‘It is about to get interesting.’
CHAPTER SIX
When he spoke again Amantius, having faced some very vocal opposition, was beginning to sound desperate; did his assurance of military support from the two bodies of troops tasked to defend the person of the Emperor count for nothing?
‘Do not rank the Scholae Palatinae alongside my Excubitors,’ Justinus protested. ‘I will not have it.’
‘I do not mean to denigrate your fine men, Comes, but to include them. Theocritus has promised to be generous to all who aid him.’
‘Aid which I have yet to see proof of.’
‘Believe me it is there.’
What followed was a plea for understanding for what could only have been quite a complex conspiracy: to get upon his side two such military bodies had to take months of subterfuge and secret gatherings and it could not be done without the disbursement of a great number of bribes and even more promises of gold to come, a fact obvious to everyone present, even if none referred to it.
‘Since I cannot aspire myself, I have sought a solution which will be swift and orderly. Do not deny to me that every mind in this room had pondered the problem and discussed it. If you cannot put forward a name it is because you cannot agree on one. Theocritus is my candidate, he has military backing and he is popular with the mob as well.’
‘The Blues, certainly. The Greens will howl if he is raised.’
‘Urban prefect again,’ Petrus whispered unnecessarily; the man had a distinctive voice.
‘It is not the prerogative of either,’ Justinus insisted, his irritation obvious.
What followed was much disordered discussion, voices rising and falling, senators speaking over each other, the odd loud disagreement, with the tone of the Magister Officiorum growing increasingly desperate.
‘A day to think upon it, Amantius?’
‘You risk mayhem.’
‘Better that than a terrible error.’
‘Let Theocritus make his case.’
The cry of ‘tomorrow’ came from many a voice.
Petrus snorted a sort of laugh as he moved into the open doorway, partially followed by Flavius, to whom he said, ‘They are now about to find out that they are not the people to decide.’
All that got was a confused look before Petrus spoke in a loud voice to the whole room which now lay open before him. ‘Eminences, forgive me that I interrupt your deliberations, but there is a delegation waiting to make representations to you regarding who should hold the office of emperor.’
‘What are you talking about?’
Flavius heard the furious question from Justinus but it was the murmuring from his rear that took his main attention. Turning he saw gathered in the antechamber all the senior commanders of the Excubitors, the four tribuni, a dozen centurio, while behind them stood a good half of their inferior unit commanders, all of whom had come to where they now stood in such silence they had not been heard.
Petrus turned and gestured forward the senior men, most looking determined, one or two looking troubled, which was as nothing to the faces of the senators, for these Excubitors were fully armed. The most senior tribunos and second in command to Justinus, Galataeo the Thracian, stepped forward to speak, to tell these senators that, respectfully, the Excubitors would accept no other person to be crowned with the diadem other than their own commander, the comes Excubitorum.
‘And that is the view of you all?’ asked Petrus, ignoring the shock this produced on the face of Justinus, to get as response a full-throated roar of approbation from a room full of Excubitors, that is except from Flavius and the man himself; Justinus now looked both confused and embarrassed as his nephew looked at him.
‘Uncle? The diadem is yours to take.’
‘I cannot accept.’
What followed was a military chorus of ‘You must!’ and one Flavius suspected had been rehearsed
‘I demand you deny this, Justinus,’ Amantius cried, his objection somewhat diminished by his hoarse tone of voice; he was about to say more but the sound of swords being half-dragged from scabbards stilled him and it was not only he who took a hasty step back.
‘My Lord,’ Galataeo said, addressing Justinus, ‘there is only one honest man in this room and that is you. We will not follow another and I can assure you the people of the city will welcome your elevation, for it is not only those who serve under you who esteem your probity.’
‘Fine words,’ said Amantius.
‘And true,’ claimed the urban prefect, in a meaningful aside.
‘Please,’ Justinus protested, embarrassed at such praise, unware that his reaction only proved it to be true.
‘Where is Theocritus?’ demanded the eunuch.
‘In your quarters, Amantius, and safe.’
There was no need for Petrus to add it was there he would stay or that any attempt by him to leave or to extract him would bring about a bloody demise.
‘Flavius,’ he said as a quiet aside, ‘take your men and fetch the chests of gold.’
Doing as he was bid, Flavius heard the opening of Petrus’s declaration, which was that Amantius had sought to embroil him in a conspiracy to grant the throne to Theocritus. If increasing distance denied him the rest it mattered not, for the first declaration set up a furious buzz and this from hypocrites who had all probably been at the same game in varying degrees and with other players.
When he returned, the chests borne by four of his Excubitor rankers, Petrus was extolling the virtues of his uncle while destroying the candidacy of not only Theocritus but the imperial nephews as well, with his uncle standing in deep thought. The chests were placed before the tribunos and centurios Excubitorum and at a command from the nephew of their commander the lids were thrown open to reveal their contents.
‘A reward from my uncle for your loyalty,’ Petrus cried.
Looking from one to the other Flavius saw the shock of Justinus, but more telling was the fury of Amantius to see his wealth used to elevate a man he had not chosen to be the next emperor. He was being cheered to the chamber ceiling and beyond as he was hailed by his Excubitors for his generosity in a way that brooked no refusal. Petrus had gone close to whisper, though given the noise of the soldiers discussing their reward and how they were going to spend it there was no need.
‘What better way, Uncle, than this, to secure the safety of you and yours? I think you will find the Hippodrome is full of the citizens and they will be eager to acclaim you. I took the liberty of fetching my Aunt Lupicina from my father’s house, who will enter the imperial box alongside you.’
‘It does not occur to you that many will ask how I, supposed to be so honest, gathered such a sum to bribe my own men?’
‘There is a tale to that and one which will make you seem both clever and prescient.’
‘One woven by you.’
‘For you.’
‘There is a part of Lucifer in you, Petrus.’
‘While you are too much the saint, Uncle.’
Many of the senators, cowed into silence and aware that to resist was to risk being killed — they would never accept that Justinus would not allow it for in their minds it would seem natural — had knelt to acknowledge the obvious. A trio, Amantius included, who no doubt feared for their heads even if they recognised Justinus, had actually prostrated themselves, which brought forth an angry bark.
‘Get up off the floor! This is the Roman Empire not Persia, you’re citizens not slaves.’
It was the first imperial command of Justinus and it was hurriedly obeyed.
‘Eminence,’ Petrus murmured, his voice silky, ‘we must proceed to the Hippodrome and before that you must be properly garbed as befits your station.’
At a signal the crowd of Excubitors parted to reveal a pair of Justinus’s own servants. One had across his lower arms a decorated gold and purple cloak, the other the high and jewel-encrusted imperial diadem, both so recently the property of Anastasius.