Julian Stockwin - THE SILK TREE

‘I understand, sir. We’ll begin work on it immediately! There is the question of gaining audience with His Imperial Majesty. How…?’

‘The usual sanction is to petition for a hearing, but this requires you state your business first with the referendary regulating such access. I do not recommend this course if you desire discretion in the matter of your idea.’

His flabby brow furrowed. ‘The Master of the Offices is the untouchable Peter the Patrician, who would never countenance private access, still less the wooden-headed Marcellus, Count of Excubitors and not a man to cross.’

He reflected for a moment. ‘I fear our greatest obstacle, however, will be the cunning and entirely corrupt Peter Barsymes, whose reptilian hide is as slimy as his manner. You will know him as the Count of the Sacred Largesse – Emperor Justinian’s privy treasurer.’

The ‘our’ triggered a sudden thrill in Nicander.

‘No! Leave this to me. The matter is too delicate for precipitate action. Do prepare your plan, return with it and we shall discuss it together. I will ensure it reaches the ear of the Emperor, do not doubt it.’

Heaving himself upright he leant across, holding their eyes. ‘Meanwhile – trust no one! Speak not to a soul, distrust the very walls. The palace is an evil place, where behind a genial manner every man’s hand is set against his brother, where a father sells his daughter for power and gain, and worse that I cannot speak of it. Go now, we’ll meet again when your plans are ready…’

Nicander fought down his exhilaration. From utter despair to the situation now – when anything seemed possible!

‘I really do believe we’re on to something. I reckon at the very least Justinian will reward us handsomely.’

Marius merely grunted in reply.

Nicander allowed his thoughts to roam. Their spoils would probably be vast: this was no less than the saving of a king’s ransom in gold at a time when the Byzantines needed all the wealth they could find to preserve the country’s borders against the tidal surge of barbarians.

It seemed so unreal: this wretched squalor and the talk of gold and empires in which he was a central player.

He glanced at Marius, who now had a brooding expression.

‘I do think that notion of going as monks makes a lot of sense, don’t you? On the way back we can even hide the seeds in a holy relic or some such.’

There was another ill-natured grunt.

Nicander sighed; he was not going to let Marius’s mood spoil the moment.

‘So. A plan. It’s got to be a good one, credible and appealing to an emperor. How do we start?’

Marius sat unblinking, a scowl now darkening his face.

‘We’ve first got to work out a route that takes us past the Goths and other foul heathens. And to make us sound credible we have to know in detail what we’re talking about. This will, as well, tell us what’s ahead so we can plan for it, put it in the costings. Where do we get such information? It has to be from impeccable sources and as comprehensive as we can manage. Of course! The library, right here in the city! All the knowledge of Serica and the East… it must have everything.’

There was still no response from Marius and Nicander was beginning to be irritated by his sullen attitude. Did he not see the scale of the task?

‘Be in classical Greek or legal Latin, naturally,’ he went on, ‘Shouldn’t be too much of a problem. Only thing is, so much to get through.’

Suddenly Marius got to his feet with a venomous glare and stormed out.

The next morning Nicander was vexed to see Marius’s mood was still there but he decided to let whatever was riding the man pass in its own time.

He took up his satchel. ‘I’ve had a few thoughts about topics to investigate. I don’t have to tell you that I have to be disciplined in this or I’ll not cover the ground in time. So I’ll be off, then. Don’t know how long I’ll be.’

But just before he reached the door Marius thrust himself across it, barring his way. ‘You don’t fucking need me now, do you!’

Nicander stopped in his tracks, taken aback by the outburst.

‘Admit it!’ Marius snarled. ‘All your grand plans, prancing off to a library – you don’t want an old caligatus getting in the way, spoiling your pitch! I’m no fucking use to you any more, right?’

‘Why-’

‘So what do I bloody well do? Hey?’

‘Well-’

‘See! I saw you with that scumbag John the Cappadocian. He only spoke to you, didn’t he? Didn’t say shite to me. You’re going off to speak to Emperor Justinian yourself – can you see him giving me the time o’ day? No way!’

‘It’s not like that-’

‘I’m a shame to you! To drag about and act dumb all the time – you don’t have to fling it in my face, I know.’

‘Marius-’

‘You’re going to dump me. But have the guts to tell me first!’

Nicander sat down slowly. So that was what was goading him.

‘I’ve no intention of getting rid of you, Marius. In this venture you’ve equal shares with me.’

The legionary breathed deeply. ‘Listen to me, Greek. Don’t you dare patronise me. You go out of that fucking door without you swearing on all that’s holy that you’ll not betray me… you won’t find me here when you get back!’

In a rush of feeling Nicander realised that he was about to challenge fortune for the greatest stakes of his life yet he had not a single one to trust, any to whom he could safely open his heart, lay out troubles and frustrations, share the burdens – except this bear of a man with his strong, uncomplicated views.

He stood and clasped Marius’s hand. ‘We’ve gone through so much together…’ He paused, aware that a lump was forming in his throat. ‘And in what lies ahead I want you with me. I’ll swear, if you insist, but I allow before all that you’re my true friend and… I could never let you down.’

At first there was no reaction. Then the other big hand came out and a smile surfaced. ‘Friends. Yes. You and me, Nico – that is, Nicander,’ Marius added with a self-conscious chuckle.

‘No, m’ friend, it’s Nico.’ He grinned. ‘But only from you!’

In a haze of excitement Nicander stepped out along The Mese. His destination was the public library of the Emperor Julian of two centuries before – since the destruction of the Library of Alexandria, the acknowledged centre of learning of the civilised world.

Their great venture was now under way!

At the Forum of Theodosius he turned right towards the arched aqueduct of Valens. Where it met the rise of a hill there was a modest basilica, opposite the grander buildings of the university and overlooked by the Praetorium.

A number of stalls outside sold knick-knacks: stylus and wax tablet sets, finger guards and offcuts of parchment. One of the industries in the library was the copying of decaying papyrus documents to vellum, prepared from more long-lasting animal skins. With a few of his precious remaining coins, Nicander purchased several small pieces on which to make notes.

The library had the reek of ages past. He made his way inside through an old-fashioned columned doorway passing rhetors, grey-and-black robed learned scholars. An open space filled with desks stretched ahead to an apse and a dais with a pulpit-style desk where the stern literary steward sat.

There were three open floors with an endless warren of scroll nooks in the lower, broader shelves for the codices in the upper.

Nicander found an empty desk and looked about at the scores of students perched on stools working silently. They took no notice of a newcomer but an assistant steward quietly appeared at his side. In low tones he explained the structure of the library and Nicander was soon at a well-thumbed index.