The question was not posed by Procopius; there might be others to take his place. ‘And I will need to be more attentive, will I not?’
‘I will happily aid you in that.’
Flavius produced a dry laugh. ‘You should get to know Justinian better, Procopius, you and he would be firm friends. And before you take that amiss I mean it as a compliment.’
The first thing Flavius did was to apologise to a freshly wakened Antonina for his behaviour the previous night, which got him licked lips and a wet smile.
‘The last part was wonderful, though I have never seen you so sullen over the meal and you have yet to tell me why.’
‘I had just come from questioning two tribunes who had been apprehended on their way to Constantinople to tell Justinian that I was about to rebel, claim the province as my own and crown myself king.’
‘Is that true?’
What a revealing response that was. Antonina did not decry it as nonsense, nor did she seem overly upset at the prospect that such a claim might have some validity. It took some effort to contain himself, to sit on the bed and stroke her hair.
‘Would you like it to be true?
She pondered for a bit, as if thinking through the pros and cons, perhaps imagining herself a queen, before concluding it was impossible to give an honest answer.
‘I doubt your good friend Theodora would approve of your hesitation.’
‘What makes you think her view counts?’
‘Nothing. And just so you can cease to wonder, I have no intention of betraying the faith Justinian placed in me.’
A most unladylike snort was the response to that. ‘It is to be hoped he would keep faith likewise with you, but I would not wish to wager my head on it.’
The guts were churning, the desire to yell at her near to overwhelming. How could she question Justinian after what she had done? The control he fought to impose on himself was necessary but it took several seconds to achieve.
‘As I said, two tribunes were stopped in the docks before they could sail, for which I have to thank Procopius.’ That name made her frown and aged her in an instant, the fact that he noticed being upsetting. ‘It was he who brought the conspiracy to light.’
‘He is snake enough for that.’ Seeing Flavius bridle she was quick to add, ‘Which is as well if it is in your service.’
‘There is, however, a difficulty.’ The place where her eyebrows existed during the day — they were well plucked — shot up. ‘These two were not the only ones. I suspect more have been despatched by whoever it is who wants to do me harm, to carry that same message to Constantinople.’
‘And if that is the case?’
She had controlled her voice when asking that, but not enough to fool a man who knew her so intimately. He had, of course, to let his observation pass.
‘I should not be concerned, Antonina. After all, what possible grounds could Justinian have for believing it?’
His wife was not looking at him when she whispered, ‘None.’
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
The best way for Flavius to ignore his problems was activity and that involved movement. He made a point of travelling the region, talking to the leading citizens of the towns and to any leaders of tribes that still held themselves aloof. That he did do in an elaborate almost regal caravan was so that Antonina could accompany him, and of course along came Procopius; watching them spar now caused less discomfort and more amusement, for it was to Flavius a game, one of the few things in which he could take pleasure.
Theodosius had been sent to the one-time Vandal fortress of Septem, right by the Pillars of Hercules, with instructions to keep an eye on the towering rock and the safe harbour it protected; if the Visigoths had any notion to take advantage of turmoil in North Africa while the Romans sought to pacify the province, that was where it would come from.
If Antonina was in any way affected by this posting it did not show; indeed she seemed to relish the travel even if it was the cause of some discomfort. Perhaps it was the treatment she received as the consort of the Roman-proconsul. Those who wished a good opinion from Flavius saw flattering her as a good avenue and Antonina lapped at it like a cat in a creamery.
The wait for word of a response from Constantinople was never mentioned between them; it was as if Antonina had forgotten. That was only ever referred to between Flavius and Procopius and the longer it was delayed the more troubling it seemed, yet the time taken to sail to there and back, notwithstanding the discussion and decisions such a message might entail, were subject to many variables.
There was the wind, which had Flavius making a rare joke that as much would be expended in talking about what to do as was needed to fill the sails of the ship carrying the imperial response. He could have no idea how that quip cheered his secretary, who saw it as a sign that the despair of what had been revealed, if not easing, was morphing into acceptance, albeit that must cause disquiet.
Thoughts on who had despatched the message did not mellow either, for Flavius knew he would have to be very much on his guard. Whoever was the traitor might move at any time and not wait to hear how their communication had been received, though Procopius thought that unlikely.
‘The way I see it, General, is this.’
You have become more confident of late, fellow, Flavius thought, but nothing on his face betrayed that, leading him to wonder if he had become more subtle in his dealings. Certainly he had been that with his wife, whom he now watched as a hawk observes its prey, seeking to read her mind even if he had concluded long ago that it was somewhat shallow.
‘The man who intends to rebel has a plan at the centre of which lies you.’ Procopius had his nose in the air now, and his eyes were following it upwards, as if he was cogitating the meaning of the universe. ‘He expects from Constantinople some kind of message either chastising you or ordering your recall. At that point he will move to kill you, then claim he has prevented your coup and he will pledge his loyalty to Justinian.’
‘A smokescreen?’
‘Precisely.’
Perfectly capable of working these things out for himself it pleased Flavius to indulge his secretary. The man had always been a touch self-satisfied; now he felt he had his employer’s absolute confidence that had swelled. Flavius was pleased to let it be; it would be Procopius who would see the dangers that threatened, perhaps before he did, no matter how guarded he had become.
It was hard to face his inferior generals and not speculate, but even travelling he was obliged to return to Carthage to call a conference and ensure his policies were being implemented. There were stirrings everywhere, how could there not be, yet nothing so serious as to trouble the public weal. Odd that the place where he should feel most secure was the one at which he felt most at risk. Did they notice the increase in his guard detail? Would they spot that only those bucellarii he had raised before the Battle of Dara, men who were loyal and part of his original recruitment to the corps, made up his escort?
It was unfortunate that real trouble began to brew just as the emissaries from Justinian arrived, two high-ranking bureaucrats tasked with the job of assessing the new province for taxation with his own emissary Solomon a welcome returnee. They would carry out a new census, make certain titles to land were valid — much had been appropriated from the Vandals including the royal estate — and set the rate at which North Africa would pay into the imperial treasury after funds were extracted for local expenses.
‘Justinian has sent a right pair of villains,’ Flavius remarked when he saw their names. ‘I know them to be adept at fleecing.’