‘But any act of a military nature I undertake will be led by you and everyone knows that. They also know that early knowledge provides a chance to profit from it.’
Flavius suspected that would be Italy; since the death of Athalaric there had to be turmoil and Justinian would be determined to exploit that, indeed it had been loosely alluded to. During this conversation the question Flavius wanted to ask died on his lips as he contemplated, and not for the first time since landing, asking Justinian if he had believed the tale of his plan to rebel, something that had not been mentioned and was clearly being treated as if it had never happened.
Flavius was not beyond a touch of reserve on the matter; he made no mention of having interrogated those tribunes in Carthage or what he had deduced, which had him wonder if he was absorbing the mores of the place where he now spent most of his time, the palace and the Senate House, and his being a full member of Justinian’s council exposed Flavius to a community he would rather not have been part of.
He needed no telling that the palace was a fount of secret manoeuvres, of officials jockeying for a sliver of advantage, usually by damning their rivals. It was made worse because he had come from a task in which he was clearly the sole fount of authority and if he had been intrigued, against that was better than being a part of the morass he was now embroiled in.
Only in one area was he studiously alert; the relationship with Antonina he kept on an even keel and her being with child was an aid to that, allowing him to be solicitous without too much intimacy. Despite what he knew, the only thing that could flow from any accusations of bad faith would be yet further misery with a woman to whom he was bound by the most holy of sacraments.
Then there was the rapport his wife enjoyed with Theodora who might take any slight against Antonina as one against herself. They had resumed their previous intimacy and joy in each other’s company as if there had been no gap in time, the only difference now being that he seemed to be excluded from a fellowship of which he had previously been a part. Whatever set the pair giggling no longer included him and the message he took from that was that his wife had a greater lever on imperial favour than he did.
Justinian was prone to waver even when he was dealing with someone he insisted was a trusted friend, while Theodora had a constancy of purpose the Emperor lacked, which was made obvious by the way his promised triumph was whittled down from grandeur to an event that would not diminish the imperial standing. It had all started so well as Justinian enthused about what was to come, exposing a desire for pomp and ceremony that Flavius had never perceived before.
‘We shall have a proper Roman triumph,’ had been the Justinian declaration. ‘You in a chariot painted blue, crowned with laurels, your prisoners dragged along in chains and your soldiers parading at their rear.’
Normally quite physically constrained, in discussing the plans he became quite animated so it was doubly noticeable when that stopped and he began to slice away at things, the first part of the ceremony to go being the chariot.
‘It is perhaps not fitting for even a general as successful as you to take upon yourself that which is reserved for monarchy.’ Justinian looked somewhat sheepish as he continued, ‘You will, of course, be splendidly garbed.’
‘On my horse?’
‘Perhaps on foot.’
The prisoners he kept, and the chains, which were symbolic in any case. The notion of his whole comitatus marching in his wake was shortened by the bucellarii he had left with Solomon and was now further cut by Justinian to a mere numerus of his best troops. The embarrassment with which these economies were spoken of led Flavius to believe that Theodora was at the back of them and that was borne out by her continued behaviour.
She did not trust him. Not only was he too close to her husband, he was now too successful. Flavius guessed in her view that if there was any opposition to Justinian, and by extension herself, he would be the focus around which it would coalesce. To deny it would achieve nothing and he was aware that the way he was cornered by other senators, even if the talk was innocent, only fuelled her suspicions, given she had no idea what was being discussed. His own mistrust of his wife barred him seeking to use her as a conduit.
It is not pleasant to feel there is nothing you can do about a misperception. The idea Theodora obviously entertained, that he hankered after the diadem, was firmly rooted in her own fear of being torn apart by the mob. Emperors were rarely popular; they taxed, they punished and they built up over time a rising tide of grievances, but within that Justinian was not doing as badly as some of his predecessors. He had peace on the eastern border, albeit a bought one, and his favourite general had brought not only North Africa back into the imperial fold but a treasure so great it had been fought at a profit.
‘Added to that, the mob have forgiven me for my part in the Nika riots and I am hailed wherever I go.’
‘How she must hate that.’
Procopius being right did not make matters any easier, for there was always the fear that Theodora would allow her imaginings to get out of control and seek to dispose of him.
‘I cannot see how you will be safe if you do not speak with Justinian.’
‘And say what?’
‘You are at risk,’ his secretary insisted, before adding, ‘Not that I would believe any assurances he gave me.’
‘Then, what is the point?’
‘It tells him you’re aware of the dangers, and who knows, he may stay her vitriol because he needs you. He is the only one who can stop Theodora, and from what you say that might be necessary.’
It had to be done, Flavius knew it as well as Procopius, but there was the timing to add to the reluctance. The suggestion that Justinian might, as had his uncle of old, take a walk on the greensward with Flavius in company was not met with instant approval; the nephew was neither a lover of the outdoors or much in the way of physical exercise, which in truth he scarcely needed, given his frantic way of pacing the palace corridors. As usual, they walked past men exercising with weapons, but whereas Justin had shown interest his nephew eschewed none and nor was he fooled into thinking that this was just a friendly stroll.
‘So, Flavius, now that you have me where no one can overhear what we say …?’
‘I need the answer to certain questions and only you possess them.’
‘Need? I have ceased to be accustomed to that.’
There was a degree of annoyance in the imperial tone. Justinian had grown into his role; any nerves he had displayed, albeit in private, after his elevation or during the Nika riots had evaporated now. He was not open to his subjects demanding anything, never mind his inner thoughts.
‘Then I am going to encroach on our past association to seek answers.’
‘And I will use that past association to warn you to show some care.’
He would know what was coming: Justinian was not a fool, but it was clear the first query threw him. ‘My triumph, which is rapidly becoming a sham.’
‘Imperial dignity,’ was the reply, a slow response and one that was as evasive as it was unsatisfactory.
‘Yours, Highness, or that of your wife?’ Getting no immediate reply Flavius continued. ‘What was her reaction when those messengers came from Carthage to tell you I was preparing to rebel?’
Looking at him Flavius was sure he was going to deny that any such message had come to him, but it was an exchanged look and a flinty-eyed one from Flavius that told His Imperial Highness that would not wash.
‘It troubled me, it was bound to.’
‘Me?’
‘I spend my whole life now having people declare to me how virtuous they are and not one of them is telling the truth.’
‘And I do not count as an exception?’
‘Yes, Flavius, you do.’