Fall of Empires

Chapter 27

The cheering rang out around the great caldron of the hippodrome, louder and louder until the very air inside the venerable stadium seemed to throb with the passion of the mob. It was a hot late-spring day and the turn out for the races had been such that not a single space could be seen in the stands. A solid mass of seething humanity bellowed out their expectation. It was remarkable, Nicetas thought to himself as he leaned on the marble balustrade of the imperial box, sweating beneath his heavy ceremonial cloak, that the people could be so easily distracted from the grim news of the day. Yet here they were, seemingly with no other care in the world than the latest instalment in the unending rivalry of Green and Blue. Nicetas shook his head as he pondered the fickleness of his countrymen, stroking his thin bronze-coloured beard and running his hand through his short-cropped hair. In the corridors of the imperial palace behind him and away to the east, men contemplated the waging of wars and the fall of empires. Here however, for this afternoon at least, there was no concern other than who would triumph in this latest clash of two charioteers whose names had been on every wagging tongue in the streets and markets of Constantinople ever since their last meeting.  

That final race of the last meeting held in the hippodrome a month previously was already spoken of by all who had been there to witness it as an event of legendary proportions. It had produced the closest finish that anyone could remember. So close had the teams of the Green charioteer Tiberius and the Blue charioteer Photius been as they had rounded the final turn and made the last lung-bursting charge for the line that no man could say who had won. There had been not a head, not even a nose between the two. The charioteers themselves had looked askance at the officials who had looked at each other and shrugged whilst in the stands angry exchanges between rival supporters had swiftly developed into flying fists as no man had been prepared to concede that the victory may have gone to the opposition. At last soldiers had been sent into the stands to break up the fights and send the crowd on their way. In the imperial box there had been nervous glances all around. It had been almost a century since the terrible Nika Riots had broken out in this very stadium but their memory still haunted the rulers of the empire. On that day the factions had put aside their differences and united, calling for the overthrow of their emperor and then running riot through the city which had burned for three days before the insurrection had been brutally put down. On this occasion however they had had no ambition beyond breaking each other's heads. 

Now the crowds were assembled once again for the rematch and even Nicetas for all his cares felt a tingle of excitement as he allowed himself to enjoy the occasion. There had been little enough opportunity for simple pleasures since he had returned to Constantinople some months before in abject defeat, having abandoned the city of Alexandria to the Persian invaders and with it all of Egypt. His fleet had slunk into the Golden Horn by night, bringing all the gold and precious relics that could be salvaged from the city. The next day the news that Egypt had been lost had been met with consternation on the streets of the capital where even the most dull-witted of plebeians understood that most of the grain that filled his belly came from that province. Prices were already on the rise and had swiftly spiralled out of control as further news came that a vast army of the fearsome Avars had crossed the River Ister and was ravaging its way towards the city, destroying everything in its path.  

Panic had been in the air and riots had threatened. Nicetas had written in desperation to his cousin the emperor; recently returned from his successful campaign against the Persians to the safety of Trebizond on the Euxine coast. Nicetas had begged Heraclius' forgiveness for the abandonment of Egypt and had implored him to return to Constantinople and calm his people by his presence. Having received this missive from the hand of the Empress Martina, who had travelled east to join Heraclius for the winter, the emperor had declined to return and had instead appointed Nicetas as Master of Soldiers and charged him with the safeguarding of the capital.