Legionary

Chapter 5

Darkness settled on Constantinople as the revelry from inside the Imperial Palace rolled out over the rooftops. Senator Tarquitius drew the crisp night air into his lungs, resting his elbows on the balcony to marvel at the burgeoning city as he sipped watered wine from a fine silver chalice.

Things were certainly looking up for him since his expulsion of that damned slave Pavo; the crone’s words haunted his nightmares still, but at least now he knew he could not harm the boy and her curse could not take effect. As for the rest of her rasping diatribe…well, that could wait.

Now, here he was in his element. All the ingredients were present; Roman aristocracy, slackened morals and high spirits. This potent recipe had provided him with the ideal political stepping-stone here in Constantine’s Nova Roma. Even the steeliest opponent would drop his guard after a skinful of wine and the close attention of an exotic slave girl. Eventually, promises would be made and secrets revealed to his crystal-clear mind. Political careers soared and crashed on such sensitive information. Tarquitius had taught the senate a valuable lesson with his dealings; he was a player in this age of imperial upheaval.

The blossoming of the Christian faith had gripped the minds of the people and provided another channel entirely for the brave and ambitious to seize power. To adopt the worshipping of a Judean that their ancestors had brutally murdered seemed to fit snugly with the expedient madness of the empire of recent times. Only a few generations previously, citizens had cheered as the lions ripped out the throats of Christians bound to posts in the arena. Now, Rome had pompously nominated herself at the head of the faith, and in direct contact with the Christian God. Now, a new breed of madness held sway with Emperor Valens; Arianism, the stream of Christianity the emperor favoured, had been forced upon the faithful from the plebs all the way up the ecclesiastical tree. Unhappy clergy tend to be more receptive to the ideas of a senator, he mused. Now, he smirked, the fruit was ripe for picking.

A shriek of laughter pierced the air together with a crash of breaking glass. Tarquitius’ ears twitched as he heard approaching footsteps. Gently, he slid back into the shadows and watched the doorway.

A whitecloaked and hooded figure emerged, awaiting some form of greeting.

‘Senator, are you here?’

Tarquitius smirked, and then silently slid into the pale light afforded by the torch above the doorway. The cloaked figure remained unaware of his presence until he spoke in a cool tone.

‘Tired of the orgy already?’

The cloaked figure spun round, startled.

‘Senator, you nearly scared the life from me.’

Tarquitius grinned, revelling in the chill of the engagement. This partnership was a frosty one; frosty but necessary in order to obtain the greatness he was born for.

‘Good evening, Your Eminence. I apologise for startling you, but you can never be too careful in a tender situation such as this.’

The cloaked figure lowered his hood to reveal craggy features, framed by a thick crop of snow-white hair. Tarquitius wondered at his own ingenuity in forging a partnership with this character; Bishop Evagrius, Patriarch of Constantinople, a mortal apparently in direct contact with God.

The bishop smiled. ‘Indeed, noble senator, I trust the only people who know of this meeting are standing here?’

‘Of course, Your Eminence,’ Tarquitius replied, echoing the bishop’s tone. The concealed presence of his bodyguard Fronto in the darkness by the door meant indeed that all those who knew of this encounter were indeed on this balcony.

‘Then let us discuss the progress of our common objective. What of the Bosporus reconnaissance?’

Straight to it, thought Tarquitius. The fragile facade of this holy man hid a steely core, and he had certainly used this to bash his way through the hierarchy of the Holy See. Kindred spirits, Tarquitius mused. Evagrius raised an eyebrow at the extended silence, but Tarquitius allowed another moment to pass before he replied. He, not the bishop, would dictate this conversation.

‘Our allies report that the reconnaissance force has been located and is currently being tracked. The Goths have a scattering of war bands patrolling the old frontier, but our allies are easily strong enough to protect the reconnaissance from such small numbers.’

Evagrius frowned. ‘And what of the main Gothic armies? It is imperative that the expedition does not witness their conflict with our allies. We need to present Bosporus as an open door, a harvest ripe for the reaping.’

Tarquitius clenched his teeth at the scrutiny. This was supposed to be an equal partnership. He drew a deep breath in through his nostrils, adjusting his back upright, thrusting out his rubbery chins, and then set his eyes upon the innocent gaze of the bishop.

‘Our allies have been instructed to divert the reconnaissance expedition from the path of the Gothic armies at all costs,’ he replied, angering himself with the tightness in his voice, ‘as we agreed, Your Eminence. And the Gothic armies themselves will be tackled in due course.’

‘Keep a cool head, Senator. The path to the imperial throne will be clear if we pull this off. The emperor is hungry for foreign success and will be all too keen to rush his thin forces to claim Bosporus. But the people…the people are ripe for revolution. Then the floodgates will be open…’ The bishop’s eyes sparkled rapaciously. ‘So much rests on this that perhaps we should not hang our hopes on our allies alone,’ he held out a bulging hemp purse and a scroll of parchment. ‘Take this, you will need it to smooth your next visit to the senate house.’

‘Your Eminence?’ Tarquitius asked as he took the two articles gingerly.

‘The scroll will explain all, Senator,’ he nodded, before his eyes fell cold again. ‘But keep in mind that this venture is costing the treasury of the Holy See of Constantinople vast sums. If anything goes wrong, then this reconnaissance party, our pawns, will have to be crushed like ants. And I will be forced to look for a scapegoat.’ A gentle smile bearing absolutely no warmth crept across the bishop’s face. He continued. ‘Greedy senators make the best scapegoats.’

A fury boiled inside Tarquitius’ chest, and his eyes darted to the dark shadow that moved by the doorway. He quickly raised his hand, and Fronto slid his sword back into its scabbard with a grunt.

Evagrius raised an eyebrow. ‘So you brought your thug along to protect you? This doesn’t bode well for preserving a trusting relationship, does it, Senator Tarquitius?’

Again, the tone bit sharply at Tarquitius’ pride. Right now, He could order this conniving old man’s throat to be slit from ear to ear, if he wished. However, he knew the path to greatness meant toleration of characters like this until they had served their purpose. Then, when he gave the order, it would be all the sweeter.

‘All is going to plan, Your Eminence. That is all you should be concerned with. It would be wise to remember that your goals are in my hands as much as mine are in yours.’ He glared at the bishop’s tranquil features. ‘Fronto!’ He barked. The Herculean figure emerged from the shadows again, grimacing at the bishop as Tarquitius marched along the balcony to the doorway. The bishop returned a gentle smile, before Fronto turned and followed his master.

All alone on the balcony under the night sky, Bishop Evagrius placed his hands together to pray. The trio of archers positioned on adjacent balconies read the signal and lowered their bows. Senator Tarquitius was to live on, for now…