beard were both neatly cut and startlingly white, but Constantine was no old man. At forty-four, he had maintained much of his youthful vigour, and he walked down the central aisle with a determined stride and his head held high. He mounted the steps leading up to the dais that had been erected before the altar, and turned to face the crowd. Close up, Longo could see that he had kind, grey eyes.
‘I swear to uphold the one true, unified Church and to protect the faith,’ Constantine said, his deep voice steady and solemn.
‘God will preserve a Christian emperor!’ the crowd responded in unison, although Longo noted that some around him kept silent. Constantine’s policy of union between the Catholic and Orthodox churches was not popular.
‘I swear to defend, with my blood and my life, the empire that God has granted me.’
‘Lord help the pious!’ the people replied. ‘Holy Lord uplift Thy world!’
‘I swear to rule justly, the shepherd of my people,’ Constantine concluded.
‘These are common prayers. God be with you!’ the crowd chanted.
Constantine turned his back to the crowd and knelt before a frail old priest dressed in scarlet robes – the metropolitan of Mistra. The metropolitan held his hand over Constantine and began to speak: ‘O Lord, Our God, the King of Kings and Lord of Lords, behold from Thy dwelling place Thy faithful servant Constantine, whom Thou hast been pleased to set as king over Thy holy nation, which Thou didst purchase with the precious blood of Thine only begotten Son.’ At this point, two dignitaries draped a scarlet silk mantle over Constantine’s shoulders. ‘Vouchsafe to anoint him with the oil of gladness and endue him with power from on high,’ the metropolitan continued as he anointed Constantine with oil, making the sign of the cross on his forehead.
‘Put upon his head a crown of pure gold and grant him long life,’ the metropolitan concluded. A young acolyte brought forth the crown of the empire – a thick band of jewel-encrusted gold, topped by a lattice-work of gold filled with whitest ermine. The metropolitan reached to take the crown from the acolyte, but he was old and the crown heavy. As the crowd watched in horror, the metropolitan fumbled and then dropped the crown, which rolled down the steps to the foot of the dais.
‘God save us!’ the fat official next to Longo gasped. ‘A terrible omen!’ The metropolitan had frozen, his face pale. People began to whisper, and someone cried out that this foretold the fall of the empire. He was immediately silenced, but the whispering grew louder.
Constantine stood and turned to face the crowd, which fell silent. He descended the steps and picked up the crown, lifting it high for all to see. ‘I place my trust in God and steel, not in omens,’ he declared and placed the crown upon his own head. ‘May God grant me the wisdom to rule with justice and the strength to guard with steel the empire of my fathers!’ The crowd cheered, and Longo with them. Any doubts that he had had regarding Constantine were gone. This was an emperor for whom Longo would be happy to fight.
Gradually, the cheering resolved into the ritual words that greeted the crowning of each new Roman emperor: ‘Holy, holy, holy! Glory to God in the highest and on earth, peace!’ The standards of the many nobles in the hall dipped in honour of the new emperor, and the gathered nobles and priests knelt and then prostrated themselves. Longo knelt, but he did not prostrate himself. He was a lord of Genoa, and while he honoured Constantine, he would not grovel on his belly for any man. His head held high, Longo caught the emperor’s eye. Constantine nodded solemnly in Longo’s direction, and then strode from the church, followed by the metropolitan and the incense bearers. Constantine Dragases was now Constantine XI, Caesar Augustus, king faithful in Christ, Emperor of the Romans.
Outside the church, Longo followed the shuffling crowd back to
‘I swear to uphold the one true, unified Church and to protect the faith,’ Constantine said, his deep voice steady and solemn.
‘God will preserve a Christian emperor!’ the crowd responded in unison, although Longo noted that some around him kept silent. Constantine’s policy of union between the Catholic and Orthodox churches was not popular.
‘I swear to defend, with my blood and my life, the empire that God has granted me.’
‘Lord help the pious!’ the people replied. ‘Holy Lord uplift Thy world!’
‘I swear to rule justly, the shepherd of my people,’ Constantine concluded.
‘These are common prayers. God be with you!’ the crowd chanted.
Constantine turned his back to the crowd and knelt before a frail old priest dressed in scarlet robes – the metropolitan of Mistra. The metropolitan held his hand over Constantine and began to speak: ‘O Lord, Our God, the King of Kings and Lord of Lords, behold from Thy dwelling place Thy faithful servant Constantine, whom Thou hast been pleased to set as king over Thy holy nation, which Thou didst purchase with the precious blood of Thine only begotten Son.’ At this point, two dignitaries draped a scarlet silk mantle over Constantine’s shoulders. ‘Vouchsafe to anoint him with the oil of gladness and endue him with power from on high,’ the metropolitan continued as he anointed Constantine with oil, making the sign of the cross on his forehead.
‘Put upon his head a crown of pure gold and grant him long life,’ the metropolitan concluded. A young acolyte brought forth the crown of the empire – a thick band of jewel-encrusted gold, topped by a lattice-work of gold filled with whitest ermine. The metropolitan reached to take the crown from the acolyte, but he was old and the crown heavy. As the crowd watched in horror, the metropolitan fumbled and then dropped the crown, which rolled down the steps to the foot of the dais.
‘God save us!’ the fat official next to Longo gasped. ‘A terrible omen!’ The metropolitan had frozen, his face pale. People began to whisper, and someone cried out that this foretold the fall of the empire. He was immediately silenced, but the whispering grew louder.
Constantine stood and turned to face the crowd, which fell silent. He descended the steps and picked up the crown, lifting it high for all to see. ‘I place my trust in God and steel, not in omens,’ he declared and placed the crown upon his own head. ‘May God grant me the wisdom to rule with justice and the strength to guard with steel the empire of my fathers!’ The crowd cheered, and Longo with them. Any doubts that he had had regarding Constantine were gone. This was an emperor for whom Longo would be happy to fight.
Gradually, the cheering resolved into the ritual words that greeted the crowning of each new Roman emperor: ‘Holy, holy, holy! Glory to God in the highest and on earth, peace!’ The standards of the many nobles in the hall dipped in honour of the new emperor, and the gathered nobles and priests knelt and then prostrated themselves. Longo knelt, but he did not prostrate himself. He was a lord of Genoa, and while he honoured Constantine, he would not grovel on his belly for any man. His head held high, Longo caught the emperor’s eye. Constantine nodded solemnly in Longo’s direction, and then strode from the church, followed by the metropolitan and the incense bearers. Constantine Dragases was now Constantine XI, Caesar Augustus, king faithful in Christ, Emperor of the Romans.
Outside the church, Longo followed the shuffling crowd back to
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