Honour Read Free Page B

reluctance of his companion was obvious, he having taken a position that he had no wish to relinquish. ‘You go, then.’
    The man declined to move; he merely yelled out the alarm and that brought out of the barrack room under the gatehouse a whole file of running Excubitors, many fiddling with old-style breastplates that had been loosened for comfort. From his cubicle inside the gate it also brought forth their officer who, looking like thunder when he could observe no reason for apprehension, strode right up, passing his now parading guard detail, to stand between the two sentinels.
    ‘What in the name of Christ risen is going on?’
    ‘The prodigal returns, Domnus Articus,’ Flavius said, lifting off his helmet, ‘that is what is going on.’
    That got a close if unfriendly look, one that slowly changed to recognition as he saw that the face before him was familiar, though last been seen with the spots of puberty still showing. Now it belonged to a grown man, and if unblemished, had been rendered very dark by exposure to the sun and the growth of a trim beard.
    ‘Is it you, Flavius?’
    ‘In the flesh.’
    ‘Then the Sassanids did not manage to kill you?’
    ‘They tried.’
    Domnus stepped forward making as if to embrace Flavius, only to stop and look him up and down. If the men on guard were polished in their accoutrements, then as an Excubitor officer Domnus was positively sleek. Flavius laughed at his fears, that some of the muck on his body might take the sheen off an old comrade, a fellow who had been inducted into the unit at the same time as he.
    ‘Wait till I have bathed and changed, my friend.’
    ‘That I will, Flavius,’ Domnus replied, before turning, clearly intent on berating the sentinels. That was cut off by the man to whom they had barred entry.
    ‘Your men did a fine job, Domnus, don’t you think?’ That stopped their officer and he turned halfway back. ‘Can’t allow entry to any dusty fellow, regardless of who he claims to be.’
    The two guards, still seeking to stay rigid, did react, but in such a way it took a very acute look to spot it, no more than a grateful flick of the eyelids. Domnus intended to chastise them and he was not to be entirely deflected, though Flavius suspected his tone was moremoderate that it would have been without his intervention.
    ‘This man is an officer in the imperial military yet I do not see your spears at the salute.’ Both tips shot forward in unison as the shafts were presented on rigid, extended right arms. ‘Better, but late. Come, Flavius, let one of my men see to your horse, for I know our general will be eager to see you.’
    ‘Not like this, I think.’
    ‘No, it will be a long time since he smelt the likes of you.’
    The
comes Excubitorum
had many duties, the primary one to ensure that his emperor was never at risk of assassination, but his responsibilities extended to guarding all the high officials in a palace spread over a great area. Justinus took his duties very seriously, and was therefore always, throughout the day, on the move to ensure all was as it should be. When Flavius, bathed and properly dressed in clothing taken from the chest he had left behind two years previously, presented himself at the apartments his mentor occupied, he did not find his patron present, only his nephew.
    ‘At last, Flavius!’ Petrus Sabbatius exclaimed. ‘I feared that you had got lost or murdered by thieves on the way.’
    When you have not seen someone you know well for two years it is natural to look for changes and this Flavius did, though he could discern nothing meaningful when it came to Petrus. He still had a thin frame and face as well as that habit of canting his head to one side when thinking, while his reddish hair was yet untidy. Not a man to smile often, Petrus was doing so now, exposing his unevenly spaced teeth.
    ‘Not killed by the Persians?’
    ‘That I never thought would happen. Is not there a guardian angel ever on your