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well-nigh exhausted.”
       He gave her an evil look, narrowing his eyes when he spotted Theodosius, but said nothing. The general’s regard for his wife was well-known – indeed, it degraded him in the eyes of many – and even in his rage he would not rebuke or contradict her in public.
       “King Vitiges has sent three ambassadors to Rome, asking for a truce,” he said, calming a little, “I have granted it. For the present, hostilities have ceased. Hence I was able to ride here tonight.”
       He turned to John. “I came to urge you to bring your supplies into the city with all speed, while the truce lasts. It must be done now. Tonight. The Goths cannot be trusted, and may betray us at any moment.”
       John spread his hands. “Now, sir? But our oxen are exhausted, and in any case the only road available to us is narrow and in poor repair. Our wagons cannot travel along it safely at any great speed.”
       “You have a fleet, man,” Belisarius said impatiently, “use boats to transport the supplies.”
       “But they would have to be towed upriver, sir,” replied John, “the only road that follows the stream is on the northern bank, in the hands of the enemy.”
       I should have known better than to intervene, but wanted to impress Belisarius, and remind him of my presence.
       “We could use our sails,” I said, stepping forward, “and turn to oars when the wind drops.”
       John regarded me with disdain. “The Goths will be p atrolling the northern bank. Regardless of the truce, do you think they will simply let us sail along the Tiber into Rome? Our crews would have to negotiate a hail of arrows.”
       An idea struck me. “Then protect the rowers with shields and wooden mantlets. The Goths have no vessels of their own, and can do nothing but shoot at us. ”
       The ghost of a smile appeared on Belisarius’ ravaged features. “I should make you a general,” he said, pointing at me, “perhaps I will yet. ”
       “I made the Briton a centenar, sir,” said John, giving me an evil look, “a temporary command, of course.”
        Belisarius nodded. “I confirm the appointment,” he said, “with all my heart. If only all my officers were so dependable as Coel, and so loyal.”
       He called for a remount, and changed horses while I gently swelled with pride. I had never craved officer rank, particularly, but it was something to be rewarded for my efforts, and to know I still basked in the general’s favour.
       I glanced sidelong at Antonina, wondering at her thoughts. Her soft grey eyes briefly rested on me, and then flickered away, their secrets veiled. Theodosius, I noticed, had taken a step back from her divan, and studiously avoided looking at her. That young man, I thought, would soon have to cause to regret stepping into the viper’s bed.
       Belisarius rode back to Rome, leaving his officers to arrange the transport of the convoy. John wasted no time in rousing the men, ignoring their grumbling and swearing, and ordered them to load the smallest of our boats with provisions.
       I was told to oversee the construction of wooden mantlets to protect the rowers.
       “It was your idea, general ,” John snarled at me, “and can be your responsibility. If none of our vessels make it to Rome, I will make sure part of the blame falls on your shoulders.”
       Once again I had succeeded in alienating an important man. Procopius might have remarked again on my talent for making enemies among the rich and powerful, but he had returned to Rome with Belisarius.
       The river was narrow and winding, and there was no wind. Our boats rowed through the darkness in single file. John placed me in the first boat, doubtless in the hope that a Gothic arrow would find its way into my gullet.
       I stood beside the steersman, shivering in the chill night air and straining my eyes to look for signs of movement on the northern bank.
       “They cannot fail to