‘Is it, Flavius? He is the richest man in the empire.’
‘It takes more than money to rise to the purple.’
‘Then how did Justinus manage it? Have you not told me the tale a hundred times of the coffers full of gold that were given to the officers of the Excubitors?’
The memory nearly brought her husband to the blush; he did indeed recall the way Justinian – he had been Petrus Sabbatius then – had conspired to get his uncle, who held the office of comes Excubitorum, elevated to the recently vacated throne by diverting money provided by another courtier for a different candidate to gain the prize.
Flavius had been involved in the conspiracy but his discomfort was brought on by the memory of his lack of an ability to see in what he was being embroiled. If others had been duped, not least the man elevated by the intrigue, so too had he.
‘The Excubitors were supporting one of their own and a man in whom they had faith, and quite rightly. Recall that the Hippodrome hailed their choice.’
That was dismissed with an airy wave. ‘Oh, I know. You never tire of telling me how sainted was Justinus, the true paragon and surrogate father to whom you owe everything. I just hope you are not so forthcoming with his nephew.’
‘I have never thought it too wise to overpraise his uncle to Justinian, but I have had occasion to remind him that when we talk of him, we speak of a man of some virtue.’
‘Words that cannot be applied to the Cappadocian.’
‘He will never rise to the purple. First of all he would have to kill Justinian, which, given he is one of the most suspicious men in creation, will be near to impossible. From what I can observe too, his Excubitor bodyguard are fiercely loyal.’
‘And if he were to die naturally, what then?’
Flavius crossed himself then, but as he did so the underlying concerns of his wife surfaced for they would be those of her great friend. Theodora, bereft of Justinian, would be exposed and perhaps John would have a chance, and the obvious conclusion to such a line of reasoning was obvious. The Empress was not one to wait to be thrown to the wolves, which rendered John’s position one of some danger.
It made him glad he was about to go on campaign, this being the thing he had always hated about the capital, the endless plotting of one faction against another, and at the peak of such schemes there were too many souls who saw themselves as better able to rule than the incumbent emperor. It had been true when Anastatius was alive, was so when Justinus ruled and would be rife, too, under his nephew.
‘It is near blasphemous to even consider such a thing, Antonina. Now I beg you, let us leave John to his peculations and change the subject.’
‘Promise me you will challenge him if he insults you in person.’
‘So that I can kill him? Fat and wobbly John, who has never been a soldier, never fought in a battle and as far as I know would be lost in how to use a sword?’
‘He knows how to employ his tongue.’
‘Just as I know what would shame me, Antonina. If I fight, it will be with a man who can match me, not some useless tub of lard.’
Which was as good a way as he could think of telling his wife he was not going to stick a sword in the Cappadocian’s belly just to please her friend the Empress.
‘I had no idea how much I would miss Antonina while she campaigned with you, but I do now and I desire to keep her close.’
‘Your Highness could have sent for her at any time and I am sure my wife would have sped back to your side.’
It was fascinating watching Theodora, who seemed to have the ability to believe whatever she was saying whenever she was saying it. It was she who had insisted that Antonina accompany him to North Africa and subsequently to Italy so that his wife could act as her spy. If her behaviour with Theodosius, whom she insisted was an innocent companion, was a great unmentionable in their marriage, the act of her betrayal in corresponding with the Empress was a greater one. Nor could he, tempted as he was to be honest, mention it to Theodora.
Like her husband and indeed his wife she had aged, so that the dark beauty which had at one time impressed him was now faded. Her face was sagging and no amount of powder or unction could disguise that the skin that had once been as smooth as milk was now lined and broken.
In fairness, while harbouring these thoughts, Flavius had to admit that time had changed him also. His beard was no longer jet black but tinged at the extremities with grey and he wondered if he shaved it off what he would discover underneath. If the bags under his eyes were any indication, then he would be in for a shock.
Yet he was bound to wonder what lay behind this request that Antonina stay with her in Constantinople and the spectre of Theodosius came immediately to mind. Theodora would no doubt happily facilitate such a liaison, given her own behaviour within the palace was a constant source of both speculation and jibes.
Try as he might, Flavius was once more reminded that he had never quite got to grips regarding her relationship with Justinian. He knew, from his time spent in the company of the young Petrus, when he himself had been an innocent youth willing to be corrupted by the much more experienced debauchee, that his proclivities were not straightforward.
Justinian took great pleasure in being the voyeur and it was rumoured that Theodora was only too willing to indulge that particular taste, even with multiple partners. Against that was one simple fact: every ruler or consort was the subject of scurrilous accusations and they always seemed to centre on their sexual preferences. There was not one disgusting act he knew of that had not at some time been attached to their names.
‘I find myself on the horns of dilemma, Highness.’
It was amusing to observe Theodora’s confusion, for his response had thrown her and there was some pleasure in that, even more in playing out a game in which he would gain no more; as empress and consort she had power of her own – more vitally, she had a hold over her husband.
‘I have become accustomed to have Antonina by my side. Will I be the successful soldier still if I am denied her support?’
Theodora was no fool; she knew he was toying with her but she too was forced to indulge in pretence. Not even an empress could always be open and now she found no trouble in arranging her features to convey sadness.
‘It pains me to deprive you of that, Flavius. But I hope and pray you will see my need for companionship, just as I appreciate yours and have in the past done much to facilitate it.’
‘You have been most gracious.’
That made her purse her lips, which made very apparent the small vertical wrinkles between that and her nose. Flavius knew he was sailing close to a dangerous shore in baiting her and so was quick to add, ‘Of course, I would not dream of denying you that company in which I take so much pleasure.’
Theodora could not keep a trace of a hiss out of her reply. ‘Then it falls to me to thank you for – what did you say – “being gracious”.’
‘Now if you will forgive me, Highness, I have to attend upon the Emperor and outline to him how I plan to thwart the designs of Khusrow.’
There was no doubt in anyone’s mind that the Sassanids would cross the border once more. Khusrow had again demanded a huge sum of money from Justinian as well as an annual stipend to keep the peace, an ultimatum that had originally been agreed to. Using the excuse that the Sassanids had broken various pledges, the offer had been withdrawn. If only to save face Khusrow must react.
The question was not just how to counter the threat but to comprehensively defeat the enemy. Cheering news had just come that Martinus, sent ahead to Dara with the Belisarian comitatus, had with the help of the garrison repulsed an attempt by the Sassanids to take the great fortress on which any defence of the frontier must rest. With the season for campaigning well over, Khusrow had retired back into his own territory.