03 Death Of The Innocent by Culley H A

Author:Culley, H A [Culley, H A]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Orchard House Publishing
Published: 2015-08-08T22:00:00+00:00

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Artorus had been entranced by the battle and dreamed of being a cavalryman, like his father had been, when he was older. Tertius smiled at his enthusiasm. It seemed as if his friend had finally been able to move on after Flavius’ death. Titus watched his animated son and relief washed over him. It would be a mistake for him to continue in the navy; he would ask Constantine to place him as an adiutor to one of the cavalry commanders. Then, when he was older, he could join the Scholae Palatinae and train as a cavalry officer. He would ask Tertius if he wanted to transfer with him; he didn’t think that they’d want to be separated.

Three days later the army was encamped before Nicomedia and Constantine threw a victory feast. Tomorrow he would start negotiations for the surrender of the city and about the fate of Licinius and Martinian, but tonight he intended to get uproariously drunk.

Titus was pleasantly merry, but not inebriated, when he realised that there was an argument going on near where Constantine was sitting. He staggered to his feet to see what was going on and realised that the emperor was railing at his magister equitum.

‘What’s going on,’ he asked the person lounging on the couch next to him.

‘That fool has just toasted Crispus as the victor of Chrysopolis and the Augustus didn’t take it well.’

Titus looked back and recoiled from the fury he saw on Constantine’s face.

‘It was my victory, you hear, mine. Not my son’s, not yours, mine.’

He struggled to regain control of himself and he clutched his son’s shoulder to remain upright, his unsteadiness partly due to the wound in his leg which still troubled him, but mainly because he was drunk.

‘I don’t want to see your face ever again. Go back to Umbria, or wherever it is you come from, and stay there. If I see you tomorrow you’re a dead man.’

Constantine slumped back on his couch, rubbing the bandages over his thigh, and reached for his goblet again, scowling at his son. Titus threw the contents of his own goblet down his neck and held it out for Gunderic to refill whilst the former magister equitum beat a hasty retreat. Titus heard later that he had crossed back over the Bosphorus on a supply ship shortly after dawn, accompanied by his slaves and his son, a tribune in the cavalry.

Titus awoke the next morning with a raging hangover and decided to stay in bed until he felt better. Gunderic had just fetched him a fresh pitcher of water, resisting the temptation to snigger, when Artorus and Tertius came into his tent with Dagenhard hovering uncertainly in the background. His son was looking worried and didn’t say anything for a moment, then hesitantly he told his father that the emperor wanted to see him.

‘Crispus?’

‘No, the Augustus, father,’

‘Oh! I wonder what he wants. I suppose I had better go and find out.’

Everyone had heard what had transpired at the feast and Artorus was nervous that somehow his father had also fallen into disfavour.

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