Vengeance

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

It was necessary to leave Flavius be, to allow him to think on what had been imparted to him: another reason was to see if he reported the conversation to Justinus, that being a vital test without which nothing could proceed. Besides, Petrus had an appointment to meet with Pentheus Vicinus at his villa in the north-western suburb of Blachernae, home to many a rich individual and well away from the stink at the heart of the city.

By taking a hired palanquin from a public square and not taking a horse – never an animal he was very comfortable on in any case – from the excubitor stables, he could avoid his journey being reported.

The house was substantial, the gardens large, well tended and watered and deeply green even now, in late summer, when all about the ground for miles around was brown and dusty. A coin was disbursed to keep his bearers waiting, while under the cushion on which he had sat, Petrus had secreted a note saying who he was, whom he had visited and why; he was about to sup with the devil so needed a long spoon.

The man did not look like Lucifer; he had a smooth, round face and sparse white hair over a plump rather than fat body. When he walked there was a slight forward stoop as if he was ever in anticipation of something, but Petrus knew that underneath that avuncular exterior was a mind as sharp as his own ? perhaps, and this was a worry, even sharper.

‘I cannot but admire your gardens, Senator. Would it be permissible to walk in them while we talk?’

That got a thin smile; Pentheus was not fooled, he knew his visitor wanted to converse without any chance of their conversation being witnessed. He called for a servant to fetch a large parasol and, under that protection from the hot sun, they proceeded to saunter around the well-defined paths through a variety of exotic shrubs and much Greek statuary.

‘It is good of you to see me.’

‘How could I not do so, Flavius Petrus, since my curiosity is acute about what you might have to talk to me about?’

The response was blunt, intended to shock, which was achieved. ‘Belisarius!’

Pentheus stopped abruptly and looked at him, his face contorting even if he tried to control it, then he attempted to prevaricate. ‘Is it a name with which I should be familiar?’

‘If you wish to deny all knowledge of it, I can leave now.’

In plotting how he would deal with this, Petrus had reasoned he must gain and hold control of the conversation, hence the need to be abrupt. He had no time for endless and banal circumlocution and his brusque approach paid off handsomely.

‘And if I say it is known to me …’

‘Then you might ask if finding it painted on a wall and with a demand for justice, there is anything more that you should concern yourself with.’

‘The walls can be cleaned.’

‘It was the slate I was thinking of, Senator. We received a despatch from Dorostorum not long past telling us that a centurion of that name, along with his entire family, had perished in a Hunnish raid.’

‘Yes.’

‘The information imparted to you was, I suggest, somewhat different.’ No reply. ‘Which means I am obliged to tell you of the identity of the person doing the daubing, though I half suspect you know it already.’

He might as well have said Flavius Belisarius, but it was more pleasurable this way.

‘This person.’ The question came with a vague wave of the senator’s free hand; he was fishing when he should have been talking. ‘Am I to act as if he is of some account?’

‘It might be as well to treat him so. My Uncle Justinus is an old comrade of Decimus Belisarius, who died in that raid. Friends from youth who enlisted in the army at the same time.’

There were several slow nods before an admission, as he sought reasons why he was being told a fact that, for the sake of the Count of the Excubitor, would have been better not stated.

‘I did not know that.’

‘Unfortunately he chose to become involved in the affairs of this old friend, which led to certain matters being discussed in private with the emperor.’

Pentheus was good and if he briefly lost his composure it was back in full potency once he had digested the ramifications; Petrus had just given him the answer to something he must have puzzled over but there was no sign of it affecting him at all, which told his visitor what he had suspected. The senator had lacked precise knowledge of what was going on and had acted on a vague suspicion or gossip; it would be nice to know how much of each but that was unnecessary.

‘Why are you telling me this?’

‘If I was to tell you I did not approve of his actions?’

‘Yet you must have been party to them, I know your uncle cannot read and write.’ Realising he might have said too much, given away a source, Pentheus added, ‘I assume that is how they communicated.’

‘Of course, and I wrote them.’

‘So have you come to tell me what they contain?’

‘Why, when you can guess? Belisarius threatened to cause your cousin a certain amount of trouble. If you are not privy to the details of what my uncle was engaged in then the gist will do.’

The senator tried to maintain an air of detachment and he rarely let his guard drop as Petrus listed some of the charges levelled against Senuthius, all of which his listener knew since Decimus had written many times to the imperial court to complain of them, only to have them rubbished by the senator and his allies.

‘I am curious, Flavius Petrus, what this is all leading up to.’

‘If I was to say, Senator, that I am wholly dependent on my Uncle Justinus, who is not in the first flush of spring youth …’

There was no need to finish, for that made Pentheus nod, if not vigorously, then emphatically enough to say he understood. He knew that the male Sabbatius parent was so addled with drink as to be of no use to an ambitious son, and nor did he seem to harbour any doubt that Petrus was afflicted with a desire for, at sometime in the future, personal power of his own.

‘And the Belisarius boy, given it is to him I assume you are referring.’

‘My uncle wants to send him north in an official capacity. It seems your cousin paid a large sum in gold to the Huns, in order that they would raid over the Danube and threaten Dorostorum.’

‘Surely a lie!’

‘That is to be established, Senator, but given his past actions …’ There was again no need to finish that sentence. ‘During the raid he was in command of the militia, but stood off and allowed the imperial cohort to be massacred and the Huns to depart without much in the way of loss. That is treason, not theft, and I think would be a hard accusation to refute, indeed it would be one that must lead to an enquiry, which if ordered by the emperor cannot be stopped. And if it turned out to have a basis in fact … well?’

Petrus was willing him to think it through; even if it does not destroy you, he thought, you will be impoverished. No more bribes handed out, no more of your fellow senators courting you and hanging on your every word, everything you value taken away including this villa and the very gardens in which we now walk. You are angling to be made consul again, I suspect, and you can kiss goodbye to that as well, for no blood relative of a traitor will have a hope.

‘I cannot believe it to be true.’

‘It does beggar belief, I agree,’ came the seemingly sympathetic reply.

That was like a nail in his breast and Pentheus came close to wincing; Petrus believed all right, in fact he knew it to be true!

‘This mission you say the Belisarius brat is set upon?’

‘Has already been set in motion.’

‘Gone already?’ Pentheus demanded, for once showing real emotion, for if Belisarius was on his way, the conclusions he had come to about the motives of this visitor were wrong.

‘No, but he will depart soon.’

‘How?’ came the reply, the senator reassured, though only up to a point; he was still mistrustful.

‘He will go by the Via Gemina, I assume,’ Petrus replied, with seeming indifference. ‘Then by Marcianopolis.’

‘But not to Dorostorum?’

‘That would be unwise, don’t you think? He had contact with the Sklaveni and it was they who told him of your cousin’s arrangement with the Huns. He will seek to persuade them to witness against him.’

‘Are we now believing the lies of barbarians?’

‘It will be enough to set hares running that would be better staying in their burrow.’

A slow nod. ‘In what capacity will the boy travel?’

‘On horseback and alone; my uncle has got for him the promise of a written commission.’

It was again instructive to watch the senator’s face, even in its immobility; such a document could only come from Anastasius. That he believed the emperor to be so devious as to keep him in the dark came as no surprise, nor should it.

‘Which you will compose?’

‘Of course, Senator.’

The best bargains are struck without the parties having to enter the details; Petrus was telling him he would be given a copy of that commission as well as the other information he would need. With clever men, so much does not have to be said and that was the case now, the only thing left the words Pentheus spoke.

‘I think you know how gratified I am you came to see me, Flavius Petrus.’

‘If I am to look out for myself, it behoves me to also look out for those whose friendship in the future I might come to depend on.’

‘Let us go back indoors and drink a glass of wine together.’

‘I am at your service.’

‘Hidden away?’ Justinus demanded. ‘Where hidden away?’

‘In the city, somewhere safe, and even you must accept, Uncle, to have him stay here in the palace is to put his life in danger. I moved him for that reason.’

‘You have overreached yourself, Petrus.’

‘I have done what was needed.’

‘Tell me where?’

‘It is best you do not know.’ Seeing Justinus fill his lungs with air to shout at him, Petrus cut him off. ‘If you are asked you can answer honestly that you have no idea. You are never comfortable telling lies.’

‘While you are!’

What his nephew said was true: Justinus was a poor liar, barely able to be convincingly false in kindness, inclined to go red and even stutter if the matter was serious. It was one of the things that made him so valuable to Anastasius, his patent honesty, indeed it had marked his career and the way he had risen within it. People trusted him and were rarely disappointed.

‘Do we want to keep the youngster safe?’ A nod; he had not used the name, for he did not know who could hear them arguing. ‘Can we do so here?’

That got an angry sigh. ‘No.’

‘If Anastasius asks you where he is … do you want your loyalties to be tested?’

‘You’re sure he is safe?’

Petrus could see his uncle was beginning to calm down and so he should, for what had been done was both wise and logical. ‘As far as he can be.’

‘What does that mean?’

‘It did occur to me that a guard consisting of a couple of your officers might make things more secure.’ Seeing the question rear up he cut across that too. ‘They don’t need to know his name, and if you wish, I will suggest a pair who talk of you as if you are the manifestation of Christ risen.’

‘Don’t blaspheme.’

‘Forgive me, Uncle, but I have acted for the best. If that displeases you, well, I cannot do much to make it better.’

‘You sometimes take too much upon yourself, Petrus.’

God be thanked the nephew thought, before saying, in a voice full of entreaty, ‘It is only out of regard for you. It is not too much to say I look upon you as a second father.’ Playing on the sentimental streak in Justinus usually paid dividends and it did so now. ‘Permission to write the orders detailing two of your officers to protect our charge?’

‘Go ahead.’

‘I will bring them to you to sign.’

‘Why bother,’ Justinus snapped, seeking to salvage some authority. ‘You take so much on yourself you might as well do that too.’

When he was alone, Petrus wrote out two sets of papers, only one the orders that would give two of his own very good friends the task of protection. The other was a commission to one Flavius Belisarius to proceed to Dorostorum to investigate complaints of collusion in cross-border raids by citizens of the empire. It had the seal of the comes excubitorum, which would give the youngster the right to use the mansios reserved for officials and military officers on official business. A copy was made for Pentheus.

One of the other functions performed by Petrus was to manage his uncle’s accounts, for he struggled with figures as much as letters. With possession of the keys to his chest he took out a sum in gold, having listed it in the book as a payment for a new set of highly decorated armour of a kind that went with a general’s rank, in short that equal to a count of the excubitor, enough in funds to procure that for a junior officer, as well as a horse, with coin to spare.

‘If this falls into the hands of anyone else, it will ruin my uncle.’

‘I will guard it with my life,’ Flavius replied.

‘You look very fine in decent clothing.’

Stroking a breastplate and the devices that marked it out, Flavius asked, ‘Is it not deceitful?’

‘An excubitor uniform is necessary, Flavius, and it goes with that commission in your hand. No one will dare question you if you are wearing the clothing of a body who act as personal guards to the emperor.’

The room in which Petrus had temporarily accommodated him overlooked one of the harbours of Constantinople, full of shipping, and as dusk settled, light began to twinkle from many a window and deck, while from below his feet came the sound of singing, that brought on by drinking and carousing; Petrus seemed to know the place well, the owners too, for they had greeted him like a long-lost brother.

‘Your horse is downstairs being held by the innkeeper’s groom and with it a cloak, which even on a warm night I suggest you wear until you are clear of the city. It would not do to encounter a real excubitor and be exposed.’ A purse was handed over, which Flavius weighed, hardly surprised it was quite heavy. ‘More funds, I hope, than you will need.’

‘I tried on my old breastplate,’ Flavius said, wistfully, again fingering the one he was wearing, without knowing why he was telling this strange fellow something that could not be of interest to him. ‘Before you brought me here.’

‘And?’

‘It didn’t fit any more.’

He was surprised but pleased that Petrus got the drift of what he was seeking to imply.

‘The time will come when you can put all of your past behind you, Flavius, and pray to God it is soon. Shall we do that ? pray?’

Flavius was then doubly surprised by what happened next, not seeing Petrus as in any way religious. Yet he was quick to kneel, uttered his supplications to the deities in a strong voice and with passion, which was only half as fervent as those he uttered when the youngster had departed, in which there was a degree of wailing and sobbing which took time to pass, for if he sinned readily, he was much assailed by the fear of damnation for doing so.

His mental self-flagellation complete he made his way downstairs to a room raucous with people enjoying themselves, where he called to the owner, asked him to engage a messenger and when that was provided, the fellow was sent off with a coin and a scroll to the villa of Pentheus Vicinus.

Flavius unwittingly rode past that same villa, exiting the city by the Blachernae Gate, and that with no trouble; people leaving the city, even after dark, were of little concern to the urban prefects. Once on the Via Gemina he put his mount into a canter, his mind ruminating on his mission, but also the notion that he might once more come upon Apollonia, the effect of those thoughts making his blood race. He made his first nightly stop, a government mansio only three leagues from the city, on a route in which he had to walk as much as ride in order not to overtire his mount, for the real pressure to hurry on his travels would begin on the next morning.

When Pentheus Vicinus received the message from Petrus, he called immediately for a covered chariot, as well as two of his most loyal retainers, men who normally patrolled the grounds at night. On this occasion they would be left unguarded, the mission they were on much more vital than looking after the senator’s property.

Petrus, having seared his soul, spent a happy night carousing, in what was a favourite tavern frequented by himself and a goodly number of his uncle’s officers. He particularly enjoyed the dancing performed by girls who were not too shy of exposing their flesh nor of suggestive choreography designed to fire the desires of the men in their audience. As company, Petrus preferred them to the staid and painted women that he was constantly being introduced to by his mother, with heavy hints at them being suitable brides with good dowries. He liked his women with the sweat of activity on them and little or no inhibitions.

He was in a room with two of them, sated and sound asleep when Flavius espied the twin lanterns that marked the entrance to the mansio where he would spend the night. How different it was to approach such a place with the means to enter, to be greeted with grovelling obsequiousness by the man on night watch and have a bell rung to fetch someone to show him to a comfortable chamber. Knowing it would not be long till it was light again he lay down to sleep, removing only those things that made it uncomfortable, his excubitor breast- and backplate as well as his silver filigreed greaves and riding boots. Apollonia was much in his thoughts as he drifted off to sleep.

The watchman, who usually enjoyed a good and quiet night, was thinking that God had it in for him when a senator turned up and demanded entry. It was then he realised he had forgotten to tell that young excubitor something, but he was no doubt asleep now so it would have to wait; he would find out soon enough. Going back into his hutch he tried to do the same himself, cursing his disturbed night.

There was a commotion within the house, but the watchman was too far off to hear it and he had retired by the time Flavius awoke, to decline a bath, grab some fruit and, in a hurry, get back astride his horse and ride away. The two naked bodies found outside the perimeter of the mansio in wooded countryside were not connected to him, for they lay undisturbed for three days before discovery and that only came about because, in the late summer heat, they had begun to smell.

Who they were and where they had come from was never established, not that anyone tried very hard to find out, given they were very obviously, by their dress and features, people of no account. Likewise the senator had left in his covered chariot before cockcrow, not even stopping to eat.