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nobleman, it was possible he could marry into the patrician class and become connected to one of those ancient families that had filled the high offices of state for centuries and had deep prosperity to prove it. There were many of that class, if not all, who saw the brood to which Justinus belonged, his wife Lupicina included, as Thracian peasants and barely sought to temper their condescension.
    Petrus did not care but his uncle and father did, sure that it was the only way to secure the future success of a bloodline ascended to eminence only by the military prowess of the present
comes Excubitorum,
who had risen through the ranks to become a successful and much lauded general. In his elevation to his present senior position, Vigilantia, sister to Justinus, had risen on his cloak tails and had made for herself an advantageous marriage. She was keen to embed the family in the higher ranks of the populace.
    Their great hope was not in the least interested, openly stating that he found the scented daughters of the patrician class vapid and dull and besides that he was only ever considered marital material by those families on the way down. Either that or they had daughters already passed over for a lack of comeliness or with some obvious physical flaw.
    Torture for Petrus was to sit and dine in the surroundings of such a family, where no chance was avoided to remind the guest of theircenturies of high birth. The fathers and brothers would go out of their way to show both learning and erudition by quoting classical texts, as if scholarship compensated for having no worthwhile position in the imperial bureaucracy.
    ‘Tonight,’ Petrus exclaimed, standing up, ‘I will forgo my usual pleasures. How can I not stay to break bread with Flavius newly returned?’
    The youngster looked at Justinus then, to see if he had taken that at face value, which Flavius had decidedly not. Petrus was not one for hearty male companionship either, only truly happy in the company of hard-drinking Excubitor officers, low life and whores, more at ease in the brothels and taverns of the dock area than the villas of the upper orders. If he was forgoing that there would be a reason other than manners.
    ‘That is as it should be,’ Justinus responded forcefully, proving that if he was a good, nay brilliant soldier and as upright as a man could be, he lacked perception when he was being teased by his close relative. Flavius was again treated to another wide grin that followed by a hearty military slap. ‘Look at you, boy, skin and bone on army provisions. You need feeding up!’
    Later, as they dined, Petrus made a good fist of hiding his boredom, there being no subject to air other than the military one. If he became fully engaged at all it was when Flavius began to talk of Dara and the progress of the building of the fortifications. Anastasius had personally chosen the site, only three leagues from the Sassanid fortified city of Nisibis, the forward base from which King Kavadh had previously launched his attacks on Roman territory.
    ‘Which is what we should do, Uncle, use Dara as a base for aggression not just defence. Otherwise it is a waste of our treasure.’
    ‘Anastasius wants peace,’ Justinus replied, with a tone of weariness that suggested it was a statement not entirely to his liking. ‘And nearing his ninth decade you can see why that would be. He is not one to waste money, as you know, but this to him is a saving on buying off the Sassanids every ten years with talents of gold. He hopes, with such a strong fortress that the Sassanids dare not pass by, to make the game not worth the candle.’
    The response was very animated for a man normally very much in control of himself; Petrus positively spat back. ‘They only attack when Kavadh runs out of the funds he needs to bribe his tribal leaders and keep them from seeking to depose him. What do we do? Pay up and keep him alive as a threat.’
    ‘And if they did depose him would his