59.
59.
"Constantinos?"
It was a name I had never heard before.
"He is my own son. The one I had with my former wife, Maria... Surely you already know that Leon is not my true son."
He said it as if it were nothing, but I wished he would not treat me like one of them. My moral sense hadn't collapsed like theirs...
"The reason Caesar Bardas died was because Michael's heir, Leon, came into being.
To be precise, we eliminated him before Bardas crossed the line. In order to marry Eudokia Ingerina, I had to divorce my former wife Maria, but I could handle it. No, I believed I could... Even though it has all turned out to be wrong now."
"...I am sorry, Basil. But I must ask. What do I gain from this?"
Spinning out your family's long story aside, you did try to poison me.
At my question, Basil smiled bitterly and nodded.
"Simple. Take my son, Constantinos, away to the North, and I and Adrianople will surrender to the Emperor.
This is by no means a small achievement, so whatever it is you desire... the Emperor will have no choice but to grant it. In the long history of Rome, has such a thing ever happened again? A foreign king comes and quells a rebellion twice..."
To find such a precedent, one would have to look not at Rome alone, but the histories of every dynasty in the world.
Of course, there was no reason for me to accept Basil's offer.
Even if Adrianople had the sturdiest walls, once winter was over and siege engines forged by Constantinople's superior technology were brought to bear, the city itself might abandon Basil.
He had no more just cause left.
But I decided to accept his proposal.
Adding one extra mouth to feed was no great problem, especially when it was a seven-year-old child... Yet I had one concern.
"Basil. Where I come from... it is far more distant than the land of the Rus you know. It takes as much time by sea as it takes to go from here to Kyiv of the Rus.
I worry whether your son will live well in my land, where the weather, the food, and the people are all different. And as the child grows, he will ask about his parents. What should I tell him?"
At my question, Basil's eyes momentarily widened, but soon regained their original color. However, his voice had grown a little gentler.
"Certainly, you are different from all the others I have seen. Helgi Ragnarsson.
If it were me, I would have only thought of the hostage's usefulness. But you think not of the hostage but of him as just a child, and you worry about his future ahead of time... How amusing. That you, a heathen king, are more honorable than our brothers of the Cross."
[Suk-]
Basil bowed his head deeply to me in silent salute. When he raised his head again, a new light settled in his eyes. It was hope, though it was far too faint to be called that; it was a measure of relief for his own bloodline.
"Feed him and bed him. That is already enough. But if the child grows curious, then tell him this: your father was Co-emperor of Rome, and he died a traitor.
There is no need to hide the fact that the one who saved you is Helgi Ragnarsson. The rest will be the child's own choice."
"..."
Basil and I had both already made up our minds. No more words were needed between us, so I gave a short nod and turned away.
"I will convey your proposal to the Emperor. ... May fortune favor you."
"Farewell, strong one. Helgi Ragnarsson."
Basil's brown hair fluttered in the wind. A faint smile on his face.
That was the last I saw of Basil.
*****
The Emperor, upon hearing my proposal, pondered it deeply.
All sorts of calculations must have been running through the head of this Emperor, who had abstained from drink for nearly a month, but as I thought, he eventually accepted Basil's offer.
First, there was a need to end this ridiculously absurd civil war as quickly as possible, and the fact that the traitor's child would go to the furthest north on the map, a remote place where no Roman had ever set foot, seemed to play a large role.
Fortunately, there were no interest groups crying "Your Majesty! You must not!" or "We beg you to reconsider!", nor any paragons of loyalty. Had there ever been an Emperor in recent Roman history who suppressed a rebellion so cleanly and swiftly? Now that even the powerful strategoi of the east had been pacified, there was no fool who would dare voice opposition to the Emperor's authority.
As promised, Basil surrendered, and all his legions laid down their arms.
Basil, having laid aside his imperial crown and donned a pure white robe, walked out beyond the city gate, and Michael looked down upon him.
I did not know what conversation the two emperors exchanged.
I only heard that they traveled together from Constantinople to Boukoleon, and that, contrary to Rome's cruel laws, Basil was executed in the garden behind the Boukoleon Palace, in the presence of Michael and several important figures.
His eyes were not put out, his limbs were not cut off, he was not castrated.
Merely beheaded, so I heard.
I did not attend that occasion.
The political problem was greatest; everyone hushed it up, but the rumor that I had foiled the assassination attempt on the Emperor was already circulating throughout the city.
When Archbishop Photios begged me to at least convert, even if only outwardly, I was utterly at a loss...
I could only look at the Archbishop, who told me to just wear a cross as a decoration, with a cold, cold stare. Still, an Archbishop... could he be such a lukewarm believer? Was he not just a businessman in a bishop's robes? O Rome, O Cross... your future is dark...!
Already to the people here, I was no longer merely a foreign king, but hailed as a messenger of God, the reincarnation of Hercules.
It was no exaggeration or self-conscious joke; if I lingered any longer, they would be making an icon of my face, so I ceased to appear at any official gatherings.
Of course, the Emperor, who didn't care about such things, frequently sought me out despite his busy schedule, asking about this and that.
Anyway, thanks to that, I received many favors. Far more ease than when I first came to this land, and far more people.
Knowing my great interest in Roman architecture, roads, water supply and drainage, the Emperor personally ordered that people and relevant books be gathered for me.
Those 'people', as it turned out, included one Roman scholar and 'high-grade slaves' from the eastern Islamic empire.
Archbishop Photios, ever earnest in what he called 'conversion' but what he really read as 'expanding influence and achievement,' again tried to add his spoon to the pot by mentioning names like Bishop Cyril and Missionary Methodius... but fortunately, it seemed the Emperor cut them all off at his level.
Instead, the Emperor recommended to me a particularly passionate oddball from his university, one who was earnest about engineering and strong in adventurous spirit. His name was Leo.
"It is an honor to meet you! Incarnation of Hercules, punisher of traitors, twilight of Adramyttion, grace of Hera, Konungr Helgi Ragnarsson!"
"... Pleased to meet you, Leo."
Grace of Hera? That was a new epithet. Everywhere I went I shouted Hel, so the Romans must have localized it to their familiar Hera... Could this, in a way, increase the number of believers? Yes, I had been working hard, O Hel.
He must have practiced his pronunciation hard, because I sensed no artificiality when he said 'Konungr.'
He occasionally mixed in some Rus words... and even to my good eye for people, he seemed extremely intelligent. His personality also seemed lively... but this Roman habit of exaggerated gestures and speech was a bit overwhelming, though time would take care of it.
"Oh— to know my name is an honor. O hero! I share, undeservedly, the same name as my master...!
Every book of engineering in Rome is essentially in my head! So the many books the Emperor has gifted to Konungr are, in truth, unnecessary baggage— but of course, books themselves are objects that enhance Konungr's majesty...! For the advancement of the kingdom you rule, I, Leo, will devote my entire spirit...!"
"Uh. Yeah, thank you... I leave it in your hands."
"You may count on me...!"
Looking at him, this vigorous scholar seemed to have the natural disposition of an engineer who simply loved building things somewhere.
Indeed, in this vast, ancient city, all that remained to do was redevelopment... So when he saw the Rus and Northern Europe, which were nothing but plains and hills, he must have been delighted. If he worked as well as he spoke, I would have to name a city after him later.
Thus did the city and I, in this mild winter, see a new year come and pass a full month.
867 AD. The fourth month of winter (Þorri, Thorri). Julian calendar, January 30.
A message sent by Jarl Haskuldr of Kyiv, via Cherson, reached me, delivered by an Árós merchant who had braved the Dnieper River all winter.
And soon I resolved to part ways with this beautiful city.
*****
The exclusive harbor of the Boukoleon Palace, forbidden to all but the imperial family.
In this noble place where gentle breezes, a calm sea, and splendid palace combined to make everything seem beautiful, a single Northman longship lay coiled like a dragon.
The longship's dragon-head ornament, and before it, the marble floor that had sent white flower petals beautifully scattering even in winter shone pure white.
Upon that smooth surface stood the Emperor in purple robe and golden crown, and at his closest side, Örn Petronas, Niketas Ooryphas, Basilikinos, and even the Patriarch. It was no exaggeration to say that all those who led the current Roman Empire were gathered in one place.
"Helgi Konungr. I know it is a mad thing to say, but if I were to offer you even the title of Co-emperor, could you stay by my side?"
The Emperor, who had not touched drink for nearly two months, asked me with a gentle smile. We both knew it was a joke, but the Archbishop's eyes went wide as a flame at the hint of sincerity, but I understood. What I could not understand was that the others, except the Archbishop, showed little reaction...
"Just as Your Majesty is the Emperor of all Romans, I am the Konungr of all Northmen. I take with me much learning, O Emperor of Rome."
"Take... learning? I do hope you learned only good things. I fear I have shown you many ugly sights."
At the Emperor's cynical words, which—rather than drink—had lately grown more self-deprecating, we two and all the brilliant generals around gave a bitter laugh.
"I remember well what you told me. In the end, the great themes must be broken down into smaller ones... and the central army's power must be strengthened. Since all my vassals say it is right, there is no reason not to do it."
"It will not be easy."
During the roughly one month after Basil closed his eyes, the Emperor and everyone here were truly busy, with not a moment to rest. Diplomacy with the Papacy, Moravia, and Bulgaria had to be conducted, and they had to watch the movements of the Khazars and Abbas beyond... Whether the Empire was in civil war or holding internal mountain-climbing clubs, the external powers cared not a whit about the empire's affairs.
It was a fortune that the Abbas in the east were quiet, but now I heard that the Saracens in Crete and beyond were about to cause trouble.
A far from easy challenge awaited the Emperor of Rome and his servants.
"I know it well, Helgi Konungr."
The Emperor smiled at my words, looking tired, but no longer caught in frustration, despair, or regret.
"I have a gift for you. Rentakios?"
"Yes, Your Majesty."
I had already received so much; were there still more gifts left?
The gold pieces and various goods that the merchants and warriors under me had received alone were so heavy they were slowing our travel, and I had also been given Roman ships and engineers, high-educated Arab slaves, the great scholar Leo, the hostage—or descendant of a former traitor—Constantinos... My mind was half admiration for Rome's latent power, half embarrassment, but the Emperor paid no mind and simply summoned his shadow.
"If it were in my heart, I would hold chariot races in your name and stage a triumph of a scale no one has ever seen. But since the circumstances of the Empire and you are not favorable... with this gift, I wish to show you my heart. Lord of the northern sea, Helgi Konungr."
At Rentakios's gesture, servants brought an antique wooden case with extremely careful movements. Inside it lay a purple mantle that symbolized nobility, embroidered with gold thread bearing Hel's symbol.