THE SILK TREE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Frogmarched to the bowels of the Grand Palace, they were fettered to dank, slimy walls. The icy grip of the chains broke through Nicander’s paralysis of unreality. The guttering light of an oil lamp illuminated instruments of pain and the merciless face of the torturer.

Excubitor Marcellus waited impatiently for the soldiers to leave then crossed to them. ‘Now, I’ve not much time to waste on filth like you. Make it easy for me and you can have it quick and clean – tell me lies and I’ll let Khosrau loose. Understood?’

He leant forward until he was inches from them. ‘You’ve been skulking about, first in John the Cappadocian’s villa, then Magister Peter Barsymes is seen being very amiable towards you – this is not his way towards low-life. Then I’m brought word that the same day, if I chose, I could find you being heartily welcomed into his home by none other than the great general Belisarius. So what am I to conclude? I think it speaks for itself, but I’ll let you tell me in your own words.’

He whirled on Marius. ‘You! What’s the meaning of it all?’

The legionary stared back in contemptuous silence.

‘Very well.’

In sick realisation, Nicander knew what was next.

Turning to him, Marcellus eased into a smile. ‘Why, what a shame to tear about such soft skin – or will it be the hot iron? I haven’t really decided yet.’ His tone became mournful. ‘Why don’t you tell me? It would save so much hurt and pain, when you know I’ll find out in the end…’

Nicander threw Marius a look of apology. He knew he did not have his friend’s powers of endurance but could he bluff their way free?

He blurted hoarsely, ‘All right, I’ll tell you what you want to know.’

In jerking, terrified sentences Nicander explained about the silk tree expedition and its need for funding, but was cut off impatiently.

‘Utter pig’s turds. If all this silk seed nonsense really needed was support, any right-minded citizen would go straight to His Resplendency and fall at his feet.’

‘It’s true, I swear it!’

‘Don’t try my patience, dog. There’s only one reason you’ve been to see all those grand names…’ He drew a savage breath. ‘It’s all a monstrous plot against the life of our most Divine Caesar, Emperor Justinian!’

‘No!’

‘Yes! You’re part of a wider conspiracy touching every corner of the realm, and I’ll screw it out of you, this I swear!’

There was nothing else for it now. ‘No – it’s… I’ll confess.’

In broken sentences Nicander admitted that the whole thing was a fraud, calculated to lift riches from those investing in the expedition.

‘Enough! You think I’m simple?’ barked Marcellus. ‘You’re determined to make it hard for yourself; I can accommodate you. Khosrau! Start the fire – I’ll be back in an hour.’

‘Marius!’ Nicander gasped. ‘He’s not believing any of it!’

There was no response.

‘What can we do?’

Marius snarled, ‘Die like a Roman, Greek!’

Time passed infinitely slowly, then the door crashed open.

‘Right. Shall we start the fun?’ Marcellus went to the brazier and lifted an iron. It was a flat arrow-shape and glowed white-hot. He sauntered over and flourished it before Nicander.

He flinched in terror, his mind near unhinged.

Marcellus lowered the iron. ‘I think not.’

He selected a more elaborate one, a distorted corkscrew. Speculatively he held it up, watching Nicander’s eyes following its every move.

The Excubitor tested its heat. ‘Ah yes, this will do. I should tell you we normally have a little ceremony before proceedings really begin, more of an entertainment for you.’

A young pig was brought into the cell on a long rope. The animal snuffled about, investigating busily, its farmyard snorts out of character in such a place of torment. It made its way over to the chained men, looking up in puzzlement with innocent eyes.

It was a mistake.

Marcellus stabbed down with the white-hot iron, directly into its pink body. It shrieked in pain, convulsing and thrashing while the Excubitor twisted the iron expertly. The reek of burnt fat rose up as the crazed animal screamed its life away.

Trembling, the handler lifted up the carcass and hurried out.

‘There, now. We know what it’s going to be like, don’t we?’ Marcellus said. ‘Then shall we begin? Who’s to be first?’

Almost fainting with horror, Nicander tried to flog his mind to reason. There were only minutes of sanity left to him – then, as if in a dream, he heard the dry, age-withered voice of an old man standing in the doorway. ‘Marcellus, I thought it was you! Good God, are you at it again?’

He was frail but in a crimson-edged robe that told of a rank of eminence.

Marcellus looked taken aback. ‘What! Can’t you see I’m busy?’

The old man approached and whispered something.

Marcellus snorted. ‘If you must! Damn it, why can’t I be left to get on with it?’ Then he roared peevishly, ‘Guards! Go with ’em.’

Released from their chains, Nicander and Marius followed the old man out along a passageway into another building.

He stopped at a heavy wooden door. ‘That will do.’

The guards took up position outside and they entered what appeared to be a monk’s cell.

Nicander fell into a chair and stared up at their grey-haired saviour. ‘Sir, who…?’

‘My name is Narses. I am grand chamberlain to His Clemency the Emperor.’

‘And… and you…?’

‘The Lady Antonina got word to me of your misfortune. Marcellus does have a tendency to get the wrong end of the stick but he means well. I told him I would be continuing the questions for now.’

‘But-’

‘I can say he won’t be seeing you any more, if that is your concern.’

Narses’s eyes took in the spartan simplicity of the room. ‘No doubt you are at this time living in a mean and humble abode. Now this you may consider your cell, holy brothers, guest of His Sacred Majesty. Is it to your satisfaction?’

Nicander mouthed, ‘Th-thank you, sir.’

‘We’ll send for your possessions but for now I think it advisable you stay here and not venture out. You are perfectly safe with me. Meanwhile, you’ll want to bathe – I’ll have fresh raiment sent here for you.’

Reeling at what might have been their fate, Nicander managed to ask, ‘This is kindness beyond the usual. May I know… why are you treating us with such… benevolence?’

‘Why, is not this self-evident?’

‘Sir?’

He gave a benign smile. ‘The Lady Antonina mentioned your expedition plans. To me this is a splendid enterprise, worthy of the best adventurers in the land and deserves well of us. And because it bears so as it does on the revenue situation of the state, I am taking immediate action.’

‘Wha-?’ Nicander scrabbled to make sense of what he was hearing.

‘I’m overriding the usual protocols – when you are ready I shall take you before His Benevolence, Emperor Justinian himself, to present your case in person.

‘Given the nature of your mission we must see to it that you have every facility at hand and no interruption while you polish your case before you see His Refulgence. Involving as it does questions of wealth beyond the commonplace, we must also regard it as a privy secret of state. This means that I must ask you to remain in this cell while you work and refrain from discussing this with anyone – no one whosoever.’

He went on, ‘I’ll ask the Patriarch to relieve you of any clerical or ceremonial duties and make arrangements for your food to be brought. I do beg you will forgive our discourtesy to a guest but the matter presses exceedingly. I know the Emperor would look ill upon any delay once he learns of the expedition.’

After Narses had left, Nicander sat on the edge of the bed, his head in his hands.

Marius paced up and down. ‘What’s to do, Nico?’

‘Let me think.’

In a short time they would be expected to present themselves and their ‘project’ before Emperor Justinian. To bring out a reasoned, credible plan to recover the seeds of the silk tree from the other end of the earth – when they had no idea at all where or how to get to them.

Nicander groaned, ‘We’re going to cross the Emperor!’

‘Where’s your backbone, Greek? That was our plan before, if you recall! We’ve a chance for the big money and now you’re turning cold?’