As he sat fiddling with the bones with which he liked to gamble he began to evolve a scheme, one full of risks, but less fraught than the potentially fatal one of doing nothing. Then he again considered if he should tell Justinus of what he intended, that discarded quickly in case, by word or deed, he let slip what Petrus was about.
The next morning, secretarial tasks complete, he sent a message to Pentheus Vicinus seeking a meeting, to discuss certain matters of mutual concern – there could only be one given those flaming-red letters on the walls – knowing the senator would have to take the bait, then he went to talk with Flavius Belisarius, which he too needed to do alone, not easy since Justinus seemed to want to hold him close. Finally duty called his uncle away and Petrus made sure, in a very obvious way, that the chamber, as well as the adjoining rooms, were clear of servants.
‘Please sit, Flavius.’
Petrus sensed he was reluctant; for some reason the youngster did not fully trust him, that not being a fact to trouble him.
‘I need to talk to you on an important matter,’ he added and Flavius finally obliged. ‘I am going to say to you that it is necessary to act upon what I am going to tell you as if my uncle has no knowledge of it, even if he has.’
That made the listener shift somewhat uncomfortably.
‘I doubt you can fathom the level of discretion that is required to hold any position in the imperial service when you are so very close to the source of that power.’
‘Your uncle mentioned it was full of what he called “currents” …’
‘And greedy sharks to gobble you up if you do not show care!’ Petrus exclaimed. ‘I hope you believe he trusts me.’
‘I suspect it was you who wrote his replies to my father.’
‘I even wrote the terms of my own commission, to avoid using the imperial scribes, yet somehow we could not keep matters as secure as we had hoped. You are bound to ask why and I cannot tell you, but Pentheus Vicinus picked up something, perhaps a sniff no more, but it would have been enough perhaps to send to Senuthius a warning. That is what it is like in this place.’
‘I am surprised an honourable man like Justinus can bear it.’
‘He does so with my aid. I am his eyes, ears and correspondent in all things, for he cannot himself read, or write. It is I who compose his orders and relate to him that which comes in writing. I want to add that apart from my very natural affection for him, distant from any ties of blood, I am wedded to him by interest in my own advancement. Without Justinus I would not be here and would not have the opportunity to seek for myself a place to occupy when he is no longer with us.’
Petrus paused to let that sink in, his gut feeling being that love as a motive would not wash; self-interest was so much more convincing and his uncle was long in years.
‘What I am about to tell you he knows the gist of, but his position of loyalty to the emperor precludes it passing his lips, so it falls to me to be the executor of his wishes. Your recent commander, Vitalian, was fed a pack of lies, or at least his senior commanders were and I will now explain what they were and why.’
Flavius listened as it was related to him; Anastasius was never going to relent of his Monophysite edict, never going to honour his commitment to keep the foederati fed and paid. No Chalcedonian bishops would be reinstated and more would be removed. The real shock he kept till last: that the architect of that policy of imperial deceit was none other than the cousin of Senuthius Vicinus.
‘And that is the way matters are conducted here in the bosom of our empire. Lastly, as of this moment, an army is about to land in the Diocese of Thrace to crush Vitalian, which presents you with a problem.’
‘How so?’ That got a shrug. ‘If Vitalian is defeated, it may clear the way for my uncle to get reconvened my mission to Dorostorum.’ A shrug full of negativity followed that. ‘But how will we manage that when Pentheus Vicinus is entrenched as the most powerful voice in the councils of empire?’
‘A problem certainly.’
‘How much loyalty, Flavius, do you harbour towards those you marched with? Do you feel it is incumbent on you, with this information in your possession, to alert them to the danger?’
Sensing the confusion that induced, he stayed silent, letting Flavius gnaw on the matter himself.
‘Will the crushing of Vitalian guarantee that your mission will take place?’ Petrus demanded, only to answer his own question. ‘No, and oddly the only person who might guarantee that is Vitalian, for if he can so pressure Anastasius that he will have to deal with him honestly, it will destroy forever any influence Pentheus has.’
‘Which will expose Senuthius?’
‘Of course!’ Petrus exclaimed, happy not to have to explain everything. ‘Then my uncle will not have any reason to hold back or anyone to stand in his way in a matter he feels honour-bound to resolve for an old comrade-in-arms, namely to provide that which you painted on the walls.’
‘Justice for Belisarius,’ Flavius murmured, for it had become to him a mantra.
‘Think on what I have said, for circumstances have put you in a position of real importance, not just to your own wishes but to the future course of the empire.’
Petrus was pleased to see the face before him pale slightly as the enormity of what this young man was faced with struck home. Time to fix in place the final nail!
‘But under no circumstances talk to Justinus about this. You have seen the precautions I took so that you and I would not be overheard. This I can do because I am familiar with the place, you are not. Think of the fate of your family and how that came about. If you are overheard discussing this you will so compromise my uncle that he too may lose his head. If that happens, any hope you have for justice will die with him.’
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
It was necessary to leave Flavius be, to allow him to think on what had been imparted to him: another reason was to see if he reported the conversation to Justinus, that being a vital test without which nothing could proceed. Besides, Petrus had an appointment to meet with Pentheus Vicinus at his villa in the north-western suburb of Blachernae, home to many a rich individual and well away from the stink at the heart of the city.
By taking a hired palanquin from a public square and not taking a horse – never an animal he was very comfortable on in any case – from the excubitor stables, he could avoid his journey being reported.
The house was substantial, the gardens large, well tended and watered and deeply green even now, in late summer, when all about the ground for miles around was brown and dusty. A coin was disbursed to keep his bearers waiting, while under the cushion on which he had sat, Petrus had secreted a note saying who he was, whom he had visited and why; he was about to sup with the devil so needed a long spoon.
The man did not look like Lucifer; he had a smooth, round face and sparse white hair over a plump rather than fat body. When he walked there was a slight forward stoop as if he was ever in anticipation of something, but Petrus knew that underneath that avuncular exterior was a mind as sharp as his own ? perhaps, and this was a worry, even sharper.
‘I cannot but admire your gardens, Senator. Would it be permissible to walk in them while we talk?’
That got a thin smile; Pentheus was not fooled, he knew his visitor wanted to converse without any chance of their conversation being witnessed. He called for a servant to fetch a large parasol and, under that protection from the hot sun, they proceeded to saunter around the well-defined paths through a variety of exotic shrubs and much Greek statuary.
‘It is good of you to see me.’
‘How could I not do so, Flavius Petrus, since my curiosity is acute about what you might have to talk to me about?’