disgrace.’
‘And he’s …’
‘He knows every secret in that palace, everyone’s – and he can tell us how to get to the Emperor.’
Not far from the massive red-striped Thedosian Walls, nearly hidden among an olive grove on a small estate, was their quarry. It had been several hours’ walk under the hot sun and Nicander, in his best tunic, with Marius as presentable as could be contrived, stopped to rest.
‘Remember, let me do the talking. This is the most famous money man of the age and won’t be accustomed to plain speaking.’
‘If it please y’ highness,’ Marius replied in mock grovel, hoping it hid his nervousness at the prospect of addressing a minister of state, however fallen.
Nicander too felt apprehension. This was their only chance and he would need all his merchant’s cunning and guile to bring off their objective.
This was the man who’d, in his day, wielded his power directly under the Emperor and who was even said to have run a private prison within the Praetorium for the torture and execution of offenders in the matter of their tax affairs.
How would he take a visit from the likes of themselves?
There was a high fence around the modest villa with a gate that led through to a garden arbour then into a courtyard. Nicander took a deep breath andstrode forward as if he had every right to, Marius at his side.
In one silent, deadly move the apparition of a northern barbarian sprang in front of them, lank-haired, clad in wolfskin and leather and with wild eyes. A hatchet leapt magically into his hands.
‘To see His Excellency,’ stammered Nicander. A sharp call came from inside the courtyard and the guard stepped aside reluctantly.
There was a table under the dappled shade of a latticed fig tree spread with a simple meal: a jug of wine, olives, bread and honey cakes. A man sat there, a sheaf of notes beside him. A dog cringed beneath his feet, its eyes only on him.
Nicander approached with as much confidence as he could muster. ‘Two gentlemen desiring to consult with His Eminence John the Cappadocian.’
There was no doubting that this was he – a near-feral presence radiated from the man, terrifying, unnerving. He was repellently corpulent and dressed in a short chlamys that left his fat legs, hairy and gross, thrust out naked before him. But his eyes gleamed with a fierce intelligence.
‘You’re a colonial Greek – a merchant, I suspect. And your friend is an exile Latin. I wonder why you came?’ he pondered. ‘If it’s to gloat over my fall then please be aware I shall ask Wulfstan to first break your heads and then throw you out, but I fancy it’s for some other reason. Am I right?
‘And if you’re thinking to sell me some oriental nostrum then I’m gracious enough to allow you a ten-second start before Wulfstan comes after you,’ he added with a cruel smile.
Nicander gulped. ‘Sire. We come for quite another purpose.’
‘Oh? Go on.’
‘On a concern that if it came to a true conclusion would be of profit to us both.’
‘You’re not being very clear, but continue.’
‘I – we seek advice in the matter of a business venture of some degree of delicacy that Your Excellency is well placed indeed to advise.’
‘I see. Would this be connected with my knowledge of the Byzantine court by any chance?’
‘Sir, I will be plain with you.’
‘That would be a splendid start.’
‘We have a scheme that promises to be of great benefit to the Emperor but requires first we approach him for funding.’
‘Ah, me. And I’d hoped the day would bring me diversion of a more worthy nature.’
The dog whined softly. He kicked it.
‘Sire, it’s to be—’
‘If you had any notion of how often I’ve heard those words you’d pity me with all your heart, you really would.’
‘But sir, this is truly a great opportunity,’ Nicander pressed. ‘A once in a lifetime chance!’
John the Cappadocian yawned, patting his mouth in mock politeness.
Marius
‘And he’s …’
‘He knows every secret in that palace, everyone’s – and he can tell us how to get to the Emperor.’
Not far from the massive red-striped Thedosian Walls, nearly hidden among an olive grove on a small estate, was their quarry. It had been several hours’ walk under the hot sun and Nicander, in his best tunic, with Marius as presentable as could be contrived, stopped to rest.
‘Remember, let me do the talking. This is the most famous money man of the age and won’t be accustomed to plain speaking.’
‘If it please y’ highness,’ Marius replied in mock grovel, hoping it hid his nervousness at the prospect of addressing a minister of state, however fallen.
Nicander too felt apprehension. This was their only chance and he would need all his merchant’s cunning and guile to bring off their objective.
This was the man who’d, in his day, wielded his power directly under the Emperor and who was even said to have run a private prison within the Praetorium for the torture and execution of offenders in the matter of their tax affairs.
How would he take a visit from the likes of themselves?
There was a high fence around the modest villa with a gate that led through to a garden arbour then into a courtyard. Nicander took a deep breath andstrode forward as if he had every right to, Marius at his side.
In one silent, deadly move the apparition of a northern barbarian sprang in front of them, lank-haired, clad in wolfskin and leather and with wild eyes. A hatchet leapt magically into his hands.
‘To see His Excellency,’ stammered Nicander. A sharp call came from inside the courtyard and the guard stepped aside reluctantly.
There was a table under the dappled shade of a latticed fig tree spread with a simple meal: a jug of wine, olives, bread and honey cakes. A man sat there, a sheaf of notes beside him. A dog cringed beneath his feet, its eyes only on him.
Nicander approached with as much confidence as he could muster. ‘Two gentlemen desiring to consult with His Eminence John the Cappadocian.’
There was no doubting that this was he – a near-feral presence radiated from the man, terrifying, unnerving. He was repellently corpulent and dressed in a short chlamys that left his fat legs, hairy and gross, thrust out naked before him. But his eyes gleamed with a fierce intelligence.
‘You’re a colonial Greek – a merchant, I suspect. And your friend is an exile Latin. I wonder why you came?’ he pondered. ‘If it’s to gloat over my fall then please be aware I shall ask Wulfstan to first break your heads and then throw you out, but I fancy it’s for some other reason. Am I right?
‘And if you’re thinking to sell me some oriental nostrum then I’m gracious enough to allow you a ten-second start before Wulfstan comes after you,’ he added with a cruel smile.
Nicander gulped. ‘Sire. We come for quite another purpose.’
‘Oh? Go on.’
‘On a concern that if it came to a true conclusion would be of profit to us both.’
‘You’re not being very clear, but continue.’
‘I – we seek advice in the matter of a business venture of some degree of delicacy that Your Excellency is well placed indeed to advise.’
‘I see. Would this be connected with my knowledge of the Byzantine court by any chance?’
‘Sir, I will be plain with you.’
‘That would be a splendid start.’
‘We have a scheme that promises to be of great benefit to the Emperor but requires first we approach him for funding.’
‘Ah, me. And I’d hoped the day would bring me diversion of a more worthy nature.’
The dog whined softly. He kicked it.
‘Sire, it’s to be—’
‘If you had any notion of how often I’ve heard those words you’d pity me with all your heart, you really would.’
‘But sir, this is truly a great opportunity,’ Nicander pressed. ‘A once in a lifetime chance!’
John the Cappadocian yawned, patting his mouth in mock politeness.
Marius
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