To a look of enquiry he responded. ‘We wait.’
‘Am I allowed to ask what it is we’re about, Your Honour?’
‘We are looking after the welfare of our general.’
‘Without him knowin’ of it.’
‘You’re asking for a right lashing, Tircas,’ hissed another soldier; in the imperial army you did not question officers.
Not long back from the east these men who had been allotted to Flavius did not really yet know him. More than that they did not know of his past serving with Vitalian, when he had been what they were now, a common soldier. Unlike his peers, he knew what they faced and the stoicism with which they generally did so and it bothered him not at all that his actions were being questioned for he had felt that same need himself.
‘I will never use a whip to answer a question,’ Flavius insisted. ‘It must be plain to you that if we are concealed it is because Justinus does not wish to be escorted by armed men, yet there are those who fear at present he may be in danger.’
‘With the old Emperor on his last pegs?’
‘Times like these are far from normal. I hope and pray that we will return to our barracks having witnessed nothing to disturb the night.’
‘Would I be allowed, Your Honour, to see if I can find a public well? A cooling drink would not go amiss.’
‘Do so, Tircas, and do not rush. Our charge will be in that villa for some time.’
In truth Justinus emerged earlier than Flavius had reckoned — he knew nothing of the Sabbatius cook and nor did he know that the night had ended not as it should in connubial bliss but with a matrimonial row and an unexpected departure long before the palanquin was due to return. He was woken up with a sharp shake, as were the pair of his men he had allowed their turn to sleep. This time they had to dog the heels of a striding and fit older man, going mainly downhill under a sky carpeted with stars.
‘Reverse your spears,’ Flavius whispered, even if Justinus was too far off to hear even normal speech. ‘The points will catch the starlight.’
The other problem was the noise of their feet, for all were wearing regulation sandals and they had metal studs. To avoid the chance of Justinus looking round, Flavius dropped back as far as he could while still keeping the general in view, albeit only as a sort of outline, fortunately aided by his light-coloured garments.
They were back in the more populous part of the city now, where the streets narrowed and the higher buildings created gullies of gloom, forcing Flavius to hurry in order to keep the outline in view. He was reasoning the whole thing as a waste of time; the city was dark, few of the citizens prepared to waste precious oil to stay out of their cots, though there was a glim of a lamp from the occasional window of some night owl.
‘Is that a lantern, Your Honour?’
Flavius cursed himself; he had allowed his attention to wander, partly because of the stifling heat trapped in by the tenements but more by the thought he might look like an old woman and a misguided worrier to the men in his unit. Indeed they would chatter, and the escapade, even if it never came to the ears of Justinus, would be all over the barracks before the next day was out. He could not say this was not his idea!
‘Where away?’
‘Saw just a flash, low down at street height, quick doused.’
‘Sure?’
‘Not certain.’
Flavius did not have to order an increase in pace, he only had to move faster himself for his men to pick up their own. His spear, hitherto shaft uppermost, was reversed with the needle-sharp point forward. The first shout echoed in the narrow street and at the sound of that Flavius broke into a run, the noise of which also echoed and had Justinus turn to see the cause.
In doing so he failed to see the figures emerging from the black walls of the tenements, they being clad in the same dark clothing. Flavius yelled for his general to take guard and luckily Justinus did not hesitate, perhaps because he heard footsteps too close, perhaps because of the tone of alarm of the youngster’s yell. Still running, Flavius cast his spear right over the head of Justinus, unsure whether it would do any harm.
What it did do was strike the cobbled roadway to send up a shower of sparks and the clang of contact. The other sight was the flash of what looked like a sword blade, he hoped that of Justinus, so he called to his men to cast, which they did at full pelt and being trained it was done with care and accuracy, evidenced by a couple of howls that Flavius hoped were wounds.
Justinus had the sense to retreat towards what he must now know to be support, his sword swinging wildly with no other purpose than to hold at bay his opponents. Such creatures could not be blind or deaf, they could hear and no doubt see that those rushing to close with them were trained fighters and if their numbers were an unknown they would have to be many more to contest with such people.
That they melted away with the same speed with which they had appeared was initially to be expected — black clothing against dark walls — but as Flavius swept past Justinus he did so into a vacuum empty of humanity; those who had attacked his patron had disappeared in an area riddled with narrow alleyways. Panting, sweating, and angry, Flavius stopped his men and called on them to surround their general. It was inside a square of his imperial guards, with Flavius Belisarius out in front, that the comes Excubitorum returned to the palace.
CHAPTER FIVE
‘Yes, I denied your express wish, Uncle, but you must acknowledge that my suspicions were correct.’
‘I would be interested to know where these suspicions come from.’
‘An ear to the ground, or what lies beneath it.’
‘Home to your spirit is it not?’ Justinus was angry, but Flavius as a witness to this exchange was unsure if the irritation was really aimed at Petrus or at himself for being wrong. Nor would he acknowledge to having been in any real danger, claiming to have been faced with ‘A bunch of ill-bred vagabonds that I would have seen off without aid from anyone.’
‘Flavius?’
‘I saw little, just some shadowy figures and they melted away as soon as we made our presence known.’
‘Cowards,’ Justinus spat.
‘It could be he saved your life!’ Petrus rarely raised his voice to Justinus and that he did so now caused a degree of astonishment and he was not finished. ‘What do you think would happen to me and my family if you are slain? What of your wife, the Lady Lupicina? Do you think we would be left at peace to mourn? No, Uncle, if we were not slaughtered like goats we would be hounded from the city to what? A life of poverty and ridicule?’
‘I know everyone depends on my holding my place.’
Petrus dropped the angry tone, his voice becoming emollient. ‘To those who care for you, that you hold on to, your life is of more account and I say that is still at risk.’
There was no need to ask if Petrus thought there would be other attempts on the life of the comes Excubitorum: that was implicit in the words he employed. It was what to do and how to guard against it that filled his thinking.
‘You trust Flavius?’
‘That does not deserve an answer.’
‘Then as his commander, I request that you detach him and his men from normal duties to act as a personal bodyguard until the matter of the succession is resolved.’
‘It ill becomes you, Petrus, to speak of the Emperor as if he is already dead.’
Flavius expected Petrus to mention Amantius but that was not forthcoming. Instead he spoke of the imperial nephews, insisting that each would have some support but the real danger came if any two of them combined.
‘It cannot be anything other than a temporary alliance, but it will serve to get one of them the purple. After that, if the winner has any sense, he will cut the throats of his rivals.’