The Byzantine Wager

Chapter 27 - The Catspaw Wants Scratch

Chapter 27

The Catspaw Wants Scratch

Stephen Hagiochristophorites was a member of the Emperor's entourage, but he was not yet of sufficient station to be permitted to watch the races from the excellent vantage point of the kasthima. Nor was he amongst the lesser minions who orbited the Basilius - the secretaries and government ministers - for he stood apart from them like a vulture among peacocks. Black hair, black clothing, black mood - a brooding presence among the brightly colored robes of office and outlandish headdresses worn by the court. However, unlike a vulture with its hooked beak, Stephen Hagiochristophorites' nose was completely absent, having been cut off years ago as a punishment. Twin holes between his mouth and eyes had turned his face prematurely into a skull. He was a figure of death hovering around the court. A parvenu who spoke with contempt, acted with impunity, and made everyone uncomfortable. Everyone except for the Emperor - in whose favor he was held high. For when the emperor needed daggers in the dark, it was Stephen Hagiochristophorites who wielded the blade.

Currently the only post which Stephen officially held was the military position of epitou stratou - which really meant that he had been responsible for setting up camp for the army of mercenary archers who had been such a large part of their force when Andronikos had entered the city in March. It was a job for which he had neither experience nor interest, and the pay was, in his opinion, abysmal. In any event the archers had not needed a supervisor to oversee their camp and Stephen had been busy helping Andronikos secure his position after his arrival.

There were some political opponents who could not be executed like those who were about to die between the races here today. They were simply too powerful or had too many family connections. In these cases Andronikos would mention to Stephen that someone had to go. He would quietly speak to him alone, often a simple sentence - something like, "Gregory Xiphilinos needs to visit Jesus." Then a few days later Stephen would slit the man's throat in a public latrine.

Stephen assumed that the estate of the dead-man in question would be confiscated by the Emperor, but... he did not know for sure if that was the case. The bureaucracy was so tedious and none of them would tell him in any event. If the estates went to the imperial coffers, no funds had trickled down to him for these favors. Whenever he ever brought it up in his - all too brief - moments with the Emperor he got a sympathetic smile, and a reminder to be patient - had not the Emperor himself been in prison and living on the charity of strangers without an obol for years? "God's reward for loyalty was at hand, but the treasury had to be set to rights - for the Empire." Until then Stephen had to survive on the laughable honorarium of an epi tou stratou - the empty title did not even grant him access to the kasthima.

Forced to stand in the common area ringing the track, he leaned on a pillar, and picked his teeth with a whittled bone. Serving the Emperor involved a great deal of waiting. At least there was shade here. Down below among the mass of attendees he could hear some oafish country bumpkin with atrocious Greek calling for bets at the top of his lungs. Inside. Amongst the seating. Uncouth foreigners. To be sure gentlemen would bet in the stands - amongst friends. They would not, however, yell like a fisherman's wife hawking the day's catch. There was din enough with food vendors - even a toymaker had set up a table and was trying to sell carved wooden chariots and horses to those able to afford them for their children. Stephen felt like telling the hick to take his noisy betting outside, but the fellow looked troublesome and he had with him a thuggish companion. The wager which this fresh-off-the-boat yokel was calling for was every bit as ludacris as he was - betting even money that the sixth team in the final race would place first. Some people nearby had taken up and gambled against him. An old man with a walking stick was to hold the coin as escrow. As always Stephen was short of coin.