husband away – in case he should win a popular victory over Totila the Ostrogoth?’ She smiled. ‘May I offer you some advice?
‘Barsymes is entirely corrupt and there’s nothing he will not stoop to. Trust him no further than you can spit. Avoid the palace like the plague – it’s a cesspit of betrayal and intrigue. There are some like Peter the Patrician who are straight enough, but he’s an emperor’s man to his gizzard. And Marcellus – thick as a short plank, always gets the wrong end of the stick. But dangerous. He’s Count of Excubitors, which means he’s in charge of protection for the Emperor, which gives him a lot of power.’
She paused, then added, ‘But Justinian is the one to fear. Been on the throne for years and years and knows all the tricks. Since poor Theodora passed on, he’s turned sullen and unpredictable and the whole empire is heaving with spies. But then of course you don’t have to worry about him now, do you?’
There were sounds of movement below. ‘Oh, that sounds like Belisarius. You must dine with us!’
Struck dumb by the giddy speed of events, Nicander could only nod an agreement.
‘Antonina?’ came a voice on the stairs.
‘Here, my love.’
She turned to them both and urgently whispered, ‘I wouldn’t mention the last detail of your venture, it would confuse him.’
‘No, Lady,’ Nicander promised fervently.
Belisarius was grey-haired but clear-eyed and still in glittering parade armour. ‘Ah, you have guests?’
‘Two gentlemen on a holy mission, my dear.’
‘Then the least we can do is offer them the hospitality of our table.’
They descended the stone stairs and emerged into the courtyard, Antonina on her husband’s arm as they crossed toward the triclinium, the dining room. Slaves were already carrying silver pitchers of conditum and ornate platters of exotic food there.
But before they could begin the meal a dozen soldiers crashed into view, weapons drawn.
Belisarius’s sword leapt into his hand and he thrust Antonina behind him.
An officer in a crimson cloak called imperiously from the doorway. ‘General Belisarius, you are taken, sir.’
Seeing him, Antonina came out from behind her husband. ‘Marcellus! You gave us such a fright. What is going on?’
‘Stand aside, Lady Antonina. I mean to put the general to the question!’
‘What in Hades are you talking about, Marcellus?’ Belisarius roared. ‘You break into my house and—’
‘You’ve been fairly caught, sir! Consorting with known plotters! You’ll come peacefully or—’
Antonina stormed up to Marcellus. ‘You fool!’ she threw in his face. ‘You never stop to think, do you! The greatest and most loyal commander in Justinian’s army and you’d risk your own standing with His Majesty by arresting him? Where do you keep your brains – in your boots?’
‘I must have answers to my questions, My Lady,’ he replied, his cheeks turning red.
‘Then you’ll not get them from Belisarius the Goth-slayer! Get out of here, you oaf.’
Hesitating for a moment, Marcellus lowered his sword. ‘Well, I’ll take these two and wring the truth from ’em – then I’ll be back!’
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Frogmarched to the bowels of the Grand Palace, they were fettered to dank, slimy walls. The icy grip of the chains broke through Nicander’s paralysis of unreality. The guttering light of an oil lamp illuminated instruments of pain and the merciless face of the torturer.
Excubitor Marcellus waited impatiently for the soldiers to leave then crossed to them. ‘Now, I’ve not much time to waste on filth like you. Make it easy for me and you can have it quick and clean – tell me lies and I’ll let Khosrau loose. Understood?’
He leant forward until he was inches from them. ‘You’ve been skulking about, first in John the Cappadocian’s villa, then Magister Peter Barsymes is seen being very amiable towards you – this is not his way towards low-life. Then I’m brought
‘Barsymes is entirely corrupt and there’s nothing he will not stoop to. Trust him no further than you can spit. Avoid the palace like the plague – it’s a cesspit of betrayal and intrigue. There are some like Peter the Patrician who are straight enough, but he’s an emperor’s man to his gizzard. And Marcellus – thick as a short plank, always gets the wrong end of the stick. But dangerous. He’s Count of Excubitors, which means he’s in charge of protection for the Emperor, which gives him a lot of power.’
She paused, then added, ‘But Justinian is the one to fear. Been on the throne for years and years and knows all the tricks. Since poor Theodora passed on, he’s turned sullen and unpredictable and the whole empire is heaving with spies. But then of course you don’t have to worry about him now, do you?’
There were sounds of movement below. ‘Oh, that sounds like Belisarius. You must dine with us!’
Struck dumb by the giddy speed of events, Nicander could only nod an agreement.
‘Antonina?’ came a voice on the stairs.
‘Here, my love.’
She turned to them both and urgently whispered, ‘I wouldn’t mention the last detail of your venture, it would confuse him.’
‘No, Lady,’ Nicander promised fervently.
Belisarius was grey-haired but clear-eyed and still in glittering parade armour. ‘Ah, you have guests?’
‘Two gentlemen on a holy mission, my dear.’
‘Then the least we can do is offer them the hospitality of our table.’
They descended the stone stairs and emerged into the courtyard, Antonina on her husband’s arm as they crossed toward the triclinium, the dining room. Slaves were already carrying silver pitchers of conditum and ornate platters of exotic food there.
But before they could begin the meal a dozen soldiers crashed into view, weapons drawn.
Belisarius’s sword leapt into his hand and he thrust Antonina behind him.
An officer in a crimson cloak called imperiously from the doorway. ‘General Belisarius, you are taken, sir.’
Seeing him, Antonina came out from behind her husband. ‘Marcellus! You gave us such a fright. What is going on?’
‘Stand aside, Lady Antonina. I mean to put the general to the question!’
‘What in Hades are you talking about, Marcellus?’ Belisarius roared. ‘You break into my house and—’
‘You’ve been fairly caught, sir! Consorting with known plotters! You’ll come peacefully or—’
Antonina stormed up to Marcellus. ‘You fool!’ she threw in his face. ‘You never stop to think, do you! The greatest and most loyal commander in Justinian’s army and you’d risk your own standing with His Majesty by arresting him? Where do you keep your brains – in your boots?’
‘I must have answers to my questions, My Lady,’ he replied, his cheeks turning red.
‘Then you’ll not get them from Belisarius the Goth-slayer! Get out of here, you oaf.’
Hesitating for a moment, Marcellus lowered his sword. ‘Well, I’ll take these two and wring the truth from ’em – then I’ll be back!’
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Frogmarched to the bowels of the Grand Palace, they were fettered to dank, slimy walls. The icy grip of the chains broke through Nicander’s paralysis of unreality. The guttering light of an oil lamp illuminated instruments of pain and the merciless face of the torturer.
Excubitor Marcellus waited impatiently for the soldiers to leave then crossed to them. ‘Now, I’ve not much time to waste on filth like you. Make it easy for me and you can have it quick and clean – tell me lies and I’ll let Khosrau loose. Understood?’
He leant forward until he was inches from them. ‘You’ve been skulking about, first in John the Cappadocian’s villa, then Magister Peter Barsymes is seen being very amiable towards you – this is not his way towards low-life. Then I’m brought
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