Narses Phocas, Parakoimomenos, looked out from the Golden Gate of the City. It seemed an incredible monument to defense, these great city walls so smooth and cool to the touch. A few camp fires were lit out in the darkness. That was the empire...the real empire, some would say. The real empire was made up of farmers and potters and tax collectors and soldiers and servants. Nothing and everything had changed since the times of Caesar.

He turned around and viewed the city from this vantage point. There right before him was the Monastery of St. John Studios. He knew this to be a bastion of Orthodoxy. He crossed himself almost involuntarily. Here there would be no Nestorians, no Arians. This was indeed a safe and secure corner of the city. How could this fidelity be turned to the cause of his Imperial Mistress?

Not too far along the coastline was the Harbor of Theodosius. He knew what friends and allies he had awaiting his call in ships at anchor. He could send messages to the other great cities...Alexandria? Antioch? How could he manipulate their allegiances to the strengthening of his cause?

The Emperor Theodosius was intelligent, loved the classical authors of the natural sciences and mathematics. Above all, he loved the illumination of manuscripts! What gift would work wonders at the court...which under Pulcheria's hand was "more cloister than court"?

Above all things, the Emperor loved that "innovation" from Persia. Surely, there was gain to be made by feeding that as long as the Empress would not be offended. Narses kicked at the sand beneath his feet. Worth some gold, that was.

He who slept close at hand to the Emperor pondered possibilities that night. What was treason and what served his master and mistress and the empire? How fine the line! It all semmed to hinge on the deliberate and devoted obedience of the lowly who might find themselves close to the Imperial couple. It was time for wine. He wished health and long life to the guards on duty and made his way to the quarter of the city that was home.