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trimmed beard. He presented the appearance of a patrician more than a warrior, looking too young to have seen combat, let alone to serve Justinian as a general.
    As he drew even with the spot where Felix stood, Belisarius reined in his horse. For an instant Felix had the irrational idea that the great general had paused to speak to him. Instead, he turned his head in the other direction and Felix had the impression he was exchanging a few words with someone.
    “An inspiring sight, Felix,” came a voice from behind him. “It’s enough to make a man want to leave the excubitors and sign on with him!”
    The voice belonged to Gallio, captain of the excubitors.
    Felix detected sarcasm in his superior officer’s tone. He suspected Gallio hadn’t fought with anything but his tongue for years. Reluctantly, he turned his attention away from the procession. “I’d certainly see more military action than I do keeping an eye on drunken courtiers.”
    The old captain gazed dourly at the horsemen streaming by. “Asking for trouble in my opinion, having two generals in one city. It’s like having two women in one kitchen.”
    Judging from the size of his gut, Gallio knew more about kitchens than battlefields. Felix kept the thought to himself. “Considering what we’ve been hearing about the mood of the factions, Justinian is fortunate to have two generals close to hand if trouble breaks out.”
    “Fortunate? Perhaps. If they really are here by chance. Some whisper it is not the case. New orders for you, Felix. Choose several men you can trust. You’ll be keeping watch on certain parties at the palace, though officially of course you are on duty guarding them from harm. Apparently Justinian has his suspicions.”
    Felix immediately forgot the show put on by Belisarius. Dealing with dangerous turncoats was a task that appealed to him. “You mean there are traitors in the palace? Who does the emperor suspect?”
    Gallio shook his head. “You will hear when you report back.” He looked after the armed force vanishing from sight on the heels of Mundus and his men. “Justinian’s young commander has many admirers. But he has been sparring with armies in the deserts. The great Belisarius may find that battling angry gangs in narrow streets is a different proposition.”

Chapter Five
    John stood impatiently outside the Chalke gate and waited for General Belisarius to pass. He had already been stopped on his way out of the palace by the arrival of Mundus. The previous day, including his mission to the church, had been a long one. Then he barely slept. As soon as he dozed, the darkness closed in over him like inky water. Finally he lit a lamp and was able to drift off, only to come awake coughing up imaginary water, drenched in real sweat. Now the two boiled eggs hurriedly gulped down for breakfast sat in his stomach like stones at the bottom of a cistern.
    He did not look forward to investigating the murders of the Blue and the Green. He didn’t know where to start, except at the Hippodrome, the center of everything to do with the factions. And the Hippodrome was a very big place.
    As John debated whether he should try to push through the crush which had cleared the street to make way for the mounted force, he saw Belisarius pause. His eye was drawn to a stocky, dark haired man, with whom the general exchanged a few words before continuing on into the palace grounds.
    John knew the man. He had grown a slight paunch in the fifteen years since John had last seen him, but aside from that he looked no different than when they had served together as mercenaries outside Antioch.
    “Haik,” John called, as he strode through the crowd.
    The man turned at the sound of his name. His face was long and sun browned, his hair and eyes glistening black. He had a great, triangular beak of a nose. More than once, his companions had remarked in coarse jest that if Haik were slain on the battlefield the vultures might be reluctant to feast on