Mary Reed - Four for a Boy

“Your humors are troubling you this evening, Caesar, and naturally your nephew’s illness worries you, as it does everyone,” he offered. “All these ridiculous plots people gossip about are no more real than that hare by your foot.”

Justin let out a wheezing cough. The long walk down to the garden had taxed his strength. “I have placed my trust in you, Proclus. I want to make certain you know exactly what is going on so you can take appropriate measures should anything happen to me.”

“Happen? What do you mean?” “If I knew what might happen, I could prevent it,” Justin snapped back. “When the streets are on fire who can predict where the wind will carry sparks? You must be prepared for all eventualities.”

“The City Prefect is bringing the troublemakers firmly under control, exactly as you ordered,” Proclus assured him.

“Is he? How can a man who dabbles in magick and potions be trusted?”

“I thought you placed great faith in that painkilling concoction he brings you?”

“To relieve this agony, Proclus, I would deal with Satan. I am not saying that the Gourd does not serve me, but that he is most unreliable. He has strange notions. The other day he told me he knows a man who has unlocked the secret of flight. The Gourd was very excited. He envisions his men soaring above the city, spying out malefactors, swooping down upon them. How can you trust a man with such delusions?”

“Nevertheless, he is making the streets safer, by all accounts.”

“Would this be for my benefit, or to further his own ambitions?”

“You think that he has designs on the throne, Caesar?”

“He has accumulated quite a large force to keep order in the city,” Justin pointed out, “and whereas my excubitors may be better trained and armed, their numbers are far fewer.”

Proclus hastily assured him of the Prefect’s loyalty.

“Justinian trusts him even less than I do,” Justin replied. “He claims that is why he initiated his investigation into Hypatius’ death. On the contrary, I believe it was launched because he’s afraid I’ve ordered the Gourd to produce evidence implicating him.”

“You would never do such a thing.” Proclus sounded shocked.

“Of course not! However, Justinian has a certain someone whispering poisonous thoughts in his ear all hours of the day and night, doesn’t he?”

From the darkness came the faint mournful call of some nocturnal bird Proclus did not recognize. The quaestor had never taken an interest in the outdoors. To him, night meant neatly scrivened sheets of laws softly glowing in lamplight, and perhaps a splash of wine at the end of his labors.

“Surely Justinian is as interested in finding out the truth about Hypatius’ death as you are,” he finally ventured.

Justin laughed. “How do you suppose a slave and an excubitor are going to solve such a mystery? Justinian is simply giving a less than subtle warning, telling me he is aware of my supposed conspiracy against him. As if the emperor needs to conspire to remain in power! All I need to do that is order an execution and it is done. That, of course, is what my nephew fears.”

He sighed. “Doubtless, the slave is also there to keep an eye on the Gourd, just as Felix has been instructed, except of course the one reports to me and the other to Justinian. Why do you imagine the Gourd’s so angry about those two? Frankly, it makes me suspect he’s up to something he doesn’t want me to know about. And naturally Felix is also keeping watch on Justinian’s slave for me. Oh, my nephew and I have had a long conversation about all this, dancing about the subject without ever once coming right out and saying what we meant. It’s all very tiresome, Proclus. All of us at court have to deceive endlessly in order to keep each other honest.”

His companion’s brow wrinkled as he considered the matter. “A pair of informers, known to be such not only to each other but also to the person both are supposed to be informing on…that would appear to create an impasse. If they do manage to find out who murdered Hypatius, so much the better. A most intelligent strategy, Caesar. My compliments.” He bowed.

“You don’t need to flatter me, Proclus,” Justin replied, sounding pleased. “Now tell me this. How do you know I didn’t order you to accompany me to this secluded place so you could be strangled?”

“Caesar?” The garden, frosted by moonlight and populated by indistinctly seen creatures lurking in thick vegetation, suddenly appeared sinister and unwelcoming.

“Don’t tell me you harbor no ambitions! Yet as I said, I do trust you, and so I will tell you a secret. Ah, you look distressed. It isn’t healthy to know an emperor’s secrets, is it? Nevertheless, be warned, I have no intention of replacing Justinian with another heir. He is my blood kin, my sister’s son, and I promised her when I adopted him that I would raise him up to succeed me. He is like the son Euphemia and I could not have.”

Proclus murmured a few words of sympathy.

“Besides which, it’s the actress who’s the cause of most of the trouble between Justinian and me.” Justin sighed. “She’s the one who keeps urging him to take action. Why the haste? My nephew’s only just in his forties. A young man compared to me. He has plenty of time left to rule. First, though, he must realize that he has to dispose of that vile woman. It might be that this rift between us will help him see his folly, along with the inevitable cooling off of passion. Or so Euphemia has advised me.” The emperor moved stiffly on the bench, again shifting his weight, but not the pain from his leg.

Proclus briefly wondered how successful Justin would be in having Justinian removed from the succession in the absence of an excellent pretext, given his nephew’s popularity. He didn’t voice those thoughts, however. “I assure you I have no designs on the throne, Caesar,” he repeated, still expecting to hear stealthy movement behind him at any instant.

“You don’t want to be emperor, believe me. I was ambitious and what has it come to? As a young man I left Dardania with two companions. We had nothing but the clothes on our backs and a crust or two of bread for provisions. You know the saying that something that happened long ago might have occurred only yesterday? Well, our journey might have begun just this morning. I’m not old and sick, really, merely tired and footsore from a long day’s walk.”

Justin closed his eyes, the better to view his memories. “I recall crossing a stone bridge as we left,” he said. “The stream was low. Then a little way past the bridge there was the small cemetery where all our kinfolk are buried. Yes, we left both the living and the dead behind to come to Constantinople, seeking a better life.”

Proclus listened intently as the ailing man described his long-ago odyssey.

“The three of us walked that dusty, rutted road,” Justin recalled. “Sometimes we sang, sometimes we marched along in silence. At night we slept wherever we could find shelter. And we kept walking for many days. I wasn’t expecting a great future. The thought of rising to be Captain of Excubitors never crossed my mind, and as for one day ruling the empire, well…No, all we looked forward to each dawn was the end of the day when we could rest and eat whatever we had managed to find. I achieved more than any man could hope to accomplish, yet what does any of it matter now? It’s all behind me.”

“I pray that is not so, Caesar.”

Justin opened his eyes, but turned his head to look toward the far corner of the garden rather than at Proclus. “It is all as nothing. I might have dreamt being emperor. Memories have no more substance than dreams, and in the end all our lives will become only memories. I’ve led men into battle, seen kings kneel before me. I’ve raised great churches to the glory of the Lord, heard the accolades of thousands in the Hippodrome. Yet if I had only an hour of my life to live again, it would be the first time I shared the bed of the girl I married. So much for all our ambitions, my loyal quaestor.”