Traveller Manifesto

10. Constantinople – 11th Century.

Over the days since the remainder of the Travellers had departed, Professor Taylor felt strangely free. They had been informed of their teammates’ safe passage by radio. Poxon, who had been leading the team, said they were compelled to fabricate a tale to convince their Byzantine Cavalry escort to leave. They then met McAlister and Erol on the road and hiked with their heavily laden donkeys to the Area of Convergence. Their commander, Major Osborne, had met them and they were promptly Transported with their impressive load of precious trade goods. The shipment was meant as a sign of good faith to stimulate trade between their mythical home of Aengland, alleged source of the ribbon, and the guilds of Constantinople. The giving of gifts was a calculated move. After all, Florian of the textile guild and their host Leon of Hadrianopolis, the leather merchant, planned to enhance their fortunes and prestige with the ribbon they expected to access through their new friends.

But despite his initial feelings of guilt at their duplicity, Professor Taylor had to concede that the kind hospitality as shown by their hosts and sponsors was not without its reward. Even if they never received any shipments of ribbon, through the inadvertent influence of the Travellers, the two businessmen had been confirmed as Friends of the Court by the Emperor Basil himself. Such a nomination would ensure their membership in the trading elite of one of the richest civilisations Europe would ever experience.

Their host, Emperor Basil II, dubbed by modern scholars as Basil the Bulgar Slayer, was a grim, short man in his 50’s and was unlike anything Professor Taylor imagined of medieval rulers. In an age known for the pomp of its kings, this emperor lived like a Spartan. There was nothing glamorous about him. His speech was plain and his manner abrupt and direct which, the academic suspected, made him appear particularly coarse in the ever-critical eyes of many in his pompous court.

What was most surprising to each of the team was the interest Emperor Basil took in the company of Professor Taylor and McFee. After having been his guests for only a few days, he again had them visit with him. He had insisted on their presence and appeared to take genuine delight in their company. Each day, they were obliged to attend a casual audience with the Emperor to discuss the safe departure of their comrades and then tell a few tales of their homeland. McFee also became involved in the often embellished tales, much to the delight of the Emperor and the court.

To their good fortune they appeared to have become court favourites.

The impression was even further reinforced when they were invited to walk with the Emperor. Professor Taylor was initially tongue-tied as they wandered through carefully manicured gardens where fountains played. The more time they spent with Emperor Basil, the more of a conundrum he became. He was born to the burden of rule, yet avoided ostentatious trappings expected of a man of his rank. He wore no bodily ornaments or flamboyant garb common to court. There were rarely any purple cloaks or even rings, for he looked like a soldier and especially seemed to enjoy McFee’s insight into military issues. Due to the Empire’s frequent wars, Professor Taylor recognised that this was an Emperor who ruled with his feet firmly on the ground and was popular with his military, as he was more likely to march in the field with his soldiers than announce his orders from the safety of his palace as most emperors had done.

They soon spent afternoons together. Emperor Basil showed himself to be an excellent horseman on the polo field. Professor Taylor watched from the sidelines as McFee struggled to keep up. The Emperor took obvious delight in assisting McFee to develop his skills in the saddle.

Additional honour was heaped upon them when they dined with the Emperor in the Palace of the Nineteen Couches, a personal space where the regent could unwind. He had no wife, though there were additional guests through the frequent inclusion of Generals from the campaigns to the north. There they learned that the people of Constantinople normally ate sitting up, that to recline onto couches when hosted by the Emperor or their original friend Leon the Leather Merchant was a vestige of old Roman elitism. On one occasion, Emperor Basil boasted that his forebears had once taken to having food and drink lowered mechanically from the ceiling, though he made no secret of having little patience for such frivolous ostentation.

Honoured as a wise and learned man, Professor Taylor was given free and unfettered access to the precious Royal Library. There he was aided by the cheerfully rotund and scholarly Chief Librarian to find whatever documents, scrolls, and tomes he desired. Thanks to his assistance, the academic happily spent days ferreting through the impressive collection of invaluable, ancient manuscripts. Some were originals, or copies, rescued from the great Library of Alexandria itself. The fate of antiquity’s greatest library, which was incinerated on a number of occasions, was to be finally destroyed by Muslim invaders in the 7th Century.

Because of his elevated status, Professor Taylor was able to view tomes that were specifically forbidden except to the most senior members of the powerful clergy. If the dust was anything to go by, many had not been touched for hundreds of years. Professor Taylor’s goal was to peruse as many lost documents as he could, photograph them all, and reserve the images for study when he returned. This was far better than he anticipated, for he anticipated works of the Classic Philosophers, Roman plays, and even access to lost religious writings of early Christianity and beyond. Glorious!

But it was McFee’s treatment that had the academic frown in confusion. The Emperor seemed to particularly enjoy his company. There was a fascination in McFee’s name, accent and red hair and McFee was even approved to interact with senior military senior staff to inspect the city walls and observe the skills of the local soldiers. When McFee requested permission to engage in daily sword practice and fitness training, the Emperor threw up his hands in delight. “Finally,” he laughed, “a soldier who understands the importance of endlessly fine-tuning his skills. If I can remove myself from the pressures of rule, I hope to join you. Perhaps we can learn something from each other. Yes?”

Professor Taylor was stunned at the significance of the invitation. Emperor Basil was a strong leader, both militarily and in the challenging task of administration of the Empire as a whole. Even as a political guest, he had heard rumours. At the Emperor’s absence from the capital while on his lengthy military campaigns, a few of the noble families had insinuated themselves into profitable ventures that siphoned wealth and influence, activities the Emperor seemed determined to curtail. Now, in a move that had already shocked the establishment, the Emperor began to command the various departments of government to be centred on himself. According to Eudaemon, the Librarian, there were rumours of high profile noses being firmly put out of joint.

As they walked and chatted with the great Emperor, a couple of Varangian Guard followed at a distance. Professor Taylor thought again of the eyeless Bulgar prisoners and realised that the lesson was as much for the Emperor’s enemies in the noble families as it was for the nations implacably opposed to the majesty of the Roman Empire as a whole. The message was clear. A man who could put out the eyes of prisoners of war to defeat enemies from a far off land would stop at nothing to ensure the smooth operation of government within the Empire itself.

Let Rome, the Bulgars, and the squabbling noble families of the Byzantine Empire beware. This was an Emperor not to be trifled with.