Dining with Justinus — Petrus was off to one of his dockside dens of iniquity — the subject of how Flavius had come to the city was one bound to surface and with it the present state of the still unresolved religious divide which pitted the western half of the empire against the east and south, doing nothing to aid the cause of border protection.
‘You served with Vitalian, Justinus?’
‘Many years ago in the Isaurian revolts. He was a doughty fighter.’
‘Upright?’
‘Yes, but too inflexible sometimes. Very good with barbarians. You have to admire the way he has kept fighting, having been denied success so many times.’
‘You’d do likewise, I am sure.’
‘I am not sure it is a fight I would ever have got into.’
‘Am I allowed to ask another question?’ That got a quizzical look but also a shrug that said go ahead. ‘Who do you think will succeed Anastasius?’
‘I am tempted to leave that in the hands of Our Saviour and grateful that he is there to oversee it.’
‘I can understand your reluctance to be drawn, but you must have both hopes and reservations, it would not be human to be otherwise.’
‘Has Petrus put you up to this?’
‘No.’
‘I’m surprised, it sounds so very like the questions he plagues me with, though yours is more forthright. His tend to go halfway round the palace before I can get the point.’
‘And what do you tell him?’
‘That I will do my duty to the office I hold.’
‘It is not unknown for a succession to cause bloodshed.’
Justinus looked quite irritated then, as if he was being pressed, which Flavius had tried hard to avoid. ‘That I will not stand by and witness.’
‘Which will involve you taking action.’
‘Change the subject, Flavius,’ Justinus growled, showing in his obvious anger a side of his character the youngster had rarely seen. ‘Or change where you dine.’
‘Forgive me.’
‘Granted,’ came the eventual reply, when the older man had contained his annoyance. ‘You met Vitalian, Petrus tells me, and he was full of praise for you.’
‘I’m not sure how he knows that, given he was not witness to it.’
‘My nephew would not find himself in strange company in a burrow of ferrets. He seems to know a great deal that he has not actually seen, which makes me wonder if he does not occasionally indulge in sorcery.’
You don’t know the half of it, Flavius thought, as he covered his mouth and half his face with his wine goblet lest that become obvious.
‘I do not say, Uncle, that you are in any particular danger, only that times are perilous and precautions are wise.’
‘Then spare me from the food your mother’s cook provides.’
Petrus acknowledged that; the person in question was a woman who had come from Thracia with his mother and no amount of bleating about the offal she served as food would dent the maternal faith in an old retainer and slave who had been with her since childhood. Yet Lupicina, wife to Justinian, who avoided the palace and the condescension she was exposed to there, also resided in the Sabbatius household and it was only fitting that her husband should visit her as often as his duties allowed. Petrus was outlining the obvious fact that such regular excursions were no secret.
‘You do not see that you have enemies.’
‘Why should I, nephew, when you see them everywhere?’
‘An escort would add to your dignity.’
‘I am going to dine with my family and my wife, your family — and come to think of it, I am curious how you have yet again got out of attendance?’
Tempted to say he had more willpower than his uncle, Petrus restrained himself. Even true it would not be taken well and would only lead to the observation, also a fact, that Vigilantia, sister to Justinus, did not only overindulge her far from capable cook, she was too soft on her only son.
‘You’re adamant?’
‘I have never needed an armed escort when I moved around the city before and despite your wild theories I do not need one now.’
‘At least indulge me by taking a weapon, a sword.’
‘Very well,’ came the impatient response, ‘if it makes you feel better.’
‘I cannot persuade him that at times like the present all that is normal no longer holds.’
‘If he is at risk, who is it from?’
‘How many people, Flavius, do you think would like to get into the bedchamber of Anastasius and press a pillow over his face? How many alliances do you think are being formed to take advantage of the succession and what does time do to those as the Emperor lingers on and their secret gatherings begin to leak?’
Petrus was pulling at his hair and his head was well canted, proof that he was troubled, with Flavius reckoning he was the one most distressed by the fact that Anastasius refused to expire quickly.
‘I am not the only mind that sees the need to have the Excubitors either as allies or men who will stand aside. How, Flavius, do you ensure that?’
Getting a shrug, Petrus got all professorial. ‘No, you cannot answer for you have not thought it through, but I have. What if there was a new Count of the Excubitors, one committed to your cause? He could order the imperial guard to stand down or he could be the conduit by which they could be bribed to acclaim your candidate for emperor.’
‘And in order to do that you would need to remove Justinus?’
‘The point entirely.’
‘If you cannot persuade Justinus to take precautions, what makes you think I can?’
That surprised Petrus. ‘No one is asking you to.’
‘Then what are you asking?’
‘I want you and some of your men to follow his palanquin, at a discreet distance. I have asked and had him agree that he should take his sword so if he is attacked and an assassination is attempted he may be able to hold off his assailants until you can come to his aid.’
‘If he finds out he will crucify me.’
‘If he is killed we will all face the cross.’
Accepting that as exaggeration, Flavius nevertheless agreed; he was off duty and had no concerns about finding a quartet of his rankers to go with him. They would need some duty favours in return, though they must have wondered, albeit silently, why their officer, twenty paces ahead of them, was clad in a cloak on what was a stifling evening and why were they carrying his helmet and spear?
Nor were they alone in that; dripping sweat, Flavius sought to keep the palanquin ahead in sight, while his men were in view to his rear, not easy in streets still busy with citizenry and hawkers. The garment had been unnecessary; Petrus insisted they must remain out of sight and in some senses that got more difficult as Justinus left the centre of the city and headed through the quieter streets that led to his brother-in-law’s villa at Blachernae.
A hilly suburb, it was far enough from the stink of the city, providing the wind was not blowing due north, to render life more agreeable for the patricians and those tradesfolk rich enough to match their style of living. With ample water from artesian wells and good soil, the large gardens were a source of neighbourly competition while the houses they surrounded vied with each other in sumptuousness.
If it replicated anything, Blachernae was very like what Rome had been in the Augustan Age on the Palatine Hill. It was generally held, by those who could only gaze in envy at such luxury, that it also mirrored the arrogance of the rich senatorial class of those times and there was just enough daylight left as they passed by them to allow for an occasional sigh of wonder from the rankers.
Everyone but Justinus was hot and bothered by the time the palanquin deposited him at the gate of the Sabbatius villa, the men who had carried him probably even more than Flavius, who quickly found a small copse of trees in which to conceal himself so he could disrobe. His men joined him in what was now, under such a canopy, near to darkness.