The Last Roman: Honour Part 4

'I know everyone depends on my holding my place.'

Petrus dropped the angry tone, his voice becoming emollient. 'To those who care for you, that you hold on to, your life is of more account and I say that is still at risk.'

There was no need to ask if Petrus thought there would be other attempts on the life of the comes Excubitorum: that was implicit in the words he employed. It was what to do and how to guard against it that filled his thinking.

'You trust Flavius?'

'That does not deserve an answer.'

'Then as his commander, I request that you detach him and his men from normal duties to act as a personal bodyguard until the matter of the succession is resolved.'

'It ill becomes you, Petrus, to speak of the Emperor as if he is already dead.'

Flavius expected Petrus to mention Amantius but that was not forthcoming. Instead he spoke of the imperial nephews, insisting that each would have some support but the real danger came if any two of them combined.

'It cannot be anything other than a temporary alliance, but it will serve to get one of them the purple. After that, if the winner has any sense, he will cut the throats of his rivals.'

'They may all align behind one,' Justinus suggested, though without much conviction: as he said before, he had seen too much of them and their rivalry to reckon that possible but plainly the whole subject concerned him. 'What do I do if they begin to murder each other? Do I stand aside or interfere?'

'Be concerned about your own skin not theirs,' Petrus ventured, before his head canted to one side. 'Truly it would be a tragedy if the imperial succession was dragged into another bloodbath.'

'If Anatastius had chosen it would have been clear.'

'You wish he had anointed a successor?'

'I do, and I say that even if I think his nephews to be poor candidates. The empire can withstand a fool but not a weakling. If matters are as you say, is the whole thing to be decided in the Hippodrome?'

'It has happened before, Uncle.'

'And rarely has it given us good governance. An emperor created by acclamation of the mob is ever in fear of being deposed by the same creatures that forced his elevation.'

Flavius felt he lacked real knowledge of what was being discussed, though he was as aware as anyone on the number of successions that had been mob-inspired, either by acclamation of a favoured candidate or the repudiation of one put forward by the powerful. Justinus and Petrus had talked of it at table in a way that saw succession problems as normal. There was a certain level of conversation regarding the fickleness of the mob in the officers' quarters based on the very real threat that out of control at a time of imperial interruption they were a danger to everyone, Excubitors included.

Even well-armed, you could not hold off a fired-up mob of thousands intent on imposing their will, so a ma.s.sacre of the military was far from impossible. Yet it was raised there too in such a way that it seemed to be accepted as a feature of life in the imperial capital, which to him bordered on the absurd. He wondered if it might take years to understand the ramifications of the various polities that vied for supremacy in what should be a stable state but was not.

If the Emperor had supreme power it was held on to only by his ability to balance the many conflicting interests of the citizens of empire and nowhere was that more manifest than in Constantinople itself. It was hard enough for a young man who had spent little time in the city to get a grip on even the most basic rivalries that excluded those of a religious hue, that between the factions known as the Blues and the Greens. Originally split by compet.i.tion over chariot racing they had mutated into groupings more intent on the protection of their rights than watching their teams compete in the Hippodrome.

At its very simplest the supporters of the Blues tended to come from the old patrician families and the Equestrians while the Greens had their enthusiasts among the mercantile cla.s.ses but these were, as definitions, too loose. What was true and disturbing was the ability of either faction to bring onto the streets or into the seating of the chariot arena a mult.i.tude of supporters too fevered by some cause or other to easily control.

'Then you would see that as undesirable, Uncle?'

That question brought Flavius back to the present, as did the reply of Justinus that lamented the way the military units based in the city often stood aside when the Blues or the Greens rioted, they too being split by the same conflicts over allegiance. He accepted that having been chosen, a new emperor needed the support of the people and that was, by tradition, granted to them in the Hippodrome. But the person being acclaimed should be presented to them as the choice of the higher officers of state, not someone who merely appealed to their most base pa.s.sions.

'Then we must do what we can to ensure that such an outcome is avoided.'

'You'll need more than an ear under the ground to foresee that, Petrus, perhaps a celestial presence might suit the need.'

'Excellency.' Justinus swung round to face the messenger, a man whose doleful expression gave notice of what he had come to impart. 'The physicians attending upon His Imperial Highness fear the end cannot be far off, having heard the rattle.'

'I will come at once.'

Justinus gave both Petrus and Flavius a searching look then grabbed his helmet and placed it under his arm; he would need to be properly dressed to attend upon his dying master, a man he had esteemed even if he had thought his religious policies misguided. Anastasius and he shared an Illyrian place of birth and could, when the need arose, converse in their local language so the Excubitor commander had acted as something of a confidante. If there was a difference in age it was not so great that memories could not be shared of a life vastly more simple and rustic than that to which they had both risen.

'Uncle, take your sword too.'

That stopped Justinus; he had the right, unlike others, as the head of the imperial bodyguard, to bear arms in his master's presence. Was it fitting to do so now when he would be attending upon a soul parting from its corporeal body?

'Indulge me,' Petrus insisted, 'and if not for yourself take the precaution for your family.'

The hesitation was brief, before Justinus nodded and strapped on his weapon. Then he was gone. As soon as he had disappeared Petrus moved to key open a casket and produce a scroll, which he immediately held out.

'Flavius, please go to barracks and alert the officers listed here to take up their places at the entrances to the palace. See them carried out then come back here and rejoin your own decharchia.'

'Did Justinus prearrange this?'

'No, Flavius, I did.'

'And the instructions regarding Amantius, or rather his candidate?'

The look that got was one of a man wondering if the person he could see before him could be so dense. 'There are none.'

'Why?'

'Amantius is the Emperor's chief eunuch and will be where his station demands at such a time, by the bedside as a witness to his demise.'

'But the man he has chosen-'

'May hanker till he draws his last breath. Do as I ask, Flavius, and if you have questions save them till later.' Seeing the younger man still hesitate, Petrus was firm. 'I say to you what I said to my uncle. Our fate depends upon this and I add that it would not be unbecoming at such a time for an Excubitor officer to be seen running.'

Too confused to argue, Flavius left the room, not running but walking fast. The officers' quarters of the Excubitors lay within the main gate that led out to the Triumphal Way and as he entered it was clear that some form of alarm had already been disseminated: there was no one lounging about as per normal, no sound of clicking dice or general banter.

Many were deep in conversation and some were, without haste, donning their armour, Flavius soon to realise they to be the very names he had listed on Petrus's scroll. The sight of him was telling; each nodded silently, hastened their preparations and without a word to anyone, departed. These were the fellows who were the boon companions of Petrus, men often to be found in his company in the low dens he loved to frequent and into which he had introduced Flavius. The next sound he heard, as he departed to join Petrus and his own body of ten spears, was of those same officers rousing out their men.

'Splendid,' was the response when he reported, spoken by a man agitated but seemingly relieved. 'If all do their duty the palace is sealed off as are the necessary apartments.'

'I would deem it a favour, Petrus, to be told what it is you are up to?'

'Sit.' Flavius looked at the doorway, really to what was going on well beyond it. 'Anastasius has not yet left us.'

'How do you know?'

'I have not heard his servants wailing.'

'Which they will do?'

'Of course.'

Flavius nodded. 'For the loss of their master, it is fitting.'

'For the loss of their places and the weight of their purse,' Petrus scoffed, 'and the privileges that go with it, not least the right to pilfer. A new emperor means a clean-out of slaves and attendants.'

'They cannot all be thieves.'

'They are.'

'Do you see good in anyone?'

'What I see is what I see,' was the enigmatic reply.

As if it had been preordained, that was followed immediately by the sound of wailing, low to begin with but rising to a keening crescendo over a very short period.

'Now the real adventure begins.'

Petrus stood and indicated that Flavius should follow him. With the armed men he led at their back, they made their way towards the imperial apartments, pa.s.sing any number of sobbing slaves and servants, even the odd official, not that the sight of such distress seemed to affect Petrus, who now had a knowing smile on his face, as irritating as it was mysterious.

There was no doubt that a great deal of planning had gone into what was now happening, but to what end? The drinking companions of Petrus knew what tasks they had to perform without Flavius having to say a word, and what did sealing the palace imply? A threat, but from whom? At the great double doors to the suite of Anastasius stood two Excubitor rankers, spears at the ready, with eight more present and fully armed. It took a quiet conversation and order from the officer who commanded them to allow Petrus and Flavius entry and they had to part from their own escort.

'No longer needed,' Petrus said. 'The only armed man in here is Justinus.'

The set of rooms was s.p.a.cious, many chambered and endless, but they were empty and silent, all the close retainers and body slaves of Anastasius having been ejected, the only sound to emerge as they pa.s.sed through various rooms being that of the priests praying and singing for the soul of the departed, which rose to be clearly audible as they pa.s.sed the imperial bedchamber.

They carried on until they were outside the private council chamber, the place where decisions were taken by the Emperor and his closest advisors in secrecy, in truth the room from which the empire was run, though the Senate was allowed to act as if they made the necessary resolutions. Petrus, sliding to the side of the open double doors, silently indicated they should take station out of view.

'They will pray now,' he whispered, 'but the bargaining for the succession will begin very shortly.'

'Would it not be blasphemous to act so soon?'

The equally soft point got a quiet snort and a hissed lecture.

'There can be no hiatus. Word will spread that Anastasius is dead, to a populace that has been waiting weeks for it to happen. All the factions who seek advantage in that will be preparing to act but they will hold back to see if first, those who should decide on the succession, the men of the council, do so.'

'And if not?'

'Prepare for riots, looting and murder as scores are settled. The Blues and Greens will be at each other's throats within days.'

'Why are they allowed to be as they are?'

'Why does the sun rise of a morning, Flavius?' Petrus whispered as the praying ceased and a commanding voice spoke out.

'Sad as this day is, it falls to us to have a concern for the public peace.'

'Urban prefect,' Petrus whispered. 'He will have to deal with any trouble.'

Next came another voice, hoa.r.s.e but firm. It took a few seconds for Flavius to recognise it as that of Amantius, it being so very much stronger than what he had heard in that cubicle. He now knew the man's official t.i.tle to be that of Magister Officiorum, the functionary who controlled access to the Emperor when he held an a.s.sembly to hear complaints and grievances.

As such he was a real power, for he could deny as well as grant an audience, which explained all that gold Flavius had collected from his villa. The best way to get through his screening was to bribe him. It also gave reason to his concern on who should succeed: he wanted to keep his place, and if anything, enhance it as the power behind the throne.

'We are all aware that to delay in naming a successor to Anastasius, G.o.d rest his soul, is to invite disorder.'

'The palace will be secure,' Justinus said, his brisk military timbre easy to recognise. 'The order would have gone out as soon as our loss was known.'

'Then we know it will be so,' said Amantius in what seemed a bit of a purr. 'There is not one of us present, who make up the council, who has not deliberated in private as to who should succeed our late master.'

That got a murmur of agreement from a goodly number of throats. The whole body that had made up the council of Anastasius, senators all and the holders of the great offices of state, the men who controlled the vast bureaucracy of empire, were in the room.

'It does not fall to me by right, but I now ask if any of us present have a candidate.'

'Hypatius,' came a loud cry, to be met by howls of derision, the names of Probus and Pompeius greeted in like fashion, with one weak-voiced senator pointing out that if their own uncle had not thought his nephews fitting for the highest office then who were they to disagree, only for Amantius to respond.

'He did not name them as his successors, that is true, and I can now reveal to you all what was imparted to me in confidence, which is the one quality he did not apply to his nephews. He had no faith in their ability to rule and feared for the empire in their hands.'

Various voices spoke up, other names were mentioned, to be cast aside either in loud defamation or after a quiet and serious discussion.

'He's playing a fine game,' Petrus hissed, 'but he must declare soon.'

Which Amantius did, naming Theocritus, commander of the Scholae Palatinae, as a man not only fit for the office but, vitally, able to muster support from his own body of troops as well as the Excubitors, they having been canva.s.sed by a person in whom he reposed great faith.

'How do you know that to be true?' Justinus demanded. 'I have no knowledge of this.'

'Trust me, Comes, I do.'

It was a telling point to Flavius, given what he knew about the Excubitors, for the men that this Theocritus led enjoyed scant regard from the body of which he was a part. Originally raised as an Equestrian bodyguard for the Emperor, and it had to be admitted at one time a potent force, the Scholae had over time descended into an organisation stuffed with privileged young men, the sons of the wealthy members of the Patrician and Equestrian cla.s.ses, peac.o.c.ks more interested in appearing martial than being effectively so. To anyone seriously military they were nothing but a mounted, prancing joke.

Not so to Amantius, who was praising them to the heavens, as if they alone had the power to save the empire, and naturally the man who led them was a paragon. After a long and heartfelt paean of praise, what he said to follow did induce surprise.

'I hope the council will not take it amiss that I have Theocritus standing by. I also know that he is willing to accept the diadem and he has a.s.sured me that what offices we hold now and who holds them will not be altered.'

The voice became louder and almost imperious. 'Order is too important.'

Even Flavius could see the sense of that last ploy; it would not only be slaves and servants wondering about their future prosperity; every high courtier, in receipt of great wealth, would be likewise troubled given their entire existence was by imperial favour.

'If it is agreeable to you present I would ask that he be allowed to attend upon us and make his case.'

'You have been presumptuous, Amantius.'

This full-throated objection from a man identified by Petrus as the Master of the Largesse the official who disbursed the empire's income throughout the various Themes and Dioceses, it being interesting to measure the number who agreed with him, which seemed to Flavius a great deal less than the number present. The look Petrus gave Flavius then was like that of a lion who had found a fresh kill.

'It is about to get interesting.'

CHAPTER SIX.