‘They were of inestimable value complete, but for my needs the jewels could be detached and sold separately, Excellency, while the hilt alone-’
‘Yes, yes,’ Procopius interrupted. ‘We understand that, but why were you searched in the first place?’
‘Perhaps your General Constantinus thought anyone passing through from Ravenna to be a spy.’
‘Others were searched?’ Presidius, fat and sweating, nodded and looked set to gabble on when Flavius cut across him. ‘Constantinus did not search you personally?’
The response was a silly giggle, as if to say would a man of such stature stoop to such a task.
‘No, it was one of his officers. When he discovered my daggers he took them to show to the general.’
‘And they never came back?’
‘No. The officer who took them told me they were forfeit.’
Constantinus had been in Spoletum, sent there to delay the Goth approach to Rome, hastily withdrawn when it was obvious they were not going to allow themselves to be held up by unimportant outposts.
‘I asked for their return in Spoletum and again when I got to Rome. The general refused on both occasions.’
‘Without denying he had possession of them?’ Procopius asked.
‘He has them, alright,’ Presidius protested. ‘And while he keeps them I must beg to eat.’
‘God grant that every beggar I meet is as larded as you.’
Flavius had snapped at the man sarcastically, but the pleasure of that did nothing to allay what was a serious problem. His second in command had broken a rule for which other men had been hanged. Was this fat and sweating citizen telling the truth? And if he had robbed this fellow, how many more victims might there be, people too afraid to speak out against such an important person?
‘Ennes, take a file of my bodyguards and ask that General Constantinus join us.’
A glance around at the faces in the chamber, many shocked, others deeply curious as to what they were about to witness, did nothing to quiet the turmoil of his thoughts; they all knew what ‘ask’ meant. It was a command not a request, and he was not alone in wondering if force would be required to bring that about: Constantinus had his own personal guards.
He tried to hear other petitions but that was hard, made doubly so as rumours spread and the audience chamber began to fill up, which led to an order that no one else should be admitted other than Constantinus and his escort. If he was not looking forward to what was about to happen, the presence of Antonina, and the slight sneer that told him she knew of his forthcoming dilemma, did nothing to help. She had never tired of telling him his kindness to those conquered was mistaken.
The sound of studded sandals outside the chamber was loud but that was as nothing to the clatter on marble as Ennes entered with Constantinus, he surround by the armed men Ennes had taken with him. The impression given was of a prisoner being escorted and the look of thunder on the handsome face of his second in command indicated to Flavius that he was furious.
‘Presidius, step forward,’ he shouted, as the party came to a halt before him, the guards falling to the side so that Constantinus was facing him, Ennes, sword drawn, at his side.
‘What is the meaning of this?’
‘I am obliged to ask you, General,’ Flavius said, indicating the citizen now trembling to one side, ‘if you know this man?’
The way Constantinus looked at Presidius annoyed Flavius, it being so full of disdain. ‘No, I do not and I would appreciate being told why I am being asked and why I have been dragged into your presence like some felon.’
‘An unfortunate choice of expression, Constantinus. His name is Presidius.’ That brought a flicker of eyelashes from the general. ‘He is now going to relate in your presence that complaint which he has brought to me.’
Presidius had to be prompted; faced with a powerful patrician his previous certainties came near to deserting him. But he got his tale out eventually, by which time Flavius had risen from the chair he had been using, descending from his own dais to stand before his fellow soldier, looking right into his eyes.
Constantinus might be listening to Presidius but he knew from where any decisions would come and the blue eyes were steady, the face growing increasingly defiant; if anyone knew the orders regarding respect to the citizens in conquered lands it was he, yet he was searching the black eyes before him for clues as to what would follow. In his attitude he confirmed to his commanding general that what was being related was true.
‘You, of all people,’ Flavius hissed, as Presidius came to a faltering halt. ‘The daggers, you have them?’
‘I do!’
Defiance not regret, Flavius reckoned, and that broke his rigidly held demeanour so that he positively barked, ‘Presidius would you be satisfied that they be returned?’
A stuttered yes was masked by Constantinus, who spoke in a firm voice. ‘You would have been better asking me if I am willing to surrender them, which I must tell you I will not.’
‘Damn you,’ Flavius shouted, ‘do you know what you face? I have executed men for much less. Am I to treat you in different manner because of your rank?’
It was as well Ennes was close; a hand went to the waist of the accused and his dagger came out in a flash of steel, this as he lunged forward. A flat swinging sword blade took him in the chest and checked him, before he was dragged into the arms of the men who had been his escort and his arms pinned.
Flavius, who had not flinched at what was clearly a bid to kill him, stepped forward to take off Constantinus his now useless dagger, his voice so low that only Ennes and those holding their prisoner could hear.
‘Surrender them willingly, pay a forfeit. Give me grounds for leniency.’
‘Since you’re going to kill me anyway, why bother?’
‘Killing me, as you just tried to do, was foolish.’
‘Better that than I grovel to a man I consider not much more than an Illyrian peasant.’
‘Like Justinian?’ A nod again, with an added sneer of superiority.
‘I do not want to execute you-’
‘That would not be out of love or regard.’
‘-but I must.’
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Following the execution Flavius kept a careful eye on the mood of his army, as did Solomon, Photius and Procopius, the last probably to a greater and more telling extent, given his furtive sources, even if he gave a strong impression that he disagreed with the act of execution.
As far as they could discern the lower ranks approved – the law should be blind to eminence and birth – rankers had died for transgressing, so should generals. But it was amongst the echelons of the higher officers, where such things were held in some regard, that matters had to be more carefully assessed; these were men he dare not alienate as a body.
He hoped they, too, would see it as nothing but justice. This was seriously hampered in that quarter by the boasting of his wife, Antonina telling everyone who would listen a different version of the truth. The army second in command had been beheaded, not for a minor peculation but for the way he had insulted her, which was a gross exaggeration. If Constantinus had snubbed her invitations to dine and revel he had always been careful never to condescend to her; he knew her imperial connections as well as her husband.
Patently false as such statements were they could add fuel to a suspicion that Flavius had been motivated as much by class revenge or perceived military jealousies as the need to apply impartiality when it came to treatment of the Italian natives. Listen and observe as he did, there was a limit to the accuracy with which he could discern dissatisfaction in those he met with daily; men seeking advancement in a world of imperial caprice knew too well how to hide their true feelings.
What they did hanker after, openly, was some form of action for a truce that had clearly been broken and in this their general was only too willing to oblige them. With troops to spare now and a city almost certainly immune to capture, flying columns of cavalry were sent out to induce extra discomfort in the breast of an opponent who had always had to keep one eye cast over his shoulder for either a defection or a new zone of conflict.