Vengeance (6 page)

Now they did: either Blastos or Senuthius had somehow got wind there was an official mission on the way from Constantinople. For men who relied on distance from real authority, aided by a wilfully blind provincial administrator, to hide from view their transgressions, such a visitation could not be other than a threat, especially when the man who had sought to have them examined for their crimes was present to not only back them up, but to do so with witnesses. Fear of Senuthius would evaporate in the face of a body representing the emperor.

The memory of those two thieves came to mind, men whose bodies had disappeared in the hours of darkness, no one knowing who had removed them or where they had been taken. Were they just casual robbers taking advantage of the empty villa to seek to rob the place of valuables? Or had they been sent to the house knowing that it would be empty?

Once that thought had taken hold there was no need to wonder why the imperial cohort had been left unsupported. Senuthius had taken a golden opportunity to rid himself of a long-time adversary who might well have found the means to be his nemesis. Such contemplation made it hard to keep going, but Flavius knew he must reply, it being even more vital now that he do so in the same manner and tone that he had struggled hard to maintain. He must give no hint of his thinking!

‘There are matters to clear up here and it will not surprise you that is a task for which I am, at my age, unprepared.’

‘Of course, I merely wondered if you might wish to join your dear mother quickly and persuade her that such a journey is unnecessary. The travelling is arduous enough, ten times more so bearing such a burden.’

‘That is a decision I must leave to her.’

‘Young as you are, Flavius, you now stand at the head of your house. Perhaps it is a duty you should assume and act to spare your dear mother any more unhappiness. I would tell her to remain where she is and draw comfort from your presence. I feel I must, as spiritual adviser to you both, strongly counsel that such a course is the one you should adopt.’

They want her and me out of the way! Why? In case my father confided in us? His mother probably knew, for they were very close,
a fact of which Blastos, having observed them from the advantage of his office, could not but be aware. He is also uncertain about me; much safer that neither she nor I are still in Dorostorum when …

‘Nevertheless,’ Flavius insisted, ‘you know my mother well enough to be aware that even with the unwanted elevation of myself to which you have referred, she will do as she wishes and not what I tell her.’

‘A pity,’ Gregory Blastos responded, in a sour tone. Then, taking a deep and what was intended to be a meaningful breath, he turned suddenly brisk. ‘Now, a second duty intrudes and we have other matters to discuss. It devolves upon me, on behalf of the
magister
Conatus, to oversee some of the duties undertaken by your late father until a replacement arrives.’

Was that true? When it came to defence, untrustworthy as he was and without any official position, Senuthius seemed a more fitting candidate, added to which the bishop would not make such a claim without his consent. The whys and wherefores of what arrangement they had come to would remain a mystery so there was little point in dwelling upon it, though Flavius could not avoid letting loose a pointed dart.

‘Even if you are not a soldier?’

‘I am assured I will not want for support in that area,’ came the testy reply. ‘What it means, of course, is that I am required to take into my possession the treasury your father held on behalf of the empire as well as any correspondence in which he might have been engaged.’

Correspondence! The time had come to prevaricate, to say the great coffer that held such things was bolted to the floor of the room Decimus Belisarius had set aside as his place of work, with the
addendum that anything pertaining to his family he had to retain, given his father’s personal papers had been kept within the same chest and – the lie came easily – he had yet to go through them anything like methodically. He held his breath till he was sure that Blastos had swallowed the falsehood.

‘Of course, and I am happy to allow you to separate anything private but I must insist you do so in my presence, for it may be that you will not know one from the other.’

‘Perhaps in a day or two, Your Eminence, when my grief has receded somewhat.’

The fleshy hands spread once more, as if in an expression of deep regret. ‘Alas, that cannot be. I must act with haste for the sake of such responsibilities, even if I find it uncomfortable. I have a party of men without the atrium gate waiting for me to take possession of anything deemed official.’

‘You wish to go through it now?’ Flavius asked, affecting genuine surprise.

‘If I had a choice …’ That lie was left unfinished.

‘One more day, perhaps?’

‘Sadly no, my duty is clear and I doubt the
magister militum
, once I have informed him of my actions, would thank me for delay.’

There was silence as each examined the other, Flavius sure that, just as he was trying to disguise his true feelings, Blastos was doing likewise: if Senuthius was threatened by any hint of an imperial enquiry then so was the Bishop of Dorostorum for, though their sins were of a different nature, they acted in concert.

Having read the last letter from Justinus more than once, he knew that Constantinople had gone to great lengths to keep secret what was to be visited upon this border city, hence the decision not to
inform anyone in Marcianopolis. Flavius could plead but it would be to no avail, so with obvious reluctance he stood to one side and indicated the open doorway, still guarded by Ohannes.

‘Then I have no choice.’

Blastos smiled and the lips were shiny again as his hand went once more to that heavy cross on his chest, as he sought a pious excuse for his behaviour. ‘Sometimes a man is forced to act against his better instincts. I hope you believe that I am obliged to do so now.’

I
f the request for access to the chest had been put with a contrived air of regret the perusal and removal of its contents was carried out in a very different manner. Blastos, even if he could not miss them, made no remark regarding the deep, fresh cuts around the lock, in itself an act that underlined the suspicions of the new head of the household. The bishop merely stood to one side as Flavius opened it, before relieving him of the keys.

He had each despatch – those received and copies of those sent over the years – brought to the desk, set by a south-facing window, to be brusquely examined. Some, probably complaints regarding his own behaviour as well as that of Senuthius, made the bishop suck on his teeth, even if the contents could be no mystery.

They were then cast, like the rest, into one of the small canvas sacks fetched for the purpose of removal, and once filled, taken out by one of the quartet of servants the bishop had fetched along, he
presumed to whatever conveyance Blastos had used in coming here.

Flavius was gratified to see they were his church servants and unmilitary, not those who formed the bishop’s armed bodyguard whenever he travelled to the limits of his diocese, necessary given how few of his flock agreed with his stance on dogma. He was consulted regarding anything pertaining to the family: deeds of possession for properties purchased as well as a ledger containing a list of domestic accounts; in addition there were two sacks of coins that amounted to a limited spendable inheritance.

Those objects over which he had so recently grieved were put to one side for Flavius to do with what he wished before Blastos turned to the ledger that related to the centurion’s duties and obligations. Likewise, this had a list going back years, of payments and credits. Blastos, after a quick glance and yet more sucking of teeth, tucked that inside his own tunic, the leather bag containing the residue of the imperial funds – a small sum of money indeed – staying by his side.

Increasing frustration was clear to an acutely sensitive observer: much as the bishop tried to disguise it, Blastos was looking for something and not finding that which he sought and it was far from hard to guess what that something must be. Once the chest had been emptied Blastos went to kneel before it, leaning in to tap the sides and the base, even the arched lid, as if in search of some secret compartment, before finally getting back to his feet and looking the youngster right in the eye.

‘Are you sure you have not been through the contents of this chest?’

‘A glance, no more,’ Flavius replied, for to say no would create, not dissipate suspicion. ‘To find my father’s testament.’

‘And where is that now?’

‘In my chamber.’

‘Nothing else?’

‘No.’

‘You are sure?’

‘Certain!’

The cross was in his hand again, this time held out from his chest and aimed at those blackened eyes, the tone of his voice a rumble from deep within his frame. ‘It pains me to remind you that a lie given to me is as blasphemous as one given to God himself.’

That could not be anything but uncomfortable, Flavius being acutely aware of what he had inside his sling. Not only an official despatch but the name of who would lead it, an F. Petrus Sabbatius, as well as when it was intended they should set out from Constantinople. That being a date already past, it could be close to arrival if not actually imminent, something that depended on the eagerness of those tasked to carry out such enquiries.

‘Are there any other places where your father kept papers?’

The way the clerical eyes ran over him, top to bottom, sent a shiver through the youngster; it was as if he was hinting at a personal search, not only of his bedroom but of himself too. Inspiration had him turn to Ohannes, standing by the doorway. He approached the old soldier, seeking by the look in his eye to alert him to what he intended, for he could not chance his voice lest it betray him. Coming close he put his good hand on the older man’s shoulder, while slipping his weak arm just enough out of the sling to show the end of the oilskin pouch.

‘This fellow served as
domesticus
to my father. Perhaps he knows.’

To get the pouch out of his sling unseen was a risk Flavius felt he had to take. Ohannes must know, given how he acted as the centurion’s body servant and was with him as he carried out his duties, that everything being requested was in this very room, the place from which his master had discharged his duties and one to which, when he set out to face the barbarians, he fully expected to return.

The youngster was holding his breath, released when he discovered he had a shrewd fellow conspirator who, if he was not sure what was going on could, at the sight of the edge of that pouch, make a guess. In an act of pure theatricality, designed to cause a distraction and take the clerical eye off the exchange, the old man tapped his forehead with a pointed digit, as if he was a numbskull, this as his other hand took what he was being given.

‘Master would not have trusted me, young sir, for I am unlettered. He kept his private matters close. Only person who might know is your mama, to whom he was given to share his concerns.’

Spinning round Flavius used his body to mask the Scythian, giving him time to conceal the object in his own smock. He found himself looking into the face of a worried cleric, suddenly contemplating that what he sought might be a hundred leagues away. Then Blastos shook his head, implying that if such a scenario made no sense to him, he was at a loss to know what to do about it. If, as Flavius now supposed, his father’s enemies had found out there was a commission of enquiry on the way, they were obviously in the dark about the make-up of the members as well as when it might arrive.

The sooner it came the more dangerous it would be to both. With time, having disposed of their chief accuser they could, through bribes and threats, so muddy the waters that no one would dare to
witness against them and that would mean no allegations could be proved. An even more disturbing thought occurred: they might try to shift any blame for what would appear to be a false set of grievances onto the complainant.

‘There has to be another place your father kept papers,’ Blastos insisted, his expression no longer calm, for the first time overtly flustered, so much so that he was required to be more open. ‘I happen to know that he had a certain amount of correspondence with the imperial capital recently on an important matter.’

‘What kind of correspondence?’

Flavius made this enquiry with his brow furrowed, not sure that, if he was taking a spiteful pleasure from the clerical discomfort, he should be. Whatever, it made Blastos even more uncomfortable and forced him into a hurried and unconvincing excuse.

‘It relates to certain matters we discussed in the sanctity of the confessional, which leaves me unable to tell even you. But I know of their existence as well as of their significance, which leads me to insist that they must be kept in another place.’

‘Then I am at a loss to know where that is,’ Flavius responded, with a catch in his voice that gave veracity to his continued lying. ‘Perhaps my brothers would have known and, as Ohannes here said, my mother, but they are no longer with us and she is far off.’

‘I fear the villa will need to be searched.’

Flavius protested immediately and vehemently. ‘This is a house in mourning.’

‘And I have the good of the empire to consider! You of all people, being your father’s son, would not surely stand in the way of that? I have my men still with me, and so I am able to carry out the task at once.’

Flavius took a deep breath before responding, finding when he did the means to sound very adult. ‘I must refuse, Bishop Gregory, until the proper period of mourning has passed, for my dear mother’s sake if no other.’

‘You cannot refuse.’

‘I do not wish to be difficult but I am, as you were keen to point out, now master of this household. Unless you can show to me an authority that gives you such a right, I will not accede to such a request.’

‘I am here on behalf of the
magister militum
!’

‘Who will have to give you written permission to act as you suggest.’

Flavius knew he had got it right by the confused expression that engendered; Blastos had no actual authority to act. If there had been the time to send a report of what had occurred to Marcianopolis, and to stand down any support that might be on the way, no reply had come back giving Blastos the powers he claimed, in what was at least a two-day journey on fast mounts with regular changes.

‘His need is enough.’

‘Forgive me, Bishop Gregory, but you must know that no one can act in such an arbitrary fashion. If I learnt anything from my father, it is never justified to exceed the bounds of the law, and he stayed true to that even when he had the unquestionable authority of his command.’

‘I have God as my authority.’

Flavius crossed himself but the look he gave the bishop told him that too was insufficient. Blastos tried bluster but he could not carry it off for he lacked the means to be convincing and, realising that to
be true, his expression became increasingly concerned as he sought a solution. No doubt Senuthius was waiting for the successful finale to this visit.

‘Then I must seek what I need and will do so.’

If they exchanged a mutual glare both knew one fact so obvious it needed no airing: Flavius could be allowed no freedom of movement.

‘Until then I command that you stay within these walls and that you touch nothing you may find. I will leave people here to ensure that is obeyed, and as a precaution I will also take from your stables what mounts you have.’

‘There is only one now,’ Flavius responded with a look of gloom. ‘Mine.’

‘A fine beast, I recall, which will serve to cover the first stage of my messenger’s journey.’

Bishop Gregory Blastos did like to think of himself as the equal of Senuthius Vicinus; only rarely was he disabused of this comfortable notion, so when he arrived at the villa of the man he held to be an associate and equal he was, even if concerned, ill prepared for that which he ran into: a torrent of highly personal abuse for his very obvious failure to find any evidence that either had cause for concern.

With anyone else he might have stood his ground, but not with the senator, who, despite the girlish pitch of his voice, never had trouble in making the cleric wilt. With his height and girth, he oozed power enough to match his temper.

‘No doubt you were too busy slavering over the Belisarius brat to properly carry out what you were sent to do. All that would be
needed to put you off the task you were sent to carry out is a flick of those long, dark eyelashes of his and you would be billing and cooing like a pigeon.’

‘The lad has two black eyes and a damaged shoulder …’

‘As if that would stop you! It probably added to your dribbling.’

This dressing-down did not end there; Senuthius went on to list the ways in which his sexual preferences and inability to disguise them made him a fool, to point out that as a representative of God he was an embarrassment to his entire flock, delivered in a voice loud enough to carry throughout the largest dwelling in the borderlands. Worse for the clerical pride, it was done in front of the children of the house, a boy and a girl, golden-haired, plump and well-fed twins, who had not yet seen ten summers, their mere presence made doubly galling by the way their expressions seemed to mirror their father’s disdain.

‘It may be there is nothing …’

Blastos got no chance to plead that excuse; the large senatorial frame actually shook with irritation, and given Senuthius had a belly large enough to testify to his prosperity, it was obvious even under his richly threaded garments.

‘My cousin smells a rat in the imperial court and Belisarius has to be the cause. When he says I should be on my guard, I am not fool enough to ignore his advice, even if you are!’

‘But he has no idea what we have to guard against.’

‘We?’ Senuthius growled. ‘You, Blastos, have only to concern yourself that you do not end up in a remote dungeon for pederasty and the selling of forgiveness for gold. It is I who is at real risk and by that I mean everything I own, and for what – acting as my duty as a father and a citizen dictates?’

The senator then waddled over to embrace his children, standing between them and laying his hands on their shoulders, his voice becoming soft and mournful as he spoke. It was well known he doted on his offspring, which stood in sharp contrast to the way he had treated their late mother, a woman who had needed all her skills with paints and powder to hide the regular bruises inflicted on her by her violent husband. Sometimes she was so badly beaten as to be unable to appear in public for weeks and there were those prepared to readily believe that her death had not been from any natural cause.

‘These two innocents could be left as paupers by the malice of that Belisarius swine, and that I will not allow to happen.’

Quickly Senuthius bent to kiss each plump child on the head, before quietly telling them it was time to be about their evening studies, so as to be ready for their schooling come the morning. He watched them depart the main room of the villa with a look most men reserved for a favourite mistress and only when they had gone did Senuthius bellow for his
domesticus
. His senior household servant came scurrying into the room within seconds, to find his master talking to the bishop in a less irate tone, a haughty gesture having the man wait by the door.

‘We know letters were sent out under the Anastasius seal and not from the office of the imperial scribes. Some other hand composed them and in such secrecy that the only fact my cousin could glean was that they were to be delivered by a special messenger to Dorostorum, and since they did not come to you or I, they had to be for Belisarius. He would not throw them away, therefore they must be in his house, unless they went up in that stupid pyre his son built.’

The thought that they might have been consumed by the flames cheered Blastos up somewhat, until Senuthius dismissed the notion as not only fanciful but too risky to assume. The man rambled on as he waddled back and forth with that particular gait all men use who have been heavy from birth, the feet splayed wide to accommodate thighs that could not easily pass each other.