The Last Roman: Honour Part 3

It was his first attempt to take the city that had brought Flavius, marching with General Vitalian and fleeing certain death at home further north, to Constantinople and the apartments of Justinus, his late father's old comrade, where if he had not found peace he had felt something akin to a home.

The religious dispute mirrored in many ways the fissure between the two great groups of the empire, those who clung, and they were often of barbarian stock, to the notion of Imperial Rome as it had been for centuries, set against the greater number of Greeks and Levantines who made up the majority of the population. These were people who seemed to take more inspiration from Persia than Rome, not least in the way the Emperor was seen as divinely chosen and a certain conduit to G.o.d.

To a committed Christian this harked back to and mirrored too closely the pagan ethos of the pre-Constantine polity. The Roman-inspired also deplored and fought the way Greek modes of behaviour continually wore down on what they called the Ancient Virtues, notions of behaviour more breeched than observed but held to be a better mode of living.

Their enemies scoffed at these pretensions, seeing them for what they too often were, a hypocritical method of a.s.serting cultural superiority when in truth the reverse was the case; if the Romans had ever had any virtues they were those of Italian peasants and farmers. Learning and sophistication came from Attica, not Italy.

Justinus, Thracian by birth, as had been the family of Flavius, sought to act as he thought a Roman should: honestly and selflessly. When it came to religion, if he kept his own counsel in public, his view in private was unequivocal. He thought his master misguided and making difficulties where none should exist; let each man worship in his own fashion and if the bishops wished to dispute on dogma let them do so without troubling the public peace.

Flavius Belisarius felt himself to be solidly Roman, an att.i.tude inherited from his late father. The events of his death, and that of the three elder brothers who perished with him, were now long past in the life of a boy turned to manhood. Yet they were, to the person who had witnessed the act of treachery, as fresh as if they had happened the day before. This was even truer at night, when dreams turned the man who betrayed them into a Nemesis, an ogre of antiquity, some pagan fiend sent by the Fates to ruin his peace of mind.

Dining with Justinus Petrus was off to one of his dockside dens of iniquity the subject of how Flavius had come to the city was one bound to surface and with it the present state of the still unresolved religious divide which pitted the western half of the empire against the east and south, doing nothing to aid the cause of border protection.

'You served with Vitalian, Justinus?'

'Many years ago in the Isaurian revolts. He was a doughty fighter.'

'Upright?'

'Yes, but too inflexible sometimes. Very good with barbarians. You have to admire the way he has kept fighting, having been denied success so many times.'

'You'd do likewise, I am sure.'

'I am not sure it is a fight I would ever have got into.'

'Am I allowed to ask another question?' That got a quizzical look but also a shrug that said go ahead. 'Who do you think will succeed Anastasius?'

'I am tempted to leave that in the hands of Our Saviour and grateful that he is there to oversee it.'

'I can understand your reluctance to be drawn, but you must have both hopes and reservations, it would not be human to be otherwise.'

'Has Petrus put you up to this?'

'No.'

'I'm surprised, it sounds so very like the questions he plagues me with, though yours is more forthright. His tend to go halfway round the palace before I can get the point.'

'And what do you tell him?'

'That I will do my duty to the office I hold.'

'It is not unknown for a succession to cause bloodshed.'

Justinus looked quite irritated then, as if he was being pressed, which Flavius had tried hard to avoid. 'That I will not stand by and witness.'

'Which will involve you taking action.'

'Change the subject, Flavius,' Justinus growled, showing in his obvious anger a side of his character the youngster had rarely seen. 'Or change where you dine.'

'Forgive me.'

'Granted,' came the eventual reply, when the older man had contained his annoyance. 'You met Vitalian, Petrus tells me, and he was full of praise for you.'

'I'm not sure how he knows that, given he was not witness to it.'

'My nephew would not find himself in strange company in a burrow of ferrets. He seems to know a great deal that he has not actually seen, which makes me wonder if he does not occasionally indulge in sorcery.'

You don't know the half of it, Flavius thought, as he covered his mouth and half his face with his wine goblet lest that become obvious.

'I do not say, Uncle, that you are in any particular danger, only that times are perilous and precautions are wise.'

'Then spare me from the food your mother's cook provides.'

Petrus acknowledged that; the person in question was a woman who had come from Thracia with his mother and no amount of bleating about the offal she served as food would dent the maternal faith in an old retainer and slave who had been with her since childhood. Yet Lupicina, wife to Justinian, who avoided the palace and the condescension she was exposed to there, also resided in the Sabbatius household and it was only fitting that her husband should visit her as often as his duties allowed. Petrus was outlining the obvious fact that such regular excursions were no secret.

'You do not see that you have enemies.'

'Why should I, nephew, when you see them everywhere?'

'An escort would add to your dignity.'

'I am going to dine with my family and my wife, your family and come to think of it, I am curious how you have yet again got out of attendance?'

Tempted to say he had more willpower than his uncle, Petrus restrained himself. Even true it would not be taken well and would only lead to the observation, also a fact, that Vigilantia, sister to Justinus, did not only overindulge her far from capable cook, she was too soft on her only son.

'You're adamant?'

'I have never needed an armed escort when I moved around the city before and despite your wild theories I do not need one now.'

'At least indulge me by taking a weapon, a sword.'

'Very well,' came the impatient response, 'if it makes you feel better.'

'I cannot persuade him that at times like the present all that is normal no longer holds.'

'If he is at risk, who is it from?'

'How many people, Flavius, do you think would like to get into the bedchamber of Anastasius and press a pillow over his face? How many alliances do you think are being formed to take advantage of the succession and what does time do to those as the Emperor lingers on and their secret gatherings begin to leak?'

Petrus was pulling at his hair and his head was well canted, proof that he was troubled, with Flavius reckoning he was the one most distressed by the fact that Anastasius refused to expire quickly.

'I am not the only mind that sees the need to have the Excubitors either as allies or men who will stand aside. How, Flavius, do you ensure that?'

Getting a shrug, Petrus got all professorial. 'No, you cannot answer for you have not thought it through, but I have. What if there was a new Count of the Excubitors, one committed to your cause? He could order the imperial guard to stand down or he could be the conduit by which they could be bribed to acclaim your candidate for emperor.'

'And in order to do that you would need to remove Justinus?'

'The point entirely.'

'If you cannot persuade Justinus to take precautions, what makes you think I can?'

That surprised Petrus. 'No one is asking you to.'

'Then what are you asking?'

'I want you and some of your men to follow his palanquin, at a discreet distance. I have asked and had him agree that he should take his sword so if he is attacked and an a.s.sa.s.sination is attempted he may be able to hold off his a.s.sailants until you can come to his aid.'

'If he finds out he will crucify me.'

'If he is killed we will all face the cross.'

Accepting that as exaggeration, Flavius nevertheless agreed; he was off duty and had no concerns about finding a quartet of his rankers to go with him. They would need some duty favours in return, though they must have wondered, albeit silently, why their officer, twenty paces ahead of them, was clad in a cloak on what was a stifling evening and why were they carrying his helmet and spear?

Nor were they alone in that; dripping sweat, Flavius sought to keep the palanquin ahead in sight, while his men were in view to his rear, not easy in streets still busy with citizenry and hawkers. The garment had been unnecessary; Petrus insisted they must remain out of sight and in some senses that got more difficult as Justinus left the centre of the city and headed through the quieter streets that led to his brother-in-law's villa at Blachernae.

A hilly suburb, it was far enough from the stink of the city, providing the wind was not blowing due north, to render life more agreeable for the patricians and those tradesfolk rich enough to match their style of living. With ample water from artesian wells and good soil, the large gardens were a source of neighbourly compet.i.tion while the houses they surrounded vied with each other in sumptuousness.

If it replicated anything, Blachernae was very like what Rome had been in the Augustan Age on the Palatine Hill. It was generally held, by those who could only gaze in envy at such luxury, that it also mirrored the arrogance of the rich senatorial cla.s.s of those times and there was just enough daylight left as they pa.s.sed by them to allow for an occasional sigh of wonder from the rankers.

Everyone but Justinus was hot and bothered by the time the palanquin deposited him at the gate of the Sabbatius villa, the men who had carried him probably even more than Flavius, who quickly found a small copse of trees in which to conceal himself so he could disrobe. His men joined him in what was now, under such a canopy, near to darkness.

To a look of enquiry he responded. 'We wait.'

'Am I allowed to ask what it is we're about, Your Honour?'

'We are looking after the welfare of our general.'

'Without him knowin' of it.'

'You're asking for a right lashing, Tircas,' hissed another soldier; in the imperial army you did not question officers.

Not long back from the east these men who had been allotted to Flavius did not really yet know him. More than that they did not know of his past serving with Vitalian, when he had been what they were now, a common soldier. Unlike his peers, he knew what they faced and the stoicism with which they generally did so and it bothered him not at all that his actions were being questioned for he had felt that same need himself.

'I will never use a whip to answer a question,' Flavius insisted. 'It must be plain to you that if we are concealed it is because Justinus does not wish to be escorted by armed men, yet there are those who fear at present he may be in danger.'

'With the old Emperor on his last pegs?'

'Times like these are far from normal. I hope and pray that we will return to our barracks having witnessed nothing to disturb the night.'

'Would I be allowed, Your Honour, to see if I can find a public well? A cooling drink would not go amiss.'

'Do so, Tircas, and do not rush. Our charge will be in that villa for some time.'

In truth Justinus emerged earlier than Flavius had reckoned he knew nothing of the Sabbatius cook and nor did he know that the night had ended not as it should in connubial bliss but with a matrimonial row and an unexpected departure long before the palanquin was due to return. He was woken up with a sharp shake, as were the pair of his men he had allowed their turn to sleep. This time they had to dog the heels of a striding and fit older man, going mainly downhill under a sky carpeted with stars.

'Reverse your spears,' Flavius whispered, even if Justinus was too far off to hear even normal speech. 'The points will catch the starlight.'

The other problem was the noise of their feet, for all were wearing regulation sandals and they had metal studs. To avoid the chance of Justinus looking round, Flavius dropped back as far as he could while still keeping the general in view, albeit only as a sort of outline, fortunately aided by his light-coloured garments.

They were back in the more populous part of the city now, where the streets narrowed and the higher buildings created gullies of gloom, forcing Flavius to hurry in order to keep the outline in view. He was reasoning the whole thing as a waste of time; the city was dark, few of the citizens prepared to waste precious oil to stay out of their cots, though there was a glim of a lamp from the occasional window of some night owl.

'Is that a lantern, Your Honour?'

Flavius cursed himself; he had allowed his attention to wander, partly because of the stifling heat trapped in by the tenements but more by the thought he might look like an old woman and a misguided worrier to the men in his unit. Indeed they would chatter, and the escapade, even if it never came to the ears of Justinus, would be all over the barracks before the next day was out. He could not say this was not his idea!

'Where away?'

'Saw just a flash, low down at street height, quick doused.'

'Sure?'

'Not certain.'

Flavius did not have to order an increase in pace, he only had to move faster himself for his men to pick up their own. His spear, hitherto shaft uppermost, was reversed with the needle-sharp point forward. The first shout echoed in the narrow street and at the sound of that Flavius broke into a run, the noise of which also echoed and had Justinus turn to see the cause.

In doing so he failed to see the figures emerging from the black walls of the tenements, they being clad in the same dark clothing. Flavius yelled for his general to take guard and luckily Justinus did not hesitate, perhaps because he heard footsteps too close, perhaps because of the tone of alarm of the youngster's yell. Still running, Flavius cast his spear right over the head of Justinus, unsure whether it would do any harm.

What it did do was strike the cobbled roadway to send up a shower of sparks and the clang of contact. The other sight was the flash of what looked like a sword blade, he hoped that of Justinus, so he called to his men to cast, which they did at full pelt and being trained it was done with care and accuracy, evidenced by a couple of howls that Flavius hoped were wounds.

Justinus had the sense to retreat towards what he must now know to be support, his sword swinging wildly with no other purpose than to hold at bay his opponents. Such creatures could not be blind or deaf, they could hear and no doubt see that those rushing to close with them were trained fighters and if their numbers were an unknown they would have to be many more to contest with such people.

That they melted away with the same speed with which they had appeared was initially to be expected black clothing against dark walls but as Flavius swept past Justinus he did so into a vacuum empty of humanity; those who had attacked his patron had disappeared in an area riddled with narrow alleyways. Panting, sweating, and angry, Flavius stopped his men and called on them to surround their general. It was inside a square of his imperial guards, with Flavius Belisarius out in front, that the comes Excubitorum returned to the palace.

CHAPTER FIVE.

'Yes, I denied your express wish, Uncle, but you must acknowledge that my suspicions were correct.'

'I would be interested to know where these suspicions come from.'

'An ear to the ground, or what lies beneath it.'

'Home to your spirit is it not?' Justinus was angry, but Flavius as a witness to this exchange was unsure if the irritation was really aimed at Petrus or at himself for being wrong. Nor would he acknowledge to having been in any real danger, claiming to have been faced with 'A bunch of ill-bred vagabonds that I would have seen off without aid from anyone.'

'Flavius?'

'I saw little, just some shadowy figures and they melted away as soon as we made our presence known.'

'Cowards,' Justinus spat.

'It could be he saved your life!' Petrus rarely raised his voice to Justinus and that he did so now caused a degree of astonishment and he was not finished. 'What do you think would happen to me and my family if you are slain? What of your wife, the Lady Lupicina? Do you think we would be left at peace to mourn? No, Uncle, if we were not slaughtered like goats we would be hounded from the city to what? A life of poverty and ridicule?'