One for Sorrow

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On an unnaturally hot and humid spring evening in 535 AD, during the reign of Roman Emperor Justinian, the unruly celebration of the founding of Constantinople had shifted from the city’s Hippodrome to its forums, streets, and alleys. In the narrow passages between tenements, revelers drank, sang, and cursed and blundered into fights or liaisons in a miasma formed of sweat, torch smoke, and cheap wine and perfume. Many would wake the next morning with headaches that would have them praying for death. Others would in fact be dead before the coppery sun materialized out of the sea mists. Among them would be one of four friends from the Great Palace.

The tall, lean Greek from the palace strode straight through the crowds. Something in his look and bearing cleared a path before him. As people stepped aside they whispered.

“Isn’t that…?”

“Yes. It’s the Lord Chamberlain.”

“The one called John the Eunuch?”

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