Jack Ludlow: Honour

Petrus did not care but his uncle and father did, sure that it was the only way to secure the future success of a bloodline ascended to eminence only by the military prowess of the present comes Excubitorum, who had risen through the ranks to become a successful and much lauded general. In his elevation to his present senior position, Vigilantia, sister to Justinus, had risen on his cloak tails and had made for herself an advantageous marriage. She was keen to embed the family in the higher ranks of the populace.

Their great hope was not in the least interested, openly stating that he found the scented daughters of the patrician class vapid and dull and besides that he was only ever considered marital material by those families on the way down. Either that or they had daughters already passed over for a lack of comeliness or with some obvious physical flaw.

Torture for Petrus was to sit and dine in the surroundings of such a family, where no chance was avoided to remind the guest of their centuries of high birth. The fathers and brothers would go out of their way to show both learning and erudition by quoting classical texts, as if scholarship compensated for having no worthwhile position in the imperial bureaucracy.

‘Tonight,’ Petrus exclaimed, standing up, ‘I will forgo my usual pleasures. How can I not stay to break bread with Flavius newly returned?’

The youngster looked at Justinus then, to see if he had taken that at face value, which Flavius had decidedly not. Petrus was not one for hearty male companionship either, only truly happy in the company of hard-drinking Excubitor officers, low life and whores, more at ease in the brothels and taverns of the dock area than the villas of the upper orders. If he was forgoing that there would be a reason other than manners.

‘That is as it should be,’ Justinus responded forcefully, proving that if he was a good, nay brilliant soldier and as upright as a man could be, he lacked perception when he was being teased by his close relative. Flavius was again treated to another wide grin that followed by a hearty military slap. ‘Look at you, boy, skin and bone on army provisions. You need feeding up!’

Later, as they dined, Petrus made a good fist of hiding his boredom, there being no subject to air other than the military one. If he became fully engaged at all it was when Flavius began to talk of Dara and the progress of the building of the fortifications. Anastasius had personally chosen the site, only three leagues from the Sassanid fortified city of Nisibis, the forward base from which King Kavadh had previously launched his attacks on Roman territory.

‘Which is what we should do, Uncle, use Dara as a base for aggression not just defence. Otherwise it is a waste of our treasure.’

‘Anastasius wants peace,’ Justinus replied, with a tone of weariness that suggested it was a statement not entirely to his liking. ‘And nearing his ninth decade you can see why that would be. He is not one to waste money, as you know, but this to him is a saving on buying off the Sassanids every ten years with talents of gold. He hopes, with such a strong fortress that the Sassanids dare not pass by, to make the game not worth the candle.’

The response was very animated for a man normally very much in control of himself; Petrus positively spat back. ‘They only attack when Kavadh runs out of the funds he needs to bribe his tribal leaders and keep them from seeking to depose him. What do we do? Pay up and keep him alive as a threat.’

‘And if they did depose him would his successor be better?’

‘Then kill the whole snake if cutting off the head will not do.’

‘To eliminate the Sassanids we would need an army ten times the size of the one we can muster, Petrus, and even then we might not succeed, and could we hold that which we take?’

‘Rome cowed Persia once and Alexander ruled there.’

‘Then that,’ Justinus exclaimed, seeking to inject a lighter vein, ‘is what you need, another Alexander. It is well to remember when you speak of Rome what happened to Crassus, not Trajan and Pompey. Crassus lost an entire army and his own life fighting Persia and if Trajan and Pompey did better, neither sought to keep what they had won.’

‘Perhaps if they had?’

‘Then we would have even more trouble on our border than we have now. Enough, sad to say, I must leave you two young folk to talk, I have to do my nightly rounds.’

Petrus did not speak until Justinus had said his farewells, which included the admonition that now Flavius was back they would have to return him to Excubitor duty. Again the expression on the face of Petrus was of more interest, as he gave his uncle a look that bordered on disappointment, very brief and soon replaced by blandness when he realised Flavius had observed it.

‘Perhaps I will take Flavius to meet some of my friends.’

‘Spare him.’

‘What, Uncle, a fellow just back from the wars? If he is anything like the other Excubitor officers, then he is in need of the comfort only a woman can provide.’

‘Not the kind of woman to whom you will introduce him,’ Justinus barked over his shoulder as he departed.

‘Precisely the kind.’

Petrus said this softly, as he indicated the servants who had attended upon their meal should leave them alone. Then he leant forward to refill the goblet that sat before Flavius.

‘Why have you brought me back, Petrus? Clearly Justinus did not initiate it.’

‘Believe me, it was for a purpose.’

‘Which is?’

‘My uncle trusts you.’

‘Justinus trusts many people.’

‘Not always a wise course, even for a man of an artless nature. But put that aside and ask yourself what is coming here in Constantinople. Anastasius is fading, he has more ailments than his strength can resist. When he dies, and that could be this very night, then who will become emperor and what will become of my uncle?’

‘Do you not mean what will become of you?’

‘I admit to the concern. What is necessary is to ensure that whoever assumes the purple is in some way indebted to Justinus, so much that he may even rise to a position greater than that he now holds.’

‘Tell me, Petrus, do you think Justinus could have stayed as comes Excubitorum without you to aid him?’

‘Secretaries are nor hard to come by.’

‘I did not have you down as a man given to self-deprecation. He has held his position with your aid and he will need that whatever he aspires to.’

‘The problem with my uncle, Flavius,’ Petrus replied bitterly, ‘is that he aspires to so very little, so I must do so on his behalf.’

In the silence that followed, Flavius had the feeling that try as he might he would never be able to see into the mind of the man he had just dined with. If Petrus said he had an aim there was ever the feeling that much lay beyond it and undisclosed. What he said next did come as a surprise.

‘In order to protect him from his own lack of ambition, or indeed a need to secure his back, I require that you aid me. Thus I engineered your return.’

‘Me!’

‘I am engaged in some very delicate negotiations that I hope will secure a bright future for us all. To proceed I need with me someone who can make sure that I am not a victim of the secret knife yet who will not disclose to anyone what is said and to whom.’

‘And I am that person?’

‘Yes, Flavius, you are, and before you protest let me say what is important. I believe it to be true and in doing so I will be putting my life in your hands, for there are any number of people vying for the diadem and if I can see how fast our emperor is fading so can they, not least his own discredited nephews.’

Having been part of the military disgrace of the best of them, Hypatius, Flavius could only nod; the other two, Pompeius and Probus, were held to be so unsuitable for high office as to be a laughing stock, though Flavius silently admitted to himself, as Petrus kept speaking, a serious look on his face, that such things were beyond the comprehension of a mere junior officer.