Julian Stockwin - THE SILK TREE

‘But-’

Her voice dropped. ‘I don’t think you quite understand your situation,’ she said slowly. ‘I’ve only to lift that bell and the general’s men will rush to my rescue, you having talked your way into my room. When he hears of this, you’ll be begging for a crucifixion as the more merciful. Yes?’

Nicander nodded helplessly.

‘So let’s begin again. Just what are you doing with those two vultures?’

They were cornered like rats with no alternative but to confess the full extent of what they planned, and hope for mercy.

Stony-faced, she heard him out, down to the final twist.

‘Now, let me get this right. You two plotted to defraud the Emperor with a wild scheme, then let Peter Barsymes take it over? In some colossal sum as would see either in some difficulty?’

‘Yes, Lady,’ Nicander admitted miserably.

Antonina stood transfixed for a moment, then shook her head in wonder.

Suddenly her body convulsed, and she screamed with laughter. ‘Oh, merciful God, but I’ve not heard such a merry tale in all my life!’ She bent double, choking back tears of mirth. ‘It’s priceless! That I could see their faces when-’

‘My Lady, you’re not-’

‘Good God, no! I wish you well of your… enterprise.’

Her face suddenly tightened. ‘Screw those rat-faced fuckers for every obol you can get and you’ll have my great thanks for it. You know it was that prig Justinian who recalled my husband away – in case he should win a popular victory over Totila the Ostrogoth?’ She smiled. ‘May I offer you some advice?

‘Barsymes is entirely corrupt and there’s nothing he will not stoop to. Trust him no further than you can spit. Avoid the palace like the plague – it’s a cesspit of betrayal and intrigue. There are some like Peter the Patrician who are straight enough, but he’s an emperor’s man to his gizzard. And Marcellus – thick as a short plank, always gets the wrong end of the stick. But dangerous. He’s Count of Excubitors, which means he’s in charge of protection for the Emperor, which gives him a lot of power.’

She paused, then added, ‘But Justinian is the one to fear. Been on the throne for years and years and knows all the tricks. Since poor Theodora passed on, he’s turned sullen and unpredictable and the whole empire is heaving with spies. But then of course you don’t have to worry about him now, do you?’

There were sounds of movement below. ‘Oh, that sounds like Belisarius. You must dine with us!’

Struck dumb by the giddy speed of events, Nicander could only nod an agreement.

‘Antonina?’ came a voice on the stairs.

‘Here, my love.’

She turned to them both and urgently whispered, ‘I wouldn’t mention the last detail of your venture, it would confuse him.’

‘No, Lady,’ Nicander promised fervently.

Belisarius was grey-haired but clear-eyed and still in glittering parade armour. ‘Ah, you have guests?’

‘Two gentlemen on a holy mission, my dear.’

‘Then the least we can do is offer them the hospitality of our table.’

They descended the stone stairs and emerged into the courtyard, Antonina on her husband’s arm as they crossed toward the triclinium, the dining room. Slaves were already carrying silver pitchers of conditum and ornate platters of exotic food there.

But before they could begin the meal a dozen soldiers crashed into view, weapons drawn.

Belisarius’s sword leapt into his hand and he thrust Antonina behind him.

An officer in a crimson cloak called imperiously from the doorway. ‘General Belisarius, you are taken, sir.’

Seeing him, Antonina came out from behind her husband. ‘Marcellus! You gave us such a fright. What is going on?’

‘Stand aside, Lady Antonina. I mean to put the general to the question!’

‘What in Hades are you talking about, Marcellus?’ Belisarius roared. ‘You break into my house and-’

‘You’ve been fairly caught, sir! Consorting with known plotters! You’ll come peacefully or-’

Antonina stormed up to Marcellus. ‘You fool!’ she threw in his face. ‘You never stop to think, do you! The greatest and most loyal commander in Justinian’s army and you’d risk your own standing with His Majesty by arresting him? Where do you keep your brains – in your boots?’

‘I must have answers to my questions, My Lady,’ he replied, his cheeks turning red.

‘Then you’ll not get them from Belisarius the Goth-slayer! Get out of here, you oaf.’

Hesitating for a moment, Marcellus lowered his sword. ‘Well, I’ll take these two and wring the truth from ’em – then I’ll be back!’

Frogmarched to the bowels of the Grand Palace, they were fettered to dank, slimy walls. The icy grip of the chains broke through Nicander’s paralysis of unreality. The guttering light of an oil lamp illuminated instruments of pain and the merciless face of the torturer.

Excubitor Marcellus waited impatiently for the soldiers to leave then crossed to them. ‘Now, I’ve not much time to waste on filth like you. Make it easy for me and you can have it quick and clean – tell me lies and I’ll let Khosrau loose. Understood?’

He leant forward until he was inches from them. ‘You’ve been skulking about, first in John the Cappadocian’s villa, then Magister Peter Barsymes is seen being very amiable towards you – this is not his way towards low-life. Then I’m brought word that the same day, if I chose, I could find you being heartily welcomed into his home by none other than the great general Belisarius. So what am I to conclude? I think it speaks for itself, but I’ll let you tell me in your own words.’

He whirled on Marius. ‘You! What’s the meaning of it all?’

The legionary stared back in contemptuous silence.

‘Very well.’

In sick realisation, Nicander knew what was next.

Turning to him, Marcellus eased into a smile. ‘Why, what a shame to tear about such soft skin – or will it be the hot iron? I haven’t really decided yet.’ His tone became mournful. ‘Why don’t you tell me? It would save so much hurt and pain, when you know I’ll find out in the end…’

Nicander threw Marius a look of apology. He knew he did not have his friend’s powers of endurance but could he bluff their way free?

He blurted hoarsely, ‘All right, I’ll tell you what you want to know.’

In jerking, terrified sentences Nicander explained about the silk tree expedition and its need for funding, but was cut off impatiently.

‘Utter pig’s turds. If all this silk seed nonsense really needed was support, any right-minded citizen would go straight to His Resplendency and fall at his feet.’

‘It’s true, I swear it! ’

‘Don’t try my patience, dog. There’s only one reason you’ve been to see all those grand names…’ He drew a savage breath. ‘It’s all a monstrous plot against the life of our most Divine Caesar, Emperor Justinian!’

‘ No! ’

‘Yes! You’re part of a wider conspiracy touching every corner of the realm, and I’ll screw it out of you, this I swear!’

There was nothing else for it now. ‘No – it’s… I’ll confess.’

In broken sentences Nicander admitted that the whole thing was a fraud, calculated to lift riches from those investing in the expedition.

‘Enough! You think I’m simple?’ barked Marcellus. ‘You’re determined to make it hard for yourself; I can accommodate you. Khosrau! Start the fire – I’ll be back in an hour.’

‘Marius!’ Nicander gasped. ‘He’s not believing any of it!’

There was no response.

‘What can we do?’

Marius snarled, ‘Die like a Roman, Greek!’