Traveller Probo

Basil the Emperor, Basil the Porphyrogenitus, Basil the Young, who later times will label Basil the Bulgar Slayer, stood on a podium by a plain, folding soldier’s chair. Now over fifty years of age, he looked fit and well, for the military life had obviously treated him well. He wore soldier’s style tunic and breeches, though he also wore the red boots of office that almost reached his knees. Granted, his clothes were different from any the Travellers had seen, as his only observation of the opulence required by his office was that his tunic was embossed with thread of real gold.

After the required three bows of genuflection, the Travellers and their sponsors stood respectfully ten paces from the Emperor’s podium. Two red and blue clad Varangian Guard stood at the base, while a score of others monitored the Phiale of the Greens which was an open air courtyard with colonnaded porticos. Liveried servants scurried between the attendants and courtesans who watched from the shade. The courtyard was a work of art, decorated as it was with finely carved, gilded statues, brightly painted frescos and beautiful mosaics of sea creatures that coiled beneath figures from the Bible.

The Emperor’s chancellor announced their delegation. None would know where Aengland was. It was a name that was largely unknown, even to those who lived there.

The Emperor watched his guests with sharp-eyed curiosity before he addressed them. “Welcome, we acknowledge hosts Leon of Hadrianopolis and Florian tou Christophorou who are known as friends of the court.” Emperor Basil paused while he twirled his full, bushy sideburns that reached down the side of his round face. His watched them in a moment of speculation. “You’re here to evaluate trade opportunities?” he asked without preamble.

“Yes, Basileus,” replied Professor Taylor with a slight bow. Basileus was a polite term that meant Emperor and, he had been assured, was appropriate. “We have visited your great city to learn and see its wonders. As with all peoples of God’s wondrous creation, we seek peace and trade relations that we hope will have mutual benefit.”

The Emperor grunted. “I understand your people are of the Lamb of God?” He asked as he looked at a scroll his chancellor placed before him. He waved it away as unimportant and then took a seat. He seemed slightly bored and eager to move on.

“Yes Basileus, our people are followers of our Lord Jesus Christ,” stammered Professor Taylor.

One of the priests standing nearby stepped forward as if to object and the Emperor waved his arm irritably. The Patriarch, only a few paces behind the Emperor shoulder, frowned thunderously and gestured for the priest to be still.

Emperor Basil was, by modern standards, quite short, at around five foot and four inches. He looked fit, his arms and leg muscles hard and well used to the martial life. Professor Taylor imagined that the transition from military General to Ruler might be an onerous one. “What do you wish to trade?” he asked. “I assume by your hosts that leather and textiles are involved.”

Professor Taylor inclined his head politely, “Our people also trade silver, and perhaps even precious stones.”

The Emperor nodded and then opened his hand to have a length of red ribbon uncoil to the marble floor by his booted feet. “And this? I assume this material is something our merchants will also find of interest?” he asked as he looked to Florian. “What say you, Florian tou Christophorou of the textile workers guild?” At the show of the ribbon, the gathered court gasped in admiration and murmured comment. The grim Emperor seemed pleased at their surprise.

Florian stepped forward and gave a small bow. “Yes Basileus, our negotiations are under way.”

The Emperor nodded, as if distracted. He looked across to McFee, who stood with Talon, and then looked again at Professor Taylor.

“If we may, Basileus, may we present a humble gift,” offered Professor Taylor. He knelt as was required, with a small package wrapped in expensive red cloth which had been provided by their host. One of the court lackeys stepped forward to collect the package but the Emperor halted him with a sharp word. The young man halted, confused, and prompted stepped back. “Him, have your man bring your gift to me,” the ruler gestured curtly.

McFee frowned and then shrugged as he collected the gift and carried it in two hands as he stepped forward. Professor Taylor remained on his knees. Emperor Basil watched McFee keenly and there was a brief flicker of interest, his eyebrows arched above his bright blue eyes. The sun shone on McFee’s dazzling red-gold hair and the colour was not lost on the members of the court. The Emperor smiled at the kneeling McFee as he bent to receive the gift and he murmured a few words. The Traveller simply nodded, his ears blushed redly, before he stood, bowed and backed away.

The Emperor gave a bark of laughter as he turned to inspect his gift. He opened the cloth wrapping and looked up sharply to gaze again at his guests. Professor Taylor and McFee stood, waiting for his response, as did the rest of the court. Leon had warned that Emperor Basil could be a grim and embittered man, with obvious distain for the circus of court life. He had done away with so much of the traditional pomp and circumstance that had enthralled previous rulers. The request to have McFee hand him the gift in person had a few of the court regulars look from the Emperor to McFee in calculated speculation.

With a smile of delight the Emperor allowed as a roll of red ribbon, and another of blue, to cascade to the platform. In the afternoon light the colours dazzled and the court gasped in admiration and then applauded, for Basil was obviously delighted with his gift. He looked to Professor Taylor and McFee and with a nod was about to speak when there was a loud cry from the reception chamber.

Varangian Guards snapped to attention, their razor-sharp axes made ready as senior court officials ran to see what would cause such an unseemly ruckus. McFee looked to Talon and they flanked Professor Taylor to protect him. The Emperor stood and looked to give an order when court officials, together with a few senior military officers, carried something between them.

They held the item high and all loudly glorified God. At the sight, the priests and Patriarch dropped to their knees at the miracle, while the remainder of the court soon followed. Last of all the Emperor and the Travellers sunk in worship.

The court looked with the awe while Professor Taylor felt horrified. For before the genuflecting court, soldiers carried the cross-shaped Unmanned Aerial Vehicle that was so essential to monitor and support their mission.