‘Man wants to have a bit of fun with a slave girl and suddenly …’
He did not finish, his eyes moving sideways, which told Flavius that Dardanies had joined him. As his look ranged over them it was clear he saw the threat the trio posed and so did those he could call companions.
‘Game’s not worth the candle, is it?’ Ohannes asked.
The moment of danger seemed to last longer than the actual time, the tension being something Flavius felt he could almost touch. The girl’s wrist he let go of and she ran out of the barn, an act followed by a stillness as the odds were assessed, not least how much support the man who had held her had from those with whom he had taken to the road. It was the lack of certainty there, Flavius thought, which produced the response.
‘Please yourself,’ he said half turning to break eye contact, ‘but I shall keep one eye open as I sleep. Strikes me you three might want that wench for yourselves.’
The final shot was aimed at Flavius and accompanied by a barked laugh intended to amuse his friends. ‘Not that you would do her much good, lad, with what you have to gift her. As for the ghoul at your side, well I doubt his years would see him the stallion.’
Ohannes turned his back on the voice, to whisper in the ear of Flavius. ‘We have made an enemy there.’
‘My friend,’ Flavius called out, blushing at the way the fellow had insulted his manhood. ‘If I interfered it was for the sake of your soul, not from any desire for my own gratification.’
‘Hark at him,’ came the response to his facility with words. ‘Lord of the manor or what?’
‘We are all engaged in an enterprise that we hope will raise us in the eyes of God. What a shame it would be to sully that.’ He turned to Bassus. ‘I suggest that prayers would be in order, to thank the Lord for what we have received this day and what we hope to achieve in those to come.’
That being a hard suggestion to gainsay, the whole assembly were soon on their knees, Flavius throwing Dardanies a meaningful look that forced him to comply, though not without a cynical smile on his face. As others mouthed the words of their prayers, he stayed head down and silent, which caused no comment at all, it being commonplace. Naturally, given the hour, what they had just done and a long day’s march on the morrow, the next act was to settle down to sleep, and exhaustion was enough, in the case of Flavius, to compensate for the loud snoring that filled the barn and barely relented until they were woken by the crowing of the cock.
Those who needed to used the back of the barn to relieve themselves then joined the rest at the horse trough to duck their heads and get the sleep out of their eyes. Their host, a well-fed fellow of a hearty mien, arrived in person to wish them well on their way and to pass on food for the journey, which had Flavius haul on his cowl, hiding as much as he could, using others to shield him from view.
If he did not recognise the farmer that did not mean he would not be spotted in turn. They were no more than a day’s ride from Dorostorum and here was the kind of citizen who might well turn up there to the local assembly, a talking shop naturally dominated by Senuthius as well as Gregory Blastos and, according to his father, utterly useless when it came to reining in either the senator or the bishop. Even so, it was held to be instructive to his sons as an example of the Roman way of conducting politics and many times Flavius had sat with his friends in the old Greek amphitheatre to watch the debates.
In the event he got away without being seen and he stuck close to Ohannes and Dardanies, one shielding him on either side, as they continued on their way south, the old soldier, whose aches brought on by marching he was vocal about, slowing the pace so that a gap opened up between them and the rest of the band. This allowed him to begin to lecture the youngster.
‘What you did last night was noble but foolish.’
‘It was not. Tell him, Dardanies, you were reaching for your spear, were you not?’ A nod followed, given with a look of renewed fury at the memory. ‘So you see, Ohannes, I stopped that fool from being killed. What would have happened if I had not?’
‘Well, that’s as maybe,’ came the reply, from a companion very reluctant to concede, even after a decent pause, that he might be mistaken, ‘but you don’t get what I’m driving at.’
‘Which is?’
‘You seem to have it in your head that all these men marching to join General Vitalian are fired by a love of God.’
‘If not that, what?’
‘Plunder,’ Dardanies suggested.
‘That’s the right of it,’ the old man agreed. ‘Oh, they’ll spout their faith at every turn, and I daresay amongst the gathering host there will be those that truly believe in the cause as it is stated, Bassus, I would say, being one and maybe, too, those he leads. But just as many sense the chance in this to get their hands on the kind of riches they can only dream of.’
‘You cannot be sure of that.’
‘If the comes foederatorum raises his standard where is he going to take it to?’
‘Constantinople, to face down the emperor.’
‘And what’s in the city?’
‘I have said – Anastasius.’
‘As well as his palaces, along with those of the patrician class and rich traders, citizens who eat off gold plate. There are rich churches, too, and best to not mention the women. There’s no good asking that fellow you challenged last night about what his purpose is, ’cause he will only respond with a load of pious blether. But it’s my guess, judging by the way he got hold of that lass, his faith is closer to his gonads than his soul.’
Dardanies had started to laugh, a low chuckle to begin with, growing heartier as he thought on what was being said.
‘It’s not a matter at which to laugh,’ Flavius cried, the certainties with which he had been raised sorely dented.
‘It is,’ came the reply, the laughter stopping abruptly. ‘At least we pagans are honest in our intentions. We fight for treasure, slaves and to make free with enemy women. We do not cloak our acts in false godliness.’
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Of all the glories of the Roman Empire their system of roads was the most enduring, as well as being a prime asset in times of trouble, there always being strife somewhere. If Emperor Anastasius was known to be tight-fisted with imperial income – he had raised massive sums in taxes in his years in office and spent as little as possible – he never stinted on the prime means of communication throughout his domains.
By this method he kept in touch with the Ostrogoth Theodoric in Ravenna. He could be told within days what was happening from the coast of Illyria or the deserts of Egypt and all points in between. Most vital was the threatened frontier shared with Persia, an enemy with whom he had just concluded an unsatisfactory peace after a less than conclusive war, which on balance had not favoured the empire.
Likewise he was made swiftly aware of the results of the agreed policy towards Vitalian and the omens were far from good: the champion of Chalcedon, which is how the general increasingly saw himself, had reacted with fury to the cutting off of supplies and money and in this he had only reflected the stance of the foederati he led, barbarian mercenaries from every far-flung imperial border. Conatus, the magister militum per Thracias, had been immediately deposed; it was rumoured he had been executed, while those officers who had served him and had not defected to the rebels were subject to the same fate.
That same system of roads and messengers had brought news that the mission to Dorostorum was no longer a viable one, which rendered its recall fortuitous and any future enquiry unlikely. Justinus certainly did not doubt that the list of crimes against the local magnate warranted investigation, but the despatch stating that Decimus Belisarius had foolishly engaged a vastly superior enemy without waiting for support and had died for his folly, along with all his men in the process, rendered it near to pointless.