Free Triumph by Jack Ludlow

me once more?’
    The ‘No’, in addition to the sharp shake of the head gave a lie to the statement; his man was irritated, though there was nothing new in that. Flavius actually preferred Procopius to be as he was, somewhat of the opinion that his master required to be guided for his own good, not that he would ever tell him so. As he was honest with Justinian, Procopius was truthful with him.
    At least with all the problems Flavius had his wife was not present; the pair loathed each other, with Antonina convinced that Procopius carried a secret passion for her husband, a notion he refused to believe. There had never been a single incidence since the day they had first encountered each other on the Persian frontier that the man had demonstrated any thoughts that were untoward. Having raised that, it was the next one that was troubling for he could not say the same for his own wife.
    Flavius had to force himself to concentrate as Procopius reread the despatch he had composed, aware it was nothing but the bare truth. He needed either more soldiers or some action elsewhere to draw off Witigis, a breakout in Illyricum or a reversal of the truce the Goths had concluded with the Franks, the pity being that such possibilities could not be raised in writing: Theodora would leap on matters that she saw as being outside his responsibilities to tell her husband to beware.
    ‘I have advised you already to send your own embassy to Clovis,’ Procopius concluded. ‘You are in a position to offer him that which Justinian cannot.’
    ‘No, even what he holds, especially that which Witigis has surrendered to free up his soldiers. Justinian sees such territories as integral to the Roman Empire.’
    ‘Do you believe we can both beat the Goths and fight the Franks?’
    ‘No, but piecemeal, perhaps, and that applies to Hispania as much as Gaul. Anyway, it is of little moment what I believe, what counts is the dreams of our emperor, Procopius, and you know, for I have told you repeatedly, he has harboured those desires since he was a youth.’
    ‘I am aware of your long association.’
    That got a wry smile, given the last word had been carefully chosen. Procopius would never allude, as he might, to friendship, given he thought such a connection to be impossible with any ruler and doublyso with the present incumbent. Yet Flavius and Justinian had known each other a very long time, since the day a young Belisarius had come to Constantinople as a near drifter seeking justice for his father and brothers.
    If that had been achieved it was down to the man he now served. That redress for the murder of his family had involved a deep conspiracy and one in which he had been as ignorant as those against whom it was truly aimed. Such obfuscation counted for little set against the fact that it was an unqualified success, as the power of his family’s nemesis had been utterly destroyed.
    Likewise the elevation of his uncle Justinus from Commander of the Imperial Guard to the purple as Justin the First; that would never have happened without the machinations of the nephew, and if it had been contrived by him for a selfish long-term aim it had been another undoubted achievement. Justinian could conspire like no one Flavius had ever met and sometimes, it had been reasoned, he was inclined to get so embroiled in his machinations he acted against his own best interest.
    ‘What a boon it would be,’ Procopius said, ‘if you could write to the Emperor a letter he would not show to his wife. Perhaps then …’
    The wistful hope was left hanging. Justinian, either through fear or blind trust, Flavius was never sure which, shared everything with Theodora. Mind, she was such a termagant if thwarted he doubted her husband had much choice.
    ‘I need to walk the walls, Procopius. Come with me and send for Photius as well.’
    They were on the parapet when Flavius posed his question: what are our major difficulties? It was the non-military Procopius who