Julian Stockwin - THE SILK TREE

Yes, in a sack at the bottom of the Bosphorus!

Nicander thought furiously. ‘I’m devastated to be the one to bring objections, but if it’s others who venture forth, there will be a difficulty.’

‘Oh?’

‘The king of Serica decrees that none but we two named in the document we have shall be made welcome in his country.’

‘I see.’

‘It is a long and dangerous road to Sinae, sir. On the outward journey there will be need for much expense, many bribes, unforeseen costs.’

‘You’ll not want for outlay – be assured I have resources I may count upon.’

‘The return journey will be much easier,’ Nicander stammered. ‘A few dozen seeds is a paltry cargo. Sir, as yours is the investment, the seeds are your property. Have you given thought to their cultivation? They require particular soil and much labour in the harvesting, and will-’

‘Thank you, Brother. We’ll attend to that, I promise you. Now, you see to finalising your plans, I’ll take care of the funding, and we’ll meet again soon.’

He went to the door and barked for the guards. ‘These two good men are my friends and not to be vexed with petty attentions when next they visit.’

‘We’ve done it, Marius! In just a few weeks-’

‘We’ve done it, right enough. The bastard took the bait, but when he starts asking questions among his poncey friends he’s going to wake up and we’ll be nailed to the wall!’

‘What questions? Nobody knows us! That’s the great thing about it all. John the Cappadocian is going to deny he’s anything to do with us, and who’s to say we’re not who we claim to be?’

‘You’re so bloody confident – I’m not! This is way over our heads, out of our league as much as a worm to an eagle. I’ve never had a word from a nob in all my life, now in a couple of days I’ve been pawed over by two! I don’t like it, and I want to get out before it’s too late, Nico!’

‘Take it easy, Marius. Think about it – Barsymes stumbles on two innocent holy men with the secret to wealth beyond his wildest dreams. All they ask for is to be funded to get it. No big risk to him, that’s our worry, he just sits back and waits for the gold to shower down. All we have to do is come up with some sort of believable plan and sail off with the chest of riches and vanish. Can’t be much simpler than that!’

‘If he smells a rat-’

‘How can he? I keep telling you, nobody knows either about us or Serica! And the thing I particularly like…’

‘What?’

‘Barsymes insists we’re on a private venture – the palace is not involved any more and it’s in his selfish interest to keep very quiet about it. So for us it means no need to get worked up about seeing the Emperor, or even to go into the Grand Palace which, I tell you now, gives me the shakes just to look at it! We’ve the chance to be not just comfortable, but rich – wealthy! And we’re only talking a few weeks away! Just play your part – and we’re there!’

A grin eventually surfaced. ‘What the fuck! Let’s go for it.’

Nicander went over to the corner and found their pot. He emptied it on the table, a solidus here and there but mostly the worn dark bronze of a follis. With a practised eye he assessed their pile and divided it into two. ‘There’s enough here to see us over the next few weeks – and some for tonight! I say we go out and celebrate. Soon we’ll have more than ever we could jump over!’

The early evening streets seemed noisier and more foetid than usual, but Nicander was not going to let that affect his mood.

‘Fish or meat?’ he asked happily, a vision of a slab of roast shimmering enticingly before him.

‘A brace of ox ribs from Thessaly,’ Marius replied immediately. ‘With all the trimmings.’

Their stroll changed to a purposeful stride at the thought but a cry from a slave loping towards them brought the pair to a halt.

‘Good gentlemen – I’ve been searching everywhere for you. Magister Barsymes asks that you spare him an hour. There’s someone he’d like you to meet.’

This was probably to make acquaintance of some lower ranking functionary they would be working with instead of the great man himself.

They turned to retrace their steps back toward the Praetorium, but the slave stopped them. ‘Oh no, sirs, not there. At his home! This way, if you please.’

They were shortly outside one of the exclusive residential buildings near the Grand Palace, like the others showing only a small portico entrance in an otherwise blank facade. It led into a vast interior courtyard with a fountain flowing.

The slave beckoned them up marble steps to a top floor room, passing a careless display of wealth on all sides. ‘Be used to it, Marius,’ Nicander whispered. ‘It’ll be us soon!’

A richly dressed woman rose from a couch, her lustrous rust silk dalmatica set off by gold and pearls.

‘My Lady Barsymes,’ Nicander bowed, remembering just in time to speak in Latin.

Her strong features registered distaste. ‘Be careful with your words, sir. I’m no creature of that toad. You are addressing the Lady Antonina, wife of Justinian’s foremost general, Belisarius.’

‘But why…?’

‘I used the name of that reptile to bring you here to my house.’

Unease seized Nicander. What on earth could she want with two such humble persons?

‘I am at a loss, Lady, to understand…’

Antonina purposefully straightened an ornate emerald ring on her right hand, then looked directly at him. ‘To be strictly correct, I have no great wish to, to… but by your actions you have interested me.’

‘We-’

‘I’m a woman and cannot bear a mystery. And this one is particularly deep. I want the answer, and all Constantinople knows I’m not to be denied. Do you understand me, or must I…?’

‘My Lady, anything I can-’

‘Then tell me this. Why is it that in the last few days you have been seen with both that loathsome John the Cappadocian and the slimy pig Peter Barsymes? Not only are they the two most powerful money men of the age but they hate and detest each other to a degree.’

‘It’s nothing really,’ Nicander mumbled, desperately trying to think. ‘We-’

‘Don’t waste my time, or you’ll rue it! I make it my business to know everything of consequence, everybody’s petty plots, secrets and crimes – that way I’m not to be surprised when things happen.’

A look of cruel calculation came on her face. ‘Or shall I make a guess and you’ll tell me if I’m right? Very well – I say that the Cappadocian is plotting to restore his place before Justinian by a clever false betrayal of Barsymes, for which he needs information from the inside, and you’re the one to feed it to him?’

‘N-no, My Lady, that’s not-’

‘So. It’s the other, and more serious for all that. These two are colluding in a master plot, some wicked design that requires them to join their forces together. They loathe each other so you are the go-between, and therefore know everything. Right?’

Nicander flashed a helpless glance at Marius.

‘Great lady. May I explain everything?’

‘Do so.’

‘We’re holy men from a far desert kingdom and…’

He stumbled through his story.

‘A fine tale. And all lies.’

‘No, no, My Lady. This is the truth!’

‘Don’t insult me!’ she spat. ‘I know the world more than most, and holy men you’re not! Where’s your doleful look, snivelling whine, begging manner? And for one born and bred in the desert you’re as milk-white as a babe!’

‘I-I…’

‘And all that dog vomit about silk seeds. Even I know silk comes from spiders, and you’re not going to keep those in a bag all the way from Sinae!’