the Augustus Martius Galen Atreus, who stands together with me today as no Emperors of East and West have done since the time of Constantine the Great. We are of like mind, we see that a bold stroke is necessary to resolve the threats to the Eastern Empire…”

This was too much for one of the Dukes, and Theoplanes surged to his feet, shouting.

“Bold! Reckless and suicidal is more like it! What of Thrace and Achaea, which lie under the Avar yoke? What of the army of barbarians that besiege this city? What of the Persian army encamped within sight of this palace, across the waters in Chalcedon? You have had bold plans before, Augustus.Caesar, but they have been failures, expensive failures!”

Heraclius surveyed the crowd of nobles and officers, ignoring the ranting of the Thracian duke for the moment. Theophanes was right; past efforts to drive back both the Persians and the Avars had been disasters. In his heart, Heraclius wondered if the entire Eastern Empire was cursed, or if, at least, he was. His support among the remaining nobles was very slim, which was only one of many reasons that he was very glad that Galen and the Westerners were in the city. Not only did Galen’s Legions give him troops that would support him personally, but also they showed the citizens of the city, as well as the nobles, that he was still Emperor.

“Lord Theophanes, sit. I know what has happened before. I know the setbacks we have suffered. But the state of affairs remains this: The Avars cannot take the city unless they can bring a fleet against us. They have neither the skills nor the facilities to build ships to match ours. This means that the only way they can take the city is if the Persians are able to cross the Propontis. The only way to cross the Propontis is if the Persians have a fleet. Though the Royal Boar sits in Chalcedon in my Summer Palace, eating figs from my orchards and drinking wine from my vinyards, he does not have a fleet. If, however, the Persians take Antioch, or Tyre, or Alexandria from us, then they could build one. So, the Persians are the true enemy. If they are defeated, then we can turn against the Avars and run them back into Dacia with their tails between their legs.”

Theophanes was still standing, but the vehemence in Heraclius’ voice had stilled him, and his courtiers, in low whispers, urged him back to his seat. Eventually, with the air of bestowing a great favor, he did so. Well, Heraclius thought sourly, that is past at least… He tapped Theodore on the shoulder. The Prince rose, bowed to the Western Emperor, nodded to the Legion officers and ignored the Eastern nobles. With the assistance of one of his aides, he unfolded a long parchment map on a wooden frame, then took his place beside it.

“My lords, this is the eastern half of the Empire, from Pontus Polemoniacus in the north on the Sea of Darkness to Arabia Felix in the south on the Sinus Arabicus. As my brother has alluded, the Persians have thrown their armies forward to Chalcedon in the west and Antioch in the south. By good fortune their advance south against Palestina and thence to Egypt has been halted for the past nine months by the presence of the Shahr-Baraz here, beyond the Propontis. We expect, however, for this to change soon. Luckily for the continued grain supply of the city, the approaches to Egypt are blocked by our allies, the kingdoms of Palmyra and Nabatea.“

Theodore paused and glanced aside at his brother. Her-aclius shook his head minusculely and the Prince skipped forward over that part of the plan. “Our forces have almost completed gathering here, in the western end of the Eastern Empire. Once the muster is complete, we will leave the city by ship under the cover of darkness. Now, our spies in Chalcedon and the ports of the East have circulated that our intent is to sail an expedition north, into the Sea of Darkness, past Sinope, to Trapezus. From there, this purported expedition will march south, gathering the support of the Armenians and cutting off the Persian armies that are still to the west of this line of advance. By this means we could force the Persians to abandon all of Anatolia and Cilicia.”

The Eastern lords were abuzz now, for this very plan had already been related to them by their spies as well as by various officers of the Imperial Court. It had made good sense, and for this reason they had agreed to meet with the Emperor. Now, however, it seemed that the plan would be changed. None stood, however, to put the question to the Prince.

Theodore waited until they subsided before continuing. “This will not be our plan. Despite the long alliances that the Empire has held with the kingdoms of Armenia and Lazica, they are unwilling to join us in this campaign. The state, frankly, is too poor to bribe them, and we do not have the men to spare in fighting our way through the mountains. We will use a different axis of attack. Both Emperors are united in the belief that only way to defeat the Persians is to strike against their heartland, the provinces between the city of their.capital at Rayy and Ctesiphon. It is not enough to defeat their armies, though we will surely have to do that as well, but we must capture their centers of religious and political power.“