‘So it was a deliberate falsehood?’
‘It was a stratagem and a successful one and at no time did I ever issue a binding oath. I cannot fathom why you are so troubled.’
‘No, and there is the pity. I find I have dedicated my life to a man who cannot see what is in his own interest and is blinded by a faith that I do not share. Do you think this will end the malice of Theodora? Do you think that Justinian will treat you as he should? Did you ever truly consider what it was the Goths were offering and where it could lead?’
‘I did, Procopius. I gave it much thought.’
‘And chose the wrong course.’
‘To your mind, not mine,’ Flavius insisted. ‘Do you not know me after all these years? Do you not know where I would seek reasons on how I should act?’
The response had about it a quality of defeat. ‘Your father.’
‘My whole family, Procopius, may God rest their souls. I was brought up to be a Roman and so were my brothers. Our father saw it as the highest duty of our lives to live and, if need be, die for the empire and that is the fate that fell to them even if it was a tainted one. It is my hope that one day, I may meet them in some celestial paradise, especially the man I revered most in all my life. Would you have me face him when I betrayed that which he held dear?’
‘You were afforded the chance to enhance the empire by being its ruler.’
‘At the cost of rebellion. That is too high a price chalice from which I do not wish to sup.’
‘Beware there is not a cup of poison awaiting you anyway.’
‘You would have me act the creature Theodora suspects me to be. Even without the memory of my father that is something to which I could never ascribe.’
Over the weeks that followed Flavius saw his policy bear fruit as one after another the Goth leaders who had not been trapped in Ravenna came to the city to offer obeisance to this new dispensation. Yet as always there was a gremlin waiting to fracture what should have been a satisfactory whole, a single leader called Ildibadus, who held Verona. Initially willing to surrender, he withdrew that when he heard that the Goth treasury was to be forfeit to Justinian.
Added to that, his fellow nobles were deeply unhappy that Flavius had spurned their offer of either regal of imperial estate and Ildibadus became the focus of that dissent. He had an ally in the nephew of Witigis who still held Milan, and, combined, the pair formed a bloc that tore a hole in the peaceful fabric Flavius was seeking to construct. He had to watch from the sidelines as moves were made to elect a new king, the crown finally being settled on the head of Ildibadus, though not before, at his instigation, it had once more been offered to and declined by Flavius Belisarius.
Given their losses and his strength this did not worry the man who had taken Ravenna; he was sure that very little campaigning would be required to put paid to any attempt by this truncated force to effect matters. It was an irritant, not a difficulty, that was till matters elsewhere intervened, this in the form of an order from Justinian.
‘Recalled?’
‘To take command in the east, Magister.’
There was a look on the face of Procopius and Cabasilis, the descendant of a famous imperial general and the messenger from Constantinople, as if to imply such orders were only an excuse to get him to the capital where reasons would be found to arraign him for some invented offence, and there was one obvious risk. Could the news of the Goth offer have got to Constantinople and back again in such a short time?
That it would not remain a secret was obvious, there were too many people now involved and Flavius had to assume his own inferior commanders would have picked up more than just rumours, though nothing had been said in his presence. Antonina, if she had found out, would be as indiscreet as always and she was perfectly capable, it seemed, of ascribing to him motives the opposite of those he displayed.
Then there was Procopius, clearly unhappy; relations between the two had palpably soured in the month since the occupation of the Goth capital. There were no more private conversations and certainly no discussion of policy. Now everything was done in a way that spoke of estrangement; formal and being businesslike it was also impossible to fault.
Flavius had known that matters were far from peaceful on the eastern frontier long before Cabasilis arrived. The so-called Endless Peace which had been concluded between Justinian and King Kavadh, the late ruler of the Sassanid Empire, was always fragile, having been bought, Justinian paying the princely sum of eleven thousand pounds in gold to keep him within the borders of his own empire, more being supplied annually.
That it had held for eight years was remarkable; Kavadh had agreed to peace many times, only to break it when he needed to bleed Constantinople for funds to pacify the many tribes that formed his fractious subjects. He ruled over communities that were forever fighting each other or seeking to combine to bring him down. If the tribes were not rebelling the Sassanid nobles were conspiring, and they had in the past been too powerful an entity for their king to tame.
With Kavadh gone his son Khusrow had proved to be a more astute ruler. He made better use of the Byzantine gold, employing it to bolster his positon, most tellingly to break the power of those high nobles who led large bodies of soldiers and could thus, in alliance with tribal leaders, threaten his position.
Khusrow had also re-formed the Sassanid army so that it was no longer under the control of numerous satraps but the king himself, and more formidable for it, and he had once more begun to ravage the domains of the Eastern Empire. He would be back next year when the rivers were flowing fast enough to water thousands of horses and the fields full of ripening crops with which to feed an invading army.
‘Cabasilis, does he not know that another year here will see matters settled for good?’
That was a foolish question, born out of frustration, to put to a mere messenger and it got the only possible reply. ‘I can only convey his instructions, Magister, and they were plain.’
‘I ask you to leave us, Cabasilis. Solomon, my domesticus will provide you with food and wine, and feel free to use the baths.’
‘My instructions were to see you board the vessel in which I came and to sail home immediately.’
Flavius laughed at the absurdity – it was typical of the man he knew to issue such a command without any thought to the ramifications. Flavius could not just leave as if he was going for a stroll, there were still responsibilities to exercise. He had to make sure that everything was in place and that his successor had a proper grasp of that which needed to be done.
The Goth treasure would go with him, ensuring a welcome in Constantinople, for riches delivered to an emperor always partly fed down to the citizens as well as the victorious soldiers. Added to that, after a successful five-year campaign, he would be leaving without the results of his efforts: chests of gifts and coffers full of what was his just due in rewards. And then there was Antonina and their combined retinue of servants.
‘Leave immediately, without gathering my possessions? Surely not even
Justinian would have me arrive back in his city naked and a beggar?’ The messenger was young and even if very well connected he was in the presence of the conqueror of Italy. It would be impolitic to argue so he did as he was bid and left the chamber. A sign from Flavius had his guards and attendants do likewise.
‘I am minded to send for Justinian and ask him to delay this move.’
‘Are you seeking my advice, Magister?’
There was no mistaking the coldness of the tone, which brought Flavius no pleasure and he responded with deliberate calm. ‘I am.’