A Flame in Byzantium

A FLAME IN BYZANTIUM

Olivia Book 1

By Chelsea Quinn Yarbro

PART I

Belisarius

Text of a dispatch to Belisarius near Roma.

Hail to the General Belisarius on the feast of the Holy Spirit in the Lord's Year 545.

We have scouted the villages around Roma as you have required us to do and it is agreed that siege is the intention of Totila. His forces have already attempted it with some success, which has given these barbarians a taste of success.

Drosos has taken a small party of five men and is currently foraging. The local farmers do not welcome us, claiming that we are as bad as the Ostrogoth fighters, which has already caused a few unfortunate events that we were unable to avoid. The foraging is necessary for Totila's men have reduced the game in the countryside, otherwise we would not be driven to this extremity.

There is a monastery not far from here, and the monks are cenobites, and so are little help to us. We have not been able to persuade them to provide us more than a shelter from the rain, and that was granted grudgingly. Some other arrangements are necessary if we are going to be able to remain in the field for much longer, as we had intended to do. We will await your instructions before moving on.

Two days ago we encountered an Ostrogoth scouting party of considerable strength and from what we were able to overhear, they are part of a larger contingent sent to establish themselves with the peasants so that they will be supported when they strengthen their assault on Roma itself. We are trying to gain confirmation on this now, but we do not expect to have more information for some little time since you specifically ordered that we were not to engage these men in combat, no matter how much we might wish to do so. It was no easy thing to have the enemy close at hand and to do little more than cower in bushes and listen like slaves at a keyhole.

We pray that God will continue to aid Roma, no matter how she has fallen into evil, and that it will be given to us to save her from the rapine and pillage of these barbarians. Surely if God can pardon all sin, He will rescue this whore of a city as He welcomed the harlot Maria into the company of Heaven.

From the hand of Captain Chrysanthos and carried by the man-at-arms Iakobos, two hours before sunset.

1

At Neapolis there was chaos as those who could flee Roma came to this port seeking escape. Carts, wagons, litters, and every beast of burden had been pressed into use for the rout, and reports from Belisarius' forces indicated that the flood of refugees ran all the way back to the walls of Roma itself.

"What has become of the Romans, that they do this?" Belisarius asked the officer who rode beside him against the surge of terrified humanity.

Drosos shrugged. "They're frightened. Small wonder."

"Romans were supposed to be made of sterner stuff than this," Belisarius said, a faint regret in his words. He shielded his eyes against the sun and squinted down the road through the dust.

"Perhaps they were once," said Drosos, dragging on the reins to keep from running into a heavily laden oxcart.

His horse quivered with dread as the vehicle lumbered by them.

"That beast of yours is as bad as the Romans," said Belisarius, doing his best to make light of the situation now that he was faced with it. "The Emperor will be disgusted to learn of this. I hope we can give him a better report of Roma itself once we arrive there."

"Do you still intend to go there?" Drosos asked, sweating with the effort to hold his mount.

"I am ordered to do so. And I confess that I want to see if any of the old Roman virtues still survive in the people. Surely they can't all be running away, can they?" Belisarius was not a big man, but he sat a horse like a giant and he carried himself like one of the most noble. There were lines around his eyes and his mouth was framed by deep creases.

Drosos was a stockier version of his General, and his junior by eight years. He was as steadfast as Belisarius was forceful and as such was an ideal subordinate and Captain. "What are the plans now?"

"We leave for Roma at first light tomorrow." He said it as calmly as if he had discussed the weather or the breed of horse he rode.

"Who rides with you?" As always when he asked such questions, Drosos had to fight the urge to hold his breath as he waited for the answer.

"You, of course, and one or two others; I haven't decided who yet." He indicated a group of monks in filthy habits. "Even they are leaving. What does that say of their faith and devotion? How can the Romans claim any right to the favor of God if His servants fly with the rest of the people?"

"Totila has not been kind to monks and priests," Drosos offered, embarrassed for the religious men whose vocation had shown itself to be so inadequate.

"And the people of Judah chose Barabbas over Our Lord," said Belisarius more sternly, not willing to excuse the cowardice he saw.

Drosos had no answer for this; he busied himself with his horse and with watching the wretched parade that wound from the gates of Neapolis to the quays.

At nightfall, when the gates had to be closed, there were many hundreds of people still on the road, and they made what little they could of this, some banding together to make a more secure camp to afford some protection from the Ostrogoths as well as from the other Romans. All along the branch of the Via Latina the way was marked with cooking fires and makeshift tents, and the sounds and odors crowded together in the air.

A delegation from the city of Neapolis visited Belisarius early in the night. They were exhausted men, most of them wary and a few angry with what had befallen their home.

"We are thankful to the Emperor for sending his aid," began the oldest, who boasted his family went back to the time of the ancient Roman Republic.

Belisarius recognized the note of disapproval in the man's tone and he raised his eyes from the report that had been handed to him only moments before. "Yes? What are your objections?"

"They are not objections, precisely, General," the man said, glancing at his companions uneasily.

"Then what are they?" Belisarius sensed that the visit would be a long one unless he brought the others to the point as soon as possible.

"Reservations," said the oldest man. "We are concerned, as you must be yourself. There are so many people leaving Roma and while we are willing to do what we can for them, we haven't the room or the supplies to care for all of them."

"And what supplies we have are already reduced," added one of the others. "We cannot continue to give out food and cloth at the rate we have been doing. It isn't possible."

Belisarius looked at the men before him and tried to find a virtue in them that reflected all he had been told of Roma in her days of glory. He could find nothing but exhaustion and the venality that was the chief complaint of most of those who dealt with Romans in these days. "What do you propose?" he asked them patiently.

The youngest scratched his head and flicked away lice. "We need to know what the situation is—what we really have on hand and how much of it we can spare. We must find out what the farmers can actually supply us and how safe the crops will be once Totila and his forces arrive."

"Wait," said Belisarius, holding up his hand to halt the stream of words. "There is no indication that you have to fear Totila will get this far, and I tell you from experience that you cannot anticipate everything that happens in a campaign."

"We must be prudent," said the oldest. "You may not think that we are putting up the kind of resistance that you and the Emperor would like, but we have families and businesses and trade to fill our time, and we're not eager to see our children starve, no matter who rules in Roma or in Constantinople, and you may tell the Emperor that. It is not treason to want to preserve our lives and the lives of our families. According to what you and the others say, that is what Justinian wishes to do." He folded his arms, revealing two long tears in the threadbare silk.

"It is what all of us wish to do," Belisarius said wearily. "Your goals are no different than those of the Emperor; we work to the same ends."

"That may be," said the youngest, his expression blank with disapproval. "But what can we do to save our children? Whether the Emperor agrees or not, we must look to our own welfare or see our families without shelter and food."

"Yes," said the one with the darkest beard.

Belisarius nodded. He had seen hungry children all over Italy. "We will do all that we must to insure that as few as possible are lost."

"Fine words," scoffed the oldest man. "But it will not feed our children or save our houses." He glared at Belisarius and did not bother to appear respectful.

"What do you wish me to do, good citizens?" Belisarius inquired, rubbing his aching eyes as he spoke. "Tell me."

This was what they had been waiting for; the youngest took a step closer and said, "We want to keep the gates closed in the morning so that we can take time to find out how much there truly is in the city. We need to discover how much food is left, where there is room for more people to be housed, where there can be more animals stalled and fed, how much water is left, what clothing is available—"

The one with the darkest beard interrupted him. "There are also slaves and servants to deal with. Most of those coming from Roma are not wealthy, but they are bringing their goods and chattels with them, and all must be considered if we are going to be able to plan for any of them."

"And," the oldest went on with a nod to the others, "there are those who need to find out what has been taken, what is missing, and where the thieves are taking their booty. The price of certain foods has already more than doubled, and I have spoken with the Guard Tribune who has said that they cannot stem the tide. With so many fleeing, all a thief has to say is that he bought an item from one of the Romans on the road; unless there is good reason to doubt him, no one will question such a statement. For one thing, no one has the time to carry on an investigation, and for another the Guard has more to do than inspect baggage for contraband and loot."

A fourth man, very lean and wearing the most elaborate palmata wound over his tunica, spoke at last. "There are slaves escaping, too. Some have killed their owners and taken treasure, confident that all they need do is remove their collars to be free of their state and the consequences of their acts."

Absentmindedly Belisarius fingered the metal torque around his neck that indicated his rank, thinking—and not for the first time—that it was oddly appropriate that his rank and a slave's should be indicated by a collar. That his was studded with amber did not alter its impact for him. "Most slaves are branded, aren't they? They can be rid of the collars, but not of the brands." Under his bracchae his legs were scarred, a General's brand, he told himself.

"But the brands are on the thigh or upper arm. It would mean another inspection," pointed out the oldest. "I believe Lepidius is correct, that there are slaves taking advantage of this troubled time to flee, but there are others, certainly there are others legitimately seeking their owners and trying to conduct themselves according to the laws of God and man."

"It isn't practical to inspect every person coming through the city's gates," allowed the one monk in the group.

"It isn't practical to permit the kind of influx we have, but no one is concerned about that," said the one called Lepidius.

"What would be the point?" asked Belisarius. "The problem is already upon us, and there is nothing to change that. No one can ignore it, and for that reason, we must deal with it." He stretched out his legs and crossed them at the ankles, feeling the leather rub against his skin. Years ago he would have found blisters when his boots were removed, but now there were calluses on his hands and feet that prevented this. "Let me say that it would not be wise to close the city tomorrow, no matter how sensible the plan may appear to you."

"Why not?" demanded the youngest man. "Are you unwilling to spare the men to aid us?" His face darkened with the accusation.

"No," said Belisarius, although this was not completely true. "No, I am thinking of what would happen when you opened the gates once more. There would be a riot at the least, for there are those outside the gates more desperate than you. They are without homes and they are hungry. Most of them would not hesitate to seize anything they needed from what they can find here, and the longer they are denied, the more forceful they will be when the chance is afforded them."

"And you think that troops would not deter them?" asked the one with the darkest beard.

"I think that an army would not deter them," said Belisarius. "They have nothing to lose. You have much at risk. Therefore they will do more than you to get what they need. What is the threat of a lance if you have not eaten for two days? At most it ends your hunger, at least it—"

"We will close and bar our houses," the youngest assured the General.

"That will give protection of a kind for a while, until someone breaks down the door, and then there will be worse carnage than there might have been at first," Belisarius said. "I have seen this before, and I will see it again many times before I die, if God grants me life."

"Does that mean you will do nothing?"

"Lepidius," said Belisarius, grateful that he had one name he could use for this delegation. "Listen to me. Most of those who are on the road outside the gates have left all they had behind. They are tired, they are hungry and they are filled with dread for tomorrow. You cannot change that. They will not stop, they will not go away no matter how much you wish they would, and they will not listen to you should you plead with them to spare you. No matter how sensible, how reasonable your requests may be, they will mean nothing to a man who has lost his fortune and his family. Do you understand that?"

"But you are here with armed men. You can bring your army here to supervise the departure of the Romans. They are rabble, nothing more." The monk had a deep, stern voice and he used it now to good effect; the others nodded their support.

"Armed men, you say? Not prayers?" Belisarius made no effort to keep the irony out of his voice. "You are a man of God, your robes proclaim your calling, and yet you come to ask for an army to assist you."

"God favors those who are willing to act," said the monk. "God demands our faith in Him and our use of the reason He gave us through our First Parents in Eden."

The one with the darkest beard was the first to endorse the monk.. "Listen to him, man. You think that you are aiding us, and yet we are facing the ruin of the city. This man—a man of God, as you say—has told us what must be done if we are to be spared, and he reminds us that

God is not bought with empty prayers, but by firm action, showing the determination of our faith in Him."

"Of course," Belisarius said. "And those outside the gates are convinced that God will approve the stealing of food to save the lives of children, or the killing of another man in order to get passage on a ship to Constantinople." He got slowly to his feet. "I cannot spare the troops to do as you wish. Tomorrow I ride to Roma myself, to find out how severe the trouble is, how many have fled and what defenses remain there."

The oldest man crossed his arms and looked outraged. "How can you do this?" he demanded.

"I have more responsibilities than this place alone," said the General with less accommodation than he had shown before. "The Emperor has entrusted all of Italy to my care, and expects that I will do all that I can to save all of it from the invasion of Totila. I must answer to Justinian and God, as you answer to your city and your families. Therefore, much as I would want to spare your city or any city misfortune, I must do as I am commanded. I leave for Roma in the morning. Those of my men I leave behind are mandated to do what they can to aid in the transport of Romans to safe ports, and that much they will do. Beyond that, you must look to your own resources. I will fail my mandate if I permit your concerns to override all that has been entrusted to me."

The monk raised his hand, making a gesture against the evil eye. "You are a tool of the forces of Hell, not of the Emperor."

Belisarius had been cursed by those more expert than this man, but he still disliked the feelings it awakened in him. "I am no one's tool, good monk. I am the Emperor's General in Italy and will remain so for as long as he honors me with the position."

"You will fall," said the monk with deep satisfaction.

"That is for God and Justinian to determine," said Belisarius with a faint smile. "I will authorize two of my Captains to do what they can to aid in controlling the people coming through the city, and if you wish, I will give them permission to deal with any disruptions in the most direct way possible." He saw the faint approval in the men's eyes and went on to warn them. "Take care. You have had near-riots here for the last several days, and now there is no doubt that these Romans will need all the aid they can get or take. If you are too stringent with them, you may lose all that you seek to preserve through your rules and limitations."

The monk lowered his eyes. "We submit to the will of God."

"Once you have troops to protect you," said Belisarius.

"And you, proud man, you are fast coming to a time when all your might and all your battles and all your honor will avail you nothing." The monk glowered at the General. "The Emperor listens to other voices than yours. Never forget that."

"He listens to his wife after God," said Belisarius, not adding that Theodora was a close friend of his Antonina; as long as the two women were close friends, Belisarius knew that his position was secure.

"If a man is led by a woman, he makes his own fall, as did Adam," said the man with the darkest beard. "It is known that these women have given themselves more to the service of Satan than of God."

"Do not let the Emperor hear you say such things," suggested Belisarius. "He says that the words of a virtuous woman are more worthy than the preaching of fools. He has gained much from his wise Empress."

It was apparent that none of the men believed this, and Belisarius was too tired to pursue the matter any further. The tallest of the delegation, a man who had remained stubbornly silent, finally said, "How many troops will you leave here, General?"

"I can leave no more than two hundred foot soldiers and fifty cavalry. The rest must follow me to Roma before midday," he said, welcoming this apparent understanding from one of the men of Neapolis. "I will be certain that the instructions are clear to these troops. You may choose one of your number to work with the men I leave behind, and that will in turn give you the opportunity to arrange the defenses you have in whatever way most suits your purposes."

"These troops—are they the best you can provide?" asked the youngest man.

"If you mean, will I leave the exhausted and the wounded behind to guard you and take with me those soldiers who are in better condition and more fully equipped, then the answer must be no, for those who are wounded are not required to fight in any sense and are with our ships in the east." He sighed. "I will be at pains to find you a Tribune you can trust to do all that you require of the soldiers without spreading them too thin or putting them at a serious disadvantage. Let me point out one thing to you, and you may then do what you wish: the soldiers can create a corridor from gate to dockside, and can keep most of the people from spilling over into your city, if you will permit them to act in that way. It would be the best use of the men you have and it would limit the amount of damage you are apt to sustain during the time the Romans are in Neapolis."

"Are those your orders?" asked the oldest suspiciously.

"No, those are my observations. You are free to do as you wish with the men so long as your orders do not contradict those of the Emperor." He stretched. "It has been more than a full day since I slept, good citizens. Perhaps you will be content to leave this for another time?"

"How can we leave this, when you will be gone tomorrow?" asked the one with the darkest beard.

"There will be other men here. Most of my officers are experienced and will do what they can to make this a worthwhile time for all of you." He moved away from the narrow table. "I will instruct them to guard the city from abuse. If you will let them do the work they are trained to do, everyone will benefit, even the unfortunates from Roma."

"And you will not have to answer for anything that goes wrong. You will be able to say that if there are problems, if there are those who are injured or in other ways harmed, that it was our actions, not yours, that brought this about. We have heard about the manner in which you of Constantinople conduct your affairs."

"Lepidius," said Belisarius, "even if everything you say is true, and everything you believe is true and everything you deplore is true, nonetheless, Justinian is the Emperor and what he orders and demands is his by right of his rule. If you question that, you question the order of the world and the word of Heaven." He reached for a small mallet and struck a small, flat bell with it. "You will be fed while you are here, if you wish. My slaves will see to it."

"And you?" asked the monk, clearly not satisfied with the hospitality Belisarius offered.

"I will be attending to my duties with my officers so that they will be prepared to act for you tomorrow." He gestured to the slave who came through the door. "These men are to be given every courtesy a guest can expect. Is Chrysanthos here, or has he already gone to his men?"

"He is still here, Master," said the slave in Egyptian-accented Greek.

"Then let him dine with these citizens," said Belisarius in Greek.

"Does this man speak Latin?" the youngest member of the delegation wanted to know.

"Yes, that is why I thought of him. You will be able to understand one another. I have three other officers who are fluent in Latin as well as Greek, and they are most in demand of the men I command in Italy." Belisarius indicated the slave. "If you follow him, he will see that you are escorted to Chrysanthos."

Most of the men were willing to depart, but the one with the darkest beard was inclined to linger, to press for more advantages than they had secured already. "I wish your assurance that if there is any trouble, you will be willing to send your troops to quell any uprising that we may have to deal with."

"You'll have to arrange that with Chrysanthos; I will abide by the terms you make with him," said Belisarius.

The other men did what they could to get their companion to leave with them, speaking a few words in low voices urging him to come with them to this new officer.

"If we are not satisfied, you will learn of it," said the oldest delegate as he left the room.

"I'm certain of that," said Belisarius, watching the door even when it was empty, as if aware of a lingering presence like an odor or the echo of a scream.

* * *

Text of a letter to Vigilius, Bishop of Roma and Pope of the Church.

On the anniversary of the election of Your Holiness to the See of Santo Pietrus, the Priest Formosus of Ostia sends this report with the deepest faith and reverence.

It has pleased Your Holiness to learn of the current state of the Church in her parent city of Roma, and it has fallen to this most unhappy of men to inform Your Holiness that the great devil and pagan Totila has made progress with his forces against this most venerable of all cities. It is his intent to tear the whole place down, or so he swears on his blasphemous gods. To this end, he has been harrying the merchants on the roads, stopping farmers bringing produce to the city, and attempting to cut the aqueducts that bring water to the people of Roma. All this has been seen and heard by many and is not the result of mere rumors and fears that are current with many of those still living within the walls of the city.

It is of particular note that those who should be most stalwart in their duty—the religious of Roma—have fled in great numbers, and it would astonish me to find more than two hundred priests and monks in Roma to minister to the thousands of unfortunates who have remained faithful to their God and Roma.

While there are many who look to the Byzantines to succor us before Totila can break through our defenses, Your Holiness must understand that it is only through their efforts that any semblance of defense has been maintained at the present, and it would not be unreasonable to prepare for worse to come, for although the great Belisarius brings his men to our aid, the force is smaller than the one that the Emperor of Constantinople promised to provide, and they are not as well-equipped as they had been represented to be. No one wishes to think of the ruin of this greatest of cities, but there can be little doubt that no matter how vigilant we are, there are many here who will suffer, and the city will not be spared entirely.

I do not wish to make it appear that I am entirely without hope, for that would be a greater sin than the one the pagans intend to commit here. Yet I would be lax in my duty to you as a priest if I did not say it would be prudent to prepare for the worst, so that such things as sacred relics and objects of veneration may be hidden or otherwise protected from the possible ravages of the Ostrogothic warriors who are bent on destroying the city before the height of summer.

Your Holiness would do well to fortify Monte Casino against the barbarians, and to make an official request of Belisarius to give you and your company the protection that was assured you by the Emperor Justinian more than three years ago. If the Church is to survive, it must have the aid and assistance of all who are devoted to Our Lord and His Church. Whether they are of Byzantium or of Roma, surely there can be no argument that the fate of Christianity is in the hands of those willing to take up the cause of Our Lord in the face of those who are determined to bring the Church and her city to their knees.

What draws the pagans are the earthly treasures which have been stored up out of piety and devotion. But these are not the true riches of the Church, and while the pagans seek only silver and gold, they assault far more than walls to obtain it. If we fail to defend the outward gifts of the Church, it is only too likely that we will also fail to defend the spiritual ramparts as well. I pray every hour that none of this will come to pass, but while I pray, I seek out men of experience to aid in the earthly battle, and I admonish all I see to offer up their orisons to God and the Mother Maria for the salvation of our city and our souls.

In all humility and faith, and with unswerving dedication to Your Holiness and our Church, I sign myself your most lowly Brother in Christ,

Formosus

Priest from Ostia

currently with the Curia in Roma

2

By late afternoon the first contingent of soldiers arrived, making camp around the old villa in fields and orchards that were just coming into blossom. For novelty the old baths were fired up and many of the men boisterously used them, marveling at the depravity of the old Romans with their passion for bathing.

"What do you think?" Niklos Aulirios asked his owner as he stared out the windows at the camp that had grown up around them.

From her writing desk, Olivia Clemens did not answer at first; she was putting the last touches on a writ of manumission for two more slaves. Only when she had affixed both her signature and her seal did she answer. "What do I think about what?"

"These Byzantines," her Greek majordomo replied. "I'm not sure they're better than the Ostrogoths."

"They are better because they don't intend to raze the city," she pointed out, rising and coming to join him at the window.

"But look at them. And you know what they have done to half the countryside. I realize that an army must eat, and that soldiers might not have the manners of saints, but that doesn't excuse the raiding and looting they've done." He had folded his arms and was looking more stubborn than usual.

"I'm not going to argue with you," said Olivia, faintly amused by his conduct. "But this is not the first trouble we've seen, is it?"

"No," he admitted grudgingly.

"And with a little good fortune, it will not be the last." She continued to stare into the pallid afternoon. The light, softened by a faint haze rising from the Tibros, was kind to her face, making her appear younger than her years. Her soft, fawn-brown hair was braided and wrapped in the current fashion for widows, and she wore a paenula of wool embroidered with silk and gold thread that showed her wealth more than her manner.

"You have a strange way of thinking, my mistress," Niklos said, beginning to smile in spite of his own foreboding.

"It comes with the years, my friend," she said, and shook off her slight melancholy. "I want you to make sure that copies of these writs are in the hands of the monks by morning. That way, no matter what happens here, the slaves will be free and they can make lives for themselves. You'd better take the grants with you to the monks as well."

Niklos laughed cynically. "You're not seriously asking me to put money in the hands of a servant of God and expect it to go anywhere but into Church coffers, are you?"

"You may be right in that, Niklos," she sighed. "All right; I'll find a way to make sure each gets the money they've been promised, and the copies of the writs will be safe. Take one or two of the gold cups with you to make sure the good monks continue to care for the records we entrust to them. I'm not quite as trusting as you often fear I am."

"And what else?" Niklos ventured. "You have most of your belongings crated and packed and ready to be moved. Does that trouble you?"

"Of course it troubles me. Roma is my home. I drew my first breath here, within sight of the Tibros. It is part of me and I am part of it." Her expression was slightly distant as she delved her memory for the events of her long life.

"We can still arrange for you to stay in Italy," suggested Niklos. "You don't have to go as far away as Constantinople."

"Almost all those who can afford to leave have done so already and if I remain much longer, I will be exposed to more risks than the mere clash of Byzantines and Ostrogoths. So long as I must live with lions, I might as well find myself a good place in their dens." She laughed suddenly. "How unendurable! I sound worse than one of those Epicureans who ape the manner of their teacher without the least understanding of what he said."

"You don't want to go, do you?" Niklos persisted.

"No, if it were possible to remain in safety. But since it is not, then I'm… resigned. I will go to Constantinople, to the house that Belisarius has arranged for me, and when the army is at home, I will entertain this Drosos and do my best to be as inconspicuous as possible." She held out the parchment sheets to Niklos once again. "Please, Niklos, take these to the monks and bring me the sigil of the abbot, or whatever superior they have now, so that I can give proof of the transaction. We can squabble later, when we're safe."

"As you wish, my mistress," Niklos said, making a reverence to her that just missed being insulting. He took the parchments and strode to the door. "I'll send Kosmos to guard you while I'm gone. I don't trust those soldiers to be respectful."

Olivia chuckled. "No more do I, but they're likely to look for female slaves rather than the owner of the villa who is also known to be the hostess of their General."

"You put more store in that than I do," Niklos warned as he started across the smaller of the two atria of the villa.

It was not long before Kosmos appeared in the door, his manner as humble as his body was formidable. He lowered his head and kept his eyes averted. "Niklos sent me, great lady," he said softly.

"He said he would," Olivia agreed.

"And the General Belisarius has returned. His horse has just been taken to the stables." For Kosmos this was a long speech, and as he concluded it, he appeared to be slightly out of breath.

Olivia gave Kosmos her full attention at this. "General Belisarius. Only he?"

"There are officers with him," said Kosmos.

"I will see them shortly, in the main reception chamber. Have flowers brought there, and send Hogni and… oh, I guess it had better be Hogni and Beltzin, to wait on them. They will want to have wine and meat as well as washing basins." To Olivia, this seemed woefully inadequate, for when she was young, nothing less than a full bath—calidarium, tepidarium, frigidarium—and a massage with costly oils followed by a nine-course banquet would be considered a proper welcome for so august a man as Belisarius.

"Very good, great lady. But you will be left alone, and that is what Niklos required I not allow to happen." Again he was sounding breathless.

"I give you my word that I will manage, and that I will be able to fend for myself. Besides, I must do something about my clothes or I will be more improper than they are." She went briskly toward the side door. "I am going now to my private quarters, and if you will see that Fisera joins me there, that will ensure I am not alone and you will be able to complete the commission I have given you." As she watched him go, she wondered if she had made a mistake in freeing him. Kosmos was not used to living on his own, and in these troubled times, she feared he would become prey to the first scoundrel who came across him.

She stopped these ponderings as she reached the door of her private suite of rooms. Always when she stepped through the door, she felt herself on the brink of the past. It pleased her to indulge in a sense of nostalgia; this afternoon she had to admit that there was a pang of something more. She stared at the frescoes on the wall, at the furniture and the ornaments she had gathered together here, and knew that as many of them as she took with her to Constantinople, it would not be the same, and that she would not find them as appropriate, as comforting as they were here, where they belonged. They were Roman; so was she. Here she was on her native earth and there she would be a stranger. Nothing would alter that, and she knew she would have to reconcile herself to it.

There was a gentle rap on the door on the far side of the room and this brought Olivia out of her reverie. "Yes?"

"It is Fisera, mistress," said the slave.

"Enter, Fisera," she said, speaking more briskly and moving with renewed vitality. This was not the time to be distracted, she reminded herself as she admitted the slave. There was too much to do.

Fisera had brought two long pallia with her, one of a rich deep-rose color embroidered all over with golden medallions, the other a strange shade that was almost not any color—a shadow tone between gray and tan and green—ornamented with dark brown silken embroidery and with accents picked out in seed pearls. She stopped, staring at Olivia. "Oh, mistress," she said in a faltering way.

"Tomorrow I am no longer your mistress, Fisera, and you do not need to call me your mistress any longer." She gave her a heartening smile. "Come, Fisera, don't be troubled. There is no reason for me to doubt your devotion, whether you wear a collar or not."

"You have been most kind to me, mistress," said Fisera with genuine feeling.

An expression that was not quite a frown passed fleetingly over Olivia's face. "Have I? I hope so. It was my intention, but that often counts for little."

Alarmed by this sudden change in Olivia's manner, Fisera reached out and touched her arm. "Have I offended you, mistress?"

"No," said Olivia, her demeanor changing again. "No, of course not. I was remembering the past. I've been doing a lot of that recently. I must be… getting old."

"You are young forever, mistress," Fisera said, more in wariness than flattery.

"I have that sort of face," said Olivia.

"Perhaps more than that," murmured the slave-woman. "I have been in your household for more than eight years and I have not noticed a change in you. There are those, not close to you, who have hinted that you must practice the magical arts of the old days, when sorcery was used by the witch Messalina." She said this last with her eyes averted.

"Messalina was hardly a witch: she had the misfortune to be married to that pervert Claudius, and that—" She heard the sound of her voice and broke off. "I cannot believe that Messalina used any arts but her own womanliness to lure her husband."

"They say that her husband wasn't all she lured," the slave said, her face more animated. "She was an infamous adulteress."

"And whose idea was that, do you think?" Olivia asked, and then, before Fisera could answer, she went on. "Well, that was hundreds of years ago, wasn't it? And I have guests who require entertainment this evening. You brought me the pallia, I see. Perhaps I ought to choose one so you may pack the other."

"It depends on what paenula you have selected." Fisera held up the rose-and-gold pallium. "This brings out color."

"So it does," agreed Olivia. "And still, do I want color? Do I want to shout or whisper?" She fingered the two pallia. "Which is best?"

"You have the gold pectoral, and you can wear it with this. It would make a very impressive—"

"You're probably right," said Olivia, reaching for the other pallium. "But tonight, ah, tonight I believe that I will harken back to the old times. This and the paenula of pale silk, you know the one. I'll wear them over the samite dalmatica, the one with the silver threads. And there's one other thing. Instead of a tablion, get me that pectoral in silver, the disk with the raised wings."

"If you like," said Fisera, clearly disapproving.

"There's just tonight, Fisera, and then you will be free to do or say whatever you wish to me, and you will have money enough to leave here and to establish yourself wherever you wish. You have been a good and faithful servant to me. For that, your freedom is a small enough token."

The sincerity in Olivia's voice clearly startled Fisera, and she hesitated before saying anything more. "Why the pectoral?"

"Because it reminds me of a very old friend, who gave it to me many, many years ago." Olivia's smile did not quite succeed, but she went on. "He told me a few home truths that I must remember while I live in Constantinople. What a hideous thought."

"If you go, none of us will be able to live. We will be taken by soldiers or monks and we will be more slaves then than ever we have been for you." This outburst was more alarming to Fisera than to Olivia, who had been expecting something of the sort since the day before yesterday.

"I have already sent copies of your writs of manumission to the monks for their records, and I will see that every one of you has their own writ to keep." When she had been young, almost half her household slaves could read. In the intervening centuries fewer and fewer slaves had acquired the skill until now less than a dozen of her staff were literate. "As long as you and the monks have the documents, there is safety for you. But you must keep the writ with you, so that you can prove that you are truly freed. You will have money and you will have supplies. Unless you choose badly, you will have no reason to regret being freed."

"Rudis says that we are being freed so that the invaders will spend time gathering us up so that you can escape and that you have no intention of letting us remain free once the threat of Totila is over." Fisera had started to cry in the sudden and violent way that made Olivia think of a summer thunderstorm.

"Why would I free you if I intended that? Why would I bother? I would need only to tell you where you must go and you would have to comply with my wishes. If Rudis is correct, then I have done this most stupidly." She put one hand on her hip. "If you want a military escort, I suppose I could convince the General to provide you one. And speaking of the General," she said in a more hasty tone, "I suppose I ought to prepare to greet him. Get me the dalmatica and the paenula and the pallium and that silver pectoral, and then help me do something with my hair. And for the love of… the Saints, don't fret. You will be safe when you leave."

Fisera sniffed deeply as she began to follow Olivia's orders. Her fears had been assuaged but they had not vanished.

Some little time later, Olivia emerged from her room to seek out her guests. She was magnificent to see, though most would have been hard-pressed to say why, for she was dressed almost as mutedly as a religious. Somehow, in the colors and chaste silver ornaments, she contrived a richness that was far more impressive than the gaudy colors worn by the retinue of General Belisarius, who was arrayed in bright red and orange with bright medallions on his bracchae and his high leather boots.

"We are more grateful to you, great lady, than we can express," said the General as he made a reverence to his hostess. "Your reception of us has been princely."

"Hardly," she said with candor, recalling the splendor of the courts of Nero and Otho and Vespasianus, half a millennium ago. "You are most welcome here, General, as are your men." She looked around the room, her eyes lingering briefly on Drosos whose hair was still wet from the baths and who wore turquoise silk and a pallium of silver and lavender.

Belisarius indicated his fourteen companions. "There are a number of us, as you see, more than we had thought there would be at first, and you are more than generous to provide for us on such short notice. From what we have seen of Roma inside the walls, you are more fortunate than most."

"And more circumspect," said Olivia. "Only a fool would think that Totila would wait for us to prepare for him before he attacked." She was very much a part of her reception room, which was a pale, faded blue with false fluted columns painted silver. Yet instead of vanishing into the walls, she seemed to make all the room an extension of herself. The men watched her with admiration and other emotions.

"They are paying the price for their foolishness now," said Belisarius. "And what little we can do, I fear, comes too late. If we had come a few months earlier, or if the supplies had been adequate, or if the Bishop of Roma had not left the city when he did, we might have a better chance of defense, but the way things stand, there is nothing left to do but to insure that the least damage possible is done while Totila holds the city."

"You believe he will succeed, then?" asked Olivia, her calm not as complete as she would have liked.

"Unfortunately, yes; for a time. And then we will roust him, for we are the stronger forces and we are not barbarians." Belisarius looked over his men. "Occasionally one of the men will forget this and then there is much cause for—"

Stamos, a powerful man with scars seaming his face and hands, looked suddenly flustered. "They were under orders not to harm anyone," he protested, although no one had accused him of anything.

"They were also without adequate care and advice, and for that if no other reason, there is much for you and the rest of those officers who have had similar incidents to answer for. You have your men submit to proper punishment, and see that it is carried out where those who were the most harmed may witness it for themselves so that they will not regard us as little better than those we are here to fight." Belisarius turned to Olivia and the harshness of his attitude faded at once. "I do not mean to distress you, great lady. These matters are for more private times, and you must forgive us for being so uncaring."

Olivia, who had heard much worse than this over the long decades of her life, waved her hand to show that she was not distressed by what she had heard. "You must attend to your work, General, as must all of us in such times as these." She clapped her hands sharply and two slaves appeared in the doorway. "Is the dining room ready?"

"Yes, mistress," said the older of the two. "And there are cup bearers waiting with wine."

"Cup bearers!" cried out one of the Byzantines. "How Roman!"

"This is Roma," Olivia reminded them all. "And I am a Roman."

As they went into the dining room, none of the men thought it strange that Olivia did not have a couch of her own, and that she did not eat with them. In Constantinople, most women did not dine with men except on very special occasions; even then, they often dined apart from their fathers, brothers and husbands, watching them from terraces and balconies instead of sitting or reclining beside them.

Only Drosos, who watched Olivia closely while he ate honied kid boiled in milk with onions, fish stuffed with garlic and poached in wine, and spiced pork baked in a bread, noticed that she showed no outward signs of hunger, treating the lavish feast with indifference. Curious, he rose while the slaves removed the platters that had held the pork buns, and walked to her chair—for unlike her guests, she did not recline on padded couches—holding out a second cup to her. "Great lady, let me pour some of this excellent vintage for you. In your generosity, you have given all to us and spared none for yourself."

Olivia looked up at him. "You are most gracious," she said with a trace of amusement that Drosos could not identify in her fascinating eyes. "But I do not drink wine."

Before Drosos could pursue the matter, Belisarius motioned him back to his couch as the slaves brought out three long spits of roasted ducks stuffed with nuts and raisins.

While Drosos went on with the banquet, Olivia watched him, a speculative lift to her brows the only indication of her thoughts.

* * *

A bill of sale sent by military courier to Belisarius outside Roma.

On the Feast of the Patriarchs, I, Andros Trachi, acknowledge the receipt of the amount of twenty-two grains of gold and thirty-seven grains of silver in total and complete payment for a domicile of nineteen rooms, with kitchen and larder attached, from the Roman lady known to General Belisarius as Olivia Clemens, a widow, who for the safety of her goods and her person has taken the advice of the General and agreed to come to the city of Konstantin.

I formally relinquish all claims on this property to the General, who has acted as sponsor of the said widow, since she is lacking in husband or father or brother to act for her in this matter. All further negotiations are agreed to be directed to her majordomo, one Niklos Aulirios, who is empowered to carry out all contractual arrangements for her, and to have the sanction of the General Belisarius for such actions. It is agreed that no member of my family, nor my heirs, nor their kindred and heirs may make claim to this property and that the transference is a permanent one.

Regarding the alterations that this widow requires, it will take the workers a period of five months to accomplish most of the construction, and until it is complete arrangements may be made for this great lady to be the guest of the family of her sponsor, that is, the General Belisarius, and this will allow the majordomo Niklos Aulirios to oversee the construction to the satisfaction of his mistress.

Witnessed by the Pope Phillipos and the Pope Alexis at Konstantinoupolis in the presence of myself, Andros Trachi, and the freedman Thalkas, who will be the one in charge of the construction to be done on the property changing hand.

Prosperity, long life, and the favor of God to our great Emperor Justinian, who defends the honor of God on earth.

An appended note, addressed to Olivia.

Great lady,

For the time you are in Konstantinoupolis, you may find that some of the customs are strange to you, and so that you do not fall into error, I, Andros Trachi, offer the advice of my wife to guide you in your first ventures here. Doubtless, since Romans are more lax than we, you have grown accustomed to a level of license that might ill-prepare you for the more decorous and dignified life of this great city. Doubtless you will not want to make yourself conspicuous with actions that are repugnant to those of breeding and distinction. What can be thought charming and eccentric in Roma could give offense in Konstantinoupolis, and lead to unpleasantness which you must wish to avoid.

I look forward to being of service to you in this matter, and I am honored to have so great a lady purchasing the property that the General Belisarius has arranged for you to own.

In Christian friendship,

Andros Trachi

3

Each footfall produced echoes, and both Olivia and Niklos had to resist the urge to tiptoe through the vast, empty rooms of the house that Olivia had purchased.

"And I did purchase it," she insisted to Niklos after they had endured the obsequious greeting of Andros Trachi. "It's barbaric, their insistence that all negotiations be done by men."

"You mean, it isn't Roman."

"Not that Roma is much better, now," Olivia said quietly. "Even a century ago, it was not so bad." She looked around the great gloomy vestibule. "I suppose I'll grow accustomed to it."

"It is austere," said Niklos with a trace of amusement.

"It is tomblike," she said, her nose wrinkling. "I expect it to smell of mold."

"But it doesn't; it smells of paint," said Niklos, indicating one of the walls where work had already begun.

"I trust that they will be finished soon; as much as I am grateful to Belisarius' cousin, I don't know how much longer I can endure to remain under the same roof with her. At least I had the opportunity of her hospitality so that I would not have to accept the kind offer"—her voice was sweet with sarcasm—"of that unctuous Trachi. I can think of few things I would have wanted less."

"And there are other considerations, are there not?" said Niklos with genuine sympathy.

Olivia did not answer at once; she paced down the room, peering at the ceiling as she went, then stopped and turned to Niklos again. "Yes. Yes, there are."

"And you are not prepared. You have done nothing to prepare yourself," said Niklos in his most blunt manner. His warm brown eyes, almost reddish in cast, bored into hers.

"There was not much time," she began, then sighed. "That's my excuse, of course, nothing more." She stared, unseeing, at the empty room. "I had such hopes for Drosos. The first time he came to me, I remembered what it was I wanted most, and for a time, I had it again." Now her face softened and she laughed once, sadly. "How rarely have my lovers cared more for me than themselves. Drosos truly enjoyed me, and I relished him."

"And the rest of it?" asked Niklos, with a warning gesture to her to keep her voice low.

"Ah, yes, the rest of it. For now there is no risk from the rest of it," she reminded him. "In time, there might be, but who is to say if there will be time? Drosos is still in Roma and I am here—in Constantinople." She was more adept than he at indirect speaking. "Certainly something will have to be arranged in the interim, but I am not as concerned about that as you are. It is always possible to find something that will do for a while, even here."

"You, cynical?" Niklos teased her with affection.

"I, practical. I, resigned, my friend, not cynical." She pulled the long folds of her bronze-colored paenula more closely around her. "I don't care if they say this city is hot; I am chilled. There is a darkness here, a coldness that has nothing to do with the sun."

"Olivia, mistress, be careful who hears you complain. This place is different from Roma in many, many ways," said Niklos, once again looking toward the shadowed room that joined the vestibule.

"Romans, luckily, are expected to be impulsive and capricious. Didn't that dreadful Andros Trachi tell me so at length?" She was moving restlessly once more. "Everyone knows that we can accept no city but Roma as home, and that for us she is the center of the earth."

Niklos followed her as she rushed into the larger of the two reception rooms that opened onto the vestibule. "Nevertheless," he persisted, "don't be too condemning. We are here on sufferance, and from what I can tell, we are not going to be accorded too much of that."

"Yes; yes. But from what I have seen, a mere widow, with or without a fortune, is hardly worth any attention, and one from Roma is little more than an amusement. It's our manner, you know, and our lack of propriety." There was not much annoyance in the tone of her voice, but the expression on her face was enough to make Niklos change the subject.

"Will you accept the invitation of Antonina? She is determined to fulfill her obligations to you for Belisarius' sake, if not your own. She has said she will introduce you to the best society of the city."

"And who can guess why," said Olivia as she made a swift inspection of the changes that were being wrought in the room. "I suppose we have to have those dreary Saints everywhere, don't we? I already asked for an ikonostasis in my private rooms—so it will be understood that I am pious—is it really necessary to have another, do you think?"

"The Emperor is a religious man, and his court follows his example," Niklos pointed out. "And you are a sensible woman."

"At my age, I had better be," she said, and laughed again, this time with genuine mirth. "Very well; see that we have another screen to load up with bad art, and a few more of those horrid hanging braziers for incense. And while you are being so protective, send a messenger to Antonina. I will call upon her later this afternoon if she is receiving anyone."

"And if she is not?" inquired her majordomo.

"Then discover when she is prepared to have my company for an hour or so, and we will then arrange things to that purpose." She shrugged. "I suppose I must do this eventually: why not now?"

Niklos did not answer, but his relief was apparent in the speed with which he carried out his orders.

By the time the slave had been sent as a messenger to the enormous house of Belisarius, Olivia had completed her rounds of the house she had purchased and was ready to dress for the forthcoming visit. Since her last banquet in Roma, she had continued to choose subdued clothing and modest-but-costly ornaments to wear, sensing that this would offset some of the adverse attitudes the Byzantines had toward Romans.

Still, she balked at the enclosed palanquin that Niklos had arranged for her transportation to Belisarius' house. "I don't like being enclosed," she said as Niklos assisted the slaves in drawing the draperies around her.

"You are in Constantinople, and women of good reputation do not show themselves on the street except in going to the hippodrome and the market squares. The penitential processions also require that all women show themselves, but cover their faces for the Sin of Eve and the Fall of Man." He was stern with her, needing her to use her wits more than she had been willing to do.

"I might as well immure myself and be done with it—and I have done that already and found it appalling." She pulled the silken hanging closed with her own hands. "If I do not speak to you when I return, it is your own fault, Greek."

Since Olivia only called Niklos Greek when she was displeased with him, he did not respond, but stepped back and permitted the bearers to start off with their Roman burden.

Belisarius' house was one hill over—although Olivia refused to think of such bumps as hills—and in a street that was made narrow with the extensive reconstruction and rebuilding that was the passion of Justinian. By the time the bearers set the palanquin down, they were sweating and blowing hard as dray beasts for the added effort of lifting the vehicle around the heaps of masonry and over piles of rubble that littered the streets increasingly as they neared the palace of the Emperor and his most ambitious project—the expansion of the Basilica of the Most Sacred Wisdom.

Four armed guards uniformed in the manner of Belisarius personal soldiers flanked the door to the house as Olivia was helped from the palanquin. All the men watched her closely, each with a hand on the hilt of his sword.

"I am Olivia Clemens, a widow from Roma," she told the majordomo of Belisarius' house. "I would like the honor of spending a little time with the august lady who is wife to the great General Belisarius." She hoped that was formal enough for these ceremony- and ritual-loving Byzantines.

The majordomo, a smooth-faced eunuch in garments far richer than what most merchants could afford to wear, made her a deep reverence as he admitted her to the vestibule of the enormous house. "Be kind enough to wait here; one of the household women will escort you to the august lady."

"How good of you," said Olivia mendaciously.

The eunuch said nothing as he moved away from her, leaving her to stand by herself in the huge octagon-shaped entryroom with nothing more to look at than a series of dreadful frescoes of military Saints in battle against devils and other foreigners all in grotesque and frozen postures. Olivia found herself longing for the mosaics of her youth. Where, amid this vehement and abstracted suffering, was one dolphin, one dog worrying a bone, one cherub dangling a flute or a wine cup? These were the scenes she recalled most affectionately from those long-ago days when she grew up. In her father's villa there was one wall showing Jupiter turning into a bull, with a buxom Europa waiting for her lover with more enthusiasm than awe. There had been two swineherds in the corner of the fresco, off to the lower right-hand corner. They had been sharing a wineskin and bread, and they idly watched the transformation. One of them was forever in the act of tossing a scrap to a tabby cat. There had been nothing so everyday, so human in the art Olivia had seen here in Byzantium; even in Roma now, the touches she loved were disappearing.

"Great lady?" repeated the eunuch, who had returned.

Olivia looked up sharply. "Oh; excuse me. These pictures—" She indicated the walls.

"Antonina is a woman of much piety, and this is only the outward sign of it," said the eunuch, apparently favorably impressed by Olivia's interest. "If you will condescend to follow me, I will bring you to Antonina."

"Thank you," said Olivia, falling into step behind the slave.

"You are not the only great lady to visit Antonina today," said the eunuch. His voice was low and mature: he had been emasculated after manhood. Because he had run to fat it was hard to say if he had ever been handsome, but there was a sweetness to his round face that could once have been more attractive than it was safe for a slave to be.

"What is your name, slave?" asked Olivia.

"I am Arius," he told her, apparently surprised at the question.

"In Roma, I always wanted to know the names of those who did me service so that I would be able to leave some token of my appreciation for good service," she said, remembering how many slaves had once been able eventually to buy their freedom with those accumulated tokens. Olivia was still distressed that those laws had been changed.

"No token is necessary. This is Konstantinoupolis, great lady, not Roma, and here we give thanks to God, not to those whose place it is to serve." He had led the way down a long hall and now stopped at two tall doors. "These are the reception apartments of the august lady Antonina."

"I am looking forward to the honor of meeting her," said Olivia, doing her best not to be impatient.

Arius made his reverence as he opened the door. It was a graceful gesture, as formal and unnatural as the attitudes of the figures in the ikons that flanked the doors. "August lady, this is the great lady Olivia," said the eunuch before he stepped aside to let Olivia enter.

Antonina was seated on a silk-covered couch; she was a magnificent woman, all stark contrasts. Her hair, black as onyx, had two white streaks that only served to make the dark more impressive. Her eyes were large, rimmed with heavy lashes and accented by curving dark brows. Her skin was the lightest shade of peach that Olivia had ever seen. Her clothes were silken, the paenula so extensive that it surrounded and engulfed her in vast folds of shimmering red. At her shoulder, her tablion was the size of the palm of her hand, encrusted with garnets and gold. "Welcome to my husband's house," she said, not rising.

Olivia smiled without warmth. "I am pleased to bring you his greetings and remembrances," she said, hoping that she had come close to the proper formula.

"And this"—she indicated the other woman in the room—"is Eugenia. She is the widow of Katalinus Hyakinthos, who was the bastard of Elezaros." This name was apparently supposed to mean something to Olivia, and Antonina waited for her response.

"There was a… naval commander, wasn't there?" She hoped that her memory was correct; she sensed that neither woman would be forgiving of an error.

"My husband's father, yes. They were killed in the same storm." She was not as tall as Antonina, nor quite as richly dressed. Her body was rounder and softer, more yielding, and her posture was more inviting. She, too, wore an enormous paenula, hers of a deep sea-green shot with gold, and her tablion was not as large or as be jeweled as Antonina's.

"How unfortunate," said Olivia.

"My husband sends me word that you, too, are a widow." She pointed to another couch, making it clear she wished Olivia to sit there.

"For many years, yes," she answered candidly.

"Yet you are not ancient," said Antonina.

"I wear my years well," Olivia said.

"That may be fortunate," Antonina declared. "Widows are not uncommon and it is not always the most simple thing to find them proper mates. There are men who prefer women who have never been married to those who have. I was fortunate, for my husband told me from the first that he was pleased that he had found me a widow, for that meant I knew men and I knew marriage. I was most pleased that he felt that way, and I told him then, as I have continued to tell him, that no woman can appreciate a marriage until her second one." She smiled, and it was clear she expected her two guests to smile as well.

Realizing that this was likely to be more awkward than she had thought at first, Olivia said, "That may be, and certainly I have no means to tell, but let me assure you, august lady—"

"You must call me Antonina," she purred.

"You are all kindness," said Olivia, going on before she could be distracted. "Let me assure you that I have not come to you with the hope that you will supply a husband upon request. I have had such experience of marriage that I am not in a hurry to resume my married state. For a time, I am content to be a widow, and if this does not exclude me from friendships and society, I will abide as I am." She folded her hands in her lap and gave what she hoped was a trusting and guileless look to her hostess.

"No woman has a distaste of marriage," Antonina said in a manner that would clearly tolerate no disputes.

"I have, I am afraid. My husband was a man of strange appetites which he imposed upon me and that has left me with a lack of trust of marriage." She regarded Eugenia, hoping she might find an ally. "If your husband held you in respect and affection, then you have known two things I never had from my husband."

"It is not fitting to speak against the dead, let alone a dead husband," announced Antonina, but she relented. "If what you say is true, then the Church failed you, for it is the responsibility of the priests to be certain that God's commands are obeyed on earth. As you are to be submissive to the will of your husband, so he is to give you care and comfort."

Privately Olivia thought that the last characteristic she saw in Antonina was submission, but she made no comment about it. "The priests… were not as apt to take a hand," she said, trusting that her vagueness would be seen as tact instead of the evasion it was.

"There are those who do not uphold the honor of their God as they ought," said Antonina, directing a hard glance at Eugenia. "I have said that your priest was wrong in permitting you to travel to Cyprus without a guard to accompany you."

"He said that since there were others in the ship who were also visiting the shrine that it would be satisfactory," said Eugenia, clearly rehashing an old argument. "My priest said that when the journey is a holy one, then it is necessary to leave all pomp behind in order to show humility in the proper manner." She smiled, her mouth turning up at the corners and making her look even more like a kitten than her angular face and pointed chin already did.

"Still, think of the insult if anything had occurred," Antonina persisted. "It may be spiritually wise to make pilgrimages, but I do not believe that it is sensible to take such extreme risks."

"You have a General for a husband," said Olivia, deciding that she might as well discover as much as she could about what Antonina's opinions were since she would have to deal with them while she lived in Constantinople.

"Yes, and a very great man. He is filled with distinction and honor, and he does not use this for anything but his service to God and the Emperor." There was a faint regret in her words, as if Belisarius' integrity was a subtle disappointment to his spouse.

Eugenia must also have been aware of the underlying lack of satisfaction in Antonina's voice, for she said, "How it must please you to know that Belisarius is as stalwart as he is, and free from the taint of manipulation and intrigue that has compromised so many others."

"It is most… rewarding," said Antonina in a reflective tone.

As she settled back onto the couch, Olivia said, "I am truly in your debt for your willingness to receive me, Antonina. I have come to realize that many Romans are not so well-treated here in this city, and often for excellent reason. That you have been willing to speak with me, to invite me into this house fills me with gratitude."

"My husband has said that you have donated your villa to his use while he and his men are in Roma, and that merits my hospitality." She nodded toward the ikonostasis on the far side of the room. "We know the obligations of our faith."

"Belisarius spoke glowingly of you, august lady," said Olivia, sensing a faint anxiety in Antonina. "He and his officers were always most respectful in what they said of you while they were at my villa."

Eugenia's smile was sharpened with malice. "Now the officers speak of you, Antonina."

"Only because I asked them," said Olivia, realizing her blunder almost as soon as it was spoken. "I know so little about this city and its ways, I wanted to learn how best to comport myself, and I thought that you were likely to be the best example I could have. Your husband was so proud of all you've done, and so sincere in his praises, I asked questions and had answers that truly amazed me."

"It was not correct to ask such questions," said Antonina, but her condemnation was modified by the tone of her voice. "In Byzantium we women are not eager to have our names and reputations bandied about. In Roma it might be otherwise, but here we all assume that it is not proper for a Christian woman to seek after notoriety or approbation."

"And a man placed as General Belisarius is often is seen in the guise of his wife when he is not here to be evaluated," added Eugenia. "As some husbands are judged by their widows' conduct after the husbands are dead." She did not smirk, but it was more of an effort not to than it appeared to be.

"Then I can see why Belisarius reposes such great trust in you, Antonina." It was blatant flattery, but Olivia spoke with such skill—and Antonina was so eager to hear such praises—that if Antonina was aware of the intent, she was willing to ignore it.

However, Eugenia did not leave the issue unanswered. "It is only right for a man of Belisarius' position to rely on the good offices of his wife, and for him to know and acknowledge all that she does for him. A husband who must depend on his wife to put forth his position cannot be indifferent to her activities." From the tone of her voice, Olivia suspected that just such lapses had occurred with her and her late husband, who was the bastard of Elezaros.

"I am the helpmeet of Belisarius and his devoted servant," said Antonina in her most forceful accents. Then she regarded Olivia again. "You say he was well?"

"Well but tired," Olivia reassured her. "The campaign was hard, and the worst had not yet begun. He had been trying to find enough men to stop the raids that Totila's men had been making all around the city. It was wearing down the resistance of the peasants and farmers. Many of them wished to leave, and one of the tasks that Belisarius had set his men was convincing the farmers, as he tried to convince the citizens of Roma, not to leave, no matter how desperate their plight might seem."

"Tired. Not ill?" Her concern was without artifice; whatever else Antonina might be, she was truly concerned for the safety and welfare of her husband.

"Not while I was there, august lady. He complained of headaches from time to time, but nothing more than that. One of his officers had dislocated his shoulder and was carrying his arm in a sling while the ligaments mended, but that was the worst injury I saw, and if there was illness among them, I was not aware of it." Olivia saw the worry fade from Antonina's jet-black eyes. "Believe me, your husband is not in danger, at least he was not when I last saw him."

"May God watch over him and give him protection and guidance," said Antonina, her imperious manner returning. "I would like to know what plans he revealed, if any, for his homecoming."

"He said nothing about it while I was with him. I do not think he has made plans that are not in accord with the orders of the Emperor." This time Olivia sought to find a diplomatic way to deliver what she knew would be a disappointing message.

"It is the great honor of my husband to be high in the esteem of the Emperor and to be given the privilege of carrying out his orders." Antonina could not entirely disguise the sigh that accompanied this patriotic sentiment.

There was a discreet tap at the door and Arius opened it to admit three slaves bearing cups and plates. "As you have ordered, august lady," he said with a reverence to Antonina.

"Very good. Present the sweetmeats." She signaled the slaves with a wave of her hand.

Olivia had experienced many awkward moments of this nature and she used her abilities with the ease of long habit. "Oh, I am most upset; I did not realize there would be refreshments offered, and…"

"What is it?" asked Eugenia when Olivia did not go on.

"I have the misfortune to suffer from an antipathy to many fruits and some spices. They do not agree with me at all, and if I should eat them, I become horridly sick. I hope you will pardon me for refusing your gracious hospitality, but I am certain that I would prove to be a most reprehensible guest if I let myself succumb to your kindness."

"An antipathy?" repeated Antonina.

"Yes. Doubtless you know others who have similar conditions; I recall that one of Belisarius' officers becomes short of breath and flushed if he eats shellfish." She was hoping that Belisarius had taken the time to outline the failings as well as the virtues of his men to his wife.

"That would be Gregorios, I assume," said Antonina.

"The one who you introduced to me last year?" inquired Eugenia. "With the dark curly hair?"

"No, that is Drosos," said Antonina with a knowing inclination of her head. She was watching her friend and so she did not see the faint smile that flickered over Olivia's face. "Yes, Gregorios has such an antipathy, I am certain of it."

"Whichever man it was," said Olivia, "I felt for him most sincerely, for I know of my own experience how unendurable such episodes can be."

The slaves who had waited as still as monuments now moved at a signal from Antonina and placed their offerings on the low table beside their mistress' couch. They then made deep reverences and left, Arius in their wake like a whale following fishing vessels.

"Take what pleases you, and if you feel it best, touch nothing," said Antonina, making it clear that her remarks were intended for both women.

"I am hungry, and fortunately I have no antipathies that might interfere with my pleasures," said Eugenia, managing to infuse a world of meaning into her statement.

"Then you may thank God for His kindness," Antonina said as she reached for one of the wine cups.

"Oh, I do," said Eugenia, full of mischief.

Olivia leaned back on the couch and wished that this stilted, unendurable, endless afternoon would be over before either of the others had finished her wine.

"You have said," Antonina said, addressing Olivia once she had tasted some of the food set out, "that you are not interested in finding a husband, and if that is the case, I do not know what more I will be able to do for you. My area of influence is limited, as it must be for all women."

Knowing that Antonina was a close friend of the Empress Theodora, Olivia decided that this last assertion could be interpreted very loosely. "Your civility in my welcome is more than enough. If, from time to time, you are willing to permit me to call upon you and to invite you to my house—once it is fit to be lived in—then I will think myself favored beyond my deserts."

Antonina nodded, but said, "Should you eventually change your mind, you must tell me."

"Of course," said Olivia, retreating into silence while the other two women nibbled at sweetmeats and speculated on the success of the most illustrious chariot team in the Empire.

* * *

Text of a letter front Belisarius to the Emperor Justinian.

To the most august and favored ruler, the elevated and esteemed Emperor Justinian, his most devoted General Belisarius cries "hail" on this Feast of Saint Servius.

While it is not my place to offer any criticism to you, most magnificent and knowledgeable of Emperors, I am constrained to inform you that those entrusted with carrying out your orders would appear to have been lax in their execution, for although two months have passed since our last request for additional troops, money, and supplies, little more than two or three measures of gold have been sent. Of troops and supplies we have seen nothing. I pray that this indicates that your activities are such that they require more time in order to make adequate preparation. Send me word of how many men I am to expect, and with what provisions.

This is not a request intended to impose upon your goodwill or upon your other obligations; you have entrusted me with the task of saving Roma from the forces of Totila, and it is my intention to do so, but without the aid I have already indicated, the loss of men and equipment currently available would place our risks much higher than you have indicated before was acceptable to you and to the Empire.

While we have been able to forage for half the food for men and stock, we are still not sufficiently supplied that we can march for more than a day without stopping to renew provisions. This has seriously impeded our progress and is likely to increase as we move into part of the country where Totila and his men have already raided and plundered. This would sow discontent not only with the soldiers of the army, but with the people. We have already had the gates of one monastery closed against us, and we do not wish to have this occur again.

If you will take the time to discover what is slowing the delivery of the supplies we were assured from the first would be available, then perhaps this campaign may be able to proceed in the manner you have said from the first was your preference in speed and disposition of land and peoples.

I have read Your Most August Majesty's letter to me, and I with you lament the steady stream of people from Roma into the other ports of the Empire. Sadly, unless these people are treated like slaves, there is nothing we can do to compel them to remain in their homes and within the gates of Roma. I seek your advice, for I must tell you frankly and with great reluctance that the Bishop of Roma himself, from his stronghold with his clergy at Monte Casino, will do nothing. Three times I have sent messengers to him, and once I attempted to see him myself and in all instances we were refused with only prayers to guide us. The prayers are welcome, and I am grateful even for that much, but food and arrows would be more to my liking at the moment.

It is not my intention to cause you distress, August Majesty, but I am sure that if there is not some significant change in the manner in which this war is conducted soon, then it is not impossible that we will not make the advances here that you have said you wish. With proper supplies, the monies we needed, ships at our disposal and additional troops, we have an excellent chance to reclaim our preeminence in Italy.

Let me urge you to devote time and consideration to the plight of your men here in Italy, and to the fate of this country should it fall into the hands of that barbarian Totila. We will forfeit more than land if we cannot provide the protection and aid that is desperately needed and desired by these people as well as by Your August Majesty.

My prayers blend with your own in supplication for aid at this time, and I place myself and the lives of my men and the people of this country in the hands of God as well as in the hands of Your August Majesty.

With all duty and reverence,

Belisarius, General

4

Only one of the fountains still ran, and it was little more than a sluggish stream instead of the bright, soaring cascades that had greeted Belisarius when he first was given the right to use this villa outside the walls of Roma. He stood beside the huge marble basin, one booted foot resting on the rim, and stared into the brackish depths. His face was leaner than it had been a month ago, and the lines in it had deepened. He looked up, squinting, as he heard footsteps coming toward him.

"God's blessing this morning, General," said Drosos at his most amiable, raising his voice enough so that the greeting would carry to those nearby.

"And on you," Belisarius said with less enthusiasm than his Captain showed.

"I've finished inspection, and it should take little more than an hour for my boys to be out of here for good."

"That's fast," said Belisarius, trying to make his approval apparent to the other man. "And the others?"

"Ask their Captains, not me," Drosos chuckled, coming to stand beside the General. "I have all I can contend with to watch my own men."

"Sensible," the General nodded. "Can you venture a guess?"

"I'd say that we'll be away from here by midmorning." He indicated the villa. "It's a shame to have to give this up."

"But with Totila so close, we'd be increasing our disadvantage if we remain. This villa could easily become a trap," Belisarius reminded him. "It's a pity, but it can't be helped."

"And what do we tell Olivia? It is her villa; willed to her by an old friend, many years ago, or so she said. How do we explain that this place which she loaned to us and which we promised to care for has been left for the Ostrogoths to pick clean—which they will. Look around you: she has treasures here. The statues, the library—"

"You're impressed with books and murals?" Belisarius said with surprise.

Drosos hesitated before he answered, as if the idea were new to him. "I suppose I am." He shrugged, continuing awkwardly. "Perhaps being here, seeing all these things… There are over a thousand volumes in the library and there are thirty-seven statues in the villa. I've never had the chance to…"

"And there is Olivia," Belisarius added when Drosos did not go on.

"Yes; there is Olivia. These are her things." He broke off, staring unseeing at the far wall. "But that's not all. She has shown me that there is worth in art and books, that they are more than the trophies of a wealthy life."

"Olivia is a woman of the old school," Belisarius said, hoping it was true. "She has some of the old Roman virtues left to her and she will not blame you or me if the barbarians get inside the compound."

"Still," Drosos objected vaguely.

"You might as well mourn for the horses she provided us—only two of them are alive now, and there were more than thirty in the stables when she left. Or the nine slaves that remained to care for us—they were gone weeks ago." He took his foot off the marble rim of the fountain. "Or for that matter, why not regret that the barbarians are here at all? and that we must meet their forces with our own or lose everything in Italy."

"You know what troubles me," Drosos said, deliberately lowering his voice to a soft growl.

"I suspect, I don't know," said Belisarius, peering into the early morning sun. Of the six hours of the day and the six hours of the night, this one was his favorite, when the world was still fresh and promising.

Drosos hitched his shoulders awkwardly. "I miss that woman. I know we had to send her away, but by the Dormition, I miss her."

"And does she miss you?" Belisarius asked without much interest.

"I hope so. When we get back to Constantinople, I intend to find out." He put one hard, square hand on his sword belt. "It will be easier then, with no battles, no war to distract us."

"You assume you will be returned to Constantinople," Belisarius said wearily. "There are other posts in the Empire, and you may find yourself at any one of them." He stretched and then tugged at the end of his pallium which was wrapped across the segmented links of his old-fashioned loricae. "Shoes of the Evangelists! I'm as stiff as a white-bearded monk this morning."

Drosos had seen this before. "It's the campaign," he said knowledgeably. "You always sleep ready to fight the night before we break an established camp. Remember the morning we left Africa? You said it hurt to breathe." He patted the General on the shoulder once, a familiarity that was permitted few of the other Captains. "Have the farrier put some of that camphor salve on it—it stopped my roan's lameness in a day."

"If it lingers through the day," said Belisarius, knowing that the tight muscles would be eased as soon as he climbed into the saddle and finally got moving. He never felt so vulnerable as he did at this stage—when he and his men were preparing to leave, but were not yet ready to march.

Two other officers, one of them holding a chip of bone to his lips, ambled into the courtyard. They were both fresh from their morning prayers, as Nikolaos' relic showed. He lifted it toward Leonidas, and the other man also kissed what was believed to be part of the index finger of the Apostle Loukas.

"Do you think that is genuine?" Drosos wondered aloud. It was a question he would put to no one but the General, whose discretion was as absolute as his loyalty.

"Nikolaos believes it is, and that may be sufficient. I don't like to venture guesses. How many times have I seen scraps of Mother Maria's robes or the head of the Spear of the Crucifixion offered in the marketplace next to fresh fruit and new bread?" Belisarius shook his head. "It may be genuine. It may be all that is left of some poor creature who died walking from Jerusalem to Damascus."

"The Emperor has the Lord's Shroud," said Drosos with very little emotion.

Belisarius said nothing. He cocked his head. "Horses, coming fast."

At once Drosos' manner changed; he moved quickly and with surprising speed as he shouted to the other two officers. "Nikolaos, Leonidas, now!"

The other two responded at once, sprinting across the courtyard to the central part of the villa where they began to shout orders to the men still there.

Belisarius hurried toward the stables at the back of the second atrium. He no longer felt the stiffness in his body and he lifted his head in anticipation of news and fighting. He was almost at the stables when he heard Drosos' shout and a clarion signal. Immediately he hurried back toward the entrance to the villa.

Drosos was waiting for him, holding the steaming horse of the Emperor's messenger. He had summoned one of Belisarius' slaves to tend to the messenger and had just issued instruction for the care of the lathered horse.

"The Emperor honors me," said Belisarius as soon as he did not have to shout to be heard. There were now more than ten men in the courtyard, all gathered near the messenger.

"The Emperor tends to all those who are his subjects," said the messenger, sounding more fatigued than devoted.

"And I am to have words from him. I thank him and I thank God for this distinction." Belisarius longed to reach up and take the scroll from the man, but that would be intolerable to the man and to Justinian, so he waited until the slave finally arrived with a suitable stool so that the man could dismount in complete safety and not risk dropping the scroll he carried.

Once that ceremony had been observed, Belisarius took the scroll and retired to the dining room that now served as the officers' chapel. He broke the seals in the presence of his officers and the two priests who accompanied them, and then read the scroll.

"Leonidas, Drosos, Savas, Hipparchos, Omerion, you are all being distinguished by the Emperor Justinian, who is ever the champion of God and his people. You are ordered to return to Constantinople in forty days, at which time you are to tender a complete and unbiased report of what has taken place here in Italy. Furthermore, each of you is instructed to keep daily records from now until your time of departure, and to tell no one of the contents of those records until such time as the Imperial Censor shall examine them for the August Majesty." He sighed; such orders did not bode well.

The five officers all accepted their orders with enthusiasm, but Drosos tried to catch his General's eye as he did.

"I am required to make a catalogue of misdeeds of our soldiers here in Italy and see that it is placed in the files of the Imperial Censor, along with any record of punishment meted out for the action of the soldiers." That would cause more rancor than the daily reports, he knew, but he would not dispute a direct order from Justinian. "If there are goods, chattels and other properties to be shipped back to Constantinople, the messenger must be informed so that proper allocation of space and slaves may be made. The messenger has the Emperor's mandate to see all of you are treated with greatest respect and attention, and you are assured that nothing of value need be discarded or left behind unless you would rather not be hampered by the material, in which case access to markets in Italy will be guaranteed by Justinian." He could not imagine how the Emperor could make such promises, and having made them, fulfill them, but he knew better than to question what Justinian said and did. He held out the scroll to the messenger. "You have witnessed the notification of these officers. Is there anything more I need do while you are in my presence?"

"No, General, not at the moment," said the messenger, who looked overcome with fatigue now that his actual duties had been discharged.

"Very well. You will be escorted to quarters here, if that is your wish, although we are about to move out. We can also arrange for you to travel in a litter or—" All his life since he had become a soldier Belisarius had taken care to treat messengers well; they were far too important to ignore simply because they did no fighting.

"Any provision you make, General, will be acceptable. I am tired, but…"He finished the thought with a shrug.

"Then we will order a litter, so that you may rest and not have to be jostled about on a horse." He clapped his hands and was gratified when one of the household slaves hurried up. "This man needs food, and while he is eating, order a litter made ready for him, so that he can travel when we leave." He realized that in giving that order he had just pushed back their departure the better part of an hour, but he could think of no alternative.

"General?" Leonidas asked.

"Yes?" He waited while the young Captain ordered his thoughts. "What is it?"

"How long do you think we will be here? Not this place, but in the vicinity of Roma?"

"That is hard to say, but since you are returning to Constantinople, there is no reason for you to be concerned about the army in Italy." He smiled to show that he had no opinions on the matter one way or the other.

"But what will this do to the plans we have been following?" It was a question they all wanted to ask but had hesitated to bring to Belisarius' attention, for this change in officers would seriously alter the strength of his forces.

"That," Belisarius said slowly, "will depend on what Justinian decides to do in regard to our men here. If he sends the troops he has said that he would, we will be able to maintain our positions; if he does not send the troops and supplies, or if they are not sent in time, then the situation becomes a great deal more grave. As you are aware, we are not at the advantage now, and to recover it will take time and real effort."

"And the troops?" asked Drosos.

"If we have seasoned troops, good Roman and Greek fighters, we will be more likely to succeed than if the men are new to war or are from those peoples who delight in pillage. Some of the Italians are already abused by our men, and they resent this. If we continue in the same manner, then any support we might hope for will be lost." He shook his head once. "We must strive to carry out the orders of the Emperor."

"How?" was the reasonable question Drosos put forth for all of them.

"Ah, if I knew that, I would be one with the Saints and God. We will pray that if there can be victory, we will be shown the way to achieve it." He saw an odd look on the messenger's face, and then the man was following the slave into the villa.

"I say these orders bode ill for our campaign," announced Omerion, who was lean and tough as a ship's mast.

"That may be, but keep such thoughts to yourself, for your own protection," said Belisarius. "There are those in Constantinople who would turn your sentiments to your disadvantage; the court is not the army. Here we may gossip, but there a few unguarded words can endanger your life." He gave a signal. "All right. Everyone back to work. Assemble in front of the walls before midday and we will start then." That would be much later than he would have wished, but there was no chance now to move up their leaving. Cursing softly, Belisarius started away toward the stables, his attention more on the messenger than on the journey of the day.

"Belisarius," said Drosos behind him, half-running to catch up with the General.

"What is it, Drosos?" He kept walking, but slowed his pace until the Captain was abreast of him.

"I want to know what you really think about the orders. I know you can't say much in front of the men, but, by the Horns of Moses, you can say more to me."

They emerged from the hallway into haze-brilliant sunlight. Around them men were struggling to be prepared to march. The noise was tremendous, compounded of shouts and brays, of the sounds of hammers and winches and wagons. Belisarius strode along, careful to stay out of the way of the work, and Drosos dropped slightly behind him.

"Belisarius," Drosos insisted as they reached the tents where the saddlers and farriers kept their supplies.

"Yes, I know. What do I think about the orders. I don't know yet. I don't know what Justinian is preparing, but I am certain that he must be preparing something." He ducked through a tent flap and called out, "Begoz."

A gnarled old man answered the call. "Here, master. I have been doing what I can since before dawn, but you—"

"I am not criticizing you, Begoz," Belisarius assured him. "I only want to know what progress you've made."

The old man shook his head and indicated the trunks half-filled and standing against the canvas wall. "There's not been enough time, sir. Not enough at all. I want to do you credit, but to do that, I need several more hours, and it hasn't been possible, what with all the comings and goings." As he continued his recitation, his voice took on a whine that was irritating to both Belisarius and Drosos. "You see, when someone orders something special, well, it means that I have to take extra care, and with some of these youngsters coming to me with worn girths and broken saddle-frames, what can I do? They need their tack for battle, don't they? and that means that such orders as yours must be postponed. You can see why this is so difficult for me."

"Yes," said Belisarius with more patience than he would have thought necessary. "And I know that a craftsman of your skill is not going to make a saddle that is anything less than the best you can provide. However, I think you might be a little more vigilant."

Begoz put his hands to his face. "I didn't mean anything against you, General, and I wouldn't for a moment cause you to be displeased if there were any way I could prevent it." He approached, and it was apparent that he had a severe limp; one of his feet was malformed and the leg was twisted, as if a giant hand had taken a doll and tugged the limb out of line.

"No, of course not," said Belisarius, making a motion to keep Drosos from speaking out impulsively. "But that will not prepare the saddle for Olivia, and I would like it to be sent with Drosos when he returns to Constantinople in the next few weeks. If the saddle is ready before he leaves, there will be an advantage for you." He reached into the leather pouch that depended from his wide, metal-studded belt. "This"—he held up a large gold coin with the image of the Emperor on it, his crown like a halo—"is yours if the saddle can go with Drosos to Byzantium."

The old slave stared at the coin, captivated by its size and color. "I might be able to work in the evening, when others are taking their leisure."

"If that is required, then do it," he said, keeping the gold archangel within reach for Begoz. "It is unfortunate that the widow Clemens has lost her villa to us, but we are about to lose it again. The least we can do now is to show her some sense of our appreciation. The saddle is only a token, but it is a necessary one. If you cannot aid me in this, say so now, that I may find another to undertake the task."

"No need for that," said Begoz hastily. "Grace of God, no. You need only tell me what you require and it will be yours."

"Excellent," said Belisarius dryly. "I will expect that the day after tomorrow, wherever we are camped, you will be able to report to me that you have progressed on this saddle, and will be able to say when it will be done. If you are false, and if you tell me that you are more advanced in your work than you are, then you will be flogged. Do you understand this?"

"Yes," said Begoz in a subdued voice. "Yes, I understand you, General, master."

"Then report to me at the end of the day after tomorrow and we will then determine if you are capable of completing this commission." Belisarius tossed a small silver coin. "This, for any special supplies you may need."

The old saddler caught it. "As you say, there may be supplies and you might not be free to see they are provided."

Once they were out of the tent, Drosos turned curiously to Belisarius. "You said nothing to me about this saddle."

"I wanted to be certain it could be finished."

"And do you think it will be?" They stood aside as a large cart drawn by four sweating mules lumbered by them.

"Drosos, do not concern yourself; either Begoz will complete it or I will find another who will, and by the time you leave you will have a saddle to take to Olivia, with my compliments for all she has given us. It might take some of the sting out of learning that this villa has fared badly. I do not think that once we are gone Totila will require that his army defend the place. They have been destroying villas in the north, and they have sworn to flatten Roma herself. A saddle is a little thing compared to a villa, but it is better than nothing." He peered across the busy staging area. "Look at the orchards—more than a third of the trees are cut down, and that was only for firewood. What would it be like if we had been bent on destruction? You know that the walls would have fallen and most of the furniture would be lost." He walked slowly, speaking in an undervoice that Drosos had to strain to hear over the jostling and shouting around them. "There are not many like her left. It is not to our credit if we abuse them: we are no better than the barbarians we oppose if we make no acknowledgment of her generosity."

"She is a generous woman," said Drosos, a reminiscent smile on his lips.

"In more ways than the one you choose to remember," Belisarius reminded him sharply.

"But—" He broke off as three mounted bowmen clattered by. "My General, we will not be able to replace anything she has lost. I will take the saddle, or any other gift you request, and I will repeat any message, just as you bid me, but do not assume that this is recompense, even for a generous woman."

Belisarius laughed. "No, I make no such assumption. We were more fortunate than we deserved to be. It might not happen again while we are in Italy."

"What… what do you anticipate?" Drosos asked, reading distress in his General's eyes.

"I try to anticipate nothing. But I fear that there are not going to be more Romans like Olivia Clemens to give us their villas and their provisions as she did." He pointed away toward the distant walls of Roma, just barely visible through the dust and a wide gap in the stout fencing that surrounded the villa's grounds. "That is what we all seek; Totila and all of us. And the city is growing tired of changing hands."

"Once we strengthen our occupation, Totila will not be able to maintain his position and then he will have to withdraw to the north." Drosos said this as if he were repeating a lesson, and he was surprised to see that there was no certainty in Belisarius' expression to answer his own.

"If all we have been promised is delivered, and if all the men we need are sent, and if there is no more looting or raiding, and if Roma decides to defend herself, and if there is food enough and water enough to withstand a siege, then perhaps Totila will be discouraged, or perhaps instead he will become enraged and then the fighting will erupt with greater severity than any we have seen so far." Belisarius shook his head. "I could envy you, if it did not compromise the Emperor."

"How?" asked Drosos, surprised by this admission.

"I am the General of Justinian, and whatever he commands of me I will do. My oath binds me to him and to God. But when I look ahead, I long for soft nights and the riches of Constantinople, and the company of my wife without the promise of marches and battles." He scratched at his graying hair. "But another time, another time. Now the Emperor wants me here, and I will do all that I can to be worthy of his confidence and commission." He lifted his hand as a signal to Savas, who was supervising the loading of sacks of grain to be used as fodder for the horses.

"Why not request a posting to Constantinople, if you miss it so much?" Drosos asked, knowing the answer, and providing it before Belisarius could speak. "Because you do not want to risk losing Imperial favor, which such a transfer might entail."

"Yes," agreed Belisarius. "That's part of it. And the rest is my oath. I am bound to serve Justinian in any capacity he demands, for he is Emperor and anointed in the service of God." He summoned Savas with an impa-tient gesture. "Drosos, tonight we will speak again, but for now I must see what the trouble is with these carts. If we cannot carry the grain with us, we will have to make sure that it is not left behind for Totila to use." He started away from his Captain, but stopped and turned back to regard the younger, stockier man with interest. "You took an oath, too, Drosos. Never forget your oath. It is what separates us from barbarians like Totila."

"I will remember, General," Drosos promised him.

"Also, do not forget that the hottest fires of hell burn for those who betray their oaths." He then trod purposefully toward the half-laden carts.

Drosos watched him, wishing he could ask what had prompted him to give so stringent a warning. What was it that prompted Belisarius to remind him of his oath? He never doubted that he would honor his oath, for that was the duty of a soldier. As an officer, he accepted the full weight of the obligation.

"Captain," said a young soldier who approached him from the left. "Captain, there's a problem. Will you come?"

"Aren't you Leonidas' man?" Drosos inquired.

"Yes, but he is still busy with others," said the young soldier. "Someone must help us."

Drosos sighed as if to chase the glum thoughts from his mind. "Very well. Tell me what the trouble is." He set a brisk pace, permitting the soldier to point out the way.

"We have a shortage of carts and wagons," said the soldier. "We have to find a way to carry more."

"The same as everyone else," said Drosos heavily. "All right; how many mules and how many oxen do you have?"

"Not enough," the soldier said. "We lost a dozen mules in the last night-raid. We're on the perimeter of the camp, and so we're more vulnerable than some. Three of the oxen are lame and we have been told we cannot use them. Captain Leonidas has already issued orders."

"If you cannot use oxen and you are short of mules, what do you have for haulage?"

"Not much," said the soldier. "We have horses, but we're supposed to reserve those for riding and battle. We have been warned that they are not to be exhausted by moving camp."

"I see," said Drosos, shoving a water-carrier aside.

"We tried the goats, but they don't work well in harness," the soldier went on, becoming embarrassed.

"Holy belching angels! I should think not," said Drosos, his patience almost exhausted.

"There wasn't much else we could use," the soldier offered by way of excuse.

"I know; I know," said Drosos, clapping one hard-palmed hand on the soldier's arm. "You're doing the best you can under the circumstances. It's all any of us can do."

"We wanted to find some of those big hounds they had in the north, but no one around here breeds them. I've heard they're pretty strong." He was hoping for a word of encouragement, but he was disappointed; Drosos sighed and shook his head.

"The Emperor doesn't… understand. He's not aware of how strained our resources are here. He assumes that because we have come to save Italy from Totila that we are welcome everywhere and that the country is as rich as it once was. Nothing can convince him that we are not the heroes to the people that he believes we are. It is a great compliment to us, I suppose, and one that our General deserves, or would if things were not so difficult." He had almost said desperate but had stopped himself in time.

The soldier coughed. "What do we do?"

"Find the least worthy horses in your string and use them for haulage. They won't be much use to you in battle in any case and they might as well earn their hay like the rest of us." Drosos indicated the men on the far side of the camp. "You might see if Stamos' men have any spare oxen. They had one a few days ago, but you never know if they still do. Knowing that lot, they might have eaten it by now."

"Some of the men do complain about rations," the soldier agreed.

"Small wonder," Drosos concurred. "Millet cakes for four days in a row!"

"Maybe I should requisition some of the goats for food," the soldier ventured uncertainly since they were under orders to take nothing from the villa.

"Why not? If we do not eat them, Totila's men will," said Drosos, knowing that if Olivia were here she would give him the goats and anything else he might need. He would think of something to explain this to Belisarius later. "Tell your men to round up a dozen goats and take them along."

"On your authority?" the soldier asked, unwilling to risk his own neck.

"Yes, on my authority as granted by the owner of the villa." He promised himself that he would make restitution to Olivia when he saw her in Constantinople. She would understand and agree that he had done the only sensible thing in ordering the goats be taken. And if she did not, he was confident he could explain it to her.

The soldier grinned. "If that's your order, then I suppose I must obey."

"It's my order," said Drosos. He started away, then stopped. "How many men in your unit are ill?"

"Only three," said the soldier. "Why?"

"Nothing, just curious," said Drosos, and went on his way, thinking that if they continued to have men fall ill, they would not have enough to go into battle, and they were already crucially low on battle-ready troops. Briefly he resented his orders recalling him to Constantinople; Belisarius needed him and every officer and man he could get. Tired as he was of campaigning, he still was uneasy at the thought of leaving his General and friend to face Totila with depleted forces.

"Drosos!" The sharp summons of Belisarius' personal slave caught his attention and he hastened toward the General's standard, the problems of breaking camp now uppermost in his mind.

* * *

Text of a letter accompanying an inventory carried on the Emperor Justinian's ship Resurrection along with military dispatches.

To Antonina, the esteemed and august wife of the General Belisarius, on the eve of the departure of the merchantship Spairei Krohma, which sets sail on the Feast of Saint Iannis in the Lord's Year 545.

It is my honor to inform you that my vessel has been selected by your most worthy and august husband to carry the goods awarded him for his victories to you for proper installation in his home. To that purpose, the inventory he himself prepared accompanies this so that upon our safe arrival in Constantinople you can for yourself ascertain that the goods are the correct ones, shipped in good order, and received in the condition that God Himself has granted they arrive.

Of particular interest is a set of vases of fine workmanship and considerable age that are so fragile that in spite of very careful packing, I must warn you that they might not survive the sea voyage. I pray that this caution will turn out to be completely useless, but I feel that I must warn you that these more than any other items are in danger of breakage or other damage during the days at sea.

Since my ship is a simple merchantman, it will not come with the speed that the Emperor's ships travel, and I estimate that it will be twenty-three to twenty-five days for us to make the voyage, if the weather remains reasonably good.

At this time of year we often have rain but not many storms. Should we encounter a storm, then we are entirely at the mercy of the winds and in the Hand of God, as we are every day and hour of our lives.

I give you my word that I will do all in my power to see that your goods arrive quickly and in proper order. Any loss that is the fault of my slaves and ship's hands will of course be my responsibility. Those goods lost due to the elements I cannot promise to pay for, since that cost grows from acts over which I have no control.

I am sending word to Pope Sylvestros at the same time I send this to you. He may be found at the Church of the Patriarchs and he will make it his business to know where I am and how I am to be found. He will also know what the other merchant captains tell him, and if there are delays, he will send you word of it. The Church of the Patriarchs is located not far from the merchant docks, in the street where the ropemakers work.

Until I have the privilege to present you with your treasures, I sign myself your most eager and sincere servant who is honored for the distinction you and your distinguished and heroic husband have deigned to bestow on me.

Ghornan

ship's captain

by the hand of the priest

Gennarius at Santus Spiritos,

Ostia

5

Between the enormous crush of people and the heat of the afternoon, Niklos Aulirios was ready to give up his task for the afternoon and return to the house where Olivia was busy establishing herself. There had been tradesmen and artisans there all morning, and now that the afternoon was fading, and the merchants had once again situated themselves in their shops, refreshed by food and sleep, Olivia decided that Niklos would have to take advantage of the time and purchase the slaves they needed.

Niklos still bristled at the orders. "How do you explain me, in this world of slaves?"

Olivia had smiled at him. "You are a bondsman—no collar, no chance of sale or… lending."

The memory of that smile brought one to his lips. "Slaves." He had been told that he would do best to talk to old Taiko near the Church of the Dormition. It took longer for Niklos to find it than he had anticipated because four of the streets were dug up as part of the Emperor's restructuring of the city. Niklos had to ask his way several times, his Greek halting and nearly childish.

At last a house was pointed out to him: a narrow, leaning place that bowed over the street like a curious relative. The door was thick and its iron hinges crossed most of its width. A mallet and bell were provided; Niklos used them and waited for someone to admit him to the house.

Two slaves, both fat and sleek and dressed well, answered the door, smiling. If the old house had caused Niklos to doubt Taiko's prosperity, those two slaves banished the doubt at once. The taller of the two inquired who Niklos was and what he wanted from their master.

Once again Niklos cursed himself for the poor quality of his Greek. "I am the bondsman Niklos Aulirios," he began. "I work for the Roman lady Olivia Clemens. The wife of Belisarius told us that your master… he is the best in the city to buy slaves."

"This is very true, bondsman," said the taller slave, stepping aside to admit Niklos to the house. "You will find that here the best slaves are to be found, and the prices are the most equitable for everyone." He bowed and indicated his fellow. "I will inform my master that you are here and Pammez will remain here with you, to bring you whatever refreshment you require."

And to keep an eye on me, thought Niklos. "You are very kind," he said, knowing that he spoke like a child addressing his tutor.

Pammez, who was not Greek but Asian, by the look of him, indicated the smaller of the reception rooms off the vestibule. "I will attend to you." His voice was clear and high, like a boy's.

Niklos wanted to ask how many eunuchs Taiko owned, but did not know the correct way to phrase the question. He was still surprised at the number of eunuchs he encountered. There had been eunuchs in Roma, but not in the quantities he found here in Konstantinoupolis. He was not used to it and was not certain he ever would be.

Pammez made a reverence to Niklos—an extraordinary courtesy to a mere bondsman—and said, "For so august a lady as the wife of Belisarius, there can be no service my master would not perform with gladness in his heart."

So the reverence was for Antonina. "She has been good to my mistress." Niklos cocked his head to the side. "I do not know how these… are done. What does your master need to know from me and from my mistress?"

"He will tell you and you may rely on his discretion, for in these matters, the position of such a lady as your mistress makes discretion necessary. Everything she requires may be accommodated, and her requirements fulfilled without any notoriety."

Niklos was not certain what notoriety there might be in purchasing slaves, but he did not know how best to inquire. He folded his hands and regarded Pammez thoughtfully. "My mistress wishes to buy several slaves."

At this, Pammez laughed aloud, though it was most impolite for him to do this. "Ah, Romans. They are so diverting. Your mistress wishes to buy slaves." He restrained himself to a chuckle.

The indignant inquiry that Niklos was struggling to form was stopped by a sound at the door. As Niklos turned, Pammez fell to his knees and ducked his head, and belatedly Niklos made a deep reverence to the lean, gray-haired man who stood there, and behind him, a lame, bearded fellow with a predatory beak of a nose and ferocious eyebrows came.

"They say," said the bearded man as the other stepped respectfully aside, "that you wanted to see me."

The lean man cleared his throat and said, "This is Taiko, master of this house, father of seventeen sons and captain of the vessel Fishhawk. He has consented to speak with you, bondsman of the Roman lady Clemens."

"I gather," said Taiko abruptly, "that she's the widow everyone's talking about, the one who bought the house from Andros Trachi. They say that Antonina has entertained her three times since she arrived."

"That is so," said Niklos, a trifle taken aback by the man's behavior.

"She'll need a number of slaves to run that place, and from what I hear, she's made it even more elaborate than it was. Went and installed one of those heathenish Roman baths. The popes'll have something to say about that." He grinned once. "They say she's rich."

"She is," said Niklos. "My mistress has a large fortune."

Where Pammez had laughed, Taiko guffawed. "Fortune!" he exclaimed when he could speak. "A widow with a fortune."

"Why does this amuse you?" demanded Niklos, who was growing indignant.

Taiko bobbed his head twice and then spat. "Well, I can't suppose you Romans understand that—though your name says you're Greek—and I'll explain it, but undoubtedly Antonina has already made this clear to your Roman lady. You speak as if she has money and property of her own, which belong directly and only to her. I guess they might do things that way in Roma, being so wild there. But here we are more in accord with the teachings of scripture, and we do not let women fend for themselves. Your Roman widow will have to have someone to manage her affairs for her, to purchase slaves and provide her with the housing she requires."

"What do you mean?" asked Niklos.

"I hear that Belisarius himself arranged for the house, and that's a great honor for her, but now that she's here, she'll need a sponsor, preferably a pope since she's a widow and has no father or brother living here. These are the ones who will purchase the slaves and see them installed." He motioned to Pammez. "Go and get my scribe. We will need to take down her requirements. I am sure we can see that she is given provisional purchase until something more correct can be arranged. She'll need slaves to keep that house going."

Pammez hastened to obey, making a deep reverence to his master as he left the room.

"Have a seat, bondsman," offered Taiko, and dropped onto a long couch. "This might take time."

"Why must there be a sponsor?" asked Niklos as he chose a square-backed chair.

"She's a woman. She is hardly in a position to know what is best to do." He smiled abruptly. "Maybe the Roman women have had less guidance. It wouldn't be so unusual, given what the Romans have shown themselves to be. They've permitted women to do far too many things for themselves, and look! the whole country is in disarray."

Listening to Taiko, Niklos was distressed. No wonder there had been so many difficulties since their arrival. "Why would it not be possible for Antonina to serve as sponsor in her husband's absence?" He hoped he had got the words right.

Taiko shook his head. "You Romans have no notion, have you? If the august lady Antonina were not so well-placed, I would not be able to provide even these make-shift arrangements until a churchman had approved them, but with Antonina so much a friend of Theodora, I am certain that a few changes will be overlooked if they are not too obvious or left unresolved for too long." He signaled to his majordomo, indicating Niklos and himself. "If you will bring us honeycakes and wine?"

At once Niklos held up his hand. "If you are getting this for me, I must decline. It would not be proper for a Roman bondsman to take such hospitality, because it would insult your offer. I have not learned your ways yet and keep to my own."

Taiko looked at Niklos, then shrugged. "Romans. You are an odd lot."

"You are strange to us, as well," Niklos said, doing his best to make light of this observation. "My mistress has said so hourly since we came here."

"Alone as she is, with no one to act for her and no man to guide her, it must be very sad for her. How many women can endure this without aid?" He addressed the question more to the air than to Niklos. "You are the closest thing she has to a man in this world, if what has been said is true, and a bondsman is hardly more than a slave." He took a deep breath and let it out explosively. "I suppose that I must do all that I can to assist you in this dreadful circumstance."

"I would appreciate it," said Niklos, wishing that Taiko were making a joke, and aware that he was not.

"Excellent," said the slave-merchant. "I will show you what is available for running a household like your mistress', and you will select as you see fit. I will of course be willing to accept any slave returned within two days. You may not be satisfied with a selection until you determine how the slave goes in the household. A man may deal with recalcitrant slaves by might and by his order, but women are not able to do this." He indicated Pammez. "He will see that all the slaves you select are healthy, and if they are not you will be notified. We cannot assure you that every slave is Christian, and if this is a requirement, it may take more time to staff the household to your satisfaction. Is it necessary that your slaves be Christian? I have found that some women insist that they have Christian slaves only."

"My mistress is not so fussy. In Roma we have learned to…"He could not think of the word for tolerate, and this annoyed him more than he wanted to admit. "In Roma," he began again, "there are many of different faiths."

"And the Bishop of Roma has said that Roma is the center of the faith," scoffed Taiko. "How can anyone believe that if there is such chaos?"

"The Bishop of Roma knows Romans," said Niklos. "And so does my mistress."

This time Taiko nodded sagely. "Yes, I understand your meaning here, bondsman. You must accommodate your mistress, and you are correct in taking such an attitude, but here in Konstantinoupolis, you need not fear for your beliefs. We protect those who are sincere, unlike the reprehensible cowardice of the Bishop of Roma, who has fled his city when it is most in danger. No wonder the world has moved to this place."

"The invaders are always a problem," said Niklos, doing his best to appear submissive.

"Come, then," said Taiko, getting up suddenly. "I will show you what I have to offer and I will tell you what the slaves will cost. You, in turn, may do as you wish in making your selection. I have a full list of the accomplishments, skills and the full records of the slaves from their previous owners."

Niklos followed him, aware that this man might easily decide to be offended by his visitor, which would stop the negotiations for some time, and which would not be useful to Olivia. He kept his manner subdued and respectful as he entered the quarters at the rear of the house and stood while Taiko called out names.

Finally there were fourteen men and women lined up for Niklos' inspection. They ranged in age from twelve or thirteen to near thirty. Five of them were at least partly Asian, including one woman called Zejhil who had been brought from beyond Vagarshapat. There were two Egyptians, and the rest were of mixed Greek and African blood.

"This will be enough for a short time. There is no gardener, and there are only three kitchen slaves, but if it is as you say and your mistress has few requirements in that area, then these will suffice until a proper sponsor can be established for your mistress," said Taiko in his most confident manner; he had done this many times before.

"If you are willing, I would like to see two more, the Briton and the fellow from Ptolemais. They have skills that would be of great use to my mistress, and she wishes to have these skills in her household at once." Again he was hampered by his lack of skill with Greek, but he continued as best he could. "I will inform my mistress of the aid you have given me."

"That's good to know. All right—the Briton and the Ptolemaisi." He clapped his hands and called out two more names. As the slaves came forward, he addressed them all. "You have been selected for the household of the Roman lady Olivia Clemens. She will have two days to install you, and if you do not give satisfaction, she will return you to me, and I will deal with you accordingly. You are to be loyal and dutiful to her. God has given you your station in life and it is for you to bow your head to your fate."

Most of the slaves made the sign of protection, but a few said nothing and remained still.

"You are to go with this bondsman, who will tell you what is required of you. Any deviation from his orders will be told to me and it will be part of your record. If you wish to live well, you will see that your record is kept clear of questions. Am I understandable to everyone?"

The Briton asked in halting Greek with a strong accent, "If we are not… good speakers, what then?"

Niklos answered before Taiko could. "My mistress, as this merchant has said, is Roman. She will do what she can to make all of you know what she says. And though I am Greek, I have lived most of my life in Roma, so my speech is not very good in Greek."

This appeared to be the answer the Briton was seeking, and half of the slaves looked guardedly relieved.

It took a good part of the afternoon to attend to all the business of transferring the slaves to Olivia's household, and by the time Niklos left with an escort of five of Taiko's slaves to tend the sixteen Niklos had acquired, the sun was low in the west, its copper rays slanting through the city, making sudden paths of brightness amid the shadows.

By the time they reached Olivia's house, the sky was a deep and glowing violet. At the nearest church, the sound of chanting had begun to mark the offices of the close of day. The city, suspended in silence like prayer, was hovering on the edge of night. The torches that greeted them at the house Olivia had bought were bright and festive, out of keeping with the solemn darkness around them.

Niklos gave each of Taiko's slaves a silver coin for their assistance and was startled to find that they were unfamiliar with this custom. "In Roma, it is always done for extra service," Niklos explained, adding, "My mistress keeps to her Roman ways, and so must I."

Pammez shook his head but accepted the coin. "How can slaves be trusted when they are given coins by others? It would suborn their loyalty. No wonder Roma has come on such dreadful times, if the slaves are treated so." He indicated the others. "Be wary, Roman, that you do not make your position more dangerous than it already is."

Niklos dismissed Taiko's slaves, then opened the enormous doors to admit the rest. He gathered them together in the vestibule and faced them. "In a short while you will meet your new mistress. I wish to tell you of how we conduct ourselves at this place. Olivia Clemens is a Roman lady, a widow, and she will want to continue here in the same manner that she has in Roma. You each will be permitted to accept money for service, and to keep it for yourself. You may set this aside to earn the price of your freedom, as the Roman slaves of old did. She will permit you to purchase your freedom for what she paid for you. This is also in the tradition of old Roma, and since she is part of an old and revered family, she will honor this custom. You will be assigned duties and will be expected to perform them unless injured or ill. If you are injured or ill, you will be required to report to the Ptolemaisi for his treatment—he is a physician, according to his records—and you will follow his instructions for your recovery until such time as he informs you that you need not. If you are abused by anyone not in this household, or by any slave in this household, you are to inform me at once." He studied the faces turned toward him, noticing the expressionlessness that he had found on the countenances of most Byzantine slaves. He wanted to ask them if they understood but he could not bring himself to form the words. "If any of you are uncertain about your place here, speak with me. When you have been assigned your duties and your quarters, you will gather in the slaves' hall for your meal. All meals will be served there unless you are informed of other plans. There will be a breakfast in midmorning and a second meal at the conclusion of the afternoon repose. Fruit and bread will be available at other times, if they are needed." There had been a time, he reflected, that this was required of a slave owner, and not the strange custom it seemed to be now.

"What if the Roman lady is displeased with us?" asked the woman from beyond Vagarshapat.

"That will depend on why she is displeased," said Niklos. "If you have done wrong, you will be punished, but if you have only irritated her, then she will tell you what you have done wrong. When we are still unknown to each other there are bound to the errors and questions. While they are being settled, we must all make an effort to be alert. Once we have become more accustomed, then it will be otherwise."

There was a light step behind him and he turned to see Olivia herself standing in the door to the main hall. She was dressed in a long, dark bronze paenula that completely swathed her in silk. Her ornamentation was subdued but subtly rich, and her fawn-brown hair was coiled on her head with only three long pearl-topped pins to hold it in place. She glided into the vestibule, her deep hazel eyes moving deliberately from one slave to the next. "Niklos," she said.

"My mistress," he responded.

"So these are the slaves?" If she noticed the tension she had brought into the room, it was not reflected in her calm attitude and self-possessed air.

"As you ordered, my mistress." He stepped back to let her move closer to the men and women.

"Very good." She made a gesture of approval. "I welcome you. If you think it strange that a mistress should welcome slaves, consider this house and how it would be if I had to care for it alone." She indicated the torches burning in brackets around the room. "The task of lighting the place alone would take most of my waking hours."

"I have here the records, names, and history of the slaves from Taiko." Niklos held out a small box.

"Bring it to my apartments once you have seen these people fed and given quarters. I will want my name engraved on their collars. And do not remind me that I am not entitled to do this; I paid good silver and gold for these men and women, and I will have my name on them." Her head lifted imperiously. "This may be Constantinople, but I am a Roman, and will be until the hour when I am truly dead."

Niklos suppressed a smile: Olivia had intended to impress her new slaves and she had certainly succeeded.

It was more than her behavior, it was her quality and character that fixed the attention of the slaves so completely. He made a reverence to her. "It will be done, great lady."

At that Olivia laughed. "Long ago in Roma the proper word was domita. Then it became domina. Either will do. If you call me 'great lady' I will feel even more a stranger than I do already."

"Domita," said Niklos, his tone making it clear that the others would do well to emulate him.

"Finish your remarks, Niklos. I will not stay to hamper you. When you are through, I will look forward to speaking with you." She looked at her slaves once more. "You are welcome here; if you are not, it will be your decision, not mine." With that, she left the vestibule.

The entryroom was silent for several moments, and then Niklos took up the rest of his instructions. "Our mistress," he said, with a slight emphasis on our, "is very much herself. She does not live as most live, and she does not wish to. If you are able to respect this, you will have no reason to be unhappy here. If you are not able to do this, then let me know of it as soon as possible so that other arrangements can be made."

The youngest, a scrawny boy from Syracusa, said, "I have seen many Romans, but never one like her." He spoke in rough Latin, satisfied that Niklos would understand him.

"The Romans of the old Empire are not the same as those who came after. The Clemens gens goes back to the days before the conquest of the Sabines. They were of noble rank before Sulla was dictator. This is the heritage of our mistress; she lives by the code of her ancestors and the honor of her blood."

The slaves all nodded to show that they had heard; only the boy from Syracusa and the woman from beyond Vagarshapat exchanged glances.

"If you are all ready, come with me," said Niklos, indicating the hall toward the rear of the house. "I will show you your quarters."

As the new slaves followed obediently, the boy fell in beside Zejhil and murmured, " 'She lives by the code of her ancestors and the honor of her blood.' What do you suppose that means?"

Text of a letter from Eugenia to Antonina delivered by her body slave.

To the most august and excellent lady Antonina, wife of the great General Belisarius and confidante to Empress Theodora, hail on Eve of the Feast of the Annunciation.

I have your invitation for the festivities on the Feast of the Circumcision and I am eager to accept, no matter how awkward it may be for you to entertain a widow at such a gathering. You have also extended the invitation to that Roman lady Olivia, so I do not think it would be completely wrong to accept, and I want very much to accept.

You and I had so little time four days ago to enjoy the conversation we had begun, and that spurs me now to speak to you about matters we merely touched on while you and I dined together; that is, the matter of a husband.

Yes, by all means I will be most grateful for any assistance you can provide me in my search, for as you know, a widow in my position, with limited property and monies at my disposal and most of that controlled by my uncle, has little in life to find fulfilling or entertaining. Since my three children died before they were ten, I can approach my uncle for no reason other than my own position and pleasure and he is not willing to discuss either matter, nor is he of a mind to arrange a match for me, since that would place the money and property he now controls in the hands of my husband, assuming that I find another.

To be blunt, as you have encouraged me to be, I want to find a man who has some property and money of his own so that he does not entirely seek me for what I can provide. I would like him to be well enough placed in the army or the government that some advancement could be possible for him and for me, so that we could rise in position and influence through a little planning and effort. I would like him to be ambitious without being so ruthless that he will use me and then forget me. I would like him to share my interest in the life of the capital and my love of position. That way we can do much together without coming to be at cross-purposes. If he is willing to give me children, then that would be useful and would please me. If he is not willing to do that, then I will want him to let me go my way so that I will have children of another which he would recognize as his, so that there will be proper heirs for our estates as well as a source of power through advantageous alliances and marriages later in life.

If you know of such a man, or men, I am completely in your debt for bringing us together. You have always been a true friend to me, and never more than now when you have been at pains to aid me during this difficult time in my life. Be certain that if I am ever in a position to help you in any way that you may need it, you have only to ask and the thing is yours.

Once you have read this, I request that you return it to me or destroy it, for there are those who would seek reward from my uncle by disclosing the contents to him. That would not serve you or me any good, and so it is wisest to take care now that this does not fall into the wrong hands.

I know that your good offices will bring me the success I seek, and your kind words will do everything to make certain that no problems mar the resolution of my request. If you require anything more of me in this regard, send your body slave with instructions and I will provide you with more information, though I hope what I have set down

here will indicate my preferences clearly enough. I do not want to be so stringent that it becomes impossible to find what I require.

In all cordial duty and admiration,

Your friend

Eugenia

6

Rain had just started to fall when Simones left the house of Belisarius bound for the palace of the Emperor Justinian, three messages clasped in his enormous hand. He had wrapped his pallium around his shoulders and neck as well as over his head so that he would not become drenched during the short walk to the palace.

As he neared the palace, Simones took out his seal of authorization which would provide him admittance without the complicated process of verifying his identity and his owner. He had endured those procedures before, but that had been years ago and he was no longer willing to take the time required to satisfy the exhaustive demands of the court when presentation of a simple embossed piece of leather would give him the access he desired. He was prepared to deal with the men on duty as directly as they would permit.

Sure enough, the Captain of the Guard, the square-bodied Vlamos, was the one who greeted Simones with a terse order and the full weight of his authority. "Where are your permissions, slave?"

Simones held out the leather. "Heiliah eithelfei!" he cursed mildly, "what happens here that no one remembers Simones of Belisarius' household? Is my master some unknown dog from the country who is tolerated because of his name? Is my master a merchant who seeks to buy favor? Is my master a foreigner who is known to be a barbarian? Is he not the Emperor's finest General, the man who has defeated Totila more than once and who did so much to bring order in Africa?"

"All right, all right," said Vlamos. "You have made your point, Simones. If you seek an audience with the Emperor, you may be here for a while."

"What sort of slave would I be to think such things? You see that I bear messages which I have been ordered to hand myself to the Court Censor, who in turn will evaluate them and tend to them as he sees fit. I am not one who forgets his place nor does my master expect me to behave so improperly." He drew himself up to his considerable height in his dudgeon.

"Never mind," sighed the Captain of the Guard. "Pass and perform your errand. Be certain that you need not come again this day, or we will have to regard the formalities more stringently." He signaled his men to open the gate.

Simones straightened his clothes and strode forward. Because he had been castrated at age seventeen, he did not have much of the look of a eunuch, and his voice was as deep as any man's. He had almost no beard, but there were others who were completely whole who had light beards as well. Since he was almost a head taller than most men, he was regarded with respect by those around him; he was aware of this and used it.

One of the men-at-arms followed after Simones, keeping pace with him, his expression forbidding in its blank-ness. There were other similar escorts with other visitors in the palace, as much to guide their charges as to guard them.

The palace of the Emperor Justinian was a maze of courtyards and corridors, wings and suites, each with its own purpose, with almost a third of the whole in various stages of construction, for Justinian was known to have a passion for building. The distant sound of saws and hammering were as familiar here as the sound of prayer and chanting.

When Simones reached the group of rooms assigned to the Court Censor, he announced himself to the Egyptian slave who sat at a long, narrow table copying texts. "I am to see Panaigios," he told the Egyptian.

"He will be here presently," the Egyptian said, irritated at having his task interrupted.

"I am Simones, and my master is the General Belisari-us," he informed the slave. "Panaigios has said that he must speak with me and I do not think he would want to be ignorant of my arrival."

Reluctantly the Egyptian set his work aside. "Very well. I will inform him that you are here and return with his instruction." He made a nod that might have been intended to be polite but might also have been nothing but a last look at his copying.

Simones did not have long to wait. The Egyptian was back almost at once, and with him came Panaigios, the senior secretary of the Court Censor, and the highest ranking official that Simones, being a slave, could address directly. "I am Simones," he said to Panaigios.

"Yes; I have looked forward to this meeting." Panaigios was one of those men who are so ordinary they are almost invisible. His hair, while dark enough, was neither black nor brown and the slight wave was like that of hundreds of others. His height was average, his skin was medium olive, his eyes were ordinary brown. His pallium was good quality but simple and the slight embroidery was similar to what most other freemen wore.

"And I; it is an honor to be called to aid the Emperor in these times." Simones made a reverence as he spoke, to show his devotion to Justinian.

"Your master has caused the Emperor some concern," said Panaigios. "We must discuss it." He indicated a smaller room, and added, "We ought to be more private."

"Yes," agreed Simones as he followed Panaigios into the antechamber. He took the chair offered to him and sat very straight while Panaigios adjusted his cushions. "Hag-ios Vasilos," he swore, pulling at his leather slipper. "There is a pebble under my heel and it has nearly driven me mad. If you do not object…" He loosened the leather bindings and drew the shoe off his foot. A tiny stone fell to the floor. "To think that so little a thing could do so much hurt."

"It is often the little things that do," said Simones, pleased at the opening he had been provided. "A word here or there, a ring filled with less powder than would cover a thumbnail, and yet they are more deadly than a run-away horse."

"Sadly, you are right," said Panaigios. "Which is what has given this office so much to do."

"And why you wanted to speak to me," Simones pressed.

"And wished that it were not necessary," said Panaigios. "It saddens me to think that so fine and honorable a man as your master should have fallen in with those who plot against the Emperor."

Simones did not have to pretend to be shocked. Of all the things he had anticipated, this was the least likely. "My master?" he repeated. He had assumed that Antonina had been using her position of friendship with the Empress Theodora to gain advantages for her friends, and that the Court Censor wanted it stopped. To learn now that it was Belisarius who had attracted the attention and concern of the Censor astonished him.

"You see how insidious it is; you, his slave, have suspected nothing." Now that he had finished brushing the sole of his foot, Panaigios was once again donning his shoe.

"True. I believe there is nothing to suspect." It was daring to contradict a Court Censor, but Simones was willing to risk it—to be too quickly convinced would give rise to many questions that might not be easily or pleasantly answered—in the hope that he might discover what the Censor believed.

"That is certainly what the appearances would have you think but from what has been revealed, this is deception. There are men who have shown us that this outward loyalty and honor are nothing more than a mask worn to suit the occasion." Panaigios adjusted the drape of his pallium and settled himself more properly in the chair.

"I have never thought that my master was less than wholly devoted to the Emperor and his work," said Simones with more honesty than he usually permitted himself to show.

"That is the opinion of many, and if it were not for the devotion of others, it is what everyone would think. But certain loyal men have devoted themselves to discover what lies behind these protestations of dedication, and have discovered that there are plots to take power. No one is more active in this infamy than your master, and this is surely the most secret deception ever to be revealed. In all outward aspects this Belisarius would appear to be the most worthy of Generals, the most laudable of men. His success in this deception is astonishing." Panaigios had taken one of the folds of his pallium in his hands and was running his fingers over the embroidery.

"What has convinced you?" Simones asked, doing his best to seem uncertain.

"Many things. First has been his lack of triumphs in Italy. True, he has consistently claimed that the lack of men and supplies has hindered him, and there may be a degree of truth in this. But he has taken an inconvenience and claimed that it was a major impediment so that he could strengthen his position with the army and with the Emperor. This insistence that he must have more men and more supplies covers his determination to use the Emperor's-goodwill to become above any suspicion so that he could then strike and do so with complete impunity."

There was a sudden crash and a tumult of voices from the courtyard beyond the little room. This gave Simones a little time to compose his thoughts and to decide how to proceed. "I am aghast to think this could be true," he said when the workmen had stopped shouting, "but I cannot convince myself that it is true. It seems so unlike the virtue I have seen in the General that I am overcome."

Panaigios gave him a superior, pitying smile. "Yes. I realize that many another might be deceived, has been deceived by this. And it is appropriate that you are firm in your loyalty to your master. It is dreadful when slaves so much forget themselves and turn against their masters on a whim."

"It is," Simones agreed, his mind working furiously under his innocent frown. "But if what you say is true, then there are others who have put their trust in this man and their trust is being abused. It is wrong, very wrong."

"True enough," Panaigios stated. "How difficult it was for me to accept what was revealed. I, too, had faith in this man and I, too, wanted to find another explanation. But these good servants of the Emperor convinced me, and now it is my duty to pursue the malefactors with all the power at my disposal." He sat a little straighter in his chair. "But with so splendid a figure as Belisarius, it will not be easy to produce enough evidence to discredit him. Which is why I wanted to speak to you, Simones."

So that was it, thought Simones. He concealed the smile that plucked at his mouth. "For what reason, Panaigios?"

Panaigios cleared his throat. "You are in an enviable position, being well-placed within Belisarius' household and being trusted for your long service."

"It is too much," said Simones with a humility he did not feel. "I have done what the world and God require of me."

"And now you must do what your Emperor requires of you," said Panaigios. "It is fitting that you accept this commission and work to bring justice to this Empire. That transcends any personal loyalty you may feel to your master. The Emperor is far more worthy of loyalty than your master is, for you and he are both servants of the Emperor, or should be."

In the courtyard there was another hurried scuffle and then the sound of planking hitting the ground. Two men bellowed contradictory orders.

"It is not a decision that I desire to make," confessed Simones. "I am a slave, and if it should be determined that I am acting against the orders and good of my master, I would be lucky to escape with a life in chains. Slaves who betray their owners are not treated kindly." The degree of transgression determined the punishment, the least of which was public flogging.

"That need not concern you; I will provide you with certain guarantees from the Censor that will protect you if it appears that you may be questioned or are discovered working for us." Panaigios looked Simones directly in the eye, which only served to cause Simones to doubt him more.

"I am not certain that it would be possible for such a thing to save me." He hesitated, then said, "I am willing to undertake this because I do not wish to see any harm come to the Emperor, and if that harm were to come through my master, it would give me more shame than I could ever endure." With a gesture of resignation, he said, "I do not want to be part of this, but if you are correct and this plot exists and my master has become part of it, then I have to do all that I may to keep the Emperor and the Empire from harm."

"Admirable," said Panaigios.

"But I hope that I will discover that my master has been used by others, and that he continues to be dedicated to Justinian as his vows and station in life demand." Again he paused. "I fervently pray that this is all the plotting of evil men who are seeking to ruin my master. If I discover that he has fallen in faith and in purpose, then I will do all that I must" to keep him from committing even greater wrongs." As he touched his collar, he said, "If it is true that Belisarius has turned traitor, then this collar does not bind me."

"Very good," said Panaigios. "For a man in a difficult position, you show you have good sense." He studied Simones narrowly. "You are either a very devoted or a very subtle man, Simones, and either way, your purposes march with mine. I will require regular reports from you, and if you fail to produce them, then you will find that once my protection is withdrawn that your master will know more about you than you would wish." His voice had not changed, but there was a threat in it that was more daunting for its mild tone.

"It is an honor to serve you, Panaigios, and the office of the Censor as well. You will have your reports, though there may be little of interest or of use to you." There was no change in his manner, as if the threat had made no impression. "If Belisarius is found to be a traitor, then the shame of his act will touch all his household. I do not wish to be brought down by his acts."

"You are prudent. Good." He indicated the courtyard beyond the room. "I will arrange for you to be admitted through the side gate so there will be no record of your coming and going. It will give both of us the protection we need until we are able to denounce this man for all he has done."

Simones permitted himself a brief, nasty smile. "I will need some means of getting word to you, in case what I discover requires immediate action."

"Is that so important?" asked Panaigios, taken aback at the demand.

"It is," said Simones, and he could tell from the way Panaigios hesitated, that his position with the secretary of the Censor was secure.

"Very well, I will see you are provided with seals that will gain you admittance here without delay or question, and I will work out a signal with you, so that if you must have immediate assistance, it will be provided." He appeared uncomfortable for the first time since he removed his shoe.

"Tell me, why is Belisarius suspect now? He has been on campaign for so long, he has little to do with the working of the government." It was a question he had been wanting to ask since Panaigios had described his suspicions.

"He has been on campaign, and that has made him the hero of the army. Emperors have been overthrown by their palace guards, let alone the army. Remember in Roma, back five hundred years ago when there was one year with four Emperors; they were created and deposed by the Praetorian Guard and the Legions." He tapped the arm of his chair. "Our Emperor does not attend to history except where it concerns Christians, and occasionally he overlooks the lessons of the past."

"And there is reason to think that the army intends to… compromise the Emperor?" He still was not certain he put any credence in what he was hearing, but he knew that the army was full of ambitious men.

"Not yet, not that we can be certain of. If we had such information, you would not be asked to do these things for us. You would only have to see the disgrace of your master." This last statement gave Panaigios satisfaction, judging from the slow half-smile he showed Simones.

"My master is still in Italy, and there is very little I can do now, from here, that would be of use to you." He watched the other man, wanting to find out if he had other reasons for his request.

"Your master regularly writes to his wife, and she advises him. You can read their communications and tell me what is revealed there, if anything." Panaigios cleared his throat as his nervousness increased.

"It would not be honorable of me to read such mail." He knew that Antonina would take a very harsh view of such activities and he feared her wrath as much as he feared Belisarius'.

"Then you must be careful and not be caught," said Panaigios. "The safety of the Empire ought to mean more to you than your hide."

"But not if that hide is wasted." He knew that it was not impossible that he had been selected to be a sacrifice, a toy to distract while others worked in the shadows.

"That is not my intention," said Panaigios. "A slave in your position, in Belisarius' household, is too valuable to waste. If we were to permit you to be a sacrificial goat, as you imply—and not unwisely—it would ruin any chances for placing others in that household to do the work we need. And no other slave has earned the power and trust that you have."

"You are very thorough," said Simones, wondering who had told the Censor so much about the household and his place within it.

"It is what I must do." Panaigios rose. "I will want to speak with you in three days. Think about what I have said, and consider the danger in which the Empire stands. You have it within your power to be of aid, and if you are willing to be the Emperor's man, then you can do much. If you are not willing, then I warn you to tread carefully, for you are in a nest of vipers and may be stricken without warning."

As Simones stood he nodded. "I will consider this, and I am grateful that you are willing to think of me in this venture. If I hesitate, it is only because I have a duty to my master and his wife, and I must—"

"It is not only your master who interests us," said Panaigios, "but there are others. Who visits there, what they do, what they discuss, how they comport themselves. All that you may learn we wish to know. It is often through his associates that a man's true sentiments are discovered. Those who are close to Belisarius are not to be overlooked simply because they seem harmless, or because they have good reason to be his friend. If there are others in this conspiracy, they must be unearthed."

Now Simones was able to relax. "I know of everyone who visits the house, how long they stay and often what is said. I know of no reason I cannot report this to you without harming my master. Rest assured that I will reveal all I learn of this to you whenever you wish to know of it."

The two men regarded each other with new understanding. "So," said Panaigios, drawing out the word.

"Very well; for a start you will report to me everyone who comes and goes from the house. You will tell me what they say and to whom, why they come and where they go when they leave. Find out what it is they want from Belisarius and his wife, and what they are offering for what they want. It is important that we learn these things."

"Important?" said Simones. "For them as well as my master."

"If you continue to think that Belisarius is blameless, you may discover that there is more than enough guilt in others to implicate him in some way. Do not withhold information from me or it might be impossible for me to continue to protect you, and once your master learns of your conduct, well—"

Simones nodded. "Of course. And you are in a position to deny anything I might claim." He accepted this with relief. He knew now that he would have to be careful in all that he did.

"You are not unintelligent, slave, and you are dedicated. All that is required of you is that you maintain your dedication but to a higher purpose." He indicated the door. "My slave will see you out. He will tell you when you will be admitted to the courtyard for your reports."

For a moment, Simones stared contemptuously at Panaigios, then changed his demeanor so that he was once again submissive. "I am in your hands, secretary of the Censor. You can shape my destiny as God controls the fate of Man."

"That could be considered blasphemy," said Panaigios, but there was a degree of delight in the warning.

"For a churchman, perhaps, but for a slave?" He stepped back and opened the door. "I will report to you soon, Panaigios, and whatever I tell you will be the truth. I care not what you do with it so long as you do not throw me to the .storm."

"I can't afford to do that, in any case," admitted Panaigios. "You will come to believe that in time. Once you do, we will deal together much more effectively."

Simones made him a deep reverence that bordered on insult. "I await the opportunity to serve," he said, and left before Panaigios could say anything more.

The Egyptian slave glared at Simones, but handed him a slip of parchment with a few instructions scribbled on it. "You will receive the other items when you make your first report. Until then you must restrain yourself."

"I understand," muttered Simones. He was ready to argue with the Egyptian, but was not given the chance. Almost at once there was a household slave waiting to escort him to the main gate, and then the Captain of the Guard to send him on his way.

As he walked back to the house of Belisarius, Simones let his mind have free rein. He was determined to turn all that he had learned to his advantage. Plots and posturing, he told himself, could be made to serve his ends as well as anyone else's. But for this he would need an ally, someone who could share his risk. It would be useless to speak to Antonina, for if she ever discovered what he was doing, she would have him flogged to death without hesitation. It had to be someone close to her, someone who would listen to him. There were the two widows, and one of them might be what he wanted. Eugenia was Byzantine, and that was a tremendous advantage. She knew how the power moved and who moved it, and she was greedy for it, he could tell from her eyes. If not Eugenia, then that Roman woman, the widow Olivia might have to be used, but Simones was uncertain about her. She was too foreign and had too much power for him to be able to manipulate her as he would like.

A cart drawn by a single ox trundled by and Simones had to step to the far side of the road to avoid being injured. He called the might of heaven down on the drover's head, then resumed his progress along the noisy streets.

As he neared the house of Belisarius, he made up his mind: he would approach Eugenia first, striving to convince her that he could give her power and an access to position that he did not currently have. He liked her better than Olivia in any case, for he could sense her rapacity, and he trusted it. He did not know what it was that Olivia longed for, and was not willing to take the risks he would have to take in order to find out.

He entered the house by the side door and was informed that Antonina was waiting to speak with him, for she required his help in planning her next gathering. It was a simple matter, he decided, to make sure he remained an essential part of the household. It would satisfy both Antonina and Panaigios, which in turn would eventually satisfy Simones himself.

* * *

A letter from Pope Sylvestros to the Bishop of the Church of the Patriarchs.

To the most reverend, sanctified and august superiors and the Bishop, Pope Sylvestros submits this most humble request on the Evangelical Feast in the Lord's Year 546.

From my prayers and other devotions, it has come to me that there are those in Italy who yearn for the consolation of true religion, and who toil under the burdens of war and apostasy. For that reason, I am petitioning you to permit me to travel to Italy to undertake the comfort of these unfortunates. It is not unlikely that I will remain some time among those who need me, and who will be grateful to have the opportunity to find the solace of faith.

I am known to several of the sea captains who ply the waters between here and Ostia, and it would not be a great difficulty for me to secure passage with one or another of them. This will make my travels of little cost to the Church as well as providing yet another chance for me to reach those who are usually deprived of the offices of faith, for the captains would permit me to preach to the crew and anyone traveling with them to Italy.

We have heard of the losses and disgraces suffered by our troops facing the forces of Totila, and it may be that the presence of one of true religion might inspire courage and greater dedication among the soldiers so that they will be moved to battle with more determination for the saving of the city of Roma as well as the rest of the countryside.

Whatever your decision, I bow my head to your wisdom and your choice, and I profess myself wholly accepting of anything you permit me to do.

In the name of the Savior, the

Father and the Sacred Spirit,

Pope Sylvestros

Church of the Patriarchs

7

By sundown the heat of the day faded and the first slow night breeze moved over the Black Sea to Konstantin-oupolis, its light touch heralding the coming darkness. The voices of bells brazen as the western sky called a farewell to the sun; the shouts and bustle from the wharves and markets gave way to the drone of chants from the churches.

For Drosos, this was the familiar rhythm of home, one that he noticed only because he had so recently returned from the chaos of Italy. That campaign was still fresh in his mind, and often he had to remind himself that it was behind him. One thing he treasured from Italy waited for him now; he smiled as he trod up the gentle hill to the house where Olivia lived. It was his second visit since his return to Konstantinoupolis three weeks ago, and this time he hoped that their meeting would be more than the formal ritual that society required. His memory burned from the three nights they had spent together at her villa outside the walls of Roma, and he hungered now for more of her.

Niklos opened the door to him, saluting instead of making a reverence. "Welcome back, Captain."

Grinning, Drosos returned the salute. "I am happy to be here, Niklos." He glanced around the vestibule and saw no sign of other guests. "What company this evening?"

"Just you, Captain," said Niklos with a knowing look.

"For the entire evening?" He was a bit surprised at the majordomo's bluntness.

"For the entire evening," Niklos confirmed, adding, "My mistress waits for you in the garden."

"Will you take me there?" He could find his way himself, but it would be taking a liberty that could easily be thought a serious breach of good conduct. "You, or one of the household slaves."

"I will take you," said Niklos, indicating the hallway they should use and following a pace behind Drosos.

"How is your mistress?" Drosos inquired, attempting to keep the tone of the evening properly reserved.

"She misses you, Captain," said Niklos, his candor putting aside the practiced phrases that Drosos expected.

"I have missed her," said Drosos, aware that it was not correct for him to discuss Olivia with her bondsman.

Niklos gave Drosos an understanding nod. "You wonder that I should say this to you, that I know so much about my mistress? It is because I have been with Olivia Clemens for a long time, and as her bondsman and majordomo, I know many things about her. She confides in me and has done so for many years." They had passed the dining room and Niklos indicated the small supper laid out for the Captain. "Refreshments are waiting for you whenever you wish for them."

"Not yet, I think," said Drosos, his appetite whetted for something other than food.

"No," agreed Niklos, and opened the door to the garden.

Olivia, swathed in soft olive-green silk shot with silver, rose from her low couch as Drosos came toward her, her hand extended to him, her lyre set aside. "Welcome, Captain."

The polite compliments died on his tongue as he touched her; his eyes darkened with emotion and he made a deep reverence to her. "Olivia."

Her smile was warm and lucid as sunlight. "How glad I am you are here." Her paenula whispered and clung as she moved. "It has been too long."

"Much too long," he said, his senses almost overwhelmed by her presence.

"It pleases me that you feel as I do." She turned to Niklos. "I will call you in a while."

"Very good, my mistress," he said, withdrawing and closing the door, leaving Olivia and Drosos alone with the lengthening shadows and the first scent of jasmine.

Drosos was used to much more complicated preliminaries, and he stood uncertainly, baffled by the directness Olivia used. "How is it with you?"

"Better now you are here." She sank back onto her couch and indicated the place beside her. "Come, Drosos; join me."

Drosos did not move for the space of two long breaths, and then, very slowly and joyously, he moved to her side. He put his hand over hers, letting them rest together. "The other time I was here," he said quietly, "I wondered if you would grant me this…"

She touched his face just above his short-clipped soldier's beard. "Why would I not?"

"It has been a while." He stopped and went on with difficulty. "You have been alone here, and you might have found another you preferred to me." His last few words came quickly and he could not bring himself to meet her eyes.

"Drosos," she said and waited until he turned to her. "I have not found anyone I prefer to you, not in many years, certainly not since I have been here." She reached out to her lyre, the strings murmuring under her fingers.

He listened to the sound, his mind drifting with it. There was a stillness around him that was as tantalizing as an embrace. He was afraid to break it with words, afraid that he would lose the joy that filled him. Finally he brought her hand to his lips and kissed her palm: he felt her lips brush his shoulder through the fabric of his dalmatica.

For some little time neither of them moved. The air around them was as quiet as they were, suspended in breathlessness and anticipation. Then a finger of air stirred the leaves; the silence turned to soft rustling.

"Drosos," whispered Olivia, moving back from him far enough from him to see his face clearly in the fading light.

He let her read his features, exulting in the yearning in her eyes. He pulled her closer. "I want you, Olivia."

"And I you," she said as she wrapped her arms around him.

"Now."

Olivia laughed low in her throat. "There is no reason to rush when there is time to savor. Pleasure is not to be squandered when it can be relished."

"But it has been so long," protested Drosos, before he kissed her mouth.

When she could speak, she said, "Be patient, Drosos. Now that we are together, we need not hurry."

He pressed close to her, urgency melding with desire. He felt her body with his need, knowing she would not deny him. He fumbled with her paenula, seeking the flesh beneath it.

"Here," she said softly, and unfastened the tablion that held the garment at the shoulder. The silk fell away, and beneath it she was naked.

For an instant Drosos stared, transfixed with wanting her. His flesh trembled, his entire being as inflamed as his organ. Abruptly he started to tug his clothes off, casting the garments around him until all he wore was his shoes.

Olivia had watched this in silence, and as he reached for her, she acquiesced.

The couch was wide enough for both of them, and they fell together in a glorious tangle, legs and arms intertwined, hands seeking. They had been apart long enough that some of their old familiarity had been forgotten; it was ineffably sweet to rediscover one another, to find once more the ways each awakened the other.

As the first rush of desire calmed, Drosos was willing to let Olivia set the pace for them, delighting in her explorations of his body and longings. She coaxed more pleasure from him than he had thought they could share, offering herself to him as wholeheartedly as she indulged him. Every caress, each kiss increased their ardor; both gave the full bounty of passion even before he entered the depths of her body.

"Lord God of the Prophets," he gasped as he felt her tighten around him. His senses swam with rapture as they moved together. Only when he had succumbed to fulfillment and released her did he feel the world return. He propped himself on his elbows and looked down at her.

She smiled up at him, her face radiant. Then she began to laugh, and he joined her. "Oh, Drosos," she said, her head pressed to his shoulder.

His laughter continued, warm and unfettered. Reluctantly he moved aside, gathering her close against him, kissing her eyes as his chuckles subsided at last.

"It is so good to have you here," she said with a long, satisfied sigh.

"I didn't remember how wonderful you are," he told her, his fingers brushing the planes of her face. "You delight me."

"Wonderful," she said, deeply content. "It's been a very long time since I have wanted anyone as I want you."

She stared up into the star-strewn night.

"So ancient you are," he teased, and was surprised when she responded quite seriously.

"Yes; so ancient I am." She touched him tenderly where her mouth had been at the height of their passion.

"You bit me," he said, amused.

"Yes." She kissed the place then kissed his mouth. "I used to think that it would not be possible to care this way again, certainly not after so long."

He was startled at her somber tone, and he smiled at her a bit uncertainly. "What is it?"

"Oh, nothing." She moved closer to him. "I'm being foolish; pay no attention."

"If this is foolish," he said, leaning over to kiss her yet again, "then I like it better than wisdom."

"So do I." There was a roguish light in her eyes now, and she pushed at his shoulder so that he rolled onto his back; she braced one arm across his chest and grinned.

He tangled one hand in her hair and drew her down to him. "You are the most awe-inspiring creature I've ever known. You're like an angel."

"An angel?" she asked, laughing again. "I thought that angels did not indulge in these things." As she said this she ran her fingers over his chest, just barely touching him; she smiled as he shivered with pleasure.

"Angels indulge in ecstasy," he said with unruffled calm. "So you are like an angel."

"I see." She kissed him on the edge of his beard. "Do all soldiers have these?"

"Most of us. It isn't convenient to be clean-shaven on campaign, though Belisarius managed most of the time I was with him." His expression darkened at the memory. "I delayed coming back as long as I could. It was hard to leave him."

"Is it bad?" She had stopped her teasing and was watching him with serious concern.

"Yes." He met her eyes. "We had to abandon your villa. I don't know what Totila's men did to it." It shamed him to admit this, and he was surprised that she waved his apology away with some impatience. "We tried to protect it as long as we could."

"You assured me that would be the case and I had no reason to doubt you. I was more concerned for you and your men than for the villa. I have lived there more years than I care to remember, and while I am fond of the place, it is only stone. Men are living flesh, which is another matter." Neither she nor Drosos assumed that she was saying this erotically.

"But it might be in ruins."

"So might Roma, so might all of Italy." She rested her head on his chest. "It is the waste of life that horrifies me."

"There are always lives wasted in war," said Drosos, trying to sound cynical and instead revealing more despair than he realized.

"I hate them for that, if nothing else." She gazed up at the sky. "And in the end, how little difference it makes."

Drosos shifted under her, his arms going around her as much to give him comfort as to embrace her. "Must we talk about war, Olivia?"

"You said you were sorry to leave. I wanted to know why," she pointed out. "But no, we need not talk about it, nor of anything else that displeases you."

"It doesn't displease me," he protested, then relented. "Yes, it does, and that is troublesome, because I am Belisarius' Captain and an officer of the Emperor. It ought not to displease me. I should be proud of the honor I have been given."

"And if you are not, what then?" Olivia asked, her voice soft and kind.

"I have failed," he said simply, with devastation of spirit.

"Oh, no," she told him, raising herself enough to be able to meet his eyes. "No, Drosos; dear dear Drosos."

"What else can it be?" He sounded lost now.

"Perhaps it is merely that you know you cannot save everyone you wish to save and this causes you anguish. You are a good soldier and a good man; you would not willingly see land lost and people killed if there were a way you could prevent it."

"It's more than that," he admitted, one hand sunk in her fawn-brown hair. "It was the futility of it all. We had not enough supplies or money or troops, and so we lost. Belisarius has done more to hold on to Italy with less than anyone—"

"Such as the Emperor?" Olivia suggested.

"He promises, but nothing comes, or not enough, or not in time," he said uncomfortably. "If he understood, if he knew, then he would not withhold what is needed."

"Perhaps," said Olivia. "Or it may be that he wishes for his forces to manage with less." She said this as gently as she could, but it did not soften the blow that Drosos felt.

"The Emperor is not like that!" He shoved her, almost throwing her off him. "He has the Empire on his mind, and that is why he does not always comprehend what one part of it is up against. He in concerned for the welfare of everyone in the Empire and that often means that he faces conflicts. Even Belisarius knows this, for he has explained it to everyone who has served with him over the last years."

"And you believe as Belisarius does?" said Olivia. "Well, I am new to Byzantium, and it may be that as a Roman I do not have sufficient knowledge to judge what I see." Inwardly she knew better—that Justinian had decided to withdraw his support of his forces in Italy—but had no desire to argue with Drosos about it.

"Women never understand these matters," said Drosos. "Although," he amended, "you have a better grasp than many; it is your Roman heritage."

"No doubt," she concurred. Her hazel eyes grew distant. "And I do miss Roma, more than I thought I would."

"Because it is your home," he said, doing his best to reassure her. "You are like all of us; you would rather be in the place you know than among strangers. That's not surprising. No one could think that it is. No matter how much more opulent and beautiful Konstantinoupolis is, you will miss Roma, because it is where you were born."

"Yes," she said very slowly dragging out the word. "Yes, Roma is my native earth, and for that reason alone it pulls me. And you do not know what it was like at the height of its grandeur. You can't imagine it, seeing it now. You don't know how glorious it was, once."

"But that was centuries ago, when the corrupt Caesars ruled," Drosos reminded her.

"The corrupt Caesars," she mused. "Well, some of them were, certainly, but others only did their best, as you have done, as Belisarius does. You might not think so now, but many of those Caesars were as revered in their time as your Emperor Justinian is now." She shook her head as if to be free of her memories. "Why are we dwelling on the past when the present is so much more enjoyable?"

He did not catch her mood quickly, but he did find a way to respond to her. "I thought all Romans longed for the past."

"If we do, then we are great fools," she said roundly, doing her best to bring him out of the unhappiness that was taking hold of him. "The past, no matter what it was, is over, and there is only the present. The future is still ahead, all unknown. We have what we have now." She kissed him on the earlobe. "Haven't we."

"Possibly," he allowed.

"Oh, Drosos, pay attention," she said, this time tweaking the edge of his well-trimmed beard. "How can I give you pleasure if your thoughts are in Roma with the army?"

"I don't know," he growled, but there was the beginning of a smile in his eyes.

"Do, please, give me your attention. Let me show you all the delights you have missed—I trust you have missed them?—while we have been apart." She tossed her head and her long, loose hair trailed over his chest. "You have returned to me and I want to know every joy with you."

"You're greedy, that's what it is," he told her, his expression less distant. "You want to drain me."

"Hardly," she said, her face inscrutable. "You do not understand what I want if that's what you think I'm doing."

"All right, then; what is it you want of me?" He had moved over her and had succeeded in pinning her shoulder to the couch. "Tell me."

"I want you," she said directly. "All of you, without ruse or deception."

"What?" Her serious answer took him unaware and he released her, watching her with great curiosity.

"You asked me what I want: I've told you." She remained unmoving.

"You want me?" He spoke as if the words were unfamiliar and difficult.

"Yes."

"Why?"

She hesitated before she answered. "Because you touch me, you reach something in me that has not been reached for many, many years."

"I wish you wouldn't do that," he complained softly.

"Do what?"

"Keep talking as if you were as old as the sphinx," he said. "All right, you're probably older than I am, but that doesn't mean you're my great-grandmother."

Olivia chuckled but there was a sadness in her eyes. "I'll try to remember that," she said in a remote way.

"There are times you're impossible," he said, and ended their disagreement with a long, deep kiss that left both of them breathless and wide-eyed. "If I am what you want, then I'm yours." He ran his fingers over the planes of her face, so lightly that she almost could not feel them.

This time they made love easily, with less frenzy than before. The demand they felt grew more slowly, losing nothing in being less urgent than before. Drosos was willing to permit her to take the time she wanted to bring him to a level of arousal that astonished him, for until she did this, he was certain that he would never be more stimulated and eager than he had been when he first sought her.

"Lie back," she said as her hands traced patterns of desire through his body. "There is no reason to press."

He did as she told him, luxuriating in the endless subtle caresses and kisses she bestowed on him. He returned them, taking pride in the depth of her response to him. He had known enough women to realize that Olivia's desire was more profound than any he had encountered before, and that Olivia was more vulnerable to him than any woman he had taken to bed in the past.

"Your breast was made to fit my hand," he said, demonstrating.

"There are other parts that fit as well," she reminded him, her voice low.

"Oh, Kyrios," he murmured, his need for her intensifying even more.

She drew him closer to her, her hands pressing him against the length of her body, and then into her. She arched to meet him, moving with him. The tang of him, the weight of him pervaded her senses and increased as their union deepened.

This time when it was over neither spoke; they hardly moved. Each was replete with the other, each was gratified beyond all expectation. They lay together, not quite asleep, their arms around each other no longer straining but unwilling to part more than comfort demanded.

"Olivia?" Drosos whispered, hardly more than a breath.

"Umm?"

"What if the slaves find us?"

"Niklos will bring a blanket," she said, drowsiness making her words slur.

"But you are a widow—"

"I am a Roman," she corrected him.

"But if your slaves gossip, you might be criticized for what you… do with me." He brushed her hair back from her face. "I don't want you to suffer on my account."

She opened her eyes and studied his face. "People will talk no matter what. As a Roman, I will be the subject of speculation. The worst they can say of me is that I have taken a Captain of the army as my lover. If they say any more, then we can worry about it then." She kissed him affectionately. "How good of you to be concerned for me."

"Just as well that one of us is," he said, rousing himself enough to show his worry.

"If there are questions," she said as she smoothed the line that had deepened between his brows, "you need only tell anyone who has the ill grace to speculate that I am bound by my husband's will to remain a widow."

"Are you?" he asked, genuinely startled.

"No." She smiled sleepily. "But many Roman women are, for reasons of property. There was a time when it was different, when…" Her voice trailed off. "That was long ago, and there is no point in recalling. It only serves to make me angry at things I cannot change." She stretched her one free arm and then rested it across his chest. "If you say that I am obedient to my husband's will, no one will question it and you and I can continue as we are."

"But if it is a lie," he began only to have her stop him.

"Drosos, it is close enough to the truth that it does not matter. If you wish to remain my lover and you need some explanation, then this will do as well as any."

He took her hand in his. "And if I wish for more?"

"You are an officer in the army and your life is not wholly your own. Wait a while before you decide that you want more of me." She did her best to conceal a yawn. "In a year, if you think then that you need a different arrangement with me, we will talk about it. By then, you might prefer the way we are now."

"And I might not," he warned her.

Her smile faded as much with sleep as with apprehension. "If you insist," she said.

Drosos slid his hand over her back and drew her more close before he drifted into sleep.

* * *

Text of memo from Panaigios to his superior, accompanying several other memos from several of the Censor's secretaries.

To Kimon Athanatadies, from his devoted Panaigios,

The slave Simones has proven to be industrious and reliable, at least so his first two reports have led me to believe. It is my intention to subject him to another test and if he passes it as well as he has passed the first two, increase his duties and his power so that he will have more freedom of activity than has been allowed until now.

He has revealed that Antonina is actively promoting the interests of her friends as well as the returning officers of her husband Belisarius. This must be watched and guarded against for some little time until we learn one way or another how much power she has gained through the use of her influence with the Empress. It is fortunate that Simones is willing to reveal this, for it makes our dealings much more direct and useful.

You have said that you want to know what changes occur when Belisarius returns, and I have already informed Simones that he will have to be more active then. Doubtless he anticipates these developments with mixed feelings, but he will be prepared to give us the information we require to protect himself as much as to establish any fault on the part of his master.

With prayers for your continued diligence and zeal, and with great thanks for the opportunity to serve you and our glorious Justinian, I am

Panaigios

secretary

8

The Hippodrome resembled the Circus Maximus, though it was not as boisterous or as crowded as the huge amphitheater in Roma had been. The stands were full, but the people behaved more decorously than the Romans. Taking her seat beside Antonina, Olivia watched the stands, her expression carefully blank.

"Is this familiar to you?" asked Antonina as she directed her body slave to arrange her pillows more comfortably.

"To a degree, but it is also very different." She looked down the length of the oblong stadium. "In Roma, everyone was more active than I have seen the people of Constantinople be."

"Yes, we do put more value on good conduct than the Romans," said Antonina with a degree of complacency that made Olivia want to argue with her.

"Your ways are different than Roman ways," she said.

"Yes," Antonina declared, clearly relieved that this was the case. "Roma was beset with strife and the presence of false gods." She was satisfied with her cushions now and waved her slave to the back of the marble-faced box in which she and her guests sat.

"But still Roma thrived," said Olivia in a light voice.

"What does that mean, but that the world of Roma was caught up in trade and that the Romans profited by the misfortunes of their neighbors." She stopped. "Not that I mean any disrespect. Your family was of the nobility, so my husband has informed me, and that certainly must mean more than a title and some estates in the country."

Olivia shook her head and said truthfully, "My family had lost most of the funds and property it had ever had by the time I came to be married, which is why they selected the husband for me that they did." Even five hundred years after, Olivia found that she could be bitter for the bargain her father had made with Cornelius Justus Silius, and all the misery that alliance had brought her in the years she was married to the senator.

"How unfortunate," said Antonina in a tone that indicated she was hardly listening at all.

The smell in the air—a combination of sweat, food, horses, and fabric—was strange to Olivia, for it was different than what she had known in Roma. The food was not the spiced pork and wine of Roma but something more exotic—grilled lamb with onions and cinnamon and pepper—than the fare of ancient Roma. The fabric, too, was cotton and silk, not linen and wool as it had been so long ago. Olivia adjusted her pillows and waved away the offer of food.

"In such a crowd," she said apologetically, "I find that eating makes me feel slightly ill."

"I had such an experience when I was pregnant," said Antonina, and waited in significant silence.

"I have been pregnant only once, and that was long ago," said Olivia. "I did not attend the Great Games then, for it was thought that the excitement might be dangerous for me."

"What of the child?" asked Antonina.

"It did not live," Olivia said, looking away across the stands toward the enormous statue of a quadriga pulled by a matched team of four horses. Unlike the Roman chariots, these harnessed all four horses to the vehicle they pulled, and the value of a perfectly matched team was enormous.

"I had two children by my first husband," said Antonina, "but both succumbed to fever before they were ten. It was a great misfortune, but I have bowed my head to the Will of God, Who gives and takes away all things."

"Truly," said Olivia, listening to the sound of the crowd. "Will the Emperor be here today?"

"He has affairs of state, but Theodora will arrive shortly." Antonina could not keep from smiling, for her friendship with the Empress had given her influence at court that many others envied, though few could emulate. "I informed her that you would be with me today and she has expressed a desire to meet you. It will be a pleasure to present you to her once the races have begun."

"That is very kind of you," said Olivia, not at all certain that she wanted to meet the wife of Emperor Justinian.

"I have given my husband my word that I would do what I could to see you properly established in the world, and I intend to honor that obligation. You are a woman alone in Konstantinoupolis and it is fitting that you gain sponsorship of more than a pope or two. You are going to need friends at court as well as friends in the Church if you are to survive comfortably in the world." She signaled her slave to bring her food, and once again offered a selection of delicacies to Olivia.

"Thank you, I had better not," said Olivia. "But do not let that stop you from enjoying your victuals."

"I confess that good food is one of my special pleasures. My confessor has warned me that this might imperil my soul, but if that is the case, then everyone alive is in some danger, don't you think?" This was clearly intended to be thought witty and Olivia managed to laugh.

"Appetite is a factor with all of us," she said and was favored with an appraising smile.

"You have a sharp mind, Olivia," said Antonina in a tone of voice that suggested that a sharp mind was not entirely admirable. What she said next confirmed this impression. "If you intend to make such comments, be sure of your company; women are expected to be circumspect."

"Of course," said Olivia.

"Ah!" Antonina turned her head at the sound of the salpinx. "The Empress is entering the Hippodrome."

Olivia listened to the sound of the ivory trumpet and decided she preferred the brazen voice of the lituus and buccina to the muffled and delicate fanfare that heralded the arrival of Theodora. She saw that everyone in the stands was standing, and she, too, rose to her feet. "Which is the Imperial box?" she asked her hostess.

"There, under the statues of the chariot and horses." Antonina did not point—that was much too rude—but indicated the direction with a nod of her head. "There is a tunnel that is used by the Emperor and Empress when they are visiting the Hippodrome, so that they will not have to walk in the crowded streets."

"I see," said Olivia, thinking that it was a sensible precaution for anyone worried about the possibility of harm or death.

"Theodora is wearing her headdress and collar of pearls. It is her most impressive jewel." Antonina again cocked her head to indicate where Olivia should look, then stood very straight, her smile widening as four women entered the Imperial box.

Olivia regarded Empress Theodora with curiosity, for doubtless Justinian's wife was the most powerful woman in all of Byzantium. There were rumors about her, attributing every vice and sin to her, just as there were rumors indicating that she was the most virtuous female ever to grace the world with her presence since Eve had smirched mankind in the Garden of Eden. Theodora stood slightly taller than the women with her, her large eyes accentuated by the enormous and elaborate headdress of pearls and jewels that adorned her, complimented by a collar large as a short cope, of pearls, some of enormous size and luminosity. The whole was worn over a paenula of rose-colored silk which in turn covered a dalmatica of gold-medallioned silk the same shade as fresh peaches.

"She is a great beauty," said Antonina, not quite free of envy.

"She certainly holds the eye," said Olivia, thinking that without the gorgeous pearls and rich fabrics, Theodora would be nothing more than a good-looking matron with a long head and slightly receding chin.

"She is the soul of the Emperor; he himself has said so many times. The woman with her, the one in dark green, is her aunt, Triantafillia. She has endowed six religious communities and has said that she will one day withdraw from court life entirely." Antonina indicated the pope who sat with them. "Have you heard that, Pope Demosthenes?"

"I have," he said, his voice low and indistinct. He had done his best to appear invisible since Antonina had admitted Olivia to her box.

"She is regarded with great respect and affection by everyone," Antonina declared. "Her conduct is not questioned by even the most censorious." She folded her hands and averted her eyes from the Imperial box. "It isn't proper to watch them too long. It then appears that they are drawing attention to themselves, which is poor behavior for a woman of merit."

"With the splendor of her garments and ornaments," said Olivia doing her best not to sound critical, "it is most amazing that the eyes do not drop out of the heads of everyone who can see her."

Antonina responded with gentle laughter. "You Romans say the most outrageous things. I have heard from my husband that everyone in Roma thinks nothing of making the most incendiary remarks, and if this is an example of Roman wit, I can readily understand why he remarked upon it to me."

"Romans have need of a little humor, like everyone else," said Olivia, taking her seat as she saw Antonina motion to the chairs once more.

"How inventive," said Antonina, but her enthusiasm was now diminishing. "I must remember your remarks to repeat them when the General finally arrives home." She inclined her head to the pope near the back of the box. "Remind me, Pope Demosthenes."

"Yes, Antonina," said the old pope with a sour expression.

"And Olivia," Antonina went on, as if beginning a question, "when you are more familiar with our ways, let me know then what service I can be to you. I understand that you are not yet able to express those things you require since you are not able to determine what it is you ought to have to live properly in this time and place."

"You're most thoughtful," Olivia forced herself to say. "Your husband must be very proud of you."

"He has told me that before, certainly, and I do not think he has any reason to dissemble." She had adjusted the drape of her paenula so that the silk looked like water cascading over her, the most chaste and revealing caress. Her jewels were lavish hanging earrings of pearls and sapphires; her tablion holding the paenula at the shoulder was as large as her hand and was made of gold and amethysts. "For a woman to live properly and well in this city, there are certain forms you must obey. In finding a pope to sponsor the purchase of your property you have done well, for that shifts any taint of harlotry from you, and your little meetings with Captain Drosos can go on without comment or much suspicion."