The Singing Sword cc-2

by Jack Whyte

  "Well, you stupid..." I stopped in exasperation, looking around to make sure we were completely alone and could not be overheard. "Plautus, I've known you for a lot of years and I thought I knew all your faults. I know you're a lecherous, bad-tempered, foul-mouthed son of a whore who'd rather fight than fornicate and who'll say 'drink' instead of 'think' every chance he gets, but I never took you for the fool you sound like now. 'The army's not stupid! The army knows what it's doing.' Since when, in the name of the sweet Christ? What kind of puke is that? The army's the biggest mess in the Empire. You've always known that. There aren't enough brains among the entire High Command to plan a route march from one end of a straight road to the other. If the army ever knew what it was doing there would be no need for half of it! So what's this stuff that you're bleating up like a sick sheep? You're feeling sorry for yourself, that's your whole problem!"

  He was gazing at me wide-eyed, taken aback by my vehemence. I charged ahead, allowing him no time to recover his tongue. "You want something worthwhile to do? I'll give you something that's worthwhile!" I cautiously let my voice drop to a confidential tone. "I've got an army of my own at home, crying out for some decent training. It's a small army, but it's getting bigger every day. We're inventing our own techniques, trying out new ideas that have never been tackled before, and we haven't got one piece of dead wood in the entire chain of command! I've got recruits who have never heard of soldiers' rights. They're building fortified camps and marching and drilling the way the legions used to do it a thousand years ago, and they think that's what being a soldier is all about! You think I don't need the kind of help you can provide? You think I can't use your experience? You really think you're that old? That far past being useful?" I stopped and glared at him. He stared at me, speechless.

  "Here's something for you to think about, Plautus. We'll be leaving for home in a couple of days. We don't use money in the Colony. We don't need it. Neither do you. You don't seem to be too happy as a tavern-keeper, so think about this. Why not give your tavern to your partner and come back with us? I'll put you to work so fast you won't have time to think about feeling old or useless."

  He stared at me, and as I watched his eyes, I saw hope starting to glimmer there.

  "You mean that, Varrus?"

  I shook my head pityingly. "If you even have to ask that, you talking rectum, you're even further gone than I thought. What d'you say? Do we have a primus pilus?"

  He nodded, very slowly, and then a great grin crept across his face and murdered years. "You can bet your balls on it, Publius Varrus. You have a primus pilus." His excitement was growing visibly now with every heartbeat. "By the testicles of Ptolemy! When do we leave?"

  I smiled, content. "I don't really know. Tomorrow — the next day. It will be soon. Caius will know. He has some things to arrange with Stilicho's people. I remember him saying something about it last night. As soon as it's done, we'll be leaving. Are you sure, now, that you want to come? No regrets about your tavern?"

  He leaned across the table and grasped my wrist, and I was deeply moved to see tears standing in his eyes. "No regrets, my friend, no regrets. Not ever. Life's too short." He stopped, his eyes crinkling. "Dindo, my partner, will get the runs when I tell him. He won't believe me. He'll think I've lost my grip. He loves the business, but the money was mine. He does most of the work. When I tell him it's all his, he'll shit! Come with me now. Let's tell him. I can't wait to see his face."

  I grinned and finished my fruit juice. "Fine, I've got nothing else to do. Let's go and tell him."

  Later that same afternoon, Caius came to visit me and we talked for hours, mainly about everything that had happened over the previous weeks and my illness. Naturally enough, the talk soon got around to Stilicho, and I wanted to know everything about him, too.

  "How did you find him?" I asked Caius. "Was it difficult to gain an audience?"

  He grinned. "No," he said, "quite the contrary. He sent for me as soon as he received my first communication."

  "And?"

  "He made me welcome."

  "Is that all you're going to tell me? He made you welcome? How? What did he say to you? What did you say to him?"

  Caius affected boredom, drawing his palms languidly down his face. "Well, if you really want to know, I suppose I shall just have to try to remember." He drew his brows together. "But there's no time for that now. He wants to talk to you this afternoon. He has a meeting with his senior officers that is going on right now, and he wants us to meet with him afterwards."

  "Meet with him? Where?"

  "In his quarters. Where else?"

  I felt my eyebrows rise high on my forehead. "Who else will be there?"

  "I don't know. Picus, I suppose. Yourself, and me. Perhaps a few others. It is not a formal occasion. You'll like him — Stilicho, I mean."

  "I like him now. I loved him when he handed down his verdict yesterday."

  Caius smiled. "So did I, I have to admit."

  I felt my eyes widening. "You mean it surprised you? You didn't really know what his judgment would be?"

  Again the smile. "No, I confess I did not, although I suspected what it would be and would, in fact, have wagered on it. But I did not really know it for a certainty."

  I said nothing as Caius went on to tell me about his first meeting with Stilicho, when he had broached the subject of my presence in Londinium and the crimes with which Seneca was charging me. He had received the unmistakable impression, he said, that Stilicho was none too fond of Seneca, although the Regent had said nothing overt on that subject. When he had eventually gone on to tell Stilicho of my true identity, Caius had been astounded to find that Stilicho knew me well by reputation, thanks to Picus.

  Caius had warmed to Stilicho immediately on meeting him, and the attraction had been mutual. Caius had outlined my case in great detail and Stilicho had taken it upon himself to assign his two most trusted assistants to the gathering of information and evidence in preparation for my trial. It was Stilicho who had insisted on maintaining the subterfuge that kept Seneca unaware of my true relationship to the rest of my " accusers." Caius had suspected that Stilicho intended to make Seneca sweat, but he had not thought fit to voice his thoughts on the matter.

  By the time Caius had finished telling me all of this, it was time to make our way to Stilicho's quarters, and again I was aware of the might of Imperial Rome, evidenced by the security and the pomp and dignity surrounding our simple visit at his own invitation.

  Our final approach to the inner sanctum of the Imperial Regent and Legate Commanding the Province of Britain was made along a hall floored in marble that echoed with the sound of our own footsteps and the hobnailed tramp of the trio that escorted us, one ahead of us and one on either side. Twenty-five guards stood at attention on each side of this hallway, spaced three paces apart and resplendent in dress uniforms of imperial scarlet cloaks and plumes, sky-blue tunics and bronzed armour. The massive doors at the end of the hallway were screened by another quintet of sentries, shoulder to shoulder. We were passed through these portals and into the presence of the most powerful man I had ever faced in person.

  Inside, the enormous room was bright and opulent, brilliant with fresh-cut flowers, which surprised me greatly, and heavily scented with their mingled fragrances. I immediately sought the reason for the brightness and saw that great windows filled with tinted glass of many hues allowed the sunlight easy access to the rooms. These were first impressions, instantaneously formed and then disregarded as I found myself subjected to the concerted gaze of a group of magnificently dressed officers clustered around a large table close by the windows. I counted seven of them at first glance, but lost awareness of the lesser six immediately as my eyes singled out the man we had come to see: Flavius Stilicho, Commander-in-Chief of the armies of Imperial Rome, Regent to the young Emperor Honorius.

  Silence had fallen as Caius and I stepped through the doors. The centurion who had led us in saluted smartly, turned on his heel an
d left us standing there. Stilicho acknowledged our presence with a courteous nod, held up two fingers asking our indulgence for a few moments more and continued with his officers, asking them quietly if he had made himself clear? As a man, they stiffened to attention and assured him that he had, and he nodded pleasantly again, indicating that their conference was over. They saluted him, turned and trooped past us to the doors, each of them finding occasion to look at me and take his measure of me in his own way.

  Before the doors had closed behind them, Stilicho was crossing the floor towards me, his great hawk-like eyes upon me alone. I stood rigid, suddenly wondering what the correct mode of address would be to one who held all the power, but not the name, of Emperor. It had not even occurred to me to ask Caius what to call him, face to face like this. He stopped directly in front of me and stared at me, an expression of — what was it? — it seemed like mockery in his eyes. He said nothing, and apart from his approach he made no move to greet me. Flustered and uncomfortable, I cleared my throat nervously and bowed to him, searching frantically for polite words that would not leave me looking or sounding like a fool.

  "Eminence," I said, "I must beg pardon of you, for I have no knowledge of the protocols involved here. I had not expected to be received so personally and, frankly, I had relied upon watching others for example."

  His mouth quirked slightly, the merest tic at one corner, and he slowly extended his right hand to me. The imperial seal was enormous on his ring finger. I stooped to kiss it.

  "No! It is to shake, not to kiss."

  Astonished, I shook with him, feeling the supple strength of his fingers on my wrist. He brought his left hand to my elbow, making the double clasp, and I was even more astounded. Nor did he release me, but instead he leaned close and gazed into my eyes, that same unusual look still in his own.

  "I wonder if you can know, Publius Varrus, how rare it is for me to meet a man for the first time and know that I can trust him and his honour unconditionally? Believe me, it is rare indeed. And now I have had the pleasure of doing so twice in as many weeks."

  I blinked at him. "Eminence?"

  "Eminence!" He smiled and his whole face underwent a total metamorphosis: humour was there, understanding, and an openness I knew instinctively was shown to very few. "Even the term sounds alien on your tongue! Eminence! Call me General. It is what I am, a plain soldier like you and like your friend here, and his son."

  "Picus."

  "Aye, Picus Britannicus." He switched his gaze to Caius. "He is the sunlight of my stormy days." The dark eyes came back to me. "He has told me much about you."

  I felt a glow of pride for Caius, and knew that it was nothing compared to the pride he himself must be feeling for his son. "He serves you well then, General?"

  "Serves me well? Aye, I suppose you might say that. I trust him with my life and with the Emperor's. He is my finest commander of horse and my closest friend." He turned and indicated a large, ornately carved folding screen behind him on my left. "Come, we may sit back here in private. I have made time for you because there is much I want to discuss. We can drink some wine while we converse, but I do have calls to make. You can come with me, if you wish, if the time comes for them before we finish talking."

  We went behind the screen to a comfortably carpeted and furnished cubiculum where he himself poured wine from a silver ewer. As he poured and served us, he continued speaking. "Senator Britannicus, I am being frank with you and I expect no less of you in return. I have had years of frankness from your son, and I've grown used to the oases of refreshment and common sense he serves up to me daily." He seated himself and gestured with his cup in a silent toast before taking a sip. I tasted my own. It was as excellent as one would expect from an imperial ewer. He cocked his head slightly to the side. "I want to talk about your Colony, but you should know before we begin that I know all about it. I have known for years. It is illegal, of course, but I also know the reason behind its existence, and I know the scheduling of its emergence. Or has that changed? Do you still intend to await the evacuation of Britain before you proclaim your independent strength?"

  I saw Caius swallow, hard. "Yes, General. We do."

  "Good. We will talk more on that subject later. Let me get to the crux of this. Claudius Seneca. How much do you really know about the man?"

  Caius considered the question and then answered him truthfully. "Enough to know that he's no credit to the Empire, General. I must admit I was appalled to discover that he was officially in uniform. It seems to me that Rome has troubles enough without burdening herself with such a man in a position of authority."

  Stilicho seemed to be chewing on one of his own teeth, musing. He looked at Caius appraisingly. "Flavius Rufi-nus? What do you know of him?"

  Caius shook his head. "Hardly anything. Only that you and he were not the best of friends and you shared the power of government: he in the east, you in the west."

  A smile flickered in Stilicho's eyes. "Nicely phrased. They are saying in Rome that I had him killed. I did not. That is not my way. He is dead, however, and I am not displeased. Seneca is, or was, one of his creatures, set by Rufinus to keep an eye on me."

  I had to speak, forgetting my awe. I would not have believed it in this man's character to stand for such a thing. "You knew that," I asked, "and yet you still put up with him? Why didn't you get rid of him, General?"

  He grinned at me, a flashing of teeth and eyes. "Politics, Publius Varrus. Something you have neither the time nor the need to deal with. I could not remove him easily while Rufinus lived, for a number of reasons. Now I can, and I intend to, but that is incidental here." He paused and looked at both of us. "You must understand completely what has happened with Seneca. He is not the type of man to volunteer for active service. It was Theodosius who decided to make a soldier out of our friend Claudius, and he did it for two reasons: the first was to demonstrate his power over Valentinian, who was Seneca's mentor and protector; but the second was to demonstrate quite clearly to Seneca that Theodosius was far from satisfied with the resolution of the question of Seneca's loyalty during his term as Procurator here in Britain, up to and including the rebellion of the upstart Magnus Maximus. The reports that Seneca had financed the rebel's bid for the Imperial Purple were convincing and their sources were impressive. There was never any convincing argument put forward against their truthfulness... other than the ultimately convincing one of Seneca's return from the dead, almost, with his accounts and books in perfect order and all monies accounted for..." His voice trailed away, leaving that last thought hanging, and then he resumed.

  "Theodosius remained unconvinced and was at no pains to conceal his lack of conviction. He gave Claudius Seneca a choice: active service with the armies for ten years, or confiscation and forfeiture of all his possessions. No choice at all, in other words. Seneca acceded to the Imperial wishes and was assigned to me for disposition. But there was something, some connection, I don't know what and I don't care, between Seneca and Rufinus. Anyway, Seneca is a very powerful man, with many so-called friends. One of these suggested to me that I assign Seneca to Rufinus, and I was happy to do it. Kept him out of my hair. He stayed with Rufinus for five years, more or less, until Theodosius assigned me as guardian of his son Honorius, when suddenly I found myself under pressure to transfer Seneca to my own command. He came as a spy, pure and simple, but because of the political ramifications involved behind the scenes, there was nothing I could do to relieve myself of the nuisance of his presence without causing great grief and pain to several friends of mine. Aware of that, I tolerated him and made sure that he could do no harm to my designs in any area."

  He stopped and peered into his cup for a short space before raising it to his lips and draining it. Having done so, he wiped his lips carefully with a folded cloth and replaced the cloth on the table with the empty cup. He looked up again, at me, and his eyes were cool.

  "Now Valentinian is gone, Theodosius is gone, and Rufinus is gone. I hold the power no
w, for the time being at least." He paused again, his eyes on mine, and I found myself being thankful that he wished me no ill. He continued speaking. "I have had words with Claudius Seneca since your appearance in our tribunal, Master Varrus. His demeanour has altered quite dramatically since then. I have found some work for him to do for me on the northern frontier. He should find the experience enlightening. Believe me, even were he inclined to pursue the matter further, he will find little time, in future, to worry about his personal vendetta with you."

  I smiled back at him. "Thank you, General. I am relieved to hear that."

  He winked at me, so quickly that I wondered afterward if I had been mistaken, and then turned his attention and the full force of his personality on Caius.

  "Proconsul Britannicus, Picus tells me you love this land more than anywhere else in the world. Now that I am here and have seen the place for myself, I can understand why. I don't think I have ever seen greener greens."

  Caius smiled gently and obviously felt no need to comment. Stilicho rose again and replenished our glasses, and I wondered at the charm of the man. There were servants everywhere, living only to do his bidding, and yet for this interview he chose to be our servant. As I was thinking this, he changed the subject yet again.

  "You are an infantry commander, Proconsul. What do you think of my changeover to cavalry?"

  Caius sipped his wine appreciatively, considering his answer before he spoke. Finally he nodded his head. "The time is right for it, I believe. The enemy has taken to horse and smashed one Roman army. They will try it again."

  "And?" Stilicho's face was intent. Clearly this answer was important to him.

  Caius shrugged his shoulders. "You will be ready for them. Visibly ready. Knowing that, they will be less likely to provoke you."

  Stilicho looked at me, although his thoughts were elsewhere. "It is a major undertaking, Proconsul, to change an Empire's ways of waging war."

  "Aye, General Stilicho, some might think it impossible, too. But it is far from impossible, and I believe you are right to do it." Caius spoke softly, and Stilicho jerked his eyes back to him, searching his face as though looking for signs of flattery.