Constantinople, 532 CE
"Here, Augusta," Kassandra told the empress of the Byzantine empire, guiding her through another door, "this will lead you out of the palace…"
Empress Theodora, wife of Justinian the First, stood very silent and still. Her ladies huddled around her, mute with fear. A few remaining men-at-arms completed Theodora's escort; the bulk of the Imperial guard—the Excubitors—had stayed with her esteemed husband, of course.
"Augusta?" Kassandra prompted. "It would be better if—"
"I know what my husband has asked of you," Theodora said, fixing a piercing gaze on Kassandra. "And here I thought you were pledged to my service."
"The city is in utter chaos, Augusta," Kassandra insisted. "It might not be long before the rioters break through the defences of the palace. We have to go, now."
"Will my husband stay?"
"He will leave once he knows you are safe," Kassandra answered. Compared to his empress, the man was a coward, though he loved her deeply. Kassandra knew the normally weak-willed Justinian would do anything for his wife; she was certain he would willingly offer his life as sacrifice so she could make her escape.
Theodora frowned. She looked about the same age as Kassandra, though a harsh life had deepened the crow's feet at her eyes. The woman—and her husband—were rare anomalies in the grand tapestry of history: a common born pair who had risen to the highest seats of power through luck and guile.
Of course, Kassandra thought wryly, that also made them both prime targets for the likes of the Order of the Ancients, which always sought to destroy those who could not—would not—serve as proper pawns. The two factions taking the streets today—the Greens and the Blues, if Kassandra remembered right—instead served as the Order's puppets, much like both Athenians and Spartans had been subtly influenced by the Cult of Kosmos to wage war against each other. In those days, Kassandra had been helpless to save people such as Pericles and Brasidas from the Cult's clutches; even more than a thousand years later, their deaths weighed heavily on her mind.
She was not going to let the same happen to Theodora and Justinian.
"I cannot leave Justinian here," Theodora said, shaking her head. "All that we've built together, our shared dreams… we would doom the city, the empire. We cannot abandon our people, not in their time of need."
Kassandra sighed. "Then what would you have me do?"
"Bring me to my husband," the empress answered, "and to his council. I must speak with them."
Kassandra stifled another sigh. Theodora was a good head shorter than her, yet the woman had a commandeering presence—and she was stubborn as a mule. Kassandra could only do as the empress ordered, feeling unusually meek. Gods, but that was embarrassing. She had gained the Empress' favour by foiling an attempt on her life a few years back—and had then been roped into becoming the woman's personal guard. Kassandra was still a bit bewildered to find herself here, to tell the truth. But Theodora was just one of these figures who could not be refused, and Kassandra was all too happy to exist in her orbit.
Even from outside the council room, Kassandra could still hear people shouting and arguing. It seemed the Emperor's advisors were telling him to make his escape, but the man was stubbornly staying put until he knew for certain that his wife was safe from all harm. At this very moment, Theodora pushed the great doors open. Justinian's face grew pale at the sight of her. He was an older man of average height, more famed for his administrative abilities and political skills than for his looks. Immediately, he reached to hold his wife's hands, calling, "My love! Why are you here?"
Looking upon both their faces, no one could ever doubt the love shared by the imperial couple. Justinian stared at Theodora as if no treasure could ever compare. The empress, for her part, gazed upon her husband with a gentleness that tugged at Kassandra's heartstrings. Suddenly, she saw another couple before her, another soft-spoken statesman holding hands with his purple-clad paramour. The similarities between both pairs were striking: much like Aspasia, Theodora had been a courtesan who had won over her husband's heart not through her beauty, but by the sharpness of her wits. Meanwhile, Justinian was known—and beloved—for his grand civic projects, the last of which being the architectural marvel that would one day be known as the Hagia Sophia.
(Kassandra could not know then, but ten years from now, Theodora and her emperor would face yet another tragedy that had once befallen Pericles and Aspasia: the great plague that would one day bear Justinian's name.)
"I could not leave you, my darling," Theodora said, stroking the emperor's cheek. "I made an oath the day we were married, and I mean to keep it. You will not face those struggles alone, my love. I will be here with you, as I have always been."
The emperor smiled, weakly. "Oh, my sweet… you should have escaped. I would have followed soon after. The city is not safe—"
"The city needs us." Theodora threw a significant glance in Kassandra's direction. The latter nodded, a grim, grave gesture. Theodora then addressed her husband's men, saying, "My lords, the present occasion is too serious to allow me to follow the convention that a woman should not speak in a man's council. In my opinion, flight is not the right course, even if it should bring us to safety. It is impossible for a person, having been born into this world, not to die. But for one who has reigned it is intolerable to be a fugitive."
The members of the emperor's council exchanged a few mutters. The empress's ladies clung to each other, no doubt taking comfort from the gesture. Justinian had gone even more deathly pale at his wife's words. Kassandra continued to stare at Theodora, folding her arms across her chest. Something akin to pride burned bright within her. Theodora was very much like Aspasia, yes, but those fierce eyes, that stubborn set of her jaw—for a moment, the spirit of Myrinne of Sparta seemed to inhabit the small body of the Byzantine empress.
Theodora tugged on her robes, continuing, "May I never be deprived of this purple robe, and may I never see the day when those who meet me do not call me Empress. If you wish to save yourselves, my lords, there is no difficulty. Yet reflect for a moment whether, when you have once escaped to a place of security, you would not gladly exchange such safety for death."
Justinian looked at his feet, no doubt cowed by his wife's words. The guards of the Excubitors stood a little straighter, emboldened by her declaration. The city was not yet lost, she was telling them. Fight, said the empress, fight with all you have. Theodora might have been born a charioteer's daughter, might have spent her younger years in a brothel, but in this moment she was Spartan through and through, an heir to the legacies borne by women such as Kassandra's mother.
Theodora looked at Kassandra again, and the latter felt another pang. That hint of fear, of vulnerability… Kassandra had also seen it before, whenever her mother had been reminded of Alexios, of the child that had been so cruelly taken from her arms. Myrrine—and Aspasia as well—had been stubborn and strong, so strong, but no one, not even a daughter of Sparta, could be strong all the time. Kassandra met Theodora's eyes, then gave another nod, tacitly approving of her empress's choice. Theodora exhaled loudly, before once more turning to her husband and his council.
"As for me," the empress said, "I agree with the adage, that 'royal purple' is the noblest shroud. And thus you have my final decision. I will stay in this city—our city—and face the end the Lord has chosen for me, whatever it is."
The emperor seemed older than his years. Still, he nodded as well. "As will I. As long as we are together, my love, we can accomplish anything, I am certain of it."
Theodora took his hand. Gave him a smile that was more radiant than the sun. Kassandra looked at their hands, joined together, and felt—longing? Envy? She wasn't quite sure the emotion surging inside her could be described in one single word.
Rather than ponder this strange feeling, Kassandra turned to face the great doors leading out of the council chambers, standing—proudly—alongside the Excubitors. No, she vowed, she would not let Theodora and her emperor suffer the same harsh fate as Aspasia and Pericles. She would not fail; not this time.
Kassandra waited for the Order's dogs with bared blade and a grin that would have frightened Dread Hades himself.