Gaius Succumbs to Mania

[First-person narration by Gaius Galen, relating a manic attack and how his men had to capture him ]

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The Hippodrome was not full, with many tired from yesterday’s intense action but more people suspicious of the emperor’s motives. Thousands of those loitered outside to see what might happen. The emperor may have called for the races, but he wasn’t there in the Kathisma. His mandator announced that the disrupted Ides races of yesterday would continue today, as “true entertainment for the worthy race fans.” No mention of riots, hundreds killed, attacking the gate of the palace, or the smoking ruins of Hagia Sophia a few hundred steps to his right. A string of disorganized Nika! and Green-Blues Forever! chants quickly drowned him out. The Hippodrome was agitated. I felt it, my pulsing agitation in step with the crowd, perhaps leading it. We were one.

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The eunuch Chamberlain Narses dropped the white mapa, mimicking the napkin Emperor Nero once tossed out to get the first race going when Roman fans yelled at him to cease his lunch. This Hippodrome crowd began throwing things onto my track. Tankards, pieces of broken benches, stones, clothing, food – it all impeded the charioteers, who stopped. This disruption set the crowd off, and thousands poured out of the stands onto the track. Then they headed out the north entrance, disdaining the emperor’s “gift” of races and rejecting his authority with their exit.

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They torched the Hippodrome’s main entrance gate area and some of the attached buildings on the north side, getting a nice fire going in the bright morning sun. I took my men to go with the crowd, sending a runner to tell Monaxius to stay behind to monitor the Green-Blues plotters who stayed in the stands. I told Monaxius to order the others in our group as he saw fit, as there was no word yet from Flavius on what we should do.

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The rioters had moved on to the beautiful Baths of Zeuxippus right next to the Hippodrome, where I had spent many a post-race, with a relaxing bath in the glorious museum Emperor Constantine had fitted out with the most beautiful art in the world. All around and inside the Baths were hundreds of statues amid beautiful architectural details. Inside were gorgeous bathing areas and lounging sections, with colored marble hallways and luxurious pools, accessible for a few coins by everyone in the city. It was like bathing in culture to be around such splendor and the symbols of all that is civilized, inspiring and wise.

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But now the revered inhabitants were leaving. There went Homer, horizontal on the shoulders of three robbers. Four men fought over Aphrodite but abandoned her after she crashed to the ground, falling into ugly chunks. Fire was taking hold inside, setting off a rush to get a valuable old sculpture. I saw the Spartan Lysander riding off in an ox cart with Cupid next to him. Achilles was dragged from the great entrance hall of the Baths and toppled down the front portico stairs, a team of Blues and Greens working together to defeat the marble legend and cheering their success.

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The many drapes, tapestries and carpets, wooden doors, ornamentation, furniture and wooden structural support beams blazed up. Soon, no more famous men or goddesses came out, nor did looters go back in. The heat from the fire cracked the stone and marble, and it took a while but the walls of Zeuxippus crumbled down to delighted and primal screaming. The fire had already jumped to the portico of the Augusteum. The mob splintered into destructive wings that went off in different directions to destroy something nearby, then they swarmed together again to throw fuel onto the Augusteum fire, heaving in benches, doors, carts, apparently intent on burning the very idea of the old forum. I wanted to throw things onto that big fire myself – for old times and this new one.

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Everyone wanted to destroy – and many did. Some people are ready to riot when they see one other person acting up, like throwing a rock at a prefect policeman. Others are slower to act, drawn to toss a stone only after five or six other people around them are doing so. Some need to see a street full of people doing it before they join. Almost everyone has that point where the attraction of anarchy overpowers the sense of responsibility, and core values evaporate.

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I already had a foot in anarchy before I set one in the street today, but I couldn’t destroy right now. My power was to lead others. I was on the verge of thinking I was the only one who could truly see what was going on, the only one who knew. I could see them, the plotting in the stands, the senators’ men. I couldn’t quite see where it was all going, but I knew I would soon enough. And it was thrilling to feel it happening in the Hippodrome and in me. At that moment, I knew I was succumbing to the pull, tensing and tightening like a mob knowing that it’s about to go off in destructive abandon. Overtaken by self-certainty, all restraint seemed to be fleeing from me. It was right and it was good.

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I took 12 of my men, sent the others away to Monaxius, and we struck out on a side street, heading away from the rioting around the Augusteum.

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“Why are we leaving?” asked one of my men, looking around in confusion. “Nothing is happening over here.”

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 “You can’t see them, but the signs lead us onward!”
 
“Gaius Galen, I see no signs,” said the doubter and he stopped; the other 11 did also. For an instant, I had a doubt. It passed, and I crossed the line, the transition completed with my stepping forward.

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“Of course you don’t. But don’t worry, follow me.” They did. I had to be careful, they were reluctant. I still saw the signs – or did I just sense them? No matter, I knew they led us further away from the Hippodrome. I kept us in the shadows when possible and moved us along quickly, now down a narrow quiet lane full of cheap goods for sale. I stopped us to admire a gray fur hat, bought it and presented it to our boy runner, as if I had given him a solid gold crown. The old woman seller, teeth having abandoned her mouth long ago, smiled slyly at me, eying my train of men and nodding her approval. She knew, I sensed. She knew, and I gave her a conspirator’s smile.

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We continued to switch from one lane, alley and street to another, wherever my instincts pointed me, even if they sometimes pointed me in two directions at once. I chose one, because it must be the way, the way around the mob, around the Hippodrome and to a secret passage into the palace. If I could just kill the emperor myself, this would all end. Ammianus would be irrelevant! Annia, Martha and Elissa would be safe!

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In that instant, something happened, my thoughts all left me at once. A sheet of time was ripped away.

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Tedius was looking at me, smiling meekly, offering me his hand to get up. I was lying down, my head against a wall. My dozen men were huddled together, looking at me from across the narrow street. “You’ve been gone from us for a while,” said Tedius.

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I jumped up so fast it startled him and the others. “Come on men, we’ve an emperor to dethrone.”

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Tedius’ surprisingly strong grip stopped me. “Gaius Galen, the Green-Blues leaders called for Emperor Justinian to throw Eudaemon, John of Cappadocia and Tribonian out of their posts and appoint new men of the Green-Blues approval.”

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“Folly!” I shouted. “They’ve overplayed. I must get to them and show them –”

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“ – the emperor has accepted and promises new ministers,” said Tedius, his grip leaving my arm and his arm coming tight around my shoulder. Down the street coming at a brisk trot was Monaxius. Good.

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“Friend Monaxius!” I called out. “Come quickly.”

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He ran and stopped in front of me. He looked into my eyes, then looked at Tedius. The two were conspiring against me! I needed to get to my dagger, but when I inched my hand up to get it, Tedius beat me to it, pulled it out and threw it over to my men. Monaxius had gotten behind me somehow and grabbed me tight at the waist.

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Memory fails, but I have visions of some things.

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Threatening to kill Tedius with my right index finger.
 
My 12 men coming at me with arms extended as if cornering a cat in a kitchen.
 
Tedius lunging, and me poking his cheek with my finger, then closing my eyes and crying.

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Monaxius saying I would feel better with the rope tied around my hands.

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Tedius’ dead hand patting my shoulder.