‘For years he had the top job at the treasury – and power and riches – until he fell foul of Empress Theodora, who plotted to bring him down. To please her, Justinian stripped him of his wealth and banished him. After she died he let him back, but to live out of town, poor and in disgrace.’
‘And he’s…’
‘He knows every secret in that palace, everyone’s – and he can tell us how to get to the Emperor.’
Not far from the massive red-striped Thedosian Walls, nearly hidden among an olive grove on a small estate, was their quarry. It had been several hours’ walk under the hot sun and Nicander, in his best tunic, with Marius as presentable as could be contrived, stopped to rest.
‘Remember, let me do the talking. This is the most famous money man of the age and won’t be accustomed to plain speaking.’
‘If it please y’ highness,’ Marius replied in mock grovel, hoping it hid his nervousness at the prospect of addressing a minister of state, however fallen.
Nicander too felt apprehension. This was their only chance and he would need all his merchant’s cunning and guile to bring off their objective.
This was the man who’d, in his day, wielded his power directly under the Emperor and who was even said to have run a private prison within the Praetorium for the torture and execution of offenders in the matter of their tax affairs.
How would he take a visit from the likes of themselves?
There was a high fence around the modest villa with a gate that led through to a garden arbour then into a courtyard. Nicander took a deep breath and strode forward as if he had every right to, Marius at his side.
In one silent, deadly move the apparition of a northern barbarian sprang in front of them, lank-haired, clad in wolfskin and leather and with wild eyes. A hatchet leapt magically into his hands.
‘To see His Excellency,’ stammered Nicander. A sharp call came from inside the courtyard and the guard stepped aside reluctantly.
There was a table under the dappled shade of a latticed fig tree spread with a simple meaclass="underline" a jug of wine, olives, bread and honey cakes. A man sat there, a sheaf of notes beside him. A dog cringed beneath his feet, its eyes only on him.
Nicander approached with as much confidence as he could muster. ‘Two gentlemen desiring to consult with His Eminence John the Cappadocian.’
There was no doubting that this was he – a near-feral presence radiated from the man, terrifying, unnerving. He was repellently corpulent and dressed in a short chlamys that left his fat legs, hairy and gross, thrust out naked before him. But his eyes gleamed with a fierce intelligence.
‘You’re a colonial Greek – a merchant, I suspect. And your friend is an exile Latin. I wonder why you came?’ he pondered. ‘If it’s to gloat over my fall then please be aware I shall ask Wulfstan to first break your heads and then throw you out, but I fancy it’s for some other reason. Am I right?
‘And if you’re thinking to sell me some oriental nostrum then I’m gracious enough to allow you a ten-second start before Wulfstan comes after you,’ he added with a cruel smile.
Nicander gulped. ‘Sire. We come for quite another purpose.’
‘Oh? Go on.’
‘On a concern that if it came to a true conclusion would be of profit to us both.’
‘You’re not being very clear, but continue.’
‘I – we seek advice in the matter of a business venture of some degree of delicacy that Your Excellency is well placed indeed to advise.’
‘I see. Would this be connected with my knowledge of the Byzantine court by any chance?’
‘Sir, I will be plain with you.’
‘That would be a splendid start.’
‘We have a scheme that promises to be of great benefit to the Emperor but requires first we approach him for funding.’
‘Ah, me. And I’d hoped the day would bring me diversion of a more worthy nature.’
The dog whined softly. He kicked it.
‘Sire, it’s to be-’
‘If you had any notion of how often I’ve heard those words you’d pity me with all your heart, you really would.’
‘But sir, this is truly a great opportunity,’ Nicander pressed. ‘A once in a lifetime chance!’
John the Cappadocian yawned, patting his mouth in mock politeness.
Marius bristled and before Nicander could stop him he leant forward. ‘Six tons o’ gold!’ he snarled. ‘Year by year! Enough to interest Your Greatness?’
‘Your friend has a… direct manner. Yet he knows how to pique my interest. You must tell me more about it. We shall leave names aside for now.’
They were motioned to sit and cups were summoned for wine.
‘So. As I understand it, you have an idea, a scheme, which you are sanguine will engage the Emperor’s attention. It has, however, the fatal flaw that, by its nature, a degree of pelf is required to be laid out before it may be set in train. Is this correct?’
‘It is, sire.’
‘Do dispense with the court flummery, there’s a good fellow. I’ve been a common citizen these years past and have no hankering over its return.’
He downed his wine, then sat back with a cynical smile and poured more. ‘I rather fancy that unless you’re frank with me in all particulars we shall not make much progress.’
Nicander hesitated. If he gave away their precious secret, their only asset, and it was taken from them, it would be all over. On the other hand if they did not go forward they would have nothing.
‘I should tell you… all my idea?’
This was met with a pitying half-smile.
‘Ah. Then this is what we propose. Should we succeed in our scheme as a result of your offices, then a due proportion of our increase we shall return to your good self.’
‘Yes, a fair and proper course, undoubtedly. Now, why are you not concerned that your scheme, once divulged, will be taken by myself for my profit alone?’
He stuffed a honey cake into his mouth. ‘Then I’ll tell you. Since I cannot fund you myself I must yield to another. I have thereby surrendered any chance of return. If on the other hand I guide you to a successful conclusion there is a remote possibility I shall be remembered. This is not certain but assuredly better than nothing at all and my rational course therefore is to aid your venture. There is no risk attached to me, it being your necks that are at hazard, neither is there any question of my venturing any coin of mine upon it as I haven’t any, and thus I remain perfectly safe.’
Raising his cup he finished the wine in one. ‘Gentlemen, for the sake of the entertainment it brings to my lonely existence, I shall assist you. Shall we begin with your names, you being so evidently in possession of my own?’
‘Ah, Nicodorus of Leptis Magna, merchant. This is Quintus Carus Marius, legionary, late of Rome.’ Nicander went on, ‘The silk trade in the Empire, sir. We’re aware at the first hand how this is cruelly hurting our sovereign lord in the outgoing of his treasure and revenues.’
‘Your six tons of gold a year, yes. I would have put it nearer eight.’
‘Our plan, sir, is to bring silk itself to Constantinople.’
There was an irritated wave of a be-ringed hand. ‘That’s a nonsense, Mr Nicodorus. You’ll know the Persians would not countenance any interference in their comfortable relations with the producers!’
‘No, sir. We mean to mount an expedition to bring back the seeds of the silk tree and grow it in our own land! We will then be independent of imports and thumb our nose at the Persians, and who’s to say – may we not look to export to the world?’
John the Cappadocian slowly sat back and looked at them, each in turn, his glance first speculative then covetous. ‘Might I be told how advanced you are in this… adventure?’
‘It were better we left details to after our consultation with you, sir.’
‘That’s not quite what I meant…’
Nicander picked up on it immediately. ‘That is to say, we have no other interested party, none we have discussed the matter with.’
‘I see. Mmm… a novel and, I’m obliged to say, intriguing idea. Yet there are difficulties. Do you wish to hear them?’