Year of the Dolphin

By Jeff Southard

Set in the fabled city of Constantinople in 1014, Year of the Dolphin introduces two most unlikely crime fighters. Justin is a midlevel bureaucrat in the treasury department, while his wife, Sophie, is the chief lady-in-waiting for Princess Zoe, daughter of one of the two reigning emperors. Investigating a murder and jewel theft in the palace, they are drawn into a mystery that is truly Byzantine in scope. The trail of the shadowy forces behind the events in the capital city, which broadens to include high-ranking court officials, eventually leads them to Jerusalem and even to Cairo, where they find themselves and the princess in mortal danger.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Page Publishing, Inc.
• Release date: Jul 9, 2019
• ISBN: 9781644626306

Book preview

Chapter One

Is he awake yet? said the kitchen maid to Philip, steward of the household.

No, Karakaza, I don’t believe he is, replied the gray-haired man. He got in rather late last night from his office. With his wife and daughter still visiting her sister, Master Justin has put in some long hours.

Probably lonely, ain’t he, said the cook. I mean, what with him and Mistress Sophia being married for some years now, it probably seems unnatural that she and the little one ain’t here.

That’s none of our concern, Mageiras, said Philip archly. What the master does or feels is his business and his business alone. Besides, his wife and daughter should be returning any day now—her niece is doing fine the last we heard.

I don’t mean no disrespect, Steward, said the cook. It’s just that it ain’t the same without the mistress and little Maria around—all of us downstairs feel it, don’t we, Karakaza?

That’s right, sir, we do, said the maid, a slender country girl of sixteen.

Ladies, I share your feelings, and that I know that Master Justin would appreciate your concern. He’ll be fine, I’m sure, once she gets back.

Once who gets back? said a voice in the hall. I hope you mean me, Steward, or has my husband taken up with a younger woman?

To the delight of the household staff, the speaker who emerged into the kitchen was indeed Sophia Cataphlates, wife of Justin, mother of Maria, and chief lady-in-waiting to Her Imperial Highness Princess Zoe. Now thirty-four, she still had the sparkling laugh and flashing eyes that had won her husband’s devotion fourteen years before, even if her form was not quite as slender as it was then. Among her many gifts was the ability to be at ease with both royalty and commoners, and the staff reciprocated with a loyalty that bordered on adulation.

So, Steward, how are things? Is everyone well? It looks like the same old place, Sophia said briskly.

Yes, Mistress, thank you, we are all very well. Actually, Mezezius, one of the gardeners, did fall out of tree and break his arm, but he’s healing well.

How’s the tree? Sophia continued in the same voice.

Why, I don’t know, Mistress, would you like me to check? said Philip. Only then did he see the twinkle in Sophia’s eyes, too late to avoid the sound of suppressed laughter from the maid and the cook.

There, there, Steward, that’s all right, Sophia said, patting him on the arm. You must permit me my little jokes. My sister’s husband is a worthy man, but he has absolutely no sense of humor, and I am starved for laughter. Speaking of starving, I didn’t eat before making the crossing over from Chalcedon on the ferry—seasickness, you know. Give me all the news while I have some of Mageiras’s excellent pastry!

So while Sophia ate, Philip brought her up-to-date on the doings in Constantinople, the capital of the empire and the greatest city in the western world. With her daughter, she had spent the last three weeks at the home of her sister Irene in Chalcedon across the Bosphorus Strait from Constantinople. While the city was visible across the narrow strait, she felt like she had been away for much longer. Along with Irene and her husband, James, Sophie had rejoiced in the birth of her first niece, an angelic girl named Leonida. It had not been an easy birth, however, and her sister needed assistance longer than anticipated. Now mother and daughter were doing fine, and Sophia was eager to resume her own life.

The news was mostly bad, for it is in the nature of good things to pass unnoticed and unmentioned until they either are gone or are replaced by less pleasant ones. As a result of the bad harvest last fall, bread prices were increasing amid much popular discontent. One of the domes on the Church of the Apostles had partially collapsed, although fortunately no one had been killed. Fighting continued in the Balkans with the Bulgarians, even in the absence of Emperor Basil, who was continuing his recovery in the palace from an injury suffered on the last campaign. All was quiet on the eastern frontier, where the Arabs posed no serious threat anywhere.

So, Mistress, that is all I know, concluded Philip. But where is Maria?

Oh, she is still outside, playing with the dogs. She really missed them. I only saw two though—where is Shadow?

I don’t know, Mistress, although she might be upstairs with Master Justin. The last I knew he was still asleep.

What? He is still here? I thought he would have gone to his office long ago? Is he sick?

No, Mistress, just very tired. He’s been putting in some long days lately—he says the budget needs a lot of work.

Exasperated, Sophia sighed, The budget, always the budget! That poor man—I must check on him at once. No, that’s all right, I think I still know the way.

Moving quickly, Sophia left the kitchen as the staff bowed, heading up the broad staircase of the upper level of their home. Modest by the standards of even midlevel imperial officials like Justin, who was deputy treasurer, it had nonetheless served them well. Both Justin and Sophia prized the garden that lay to the rear of the mansion, with its view of the Golden Horn and its many brightly colored ships. Slipping around the last door, she found her husband lying on the bed, with the sunlight shining on his balding head and their old staghound lying next to him. Lifting its head in recognition, it gave a yowl of pleasure.

Putting her finger to her lips, Sophia whispered, Quiet, Shadow! Yes, I’m home. Now be a good dog and hop down. There, that’s a good girl! She slid gently into the space unwillingly vacated by the dog and felt the comfort of putting her arm across her husband’s side, as she had done for many years.

Stirring slightly, Justin mumbled, Easy, girl. I’ll get up in a minute.

Smiling to herself, Sophia said nothing but instead gave what she thought was a passable imitation of a low growl.

Justin responded, Shadow, in a minute. Your master’s very tired. I have to get rested up before your mistress gets home. She’ll have a million things for me to do.

How dare you! Sophia cried, giving her husband a shove that send him tumbling off the bed. As he was falling, he grabbed her arm so that they both ended up in a pile of bed coverings on the floor.

You rascal! she said. You were awake all the time!

Yes, dear, I was. Welcome back! Further protestations on her part were quickly cut off by a long kiss, which was followed by several more in quick succession.

Finally, Justin was able to come up for air long enough to say, When did you and Maria get back? Sophia was not able to reply before Justin’s eyes widened when he realized how bright the room was, and he exclaimed, Oh, by Saint Demetrius, what time is it?

Late morning, dear, which you would have known if you were not sleeping the day away. Have a long day yesterday?

A long week is more like it. We all have, trying to get the imperial budget ready for approval before Emperor Basil returns to the Bulgarian campaign. I’ve got to get ready to go!

That’s all right, dear, Sophia said soothingly. I’ll only a need a few moments to get ready, and we can take the open carriage to the palace—it’s such a nice day. I’m sure Zoe is desperate to see me.

Truer words were never said! Not a day has gone by that I have not heard from her: ‘When is Sophia getting back? Can I do anything to help things along? Is everything all right?’ If for no other reason than that, I’m glad you’re back.

No other reason besides that? Sophia said with mock hurt in her voice. Well, at least someone appreciates me! she said as she hurled a pillow at her husband’s head, just missing his thinning hair.

Laughing, Justin took her hands and gave her one last long kiss. Don’t be silly, dear. Consider that as a down payment for later—now I must go—I have a meeting with the treasurer himself and I can’t be late.

Sophia’s eyes narrowed. Always another meeting, husband! Why don’t they just let you run things—it would go so much smoother. All right, why don’t you go downstairs, tell the coachman to get ready, get reacquainted with our daughter, and get something to eat. Just send my maid up and she’ll help me get dressed. It wouldn’t do to be seen at the palace in my traveling clothes! Shoo, shoo!

Soon Justin was having some fruit and bread and listening to Maria recount her trip. It had been Maria’s first trip on a boat, and unlike most Romans, she had no misgivings about the sea. Give her time, Justin thought, give her time.

And then Aunt Irene let me hold the baby, and she didn’t cry at all! Maria concluded triumphantly.

Not at all?

Well, not very much. Daddy, I want a sister! Can I have one?

Justin coughed and then said, Why don’t you talk to your mother about that.

Talk to me about what? Sophia said as she came downstairs, her dark hair pulled back and secured with an ivory clasp. She had changed to a blue and yellow gown that by most standards would outshine any woman in Constantinople, any woman that is except her royal mistress. As she often commented to Justin, while it was necessary for her to look the part of the chief lady-in-waiting, she could never outshine Zoe, who was the sun around which she and the other ladies-in-waiting revolved.

Uh, we’ll talk about it later, said Justin. In the meantime, Maria, I want you to spend some time with Philip and go over the book of saints’ lives you were reading before you left. Will you be a good girl and do that? Mommy and I have to go see our friends at the palace—that big building, you know?

All right, Daddy, you can read to me tonight. Give me a kiss. Bye! And with that, Maria skipped out the door.

No kiss for her mother, sighed Sophia. How quickly they grow up!

Here’s one to make up for it, said Justin, following through with his words. Shall we?

As the two went out the door, the household staff bowed in respect.

So begins another day in the greatest city in the world, murmured Justin to his wife, who smiled and replied, I wonder what today will bring?

Chapter Two

Soon the couple was riding in their large open carriage across the broad avenues of Constantinople. It was a sunny April day, bringing everyone to the streets. Their progress was slowed by the crowds, but neither one minded.

As they passed the many venerable structures, Justin thought with a smile how his first job in the city had been to make an index of all the city’s public buildings. Fresh from his home in Thessalonica, he had come to Constantinople at the age of eighteen, with nothing but high hopes and a letter of recommendation from his uncle to the man who was prefect of the city at the time, Romanus Phocas. A poorer relation of a great noble family, Phocas had chosen public service as a career and had been in office when Emperor Basil decreed that the large estates should be either broken up or heavily taxed. He had earned a reputation as someone who enjoyed furthering the careers of bright young men who, unlike he had done, were starting at the bottom. Only after completing the prefect’s assignment did Justin realize that it had been a test to see if he had the right makeup and background for imperial service. Though it had now been sixteen years, he found he could still name off the many buildings without even really looking. Since they had just passed the church of St. Polyeuktos, the Aqueduct of Valens had to be next, then the Forum of Theodosius, then…

Naming the buildings, dear? Sophie whispered in his ear. Are they all still here?

Justin smiled and patted her hand. Yes, they are, and we’re coming to your favorite one now, the Mese. What would the merchants of the city do without you?

Oh you, don’t exaggerate! I’m sure there are some I don’t know.

Given the reception they received as they rode past the many stalls filled with merchandise, however, a neutral observer could well doubt the truth of that statement. Truly, the Mese was the world’s marketplace, and the wealth of nations was on display. Here were the metal dealers—gold, silver, bronze, copper—while further on were the sellers of ivory, leather, silk, and jewels. Down one side street were the merchants of household items like lamps, vases, embroideries, and rugs, while on the next wine, spices, and bread were available. No matter the item, though, their passing universally evoked the same response, as many voices greeted Lady Sophia and implored her to stop and inspect their wares. Her response to each was a smile and a wave, which continued even as Justin leaned forward and told the coachman to keep driving.

Finally, the market ended, as they approached the Hippodrome on one side and the soaring bulk that was Hagia Sophia, the Church of Holy Wisdom, on the other. Once past the Senate and law courts, it was a short drive to the Chalke Gate on the north end of the palace complex. So called for its bronze doors, the gate was surmounted by a giant icon of Christ Pantokrator, whose visage was stern even as his right hand was lifted in blessing. Justin helped Sophie alight from the carriage, and the two strode through the entry hall, walking under mosaics of Justinian and Theodora that still gleamed five centuries after their creation.

The buildings of the Great Palace formed an interconnected maze that was over a mile in length and contained individual structures that dated from the time of Constantine seven hundred years before. When Justin first came to Constantinople, it had taken him months to find his way around. He still remembered those days with fondness, for it was on one of his (many) lost trips that he came across a garden where the most beautiful woman he had ever seen was reading to a merely attractive woman wearing a tiara. The former was Sophie, the latter was Her Imperial Highness Princess Zoe. The woman reading looked up for a moment from her book, their eyes met, and she smiled. He hoped he had time to smile back before he was forcibly ejected by two of the biggest eunuchs he had ever seen. While formal introductions had to wait for later, that was when it all started.

While access to those areas used by the imperial family was still strictly restricted, both Justin and Sophie now enjoyed access to most of the entire complex by virtue of their positions and connections. In addition to limiting access, protocol was strictly enforced, based on one’s rank, and dictated how greetings were made. Justin, despite his years in royal service, was still a midlevel official, as Sophie now reminded him.

Where do you stand in the latest rankings, dear? she said slyly.

Justin, all too familiar with this line of inquiry, shook his head and simply said, One hundred forty-one rank higher than me, so I’m on the lookout for 143.

Well, maybe today will be your lucky day. There certainly are a lot of people here, even more than usual.

Justin nodded. Yes, we have a visiting delegation from the land of the Rus. Judging from their beards and fur hats, they would be the group over there. He nodded to them as they passed, commenting Sbogom (God bless you), and received polite greetings in return.

Very impressive, Sophie said. When did you learn their language?

Well, we had Bulgar servants when I was growing up in Thessalonica, so I learned Bulgarian then. Turns out that the speech of the Rus isn’t much different.

The next group they passed was easily distinguished by their Western garb, so it was not surprising to hear them speaking Italian. Justin exchanged Buon giornos and Ciaos with them, and then commented to Sophie in a lower voice, Venetians here to talk with the prefect about trading privileges. The only people they dislike more than us are the Genoans.

After passing the usual gaggle of senators, guards, court officials, and servants, the next group of men proved to be considerably more exotic. There were about a dozen of them, headed by a distinguished looking older man with a flowing white beard. While he was the most richly dressed of the group, they all wore flowing robes of a type not usually seen in Constantinople, and Sophia guessed immediately that they were Muslims. This was confirmed when Justin, with a bow and a flourish, said Salaam followed by a melodious, albeit incomprehensible, string of words. The party immediately stopped, chatted for a minute or two, and then moved on. Sophie merely smiled and nodded, but her quick eyes took in everything.

After they did, Sophie took Justin’s arm and said, All right, never mind how you know Arabic, or whatever that was. Did you notice anything odd about that meeting?

Puzzled, Justin shook his head. No, apart from the fact that I just cordially greeted a group of people whose ancestors took a good portion of the empire away from us and who currently consider us to be infidels. Apart from that, what?

All right, who was the leader, the man you spoke with?

That was Ahmed al-Zubayr, the ambassador of the Fatimid caliph of Egypt. He is here with his retinue to complete the work on a new treaty with our Emperors.

The caliph of Egypt—isn’t he the one who tore down the Church of the Holy Sepulchre in Jerusalem? That one?

Justin looked around to see if anyone was in earshot and then said quietly, Yes, but he has apparently now repented and wants to make amends, which is why the delegation is here. But what is your issue?

Oh, you silly, Sophie said. Didn’t you see how the entire group moved? It wasn’t that they followed the ambassador—they were gauging their moves by looking at the young man next to the ambassador—the one wearing the yellow robe. Isn’t that strange?

Justin frowned, and then said, I did notice how he was staring at me the entire time, but what of it? He may have been new to our ways.

Perhaps, husband, but I did not care for the way he was looking at you. It was like he was sizing you up for something else.

Justin shook his head and smiled a little smile. Oh, dear, how observant you are. What would I do without you?

Sophie pulled back her head and laughed. Oh, probably find some blonde German princess! Then noticing the next group ahead of them, she said, All right, one more to go—who are these people?

She motioned in the direction of a cluster of people standing off to one side of the ceremonial hall, which they were passing through. It adjoined the formal throne room and was one of the largest and oldest rooms in the entire palace. The people in the group had just come out of the throne room as if they were being given a tour. In fact, they were, with no less than the prefect of the empire, Leo Comnenus, as their guide. In his position as deputy treasurer, Justin’s dealings with him had been limited but cordial. Like his predecessor, Romanus Phocas, who had been Justin’s sponsor, Comnenus was from a noble family. However, he was considerably richer, although without substantial holdings in Asia Minor. Justin had wondered about the choice when it was made and had confided to Sophie his belief that it represented an attempt by Emperor Basil to keep an eye on a potential rival. Nonetheless, Comnenus had consistently supported and enforced the imperial land taxation and redistribution policy, even when it affected himself and his family.

Seeing Justin and Sophie, the prefect motioned for them to come over and be introduced. The men in the group were wearing turbans around their heads and wore long robes with belts that held jeweled daggers. The women were clad in flowing silk gowns that immediately caught Sophie’s practiced eye. They bowed to the couple, who bowed back as the prefect said, Deputy Treasurer, I would like to introduce a delegation who has come to us from the far reaches of India, from a city called Kalkut. They seek trading privileges in the empire for their goods, which include green jewels of a brilliant type.

At this, Justin bowed again, placing his hands together, and said, Namaste. This produced smiles all around from the delegation, who reciprocated.

The prefect looked pleased, if somewhat confused, and concluded by saying, They are to be our guests at the royal banquet tomorrow, which I am sure you will be attending. Until then, we need to be moving along.

Only after they had walked for a few steps away from the group did Sophie say, ‘Namaste’? Come on, that was just showing off. Do you speak their language too?

Justin laughed and said, Oh, you know me—the original polyglot. Actually, the language is called Hindi, and you’ve just heard my total vocabulary. One of the customs officials who has traveled in the East told me it means ‘hello,’ or something along that line. Their arrival in the city has created quite a stir.

Apart from what sounded like Humph, Sophie had no further comment until she said, I’m surprised that the prefect has the time to conduct palace tours, whatever you think of him.

Justin frowned and replied, No, he probably doesn’t. There is more to this than meets the eye. We should keep that in mind in the future, my sweet.

They soon came to the portion of the palace reserved for the quarters of the royal family. Zoe, as princess imperial, had her residence in the suite called the Porphyra, so named for the abundance of purple silk hangings and even purple marble. After serving in such a place for fifteen years, Sophie had developed a hearty dislike for the color, and forbade it to be displayed anywhere in her own house. Access was limited by decree and enforced by the presence outside of members of the emperor’s own personal guards. Known as Varangians, they were entirely composed of Vikings who had come to the city they called Mikkelgard in search of employment as mercenaries. Admission standards were high, and the men’s loyalty was unquestioned. The fact that they stood on average about half a foot higher than the Romans added to their overall impression, as did the shoulder-length blond braids in their hair and the long, single-bladed axes they carried everywhere.

As always, two were on guard outside the door where Sophie would take her leave of Justin. Deciding the time had come for her own little surprise, Sophie turned to the Varangian on the left and said, Godr dag, Hedman. Ek bida yovarr wel? (Good day, Captain. I hope you are well?)

With no change of expression but with a slight bow, the blond giant responded, Ek fagha vel, snotte. Yovar all kyn. Beste gesornd. (I am well, lady. You are very kind. Be of good health.)

Bakka mjok, Hedman. (Thank you much, Captain.)

Justin observed this interchange with a wry expression on his face, and then said, Well, well. I guess I deserved that. That’s a handy talent to have, isn’t it? Since when did you know Viking?

Sophie smiled. It’s called Norse, dear husband, and yes, it does come in useful when I don’t want others to know what is being said. Now run along and keep the empire going—I’ve got a lot of catching up to do here. With that, she gave him a peck on the cheek and swept into the outer chamber, with the door closing silently behind her.

Chapter Three

Justin walked on, past the old throne room built by Heraclius, then a newer one constructed by Basil I, the founder of the dynasty of which Basil II and Constantine VIII were the latest members. After going outside through a majestic garden containing numerous fountains, he finally came to the Treasury complex, made up of two adjoining buildings which had originally been the residential areas of Leo III and his descendants three hundred years before. It was hard not to be aware of the history, given the number of mosaics of the Leonine dynasty that were all around. Leo III had been an iconoclast, as every good orthodox Roman knew, and while he was remembered for having saved the empire from the last siege by the Arabs, he was more often reviled for having waged war against the religious pictures which the common people revered. More than once, Justin had found this ironic, given the number of times Leo, his son Constantine V, and the rest of the dynasty apparently had not been troubled by having their own pictures preserved in stone.

As befitted an empire that was expanding and for the most part peaceable, the Treasury department had expanded so much over the years of Basil’s rule that it now required the work of over four hundred people. Including the tax assessors and collectors throughout the entire realm, the number employed was over two thousand, although most of those men never saw Constantinople in their lives. When Justin was appointed deputy treasurer eight years before, he had been promoted over men who had been there for decades. As a result, the first few months had been difficult, compounded by the sudden death of his first child, Paul, who died after fighting pneumonia for several weeks. While the light in his life went out for a while after that, his recovery had been helped by the support of his staff and employees, who rallied around him and Sophie. Now, he was the unquestioned leader of the Treasury, despite his title.

Justin approached the entrance to the offices and was saluted by the Varangians who stood at attention. While he thought for a moment about repeating some of the phrases he had just heard Sophie say, he decided that discretion was called for and merely nodded. The first man to greet him inside, as he expected, was his chief assistant, Alexis. Alexis was of an indeterminate age, due to his smooth, bald head and his equally hairless face. Justin had often intended to ask him how old he was but always decided that it was none of his business, as was the persistent gossip about Alexius’s life as a eunuch. Either way, Alexius was worth his weight in gold, despite a sharp tongue which he never hesitated to display. His ability to work with numbers was unparalleled.

Good to see you, Chief, Alexius drawled. Glad that you could make it in today.

Always good to be here, Alexius. What is the current situation?

Your ‘junior’ assistants are in the conference room, ready to go over the final budget with you, as you instructed.

Justin ignored the jibe and said, Very well, you may attend, and stay silent.

Alexius nodded and said, sotto voce, As if that will ever happen.

Enough, Alexius, enough, the day is just getting started.

They entered the conference room which was adorned in good iconoclastic manner with mosaics of antelopes, deer, peacocks, and other more fantastic animals, along with extensive foliage. Around the table were seated his six assistants, one for each of the principal taxation sources for the budget—land, head, hearth, commerce, guild, and franchise. They were all older than he, but he had, through hard work and insight, won their respect over the preceding years. So it was with a great deal of trust and confidence that he was able to address them, Good day, gentlemen. It is time to make some decisions, which may be difficult but nonetheless must be made. I trust you have all been able to confirm your numbers with Alexius and can stand by them today?

Seeing only nods, Justin continued. Very well, let us commence. First, the land tax, proceed. Each official then went through his numbers—land tax (based on agricultural production), head (each person in the empire paid something), hearth (chimney), 10 percent value-added tax on all commercial sales, guild fees, and franchise licenses. With one exception, they all reported significant increases, with only the land tax declining. Justin shook his head, for it seemed that they had this same discussion every year—why, in an empire whose population had significantly increased in the last twenty years, had the land tax revenue gone down in the last four years?

All right, gentlemen, thank you for your reports. Once again, what is the problem with the land tax proceeds? Thoughts, anyone? How about you, Paul?

It would have been natural for the assistant whose area was the land tax to be defensive in such a situation, but he had worked with Justin too long to take the question personally. Paul responded, Well, Deputy Treasurer, I have given this some thought, as I am sure we all have. It occurs to me that perhaps we have overlooked something. We know that the total acreage under cultivation has increased greatly since the year 960, but does it necessarily follow that all that area is in the tax base? For example, the monasteries—aren’t they exempt from tax?

Justin thought for a moment, then shook his head. Yes and no—they don’t pay the land tax, but they render services like providing hospitals, orphanages, and leprosariums. Besides, their holdings aren’t that large, and very few new ones have been established in the time period we’re talking about.

All right, Paul countered, is it possible that the land records haven’t been updated? From the regulations, it’s quite clear that land which is farmed for crops is assessed at one level per acre, while orchards, vineyards, and grazing lands are assessed at other rates, some higher, some lower. If we are assessing land which is being farmed at the rate for grazing land, we’re shortchanging the empire.

Impressed, Justin said, That may be very true. For all I know, some of these records could be two centuries out of date. Alexius, please have some clerks check on this. Let’s focus on one of the themes in Asia Minor, say, Paphlagonia.

Alexius nodded and left the room for a moment before returning.

Going on, Justin said, But, Paul, even if what you say is borne out, that would have been a problem for decades. We are seeing a change that is happening now, just during the past few years. I’m afraid this alone can’t be the answer.

Not to be deterred, Paul went on. Very well, what about land on which back taxes have not been paid. That’s termed klasmatic property, right?

Justin nodded. Correct, but so what?

That land is controlled by the state and is farmed by tenants, right?

Still correct, but where is this going?

Just that we don’t know how much land is being so held—that doesn’t come under any of our departments, does it?

Andronicus, the assistant in charge of the guild fees, said, That’s right. About four years ago that was split off into a separate department, the Genikon. It’s not even in the palace, it’s in the hall of records. The more land that goes there, the more revenue we don’t see.

Refusing to accept such a simple answer, Justin remained stubborn. All right, but there are three problems with that. First, why would there have been a sudden increase in such holdings—tax defaults have gone down, haven’t they? In normal years, we never see more than two out of one hundred default. Sure, it goes up in hard times, like drought or invasion, but we haven’t had any of those. Has there been a crop failure or famine that I haven’t heard of? I don’t think so. Second, land is held in klasmata for at most three years—it’s supposed to be sold as soon as possible, with preference given to veterans and those who have never owned land before. Finally, the Genikon may be a separate department, but it reports to the treasurer too, just not through us.

Suddenly a seed of doubt was planted in Justin’s mind—reports to the treasurer too—and his eyes narrowed. Very well, Paul. I will take this up with the treasurer himself when I meet with him later today. To summarize, the empire remains in excellent fiscal health, even with the expenses of the army and navy. The budget remains at seven million solidi, and the surplus, even with the tax cuts, will be approximately two hundred thousand pounds of gold. Agreed?

Seeing head nods all around, Justin concluded by saying, As always, I would like to express my appreciation for all your hard work, particularly that of Alexius. His proficiency with the new number system has made the final calculation process much faster and more accurate. Who would have thought that we actually owe the Arabs thanks for something? Amid general laughter, he concluded, Don’t worry, I won’t tell the patriarch. Oh, there is one more thing—despite the tax reductions we’ve talked about, there is a group of great landowners from Asia Minor who has requested an audience with the emperors tomorrow to petition that they are still paying too much. Amid a general rolling of eyes around the table, Justin went on, I’ve been asked to attend with the treasurer. Does anyone want to go in my place? No? I thought so. Well then, this meeting is concluded.

As they were filing out, Alexius came up to Justin with a look of genuine happiness on his face. Thanks, Chief, I didn’t know you cared.

Justin lowered his voice and said, I really don’t, but I’ll keep it quiet, followed by a grin and a wink. Now the fun starts. Please see if the treasurer has graced us with his presence, and if not, let me know when he does.

Will do, Chief.

Justin went into his office and sat at his worktable made of mahogany with a marble top. From the window, he had a fine view of the southern part of the city and could, on a clear day, see the tops of the towers on the land walls several miles to the west. On the left was the Boukouleon Harbor, and the ever-changing assemblage of ships of all sizes and nations never lost its fascination for him. Thus lost in reverie, he was pulled back to reality by Alexius’s voice announcing that the treasurer was ready to see him.

Michael Taronites had been treasurer of the empire for four years, having previously served as magistros of records. He came from an old, very rich family and his great uncle had actually been emperor for six years when Basil and Constantine were very young, having married their widowed mother. Like most men of his class, Taronites was related by blood and marriage to numerous other families and moved easily in the highest circles of Roman society. While only fifty-two, he was overweight and walked with a limp, the result of a childhood fall from a horse. Justin did not think the treasurer was personally corrupt, just that the man was indifferent to his duties. However, since this let him effectively run the department, Justin had no objections. Justin had always found the man to be easygoing but had not been able to form any real insights into the treasurer’s character.

On his way to the treasurer’s office, a grand affair that had once served as a receiving hall for Emperor Justinian’s immediate successors, Justin mused, Let’s see if this meeting goes like most of ours have. First, he’ll ask me how I am and then my family. Second, he’ll listen to me outline the situation, listening attentively and occasionally nodding gravely. Third, he’ll bring up one or two minor points and then agree with whatever I’ve submitted to him.

Good day to you, Deputy Cataphlates, I trust you are well today? the treasurer intoned in his rich baritone voice.

Here we go, Justin thought as he automatically replied, Fine, fine, as is my family, thus saving the treasurer a follow-up question. The next steps went as expected, and the interview was coming to an end when Justin remembered to ask about the klasmatic land issue. He started by reiterating the land tax shortfall issue and concluded by inquiring about the status of the Genikon department’s report and asking to see a copy.

The response he got was unexpected. After absorbing the import of Justin’s request, Taronites responded with more emotion than Justin had ever heard in his voice. Out of the question, Deputy, out of the question! As treasurer, I know that there are matters in that report which are of a very sensitive nature, and as such are for my eyes only, along with Their Majesties themselves, of course. You should confine yourself to your duties and your duties alone. You have a reputation for asking many questions, and while I know you and your wife have done certain services for the empire in the past through your inquiries, you are out of bounds here. Do I make myself clear?

Taken aback, Justin could only respond, Of course, Treasurer, of course. I meant no disrespect. I will not bring up the subject again.