“So,” Doux Bagrationi said, taking Alexios around the shoulder and guiding him down through the refugee camp toward shore. “Herakleia mentioned you know the farr.”

Alexios had been on his way to the citadel and hoping to avoid the doux, but the man always seemed to know where everyone was.

Tell him nothing about the manual, Alexios thought.

“Dionysios trained me a little before he died,” Alexios said. “I know the basics—maybe.”

“Well, that’s more than me,” Bagrationi said. “I was never much of a fighter. Always more of a lover. I like the business side of things—the organization, the planning, the way you can build the world up and improve it…”

Bagrationi continued speaking as though in a philosophical academy rather than a refugee camp full of busy workers. Alexios thought of a quote from Thucydides. It went something like: If your leaders have never seen battle, and your soldiers are uneducated, then your army will be led by cowards, and its warriors will be fools. Wasn’t there also some similar quote from Thomas Sankara? It went something like: every soldier without the proper political education is a potential war criminal.

Alexios turned to Bagrationi. “Have you ever been in a fight, my lord doux?”

“What kind of fight? You mean a battle?”

Alexios nodded. “Yes.”

“Oh, well, it’s kind of hard to avoid these days, but by the grace of Our Lord, I’ve been blessed.” He stopped walking, put his hands on his hips, and regarded the fortress, the green mountains, the refugee camp, the sea crowded with galleys loading or unloading merchandise on the piers.

“Anyway.” Bagrationi took Alexios’s shoulder again. “As you might be able to guess, we have some problems. For one, we have no army—aside from a few of my bodyguards, I mean. All our able-bodied men have been put to work in the mines and in the forests. During last winter’s plague outbreak, we also lost much of our garrison, as well as many of the most aggressive and even intellectual workers—”

“I know,” Alexios said.

“Right, of course you do. So then. I have heard that the farr makes men immortal—and that one immortal is worth ten or even a hundred mortal men.”

“I’m not sure about that, my lord doux, but it certainly doesn’t hurt.” Alexios remembered Dionysios’s death in that dark garden, and felt depressed.

“What I’m trying to tell you,” Bagrationi said, jarring Alexios from his thoughts, “is that I think you should begin training an army with the princess. Ah, I forgot, she wants me to call her ‘strategos,’ now. That was one of her conditions for joining us—she wanted a position with real power. She was tired of taking orders back in the Great Palace. She believes she could have saved her father—God rest his soul—if she’d had the power to order him around and keep him from throwing his life away. So now she is Strategos Herakleia, the Supreme Commander of the Workers’ Army.”

“I see.”

“Indeed. Well, Mr. Leandros, we have now come to a difficult point in our discussion, one which I ask you to keep secret. Should you reveal what I am about to say, it will induce panic among these good people.” He nodded to the refugees who surrounded them. “Strategos Herakleia is the only other person aware of this.”

“Alright.”

“There is a Roman army somewhere in Anatolia marching toward us,” Bagrationi whispered. “Right now, as we speak, they are on the move.”

Alexios looked at him, and then said in a low voice: “How do you know?”

“I knew you were going to say that. I can tell you don’t trust me. Well, I suppose I don’t blame you. So how do I know such a thing? Why is this not idle speculation? We have a fire tower here in Trebizond. It allows us to communicate with Konstantinopolis as well as other cities across Romanía in hours rather than months. We received word that a century left the capital several days ago to recapture a group of escaped fugitives—yourselves, I presume. We were supposed to watch out for you. Three days ago, this century sacked Nikomedeia.”

“Nikomedeia,” Alexios said. “We passed it only about a week ago. It was a huge city…”

“Evidently the people of Nikomedeia weren’t interested in letting a bunch of Roman legionaries come through the front gate. Anyway, at around that time Konstantinopolis ceased all communication with us. They would not answer our signals. The next day, they said that the century was returning home, explaining that they had taken on insufficient supplies. After sacking an entire city.”

“You’re saying it’s nonsense?”

“They’re lying. The truth is that somehow they discovered that Trebizond was your destination.”

“We sailed into the Pontic Sea,” Alexios said. “We were trying to lose them—the fleet chasing us, I mean. They never saw us turn east.”

“Where else would you go aside from Trebizond? Sinope is too close to the capital. And the Khazars, the Bulgars, the Varangians, the Iberians, and my Lazikan kinsmen who surround the Pontic Sea fear to upset the new and aggressive Roman Emperor Nikephoros. Therefore there is only one city to which you might wend your way: the safe and rich semi-independent entrepôt of the orient, the spice and silk emporium at the faraway edge of the empire ruled by an ambitious doux appointed by His Majesty, the bleeding heart Anastasios, may he rest in peace. And so you see, Mr. Leandros, it could have only been Trebizond.”

Alexios gulped. “They’re coming here.”

“In days if they come by sea. In two or three weeks if they come by land.” Bagrationi turned and nodded to the Satala road cutting through the mountains to the south. “They’ll come from that direction. They also have some kind of new weapon, one which allows them to destroy city walls in a matter of hours.” He turned back to the sea. “They want to put down the uprising once and for all. We have nowhere to run. They will kill or enslave everyone you see here. If we are to survive, we must work together—all of us. Workers, peasants, refugees, men, women, children, Roman, barbarian, bureaucratic appointees like myself, wanted fugitives like you—everyone. It’s our only hope.”

Alexios looked up at Bagrationi, his respect for the man growing. “What must I do?”

Bagrationi smiled. “As I said, I need you to train an army. Herakleia is a good teacher and organizer, but she is no fighter. We must prepare for a siege. Then, once it’s ended, if we survive, we must counterattack before the enemy can recover. That’s something Dionysios taught me, as a matter of fact. He said that in history, people like us could sometimes win battles or even entire wars, but we were often afraid to press our advantage, to see the thing through to the very end. He told me, in fact, that he came from a place with many great uprisers, but no matter how great they were, all of them failed to defeat the ruling class once and for all. But where they have failed, we will succeed. We will never be safe so long as Nikephoros sits upon the Golden Throne of Solomon.”

“I’ll do it.”

“Have you officially joined the uprising?”

“Not officially, no. But unofficially, I joined up awhile ago.” Alexios winced at the memory of Uncle Eugenios and Aunt Eudokia perishing in that blaze, the curtains of screaming flame clawing at the sky. So much pain and tragedy was in his life. That was why he was here.

“I always hated the military,” Alexios added. “I never had any interest in fighting wars for corporations—I mean, for the rich.”

“The Workers’ Army protects workers and peasants exclusively.”

“What about you?” Alexios said. “No offense, but you aren’t a worker or a peasant.”

“I’m a class traitor.”

“Alright,” Alexios said. “I guess that’s good enough for me. I’m ready.”

Bagrationi stepped away from Alexios, then raised his right hand. “Do you swear to defend the world’s workers and peasants with your life?”

Alexios raised his right hand. “I swear.”

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“Good enough for me.” Bagrationi lowered his hand, then made the sign of the cross over Alexios. “I appoint you kentarch of the Workers’ Army. You will answer to no one but myself and Strategos Herakleia—since we are currently lacking commissioned officers. For the next two weeks, you will train at least one century, two if possible, to defend the city from the Romans’ landward attack, working closely with the strategos. Meanwhile, I will manage logistics with the help of my chief eunuch Samonas and work on repairing the city walls. Once the Roman attack begins, you will take command of your men and drive the enemy out.”

Alexios bowed. “Yes, sir.”

“Continue addressing me as ‘My Lord Doux,’ not ‘sir,’ Kentarch Leandros.”

Alexios cleared his throat. “Sorry, My Lord Doux.”

“Is something the matter?”

“No—it’s just, this is all so sudden, and you don’t know anything about me. I’m not even sure I know how to train anyone. I barely understand the farr myself…”

“This is no time for false modesty. Strategos Herakleia told me about the episode with the ketos. You bravely followed her down the throat of that devil. Most others would have given my fiancée up for dead, but you risked everything to save her life. I’m afraid we must therefore face the facts, Leandros. You’re an interesting man.”

“She’s my friend. I wasn’t just going to let that thing eat her…”

“This is what I mean! This is what we need! With more men like you, no one could stop us.” He gestured to the ocean, the land, the mountains. “The world would be ours for the taking.”

What am I going to do? Alexios looked at the fishing boats and the thousands of refugees—the women washing their clothes in the streams or slapping them on nearby boulders, the crowds of screaming children chasing a deflated leather ball over a fallow field, the men hammering wooden house frames, the smiths forging nails.

Am I responsible for all this?

“If I train your men,” Alexios said, “you’ll have no one to make the supplies we need to win the battle.”

“That is so. But what choice do we have?”

Alexios continued staring at the refugee camp, once more overwhelmed by the squalor before him. So many women were watching the younger children together, or tending to sick grandparents.

What if we organized them? he thought. One person can watch many children. One person can nurse several elders. If we could spare some of these women…

Alexios turned to Bagrationi. “I have a different idea, my lord doux.”

“Oh? What might that be, Kentarch Leandros?”

Alexios wondered for a moment if the doux was speaking ironically—if this promotion was a practical joke.

“We need the men to build houses and sanitation and weapons and armor,” Alexios said. “To do that, they need to cut down trees and mine metal from the mountains. But the women—most of them are stuck watching the elders and children.”

“What do you propose?”

“I can talk with Herakleia about this—with the strategos, I mean—but I think she’ll go for it. She’s all about women’s liberation. Many workers have told me about this, too. It’s their idea, really. We should train the women. If they approve, of course.”

“Train them to do what?”

“To fight, my lord doux.”

Bagrationi laughed. “To make an army of amazons, you mean? In times gone by, this region was known for its warrior women. A fighting spirit flows in their blood—in the very marrow of their bones!”

“Do you approve?”

“If the strategos approves, I approve. Happy wife, happy life, after all. The only question is—who will watch the children and elders?”

“We have to organize,” Alexios said. “Democratically, I mean. That’s the way the strategos wants it done, and she’s right. First we propose this idea to the women. If a majority approves, we should have people taking turns keeping an eye on the children and the elders so they don’t get into trouble. I mean, there’s so much water around here—the river and the ocean—it’s a wonder none of them have drowned.”

“Who’s to say nobody has? The last winter was particularly miserable. We sheltered as many as we could, but there was only so much room to go around.”

Alexios looked at the doux, amazed at his nonchalance in the face of so much misery.

“If we can organize a school for the older children,” Alexios said, “and a daycare for the younger ones…”

“A school? What for?”

“To teach them to read and write and work with numbers.” Alexios felt frustrated that he should have to explain. “To let them learn what they want. We provide the resources, they do the learning and playing. After a few years, if we’re lucky, we have a real army. Brilliant, hardworking, fearsome. That’s the kind of army we’ll need if you want the uprising to take over Romanía.”

“Forgive me, kentarch, but what need is there for such people to learn letters and arithmetic? They’re practically beasts as they are!”

“My Lord Doux, do you really have to speak this way?” Alexios eyed the refugees, dozens of whom were passing, bowing, and greeting them every moment. “Especially right in front of them?”

Bagrationi shook his head. “You and the strategos and Dionysios all have so many interesting ideas. You want to turn the whole world upside-down. If I may confess something, I only follow along because I can’t see any other way of surviving. If it weren’t for the uprising, I would have been recalled to Konstantinopolis a long time ago, no longer a doux, just some petty palace functionary, at the very best. At the worst, I could have been executed. Nikephoros purged all Emperor Anastasios’s supporters in the government, even the ones who swore the usurper allegiance. This was a poor move. It created in one stroke a contingent among the ruling class who stopped believing in the status quo. We began to look for allies among the subordinate classes.”

“This is the way we get our army, My Lord Doux,” Alexios said. “We have to take care of the women and children and elders.”

“I see your point,” Bagrationi said. “You ought to know that I never would have agreed to any of this if it weren’t for Herakleia—and if Dionysios hadn’t shown me how to become richer and more powerful than I could have ever imagined. I used to be very much set in the old ways. I only hitched my chariot to Anastasios, as it were, because he seemed to be unstoppable.”

Why is he telling me this? Alexios thought. The guy just goes on and on. Doesn’t he have any friends to talk to?

“I was content to cling to this little rock in the vain hope that no one would ever wrest it from me. My lot in life was already quite blessed. I have been favored by God, in comparison to so many. But now I have begun to see that new ideas truly can break the mold of the past—for the mutual benefit of all. And so, Kentarch Leandros, I believe we shall do all that you require. All that’s left is to check with the strategos, and the people, of course. And look, here she comes now.”

He nodded to Herakleia, who was anxiously walking toward them in a yellow satin dress, its hem already stained with mud. Several eunuchs were running after her with pained expressions, clutching the usual styluses and wax tablets.

“David, this is completely unacceptable!” she shouted. “There are thousands of people here—it’ll take months to build enough housing for them. Meanwhile, you’ve got fifty empty mansions in the city—”

“My dear—”

“They can’t wait any longer.” Herakleia gestured to the refugees. “Look at these people! They’re so exhausted they can barely think! How could you let this happen?”

“My darling—”

“This kind of malnourishment causes permanent damage.” Herakleia was standing in front of Bagrationi, now. “We have to bring them all inside, wash them, give them clean clothes, and feed them. Whatever reserves you have—whatever food is available—we need to give it to them all immediately.”

“Honey.” He raised his arms to hug her.

She stepped back. “Do as I say. The workers will kill us all if we keep mistreating them.”

Bagrationi looked at Alexios like he was about to say: “Women. Can’t live with ‘em, can’t live without ‘em.”

In response, Alexios left his facial expression unchanged. Then the doux turned to his aides.

“Do as the princess commands,” he said.

“But my lord,” began a tall turbaned Arab eunuch, “what of the rich—”

“Calm yourself, Samonas,” Bagrationi said. “They will be compensated for their troubles. After all, if we win the battle with the Romans, paying everyone will be easy. If we lose, it won’t matter, because we’ll be dead. Meanwhile, we’d better make sure the princess is guarded at all times—”

“I can take care of myself,” Herakleia said. “And I’m a strategos now. The workers elected me. I told you to stop calling me ‘princess.’”

Bagrationi raised his hands. “Right, sorry, strategos.”

Herakleia looked at the eunuch. “Your name is Samonas?”

He lowered his head slightly. “Samonas, chamberlain of my lord the doux’s palace.”

“I think you’re right,” Herakleia said. “There’s no way the rich will allow the poor into their homes. They’ll have to be forced.” She turned to Bagrationi. “Can you rely on your bodyguards to force the rich to open their mansions?”

Bagrationi shook his head. “I’m not sure we have enough men.”

Herakleia looked at Alexios. “We may have to try a different approach.”

“What do you have in mind, strategos?” Alexios said.

“Excuse me, my dear,” Bagrationi said. “But you should be addressing him as ‘Kentarch Leandros’ from now on. He was just commissioned by yours truly.”

“Is that so?” Herakleia flashed her eyes at Alexios. “Well, Kentarch Leandros, congratulations, and here’s your first assignment. Help me throw rich people out of their homes. Do you think you can handle it?” She glanced at his sword.

Alexios bowed to hide his flushed cheeks. “Uh, yes—of course, strategos. There’s just the matter of—shouldn’t we ask the refugees if they want us to do this? I thought you said we were all about democracy…”

“Those who agree can sleep in the homes of the rich,” Herakleia said. “Those who disagree can sleep outside. We don’t have time to assemble everyone to discuss every last little decision. We’ll have them elect delegates to the workers’ councils soon.” She turned to Bagrationi. “That reminds me. I’m not dressing like this anymore. I can barely move around at all. I need to go back to men’s clothes. You also need to spare me some bodyguards to help with the rich. Everyone knows they love private property more than life itself. And we also need to start delivering free food to every person here, every day. Open up the granary, do whatever you have to.”

“Certainly.” Bagrationi gestured to Samonas, who bowed and shuffled back to the palace; the eunuch was not old, but walked as if he had some kind of permanent injury.

“I just have one question,” Bagrationi said. “If you intend to turn the entire world on its head, does that include turning me on my head, too?”

“Only if you get in my way,” Herakleia said.