Honour

CHAPTER THREE

To go from being a fighting soldier to a member of the elite imperial unit required such a degree of change that Flavius, for several days, felt lost. He had been greeted warmly by those he knew from his original induction into the Excubitors, sensing that only a few, as had many on the frontier, resented his connection to their commander. Yet everything in the palace was so different and not just because of the sheer number of functionaries that staffed the various bureaux that ran the empire.

As a breed these were so very different even from the civilian officials at Dara, having about them a guardedness that even manifested itself in their way of movement. Few came striding through the endless corridors with the confidence their eminence should provide. Most were silent and wary, the worst adopted a sort of slinking way of walking, accompanied by many an over-the-shoulder look as if they feared immediate arrest, which made Flavius wonder how much they were stealing or taking in bribes, these being the methods, and it was no secret, by which such people enriched themselves.

He had to assume the atmosphere was more troubled than normal given the Emperor was fading, albeit lingering by rallying in a way that increased the tension. There would be all sorts of conspiracies and manoeuvres being initiated, alliances made and broken, with many a pledge examined to seek to find if it was true or false. To meet any eye other than that of a fellow soldier was to feel as if one was being weighed as an asset on a set of unknowable scales.

Who are you, what are your connections, should I acknowledge you or guard against you? That was the commonplace, yet to accompany Petrus down those same pillared corridors was doubly instructive, he obviously being someone whom these functionaries reckoned to either guard against or to seek to impress and he was not slow to relate the reasons why.

‘Friends are necessary, enemies more numerous and care is required when the man promising to aid you is secretly preparing to bring you down. It is hard to rise in imperial service, Flavius, and too easy to fall, and when you do there is no bottom.’

There was a pause as Petrus nodded a greeting to a gorgeously clad fellow passing in the other direction, followed by several slaves carrying baskets of scrolls.

‘You are a soldier and like my uncle you take death, even a painful one, to be the risk of your chosen path. Many of those we pass have crawled on their knees or paid out in gold to attain a position at court only to find they are surrounded by others who will embrace them just before they betray them. It frays even the stoutest nerves.’

‘I sense you thrive on it.’

‘It is a sport in which I take pleasure, that is true.’

‘So you do not fear death either?’

‘Disgrace, Flavius, that is what all here fear, even the soldiers, and then there is beggary if you are blinded. Great fortunes are to be made but there are dungeons below where you can be forgotten, cells where the rats can eat at your toes for decades.’

Petrus stopped and hauled on Flavius to do likewise. ‘Just make out we are deep in conversation.’

‘Why?’

‘I need to be sure we are not being watched.’

‘Talk? What about?’

‘Tell me of that fight you had when serving under Narses?’ Seeing the younger man’s eyes open with surprise, Petrus added. ‘It cannot shock you that I know of it.’

‘Did you have me spied upon?’

‘Flavius, I esteem you and trust you but please take no offence if I say you are scarce worth that. I did, however, need to know that you were alive, or if not-’

‘Which would require you to correspond with someone.’

‘Regarding the situation on the border, I did with several and your well-being was supplemental. Now tell me how you pulled off your little charade for it interests me?’

As he did so, Flavius was far from sure Petrus was really listening. Placed as they were in a long and well-frequented corridor it seemed he spent more time flicking glances to those who came and went by the pillar near which they stood, some to be ignored when close, others to be acknowledged with a nod.

‘Narses is a good soldier but too cautious. He could have seen it as I did but chose not to-’

The interruption was physical and, for a man of such slight frame, surprisingly strong. Petrus dragged Flavius deeper into the gap between two pillars then along behind them to a small doorway on which he rapped a tattoo. It was opened quickly and the youngster was bundled into a chamber that lacked a window and was lit only by guttering candles. It took a moment to sense the other person present and time for the eyes of Flavius to adjust and take in his physical features, even longer to make out the face.

‘Amantius,’ Petrus said softly.

The voice that replied was restrained and hoarse. ‘It is past the appointed time.’

‘Better a wait than we and our purpose should be discovered.’

The man was either bald or he shaved his head. Maybe it was the indifferent light but his eyes seemed sunk into a head that appeared as well-defined as a skull, with prominent cheekbones and a substantial lantern jaw.

‘Let me introduce my companion, Flavius Belisarius, whom you will observe is a member of the Excubitors.’

‘Not a very elevated one.’

‘If a man of higher rank were here, Amantius, given what we are about to discuss, he might see it as his duty to stick a sword in our vitals. For what we propose to do you need the aid of the junior officers of the Excubitorum, for it is they who are close to the common soldiers and they who will be able to marshal them to our aid as well as convey to them the promise of great reward.’

‘And to protect me and my candidate?’

‘That too.’

The man stepped a pace forward, which increased the light that shone on him. He was not of any great height and had a narrowness to his body that matched that of Petrus. His eyes were on Flavius and unblinking, the youngster thought trying to see into his soul, and when he spoke it was to confirm that was his purpose.

‘I will need to place much faith in you and your like.’ When Flavius did not respond, only holding steady the mutual gaze, the bald man nodded. ‘You stay silent, no protestations of constancy or reliability. That is good.’

‘For to do so would sound false,’ Petrus added, which got a hearty nod. ‘It is however necessary, Amantius, that my young friend knows who you are and what offices you hold.’

‘They are many. All he needs to know is that the advantages of my positions provide the means by which I will succeed in rewarding the men who guard the Emperor, when they allow the man I have chosen to assume his mantle.’

Flavius had to fight hard not to suck in an audible breath then: what was this Amantius saying — that he was going to decide who would be emperor when Anastasius passed away?

‘No man will deserve it more than whosoever you have chosen, for no one within these walls can surpass you in your wisdom.’

Again it was hard not to react to those words from Petrus, so silky and to the ears of one who knew him well, utterly insincere.

‘The rewards must be in place before the Emperor dies but cannot be distributed until the very moment our loss is announced.’

‘It would be to our advantage if that could be precipitated, Petrus.’

‘Too risky. Anyone trying would perish in the attempt.’

‘Justinus,’ Amantius hissed, as if the name referred to some kind of plague.

‘What would you have him do? My uncle will serve you and your man faithfully once he is enthroned for he has pledged himself to protect the imperial person. But you must accept he will do likewise for Anastasius while he still breathes. Consider this, that a man who would betray one emperor, would do like to another.’

‘Is he so much the paragon?’

It was Flavius who answered. ‘He is, sir.’

That brought a look of doubt to the cadaver-like countenance. ‘What if your paragon orders you to stand aside?’

‘Amantius,’ Petrus purred, ‘leave my uncle to me.’

‘He may commit himself to another.’

‘He will never commit himself to anyone until they are wearing the diadem. To do otherwise would mean intriguing and that he avoids, which is why the way is open for the proposed elevation of your chosen successor. The younger officers of the Excubitors will ensure that the route to the imperial apartments are sealed off and their men will have orders to use force to ensure that you have a clear field. It will take a brave fellow to challenge them.’

‘And if they have their reward, Petrus, what of you?’

‘You know what I wish, that my uncle shall either hold his present office or, with your grace and if you so desire, that he be elevated to another higher appointment. My task is to be in his service but perhaps, in time, when matters are settled and all is secure, I will seek something for myself.’

‘And this young man?’

‘He too will be patient.’

The eyes fixed on Flavius again. ‘I am about to entrust you with a great deal.’

‘Not just Flavius, but me too. How can we repay such trust with anything other than blind loyalty?’

‘Where will you store the treasure?’

It was as well Amantius was not looking at Flavius when he asked that question: the word ‘treasure’ had the eyebrows shooting up and they stayed there as Petrus responded.

‘It must be within the palace for it cannot be brought here when the time is ripe. The only secure place is within the working apartments of my uncle, who will never know of its presence.’

‘And they are hard by the imperial chambers. That, God rest his soul, is where Anastasius will expire, given he is now too weak to move from his bed.’

Amantius was nodding with vigour as he spoke. Lit by the candles his eyes seemed to gleam and that conveyed a sense of suppressed excitement, quickly masked as Petrus spoke again.

‘I have chosen Flavius as the officer to take on the task of organisation because he has access to those apartments, being much feted by Justinus, indeed treated as the general would treat a son. The officer in charge of the detachment set to guard the imperial suite will go to their general first with the news of the Emperor’s demise, which is his duty. You, of course, will know what has occurred at the same moment.’

A nod accompanied by a more thoughtful look was the response, as if he was seeking ways such a thing could go wrong.

‘I will be made aware, too, because it has been arranged, alert to the point at which you will need to get your candidate through to the imperial chambers, while I send Flavius to ready his fellow officers, those to whom I have imparted what is to take place. They’ll then take up the stations and only those you designate will be permitted to pass through them.’

The croak that got hinted at real dread. ‘You have not used my name to these people?’

‘All they know is that a high and deserving person aspires to the diadem and it is one considered to be well suited to rule our empire, also that he sees the need to reward loyalty as have emperors in times past to those who have aided him. They do not know any names and will not until they are called upon, when I fetch you to them, to acclaim your candidate. At that point your chests of gold, brought out by Flavius, will be opened and distributed.’

‘If we fail, if this is discovered, Petrus? Loose tongues.’

‘There are only two tongues about which you have to worry and they’re both in your presence. No one else knows your name and since you have been guarded, even I do not know who you propose to make emperor.’

‘Who else is plotting? Who has a plan that will thwart ours?’

‘The imperial nephews are seeking support and finding none, while those with ambition meet only like minds. No one senator will stand aside for the other so they waste their words on plans that will never mature. None has seen the need to befriend the Excubitors, believe me I would know if they had, for I meet with them constantly. Only you will have a clear path.’

Amantius stepped forward to clutch at Petrus’s arm. ‘If you are true to me and mine, you will not regret it.’

‘My uncle?’

‘Will have much to thank you for.’ The sunken eyes turned towards Flavius. ‘And you too, young fellow.’

‘Do show some gratitude, Flavius,’ Petrus purred when he did not respond. The result was a croak as hoarse as the voice of the man at whom it was aimed, this with Petrus still talking. ‘Flavius will come to your villa tonight and fetch away the funds we need. We dare not delay.’

‘It is sinful to wish death upon another, but I swear I will not sleep till Anastasius has breathed his last.’

‘It is true we cannot pray for such, but if God is merciful it is not impious to wish a body in pain and a soul in fear of damnation to be released into peace. We will leave now, Amantius. I trust you will be wise enough to wait awhile before doing likewise.’

Flavius had his arm taken and again he was ushered back out to the corridor, his face now with a thunderous look aimed at Petrus and a stride that obliged the intriguer to walk fast to keep pace.

‘Your anger does not shock me, Flavius. Conspiracy is not to your liking, I suspect.’

‘It is not and especially one of this magnitude.’

‘All I ask is that you go to the villa of Amantius tonight and fetch his gold.’

‘You go.’

Petrus sighed. ‘Which would be like waving a red lantern. Why do you think we met today in such a place? Would you have me do it openly in this palace, where, for every two courtiers who meet there are three conspiracies and a dozen pairs of eyes and ears? I have not been near his home and nor will I ever be, for his ambitions are not the secret he hopes them to be, for all his seeming wiles he struggles to dissimulate. The only one of those still extant is that I have undertaken to aid him, which would no longer remain if I was seen in his company.’

‘Is the man he has in mind worthy of that which you wish to gift him?’

That received a snort. ‘Who is that? That old skinflint expiring as we speak, who only got the imperial title through his handsome face and the bedchamber of an empress who outlived her husband. Zeno before him, who left things in such a pass as to allow his widow to choose his successor? Flavius, it is not about worthy, it is about opportunity and the taking of it. Amantius does not possess a great mind but he has massive wealth and is manipulative.’

‘Why does he not seek it for himself, then?’

‘Why do you ask?’ Petrus demanded, just before enlightenment dawned. ‘You have no idea of who Amantius is?’

‘No.’

‘He is the Emperor’s chief eunuch, which bars him from the purple since he cannot breed. So he has chosen someone he considers worthwhile, yet a person he can manipulate.’

‘For what?’

‘It’s not wealth, for he has that in abundance.’

‘Power, then?’

‘Let us say he faithfully serves a man for whom he has little true regard and he is not alone in that.’

Petrus kept talking as they made their way through the endless corridors to the central section that contained the imperial apartments as well as those of Justinus, all the while denigrating Anastasius and his policies, the worst of which was religious in nature.

‘And what about the madness of that, how much trouble has the old goat caused there?’

Those words dragged Flavius back to the events of three years previously, a time when his life had looked settled and his future a vision easy and untroubling. A single event had changed that as his father, in command of an understrength force guarding the Danube border, had been tempted into a battle he could not win, one in which the odds had been set against him by a treacherous local magnate who should have been his support. Those thoughts were swept away as Petrus grabbed his arm again to spin him round, his eyes boring in, his look deadly serious.

‘You must trust me in this, Flavius, you must believe me when I say I do it for the safety of all of us. I am not playing a game, I am playing with our lives. Will you go tonight and carry out what I have arranged?’

‘Give me one good reason why I should.’

‘I saved your life, Flavius, and got you revenge for your family, is that not reason enough?’

‘When?’

The explanation, the way revenge had been facilitated on the man who had betrayed his father, was swift and had Flavius dropping his head, brought on partly by amazement, but just as much by his own blindness at not seeing what Petrus had set out to do and what a cunning weave he had made. If it was a conspiracy it had been clever, and more tellingly, it had been successful or he would not be talking now.

‘If you owe me your life, it is not a favour I would ever call in. But I do need your help and there is no one else I can turn to. That is why you were recalled.’

‘I will do that which you ask,’ Flavius replied after a lengthy pause, ‘and no more.’

‘No more is required.’

‘I will need aid from the men of my unit.’

‘As long as they have no idea what will be in the chests that is not a difficulty.’

The cart he borrowed belonged to the Excubitors, the four men he fetched along were under his command and they showed a pleasing lack of curiosity about the task, as soldiers often do, accustomed as they are to the whims of their officers. He left them outside until he had spoken with Amantius, who disappeared before they entered the villa. The first pair took one handle each of a chest, not large, so the sheer weight surprised them and led to an exchanged look of wonder. This had Flavius, who had not anticipated what should have been obvious, reaching for a quick excuse.

‘It’s being taken to the imperial treasury via the apartments of the comes.’

‘Detour would be nice, Your Honour,’ joked one.

‘Don’t tempt me,’ Flavius replied.

This too was taken as a jest, just as the grave manner of delivery was taken as contrived. He meant it, though not in the way these soldiers thought: he was inclined to drop the whole lot in the Propontis and Petrus and his conspiracies be damned. His mood was no better at the other end, even more so when the chests were delivered to the apartments of Justinus, timed to be after he had retired to the single-door cell and hard cot on which he slept.

‘Don’t be gloomy, Flavius,’ Petrus crowed when he discerned his mood. ‘Believe me, when this is over you will heartily thank me.’