Vengeance

CHAPTER FIVE

The youngster was determined to avoid wearing his emotions on his sleeve, to present a calm demeanour when within he was seething with hate and a desire for bloody revenge. How easy it was to imagine behaving in that fashion, given his lack of years and a quite natural apprehension in dealing with a man many years his senior and one his father called a natural and practised dissembler. In deep and resonant voice, Gregory Blastos offered his condolences for both his loss and that of his absent mother.

He then made an enquiry as to the state of his damaged shoulder, very obvious in its sling, but no remark followed regarding the equally evident blemishes on his face, now two proper black eyes. His tone then became that of a man of position and maturity, addressing what to his mind was no more than a callow youth and one, moreover, who had quite seriously sinned against God and his church, much being made of that funeral pyre.

The cleric, given he glanced several times, was obviously wondering at the presence of Ohannes, who was standing just inside the door, silent and stiff of face. One reason was the trust now reposed by Flavius in his father’s retainer, added to his fear that he would be unable to control his desire for revenge; the old soldier was there to stop him committing violence or even murder.

Added to that was the fact that he would never allow himself to be alone with a known pederast, a man who had, by repute, trouble controlling his hands. The Belisarius brood had been a handsome lot, none more angelically so until puberty than Flavius and even that had not rendered him ugly: he was tall for his age and well proportioned and he worried that under the clerical pomposity and strictures there might be a degree of unwelcome attraction.

‘What you did was blasphemous, if not idolatrous, and it is only sympathy for your understandable grief that stops me from acting to chastise you as I would another, though I must insist that you do suitable penance when your period of mourning is complete.’

Flavius replied with a blatant lie, one accompanied with violently shaking knees, which he reckoned was plain to see under the embroidered smock that barely covered them. Likewise his voice, hoarse anyway, seemed to have within it an added and obvious tremor, which he sought to cover with a bowed head.

‘I thank you for that, Your Eminence, I acted in haste and heartache.’

‘Understandable,’ the bishop murmured softly, smiling, lips now shiny and wet. He moved a couple of paces closer, a hand held out towards the good shoulder, which made Flavius shift quickly to one side to keep a space between them.

The youngster was not in the least sorry for what he had done but it would be folly to challenge the divine who represented the authority of the patriarch in this part of the province, a man who, with no father to protect Flavius, could bring down on him a punishment he would have no means of avoiding. At a word from this slimy Greek, Flavius could spend the rest of his days in a salt mine.

Why had Blastos waited so long to come calling? Was it to emphasise his own standing in relation to the status of a mere imperial centurion? In the two days since he had set light to that pyre the youngster had received a whole host of citizens expressing sympathy, some the smaller landowners who had been part of the militia gathered to repel the barbarians.

In times past the same men had often come to the very room in which he received them to complain about some act of Senuthius that diminished their pride or their purse; now they were keen to make plain they had only acted on the field of battle as that same figure dictated. In accepting their condolences, as well as their excuses, Flavius had wondered how much of what they said was true conscience and how much a mere pretext to salve their guilt.

Now he felt, in some cases, a sense of embarrassment; within the list his father had sent to Constantinople were the names of people who had come to offer him their condolences, which had Flavius castigating himself for his notion of them being false in their feelings. He could not prevent, at that point and with those thoughts, his good hand straying into his sling to feel the outline of the pouch of documents secreted there. If he saw the movement and wondered, the mind of Blastos was elsewhere.

‘Numbers obliged us to bury the victims of the recent incursion in a communal grave and they have had a Mass said for their salvation. But we must say another for the departed souls of your father and brothers that are, thanks to your actions, in deep peril of eternal damnation. Now, as it is my duty, I will confess you and grant you absolution.’

If Flavius had been nervous prior to that he was rendered doubly so now: could he in confession, before taking in the blood and the body of Christ, fail to tell when asked of what he had found? Would he, in failing to be utterly truthful, damn his own soul?

‘Leave us alone,’ Blastos hissed at Ohannes, there being no need to explain why.

Dread of God’s wrath disappeared somewhat, Flavius wondering if he had things other than damnation to worry about. In truth such fears were misplaced; Bishop Gregory Blastos carried out his clerical duties impeccably, listening to the young man’s filleted confession without interruption, imposing upon him as penance a strict regime of prayer and repentance, before producing a small box containing bread and a vial of consecrated wine, both properly administered.

The bishop then began praying sonorously above his kneeling body and bowed head, asking that he should be granted forgiveness, yet all Flavius could hear throughout was his father’s voice cursing this man, his blasphemous depredations and filthy behaviour. It was necessary to hold to the truth that if God was omnipotent and could see everything and everyone, to the innermost thoughts of their soul, a blessing from Gregory Blastos might well be meaningless.

One hand dropped from where it had been placed, on the top of his head, to softly caress his cheek and then seek to cup his chin. Flavius shot to his feet and looked the bishop in the eye, which must have contained a measure of his fury at what was being inferred. His glare was greeted by a smile and a shrug added to a soft injunction that to a troubled youth sounded like a threat.

‘I am sure in time we may be friends, Flavius, closer than your grief allows us to be at present.’

Still wary, Flavius moved to the doorway and called on Ohannes to return, to take up his position by the doorway, wearing the same unfriendly expression with which he had previously fixed their visitor. Both the act and the look seemed to mildly amuse the bishop, who had begun to relate how busy his church had become since what he called ‘that unfortunate event of two days past’.

‘So many victims, you understand. Many of those who have come to pray for the souls of those we lost have also asked that the Lord bless you with the means to overcome your sorrow.’

‘For which I am bound to give them thanks.’

‘A goodly number are curious as to what you will do now.’

‘What can I do but take my mother, if she comes here to grieve, back to the place of her birth. There is family there, after all, and given my father’s appointment is no more-’

‘Ah yes,’ Blastos interjected, taking hold of the large and expensive cross that adorned his chest. ‘We will sadly need to send to Constantinople to have another come to protect us, as well as the men to do so, perhaps in greater numbers than we have hitherto been granted.’

The word ‘sadly’ struck a totally false note; Flavius could not believe Blastos cared a sliver for the men lost of whatever rank or relation, so again he was left fighting to stop himself from raining curses down on this swine’s head. When he did speak, he croaked a question he had been dying to ask since the bishop arrived, not that he anticipated an honest answer.

‘Do you feel that Senuthius acted as he should?’

That brought a deep, almost animal growl from the throat of Ohannes, which got him a look of utter disdain from a man who thought the views of such a fellow to be worthless. The bishop then looked at Flavius, eyebrows raised, as if he was surprised to be in receipt of such a question.

‘I mean as commander of the militia.’

‘How is a mere priest to know? Such things are the province of fighting men, which my calling dictates I cannot be.’

‘You were present.’

‘In the capacity of my office, no more, to bless those going into battle.’

‘Which was as good as over before Senuthius sounded the advance.’

Up came the hands in a gesture of futility, added to a furious shake of the jowls, leaving the youngster with a distinct impression he had pushed Blastos into an area in which he was far from comfortable. It was as if such an enquiry was unexpected, yet how could he come to this house and not anticipate something of that nature to be raised?

‘Yet you must agree that I am entitled to ask for an explanation?’

‘I am not sure I understand the nature of what you are asking.’

‘He stood unmoving when it was clear that battle had been joined.’

Blastos turned away to address a wall, thus breaking eye contact. ‘Senuthius stuck rigidly to the standing arrangements he made with your father.’

Much as Decimus Belisarius hated the senator he had a need to deal with a man upon whose support he depended if any incursions lay beyond the capabilities of the cohort he led, trying as it was to do so. If nothing serious had happened for years, precautions had to be taken against such an occurrence and plans laid to counter it. Flavius could easily recall when such meetings had taken place, they being ones from which his father returned in a foul mood, making little attempt to hide from the family his frustration.

‘Then why did those plans fail?’

The already deep voice dropped an octave. ‘My son, only God will ever know.’

‘Yet surely you, of all people, know the mind of Senuthius Vicinus?’ There was flattery in the way Flavius said that, as if it was too obvious to be denied, yet more spooned on as he added, ‘Are you not also his very close friend and confidant, indeed his confessor? I find it impossible to believe he would act in a way he had not yet discussed with you.’

The reply was yet again addressed to the wall and the voice, for the first time, showed a hint of real uncertainty. Blastos was pinned by his own vanity; he could not admit that he had no knowledge of the thoughts of a man who was his patron and one he wanted everyone to believe was his equal and friend. If the truth was not obvious to the bishop, it was to anyone with eyes to see; he was in no way the senator’s equal, more a lackey than a companion.

‘I do not say that your father and Senuthius always saw eye to eye, but in this matter they were in full agreement. I seem to recall, though it’s some time ago, four years if am a-minded right, what was planned. That should there be another serious attack, the imperial cohort would seek to get between the intruders and their boats to secure the riverbank and hold it while the militia under Senuthius drove them onto their swords, though, of course, knowledge on what was intended had to be kept to the very few who needed to know, so you would not have been aware of it. I doubt your father told anyone, he being a man who knew how people gossip and was well able to keep things close to his chest.’

Having delivered this statement Blastos turned back to face the youngster, looking him full in the eye, which caused Flavius acute discomfort: Belisarius senior had certainly never told him what was planned and as for keeping quiet about things? Blastos missed the sense of that reaction, concluding very quickly that his listener was unconvinced, that more was required, so he carried on, his voice sounding less than wholly confident.

‘If I understand little of war, I do know it is all confusion once battle is joined. Something took place that could not have been foreseen, something that caused your father to alter his tactics. It saddens me to say that if you look for the cause of this unfortunate event, it is there you must go.’

The temptation to scream was near to overwhelming; how could he so blatantly lie? Sound alone would have told Senuthius what was happening and that he needed to react. Even with his lack of years it had been obvious to Flavius, so why was it not obvious to him?

Gregory Blastos now fixed him with a steady look, of the kind that was meant to imply enough had been said on the subject and that he was too young to understand the ramifications of matters better judged by his elders. It was time to move on, Blastos demanding to know if he had sent word to his mother.

Such an abrupt change of subject threw the youngster; obviously the bishop was keen to get away from a discussion he found awkward, and much as the son wanted to pursue it, there was little point. His mood, after that last insult to the memory of his father and brothers, was so far from collected he could feel his heart pounding in his chest. The short pause before he replied in the affirmative was necessary to steady both his racing pulse as well as his bitterness.

‘Have you asked her to return?’

‘I must leave it to her to decide. If she wishes to gaze upon the very spot of our misery then I will go and fetch her, for it would be unbecoming that she should travel alone with her grief, and that I have told her. What I have written will provide a poor substitute for the truth.’

‘Truth?’ Blastos asked, as if such a thing was untoward.

‘How bravely they died.’

That got a nod, but not one that seemed to acknowledge the sacrifice. ‘When do you think you will depart to join her, for you will have no reason to remain in Dorostorum?’

There was something about the way that was posed, as if it was only of passing importance, that set Flavius even more on edge, the deliberate lack of emphasis added to the lacklustre look in eyes that were now fixed on a spot just above his head, implying not indifference but calculation.

Revelation came without any need to examine from where it emerged and nor did Flavius question the certainty of his conclusion. There had been less than clear hints from those who had earlier come to offer condolences regarding what had happened on the day of battle that, if they had made him curious, had not coalesced into any firm view.

Now they did: either Blastos or Senuthius had somehow got wind there was an official mission on the way from Constantinople. For men who relied on distance from real authority, aided by a wilfully blind provincial administrator, to hide from view their transgressions, such a visitation could not be other than a threat, especially when the man who had sought to have them examined for their crimes was present to not only back them up, but to do so with witnesses. Fear of Senuthius would evaporate in the face of a body representing the emperor.

The memory of those two thieves came to mind, men whose bodies had disappeared in the hours of darkness, no one knowing who had removed them or where they had been taken. Were they just casual robbers taking advantage of the empty villa to seek to rob the place of valuables? Or had they been sent to the house knowing that it would be empty?

Once that thought had taken hold there was no need to wonder why the imperial cohort had been left unsupported. Senuthius had taken a golden opportunity to rid himself of a long-time adversary who might well have found the means to be his nemesis. Such contemplation made it hard to keep going, but Flavius knew he must reply, it being even more vital now that he do so in the same manner and tone that he had struggled hard to maintain. He must give no hint of his thinking!

‘There are matters to clear up here and it will not surprise you that is a task for which I am, at my age, unprepared.’

‘Of course, I merely wondered if you might wish to join your dear mother quickly and persuade her that such a journey is unnecessary. The travelling is arduous enough, ten times more so bearing such a burden.’

‘That is a decision I must leave to her.’

‘Young as you are, Flavius, you now stand at the head of your house. Perhaps it is a duty you should assume and act to spare your dear mother any more unhappiness. I would tell her to remain where she is and draw comfort from your presence. I feel I must, as spiritual adviser to you both, strongly counsel that such a course is the one you should adopt.’

They want her and me out of the way! Why? In case my father confided in us? His mother probably knew, for they were very close, a fact of which Blastos, having observed them from the advantage of his office, could not but be aware. He is also uncertain about me; much safer that neither she nor I are still in Dorostorum when …

‘Nevertheless,’ Flavius insisted, ‘you know my mother well enough to be aware that even with the unwanted elevation of myself to which you have referred, she will do as she wishes and not what I tell her.’

‘A pity,’ Gregory Blastos responded, in a sour tone. Then, taking a deep and what was intended to be a meaningful breath, he turned suddenly brisk. ‘Now, a second duty intrudes and we have other matters to discuss. It devolves upon me, on behalf of the magister Conatus, to oversee some of the duties undertaken by your late father until a replacement arrives.’

Was that true? When it came to defence, untrustworthy as he was and without any official position, Senuthius seemed a more fitting candidate, added to which the bishop would not make such a claim without his consent. The whys and wherefores of what arrangement they had come to would remain a mystery so there was little point in dwelling upon it, though Flavius could not avoid letting loose a pointed dart.

‘Even if you are not a soldier?’

‘I am assured I will not want for support in that area,’ came the testy reply. ‘What it means, of course, is that I am required to take into my possession the treasury your father held on behalf of the empire as well as any correspondence in which he might have been engaged.’

Correspondence! The time had come to prevaricate, to say the great coffer that held such things was bolted to the floor of the room Decimus Belisarius had set aside as his place of work, with the addendum that anything pertaining to his family he had to retain, given his father’s personal papers had been kept within the same chest and – the lie came easily – he had yet to go through them anything like methodically. He held his breath till he was sure that Blastos had swallowed the falsehood.

‘Of course, and I am happy to allow you to separate anything private but I must insist you do so in my presence, for it may be that you will not know one from the other.’

‘Perhaps in a day or two, Your Eminence, when my grief has receded somewhat.’

The fleshy hands spread once more, as if in an expression of deep regret. ‘Alas, that cannot be. I must act with haste for the sake of such responsibilities, even if I find it uncomfortable. I have a party of men without the atrium gate waiting for me to take possession of anything deemed official.’

‘You wish to go through it now?’ Flavius asked, affecting genuine surprise.

‘If I had a choice …’ That lie was left unfinished.

‘One more day, perhaps?’

‘Sadly no, my duty is clear and I doubt the magister militum, once I have informed him of my actions, would thank me for delay.’

There was silence as each examined the other, Flavius sure that, just as he was trying to disguise his true feelings, Blastos was doing likewise: if Senuthius was threatened by any hint of an imperial enquiry then so was the Bishop of Dorostorum for, though their sins were of a different nature, they acted in concert.

Having read the last letter from Justinus more than once, he knew that Constantinople had gone to great lengths to keep secret what was to be visited upon this border city, hence the decision not to inform anyone in Marcianopolis. Flavius could plead but it would be to no avail, so with obvious reluctance he stood to one side and indicated the open doorway, still guarded by Ohannes.

‘Then I have no choice.’

Blastos smiled and the lips were shiny again as his hand went once more to that heavy cross on his chest, as he sought a pious excuse for his behaviour. ‘Sometimes a man is forced to act against his better instincts. I hope you believe that I am obliged to do so now.’