Vengeance (29 page)

‘I come in peace,’ Flavius shouted, ‘and with a gift of great value.’

A gesture indicated he should come to land and the boat was brought to lay by a small jetty. Flavius climbed out and came face to face with Dardanies, who, after a moment’s hesitation, embraced him.

‘What has brought you here, Flavius, and,’ he held him at arm’s length, taking in the quality of the garb, ‘seemingly much elevated since I saw you last?’

‘A long tale and for another time Dardanies. I have a request to meet once more with that monk of St Basil who talked with your elders.’

‘Best acknowledge those elders first, for they are proud.’

That got a grin. ‘Then lead me to them so I may flatter their arrogance.’

‘There is not enough of that in the world.’

If it was said with a laugh, there was an underlying seriousness, proved by the time Flavius spent telling them how puissant and wise they were as one-time warriors and present leaders. Finally, when Dardanies felt he had greased their conceits enough, it was he who asked for the monk, who, once brought forward – he was in the crowd – Flavius took off for a quiet talk.

‘I have a man who was rich and will now be poor, a great sinner who, on this side of the river will be given little opportunity to
transgress more, indeed he may die for many of his crimes were visited upon the tribe with which you live. It will take all of your blessedness to keep him alive, as well as all the power you possess to bring him to a realisation of the peril to his soul. His name is Senuthius Vicinus.’

The monk crossed himself; even to him the man was Lucifer.

‘It may be you will fail and he will be slaughtered, for he has visited much harm on the Sklaveni.’

‘More on you and your family, that is known on this bank.’

‘My desire to take his life is strong, I grant you, but where would I stand with God if I succumbed to that temptation? I would condemn my soul in order to take as forfeit his body. I will hand him into your care, with the instruction only that he must not be allowed to escape. If it is necessary to scourge him to bring him to realise his peril then that is for you to prescribe, but no man is beyond God’s grace, even the greatest villain. Will you do this for me?’

‘I will do that which is my calling,’ the monk replied, in a very soft tone of voice, ‘not for you but for the poor miscreant of whom you are giving me charge. But if you are true in your faith, you too must pray for him.’

‘That will be hard.’

‘God will demand it of you, for did not Jesus say to turn the other cheek from those who offend you?’

Dragged from the boat, the appearance of Senuthius brought forth gasps from those who recognised him, followed by an outbreak of screaming not much different from what had been heard in the forum of Dorostorum. It was those tribal elders, made aware of what was intended, who saw the senator through the mob to a place of safety, this not witnessed by Flavius, who had boarded the boat once
more and had himself rowed back to the southern bank.

‘You will regret that,’ Forbas insisted.

‘Perhaps.’

‘What now?’

‘You and Vigilius to remain here, to sequester and sell all of the property of Senuthius Vicinus, the proceeds to be passed to General Vitalian to do with as he wishes.’

‘Surely you should have it?’

‘No, Forbas, it is too tainted for me; I will settle for the value of my family home, which I also ask you to undertake to dispose of for me. I will set foot in the city of Dorostorum again one more time only, if I have my way. I must go now and fetch my mother to this place so that we can properly grieve for my father and brothers and erect, as I promised I would, an obelisk to their memory at the place they gave up their lives.’

It was while riding out of the city, on the road to Marcianopolis, that Flavius recalled his father’s other wish and one he would fulfil by placing a plaque on the city wall, detailing the life, titles and service of Decimus Belisarius, as befitted a proud Roman soldier. For the rest there was nothing − not even his friends − so damaged was his heart by what had happened here.

On the way south, before he turned for Illyricum, he searched for Apollonia, but to no avail; the life of a camp follower was an itinerant one and if he picked up a trace it soon went cold until finally he knew he had to leave such a thing to fortune or God. It was only years later and by chance, while on campaign, he found out she had died in delivery and when he enquired as to when it had happened, it was reasonable to suppose the child might be his own.

They had performed the obsequies by the banks of the Danube,
with an obelisk to mark the spot where the other men of the family had perished. Their last act was to set in stone and dedicate, near to the gate by which the inhabitants entered Dorostorum, the promised plaque after which she had naturally enquired as to what he would now do.

‘I was born to be a soldier, Mother and that is my destiny, to live like my father did as a Roman. May God aid me to prosper in my choice and I hope the soul of my father and brothers will be there to guide me.’

To be continued …

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J
ACK
L
UDLOW
is the pen-name of writer David Donachie, who was born in Edinburgh in 1944. He has always had an abiding interest in history: from the Roman Republic to medieval warfare as well as the naval history of the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries, which he has drawn on for his many historical adventure novels. David lives in Deal with his partner, the novelist Sarah Grazebrook.