The Last Roman: Honour Part 5

When he spoke again Amantius, having faced some very vocal opposition, was beginning to sound desperate; did his a.s.surance of military support from the two bodies of troops tasked to defend the person of the Emperor count for nothing?

'Do not rank the Scholae Palatinae alongside my Excubitors,' Justinus protested. 'I will not have it.'

'I do not mean to denigrate your fine men, Comes, but to include them. Theocritus has promised to be generous to all who aid him.'

'Aid which I have yet to see proof of.'

'Believe me it is there.'

What followed was a plea for understanding for what could only have been quite a complex conspiracy: to get upon his side two such military bodies had to take months of subterfuge and secret gatherings and it could not be done without the disburs.e.m.e.nt of a great number of bribes and even more promises of gold to come, a fact obvious to everyone present, even if none referred to it.

'Since I cannot aspire myself, I have sought a solution which will be swift and orderly. Do not deny to me that every mind in this room had pondered the problem and discussed it. If you cannot put forward a name it is because you cannot agree on one. Theocritus is my candidate, he has military backing and he is popular with the mob as well.'

'The Blues, certainly. The Greens will howl if he is raised.'

'Urban prefect again,' Petrus whispered unnecessarily; the man had a distinctive voice.

'It is not the prerogative of either,' Justinus insisted, his irritation obvious.

What followed was much disordered discussion, voices rising and falling, senators speaking over each other, the odd loud disagreement, with the tone of the Magister Officiorum growing increasingly desperate.

'A day to think upon it, Amantius?'

'You risk mayhem.'

'Better that than a terrible error.'

'Let Theocritus make his case.'

The cry of 'tomorrow' came from many a voice.

Petrus snorted a sort of laugh as he moved into the open doorway, partially followed by Flavius, to whom he said, 'They are now about to find out that they are not the people to decide.'

All that got was a confused look before Petrus spoke in a loud voice to the whole room which now lay open before him. 'Eminences, forgive me that I interrupt your deliberations, but there is a delegation waiting to make representations to you regarding who should hold the office of emperor.'

'What are you talking about?'

Flavius heard the furious question from Justinus but it was the murmuring from his rear that took his main attention. Turning he saw gathered in the antechamber all the senior commanders of the Excubitors, the four tribuni, a dozen centurio, while behind them stood a good half of their inferior unit commanders, all of whom had come to where they now stood in such silence they had not been heard.

Petrus turned and gestured forward the senior men, most looking determined, one or two looking troubled, which was as nothing to the faces of the senators, for these Excubitors were fully armed. The most senior tribunos and second in command to Justinus, Galataeo the Thracian, stepped forward to speak, to tell these senators that, respectfully, the Excubitors would accept no other person to be crowned with the diadem other than their own commander, the comes Excubitorum.

'And that is the view of you all?' asked Petrus, ignoring the shock this produced on the face of Justinus, to get as response a full-throated roar of approbation from a room full of Excubitors, that is except from Flavius and the man himself; Justinus now looked both confused and embarra.s.sed as his nephew looked at him.

'Uncle? The diadem is yours to take.'

'I cannot accept.'

What followed was a military chorus of 'You must!' and one Flavius suspected had been rehea.r.s.ed 'I demand you deny this, Justinus,' Amantius cried, his objection somewhat diminished by his hoa.r.s.e tone of voice; he was about to say more but the sound of swords being half-dragged from scabbards stilled him and it was not only he who took a hasty step back.

'My Lord,' Galataeo said, addressing Justinus, 'there is only one honest man in this room and that is you. We will not follow another and I can a.s.sure you the people of the city will welcome your elevation, for it is not only those who serve under you who esteem your probity.'

'Fine words,' said Amantius.

'And true,' claimed the urban prefect, in a meaningful aside.

'Please,' Justinus protested, embarra.s.sed at such praise, unware that his reaction only proved it to be true.

'Where is Theocritus?' demanded the eunuch.

'In your quarters, Amantius, and safe.'

There was no need for Petrus to add it was there he would stay or that any attempt by him to leave or to extract him would bring about a b.l.o.o.d.y demise.

'Flavius,' he said as a quiet aside, 'take your men and fetch the chests of gold.'

Doing as he was bid, Flavius heard the opening of Petrus's declaration, which was that Amantius had sought to embroil him in a conspiracy to grant the throne to Theocritus. If increasing distance denied him the rest it mattered not, for the first declaration set up a furious buzz and this from hypocrites who had all probably been at the same game in varying degrees and with other players.

When he returned, the chests borne by four of his Excubitor rankers, Petrus was extolling the virtues of his uncle while destroying the candidacy of not only Theocritus but the imperial nephews as well, with his uncle standing in deep thought. The chests were placed before the tribunos and centurios Excubitorum and at a command from the nephew of their commander the lids were thrown open to reveal their contents.

'A reward from my uncle for your loyalty,' Petrus cried.

Looking from one to the other Flavius saw the shock of Justinus, but more telling was the fury of Amantius to see his wealth used to elevate a man he had not chosen to be the next emperor. He was being cheered to the chamber ceiling and beyond as he was hailed by his Excubitors for his generosity in a way that brooked no refusal. Petrus had gone close to whisper, though given the noise of the soldiers discussing their reward and how they were going to spend it there was no need.

'What better way, Uncle, than this, to secure the safety of you and yours? I think you will find the Hippodrome is full of the citizens and they will be eager to acclaim you. I took the liberty of fetching my Aunt Lupicina from my father's house, who will enter the imperial box alongside you.'

'It does not occur to you that many will ask how I, supposed to be so honest, gathered such a sum to bribe my own men?'

'There is a tale to that and one which will make you seem both clever and prescient.'

'One woven by you.'

'For you.'

'There is a part of Lucifer in you, Petrus.'

'While you are too much the saint, Uncle.'

Many of the senators, cowed into silence and aware that to resist was to risk being killed they would never accept that Justinus would not allow it for in their minds it would seem natural had knelt to acknowledge the obvious. A trio, Amantius included, who no doubt feared for their heads even if they recognised Justinus, had actually prostrated themselves, which brought forth an angry bark.

'Get up off the floor! This is the Roman Empire not Persia, you're citizens not slaves.'

It was the first imperial command of Justinus and it was hurriedly obeyed.

'Eminence,' Petrus murmured, his voice silky, 'we must proceed to the Hippodrome and before that you must be properly garbed as befits your station.'

At a signal the crowd of Excubitors parted to reveal a pair of Justinus's own servants. One had across his lower arms a decorated gold and purple cloak, the other the high and jewel-encrusted imperial diadem, both so recently the property of Anastasius.

The reply came with a deep sigh. 'You have arranged even this. Robbed a dead emperor of his possessions.'

'To avoid bloodshed, Uncle, it seemed apposite.'

'And your aunt?'

'Will be wearing suitable garments. She and you must appear before the mob as an imperial couple. Flavius take the chests to my uncle's quarters. The distribution can take place tomorrow as long as this day is a peaceful one. Galataeo, is all secure?'

'Word was sent by the praefectus urba.n.u.s to his troops to secure the Hippodrome and streets around as soon as he knew Anastasius was dying and this has been done. But fear not, Petrus Sabbatius, we Excubitors will make sure nothing happens to our new emperor.'

'Good. Please send a body of men ahead to line the imperial box.'

'I will lead them personally.'

The whole of the capital had been on edge for days now and if many had continued to toil, others had taken advantage of the tension to become idle, and naturally it was they, surely the least trustworthy citizens of the empire, who got to the Hippodrome first, to fill in antic.i.p.ation the best seats as news of the death of Anastasius seeped out.

By the time a still reluctant Justinus, accompanied by Lupicina, who had also pressed him to accept, entered the covered pa.s.sage that led from the palace to the imperial enclosure the place was packed to more than capacity and the noise of the gathering was like some buzzing swarm of distant hornets.

Petrus had been master of ceremonies from the very beginning of the day's events and he was not about to relinquish the lead position until he had to. He organised the way matters would proceed, and anyway, nothing could happen until the Patriarch of Constantinople, done with saying prayers for the soul of Anastasius, was informed of the new dispensation and sent ahead to bless the crowd.

When all was ready, Petrus, a man usually indifferent to his clothing, went ahead wearing a costume of shimmering black silk covered with silver devices that, once he encountered sunlight, flashed its reflections in all directions. His task was to prepare the mult.i.tude through rhetoric. The Excubitors, parade dressed and spick with it, marched out to take up guard positions at key points, a clear message that any dissent would be met with retribution.

Others lined the covered way, all eyes raised so as not to impiously stare at their new imperial master, each spear cast to the salute as he and his consort pa.s.sed. Behind them came Flavius Belisarius, his sword in one hand, full infantry shield in the other, his task to act as personal protector of the imperial personages, a signal honour.

Justinus now wore a purple cloak sewn with a ransom in gold thread and on his head sat a wreath of laurels, the sign for centuries of a conquering Roman hero. The nerves he had evinced earlier these emerged when he had finished berating Petrus for his devilish machinations seemed to have morphed into a sort of stupor of acceptance. Lupicina, despite an encouragement that might have carried the greatest weight with her husband, was trembling like a leaf in the wind, for if her spouse had been close to imperial ritual and understood it, the same clearly terrified her.

The panegyric of Petrus, as he sang the praises of his uncle, was often drowned out by the sound of mob approval, for what had been said in the council chamber was not false. Justinus was seen by the citizens of the metropolis as less venal than those alongside whom he carried out his duties. The reign of Anastasius as far as the city was concerned had been relatively peaceful, even if General Vitalian and his Rebels of Chalcedon had visited a trio of ineffectual sieges upon its walls.

As in every polity there were the ever-malcontents, those who hated imperial rule whoever was the occupant, prepared to make their opinions known with loud booing and catcall insults. But they were a minority amongst a citizenry that wished for order so that prosperity could be pursued. Only when these citizens were troubled did an emperor have concerns about the public peace; if they became riotous, then apprehension turned to deep alarm.

They wanted an emperor and if the men who had served Anatastius had, as far as they knew, agreed on a candidate quickly, as well as one of whom they could openly approve, then they were happy. There was, too, the knowledge that old Anastasius, who had taxed vigorously and spent sparingly, would have left full coffers and some of that would surely be distributed to the populace.

Behind the imperial party stood all the high officers of state, Amantius included, and if his face was that of a man who had swallowed a wasp, others were inclined to keep hidden any feelings they had, of either joy or the reverse. Given how they must have so recently schemed, Flavius wondered if such a trait could be put in abeyance when matters were seemingly resolved. That he doubted it made him feel sympathy for the man he was now protecting.

The next act overseen by Petrus involved the production of the imperial diadem, gold-encrusted with diamonds, as well as the consort's less splendid crown, both borne onto the imperial viewing podium on a pair of purple cushions to be raised and shown to the audience. They fell silent as the Patriarch began to intone the prayers of blessing, their loud noises replaced by whispered and individual prayers. That done, the diadem was presented to the comes Excubitorum.

It might be the right of the citizen of empire to approve of an imperial candidate and it might be the task of the Church to bless it. But when it came to coronation it fell to the person taking office to see himself crowned and that was a moment to test the resolve of any man. To be the Roman Emperor, to have total sway over half of its territories and a t.i.tular supremacy over the old western polity, to be the focus of all law-giving and the arbiter of religious dogma, was a burden to be considered before being accepted.

Flavius watched the hands reach out then stop, the crowd falling into utter silence as the thought occurred that the man so gloriously clad in purple and gold might in fact deny that which was being offered to him. Some may have thought it to be merely dramatic show, a deliberate heightening of tension. Flavius knew the hesitation was genuine: Justinus lacked the pride to be sure of his right but he was still of strong mind. Decision made, those hands reached out, lifted the crown high, and then slowly he placed it on his head.

Had there been a roof on the Hippodrome it would have lifted at the roar which greeted the new Emperor Justin his Roman rendering was held by Petrus to be too unpleasant to the ears of a population mostly of Greek extraction. Nor was it to be the Empress Lupicina, a name that identified her barbarian roots, her Roman leanings and was redolent of the pagan cult of Lupus, her crowning met with cheering if at a less fulsome volume.

She was acclaimed as Empress Euphemia, taking the name of a well-known martyred saint and seeking to imply, to those who would bow to her from this moment on, her aim was for their welfare. She personally venerated Saint Euphemia, something they would come to know by her actions and p.r.o.nouncements. That she was a good choice would too become widely accepted for here was a woman who hated imperial pomp as well as patrician condescension, hence her refusal to previously take up residence in the palace. Deeply religious she would use her office to carry out good works.

Justin the First stepped forward to speak of his desires of peace, harmony and prosperity, the common tropes of any ruler seeking to ingratiate himself with his subjects. He wanted the empire's enemies thwarted and her friends cossetted, none of these causing excitement by folk expecting largess. But there was to be no distribution of gold; instead public works too long held in abeyance would be commenced, a better supply of water and a more swift removal of the city's filth would be put in hand, for it was not his policy to bribe those who were in antic.i.p.ation of it but to improve the way of life for all.

It was instructive to watch Petrus. His smile, as his uncle spoke, went from full and genuine to a sort of rictus, an indication perhaps of his disagreement with what was being proposed or just that it was being done at present. The smile disappeared completely when the peroration ended on the subject of religion.

'We have had a decade of conflict over that which should not divide us, for I believe each man should worship according to his own conscience. I will therefore reverse my predecessor's edicts on the Council of Chalcedon. All bishops displaced for their adherence to that creed shall be reinstated but no divine or citizen holding to Monophysitism will face denunciation or removal.'

It was time to observe the Patriarch, primary exponent of the latter and a major cause of the religious split, which had dogged the reign of Anastasius. He showed a mixture of anger for his views being denied followed by relief that he was not to be eased from his office.

'To that end, a message will be sent from me to my old comrade in arms, General Vitalian, telling him of my decision and seeking that he, now that his cause is no longer in existence, will lay down his arms and come to be by my side, where his counsel will be of more value than his present quest.'

The lips of Petrus Sabbatius were moving but he was talking to himself and not happily so. This statement had come out of the blue and it was one he clearly hated the thought of, not on grounds of religion, for Flavius knew that was not a matter of great concern to him. Was it just that his uncle had acted without consulting him, had shown that when it came to ruling he intended to do it from his own heart and not from the head of his nephew?

His peroration complete, the newly crowned Emperor Justin took the plaudits of the crowd and with a wave, departed the imperial box. But he spoke over his shoulder to issue an order.

'Petrus, write the message to Vitalian. Flavius, you will take it to him and you set off tomorrow. This matter has to be laid to rest quickly.'

'Uncle-'

Whatever Petrus intended to say was immediately cut off as his uncle stopped and turned to face him.

'You must address me properly, nephew, I cannot have you call me "uncle" in public when others are obliged to call me "Highness". And if you are going to question my right to make a decision, let me tell you that I am not beyond banishing my own family for the good of the empire. You have engineered this, and I am not full of joy at what you have done, but I hope it is not an act you are given cause to regret.'

'Highness,' Petrus replied, adding a deep, slow bow, which went some way to hiding his confusion.

CHAPTER SEVEN.

Flavius Belisarius rode out the next morning at the head of a decharchia of cavalry, each of his men having an extra pack mount, carrying the despatch Petrus had written, or rather had dictated to him, the contents checked by another clerk before the newly named Justin the First used his freshly created imperial stencil and the Great Seal of his office that he had inherited to render it official.

As a messenger on imperial business Flavius had the right to command even senior officials to facilitate his pa.s.sage, not that he antic.i.p.ated the need. The roads of the Roman Empire, if not always in as good a repair as they should be, were very often straight for several leagues and lined at regular intervals with comfortable mansiones specifically for the use of people on official government business.

Sprawling as it was the empire depended on these roads to function, routes where riders bringing despatches could change mounts and if the news was desperate, ride on without resting to sound the alarm. Most officials travelled more slowly and comfortably in a slave-carried litter, staying overnight to bathe the dust off their bodies, to have their clothing brushed and cleaned and to be fed in a fashion that suited their rank. If they had needs of a s.e.xual nature, these could be discreetly catered for.

Luxuriating in a bath, attended by two young slave girls and well beyond the point of gratification, Flavius was thinking about Petrus and the way he had reacted to his uncle's behaviour. No amount of logic seemed to be able to shift his sense of grievance.

'He resents the manipulation,' had been the explanation Flavius had volunteered for the new coolness between them.

'And where,' Petrus had demanded, with a well-canted head and a look of superior knowingness, 'would he be without it?'

'Perhaps if you had confided in him-'

'Confided in him!' came the shout, before Petrus had suppressed his vocal anger, well aware it could be overheard, giving a clear indication that his newly constrained status was troubling him. 'We would have been nowhere, or in the depths of the dungeons.'

Feeling the need to be emollient, Flavius advised that time would ease matters but he knew well, as he sat in this bath, that Petrus would not see it that way. He had focused particularly on the pardoning of Vitalian to vent his spleen, worried that the rebellious general would be a schemer being one himself he hated that anyone else should employ such methods and that once within the palace he might wonder at why a man who once served him as a junior military commander should now lord it over all he could survey.

'But how can I advise caution,' had been the plea, 'or even a special guard against the secret knife if the man will not listen to me anymore, tell me that?'

Climbing onto the warm tiles, to be dried by gentle towelling, Flavius deliberately forced his mind to concentrate on his task. How would he be received by a man he knew and had fought both under and alongside? Vitalian was a fine soldier, an excellent commander of his barbarian foederati, fighters mainly from north and east of Germany and fierce with it, men he would have to find a way past before he ever got to their general.

Once he had ensured his soldiers were likewise being catered for it was an unfortunate thought to take to bed, or was it the oversized meal he had felt obliged to consume? Someone had gone to the trouble of cooking it and the man who ran the mansio put such store by appreciation. The night was warm and humid, his stomach was full and thus his reveries were wide-ranging and finally deeply disturbing.