Jack Ludlow: Honour

‘There is one courtier who not only aspires to decide on the wearer of the purple but seeks my aid to gain the throne for his man and the price of that aid will, of course, be paid for in consideration for us.’ Seeing Flavius’s eyebrows go up and in conclusion, Petrus added. ‘If my uncle prospers, so will you.’

To avoid alluding to the evident fact that Petrus cared more for his own advancement than that of himself or perhaps even his own relative, Flavius ask the obvious question. ‘Who is this aspirant?’

‘One thing at a time, Flavius. Can I rely on you to aid me?’

‘You can rely on me to do anything that will protect your uncle, a man who has shown me nothing but kindness.’

‘One day, perhaps,’ Petrus sighed, ‘you will hold me in the same light as that paragon.’

Tempted to deny the possibility, Flavius just smiled.

To go from being a fighting soldier to a member of the elite imperial unit required such a degree of change that Flavius, for several days, felt lost. He had been greeted warmly by those he knew from his original induction into the Excubitors, sensing that only a few, as had many on the frontier, resented his connection to their commander. Yet everything in the palace was so different and not just because of the sheer number of functionaries that staffed the various bureaux that ran the empire.

As a breed these were so very different even from the civilian officials at Dara, having about them a guardedness that even manifested itself in their way of movement. Few came striding through the endless corridors with the confidence their eminence should provide. Most were silent and wary, the worst adopted a sort of slinking way of walking, accompanied by many an over-the-shoulder look as if they feared immediate arrest, which made Flavius wonder how much they were stealing or taking in bribes, these being the methods, and it was no secret, by which such people enriched themselves.

He had to assume the atmosphere was more troubled than normal given the Emperor was fading, albeit lingering by rallying in a way that increased the tension. There would be all sorts of conspiracies and manoeuvres being initiated, alliances made and broken, with many a pledge examined to seek to find if it was true or false. To meet any eye other than that of a fellow soldier was to feel as if one was being weighed as an asset on a set of unknowable scales.

Who are you, what are your connections, should I acknowledge you or guard against you? That was the commonplace, yet to accompany Petrus down those same pillared corridors was doubly instructive, he obviously being someone whom these functionaries reckoned to either guard against or to seek to impress and he was not slow to relate the reasons why.

‘Friends are necessary, enemies more numerous and care is required when the man promising to aid you is secretly preparing to bring you down. It is hard to rise in imperial service, Flavius, and too easy to fall, and when you do there is no bottom.’

There was a pause as Petrus nodded a greeting to a gorgeously clad fellow passing in the other direction, followed by several slaves carrying baskets of scrolls.

‘You are a soldier and like my uncle you take death, even a painful one, to be the risk of your chosen path. Many of those we pass have crawled on their knees or paid out in gold to attain a position at court only to find they are surrounded by others who will embrace them just before they betray them. It frays even the stoutest nerves.’

‘I sense you thrive on it.’

‘It is a sport in which I take pleasure, that is true.’

‘So you do not fear death either?’

‘Disgrace, Flavius, that is what all here fear, even the soldiers, and then there is beggary if you are blinded. Great fortunes are to be made but there are dungeons below where you can be forgotten, cells where the rats can eat at your toes for decades.’

Petrus stopped and hauled on Flavius to do likewise. ‘Just make out we are deep in conversation.’

‘Why?’

‘I need to be sure we are not being watched.’

‘Talk? What about?’

‘Tell me of that fight you had when serving under Narses?’ Seeing the younger man’s eyes open with surprise, Petrus added. ‘It cannot shock you that I know of it.’

‘Did you have me spied upon?’

‘Flavius, I esteem you and trust you but please take no offence if I say you are scarce worth that. I did, however, need to know that you were alive, or if not-’

‘Which would require you to correspond with someone.’

‘Regarding the situation on the border, I did with several and your well-being was supplemental. Now tell me how you pulled off your little charade for it interests me?’

As he did so, Flavius was far from sure Petrus was really listening. Placed as they were in a long and well-frequented corridor it seemed he spent more time flicking glances to those who came and went by the pillar near which they stood, some to be ignored when close, others to be acknowledged with a nod.

‘Narses is a good soldier but too cautious. He could have seen it as I did but chose not to-’

The interruption was physical and, for a man of such slight frame, surprisingly strong. Petrus dragged Flavius deeper into the gap between two pillars then along behind them to a small doorway on which he rapped a tattoo. It was opened quickly and the youngster was bundled into a chamber that lacked a window and was lit only by guttering candles. It took a moment to sense the other person present and time for the eyes of Flavius to adjust and take in his physical features, even longer to make out the face.

‘Amantius,’ Petrus said softly.

The voice that replied was restrained and hoarse. ‘It is past the appointed time.’

‘Better a wait than we and our purpose should be discovered.’

The man was either bald or he shaved his head. Maybe it was the indifferent light but his eyes seemed sunk into a head that appeared as well-defined as a skull, with prominent cheekbones and a substantial lantern jaw.

‘Let me introduce my companion, Flavius Belisarius, whom you will observe is a member of the Excubitors.’

‘Not a very elevated one.’

‘If a man of higher rank were here, Amantius, given what we are about to discuss, he might see it as his duty to stick a sword in our vitals. For what we propose to do you need the aid of the junior officers of the Excubitorum , for it is they who are close to the common soldiers and they who will be able to marshal them to our aid as well as convey to them the promise of great reward.’

‘And to protect me and my candidate?’

‘That too.’

The man stepped a pace forward, which increased the light that shone on him. He was not of any great height and had a narrowness to his body that matched that of Petrus. His eyes were on Flavius and unblinking, the youngster thought trying to see into his soul, and when he spoke it was to confirm that was his purpose.

‘I will need to place much faith in you and your like.’ When Flavius did not respond, only holding steady the mutual gaze, the bald man nodded. ‘You stay silent, no protestations of constancy or reliability. That is good.’

‘For to do so would sound false,’ Petrus added, which got a hearty nod. ‘It is however necessary, Amantius, that my young friend knows who you are and what offices you hold.’

‘They are many. All he needs to know is that the advantages of my positions provide the means by which I will succeed in rewarding the men who guard the Emperor, when they allow the man I have chosen to assume his mantle.’

Flavius had to fight hard not to suck in an audible breath then: what was this Amantius saying — that he was going to decide who would be emperor when Anastasius passed away?