"Thank you, Father," I said, probably sounding surprised, for I was unused to praise from him.

"You're growing up," he said. His tone too was less certain that it might have been; I daresay he found the idea startling. But he faced it head-on, as was always his way. "High time you wore an Emperor's crown on your head, not just a prince's circlet. If you can do the work, you deserve the rank."

Now I know I stared. If he crowned me Emperor, that pushed Herakleios and Tiberius even further into the background, for my rank would vault over theirs, and I would be my father's formally designated heir. In a small voice, I asked, "What will my uncles say to that?"

"I will tend to your uncles, never fear," my father promised.

Herakleios and Tiberius tried to tend to my father first. I think they might have done it anyhow, but hearing that he intended to acclaim me Emperor- for he made no secret of that: to the contrary- forced their hand.

Soldiers from the Anatolian military districts- the men who had run away from the Bulgars rather then routing them while they had the chance- began trickling into the imperial city, seeking passage back to the farms they worked when not summoned to war. They blamed their ignominious defeat not on their own vile cowardice, but on my father's having abandoned them: fools, wretches, liars, knaves! My uncles went out among them, not to calm their discontent but to fan it.

MYAKES

They tried to get us excubitores to go against Constantine, too. That didn't go far; we knew why the Emperor had had to sail away to Mesembria. Then they tried saying things like, "Do you want that spoiled brat telling you what to do when Constantine is gone?"