A Flame in Byzantium aoc-1

by Chelsea Quinn Yarbro

  Niklos nodded encouragement. "I hope I conveyed some of your thoughts. There was also some concern about your life before you came here."

  "The same questions as you were asked about Theodora?" guessed Olivia.

  "To some extent. The Court Censor is aware that Drosos is your lover, but there has been some hint that there are many others and that you are nothing more than a loose woman who has tricked everyone into believing you are noble." It was one of the questions that Konstantos had repeated in many forms and Niklos knew that it was important to still such speculation.

  "Let them go to the tombs by the Via Appia and see those of the Clemens and my husband's family; Clemens and Silius are old and exalted names in the history of Roma, and I can show documents going back to the time of the Caesars that prove my claims." She sounded more indignant than she was—her greatest emotion was cold fear.

  "Sadly, there have been so many records destroyed thanks to the raids of Totila's army it may be no longer possible to produce the proofs you mention," Niklos said, lifting one brow to let her know that this was the story he had held to. "Ever since we learned that the villa had been gutted, I have lost all hope ever to find your family records again."

  "Ah," she sighed, her relief more genuine than the distress she tried to show. "It is sad to see so many things lost. The villa… how I will miss it."

  "And the material you have lost—that is important, too." He leaned forward and said in an undervoice, "Olivia, you are in danger. Be careful what you say."

  "Yes, it is important," she said, cocking her head toward the door. "There are other estates that I will probably never recover. How fortunate that my late husband will never learn of this, for he was a man of great pride, as were all the Silii."

  "Will you make an effort to recover the estates?" Niklos already knew the answer but wanted Olivia to answer it for the benefit of whoever was listening.

  "I doubt if Totila will honor my request, but once his forces have been routed, then I hope that the Bishop of Roma will accept my petition and see that my lands are restored." She paused. "At least in Roma I may still present such petitions in person. Here I would have to wait until my sponsor chose to act on my behalf."

  "Mistress, I beg you, do not challenge the order here." He made a gesture to encourage her to go on.

  "It is not for you to tell me what to do, Niklos, and you would do well to remember this. I have not made it any secret that I am dissatisfied with the restrictions that have been placed upon me since I left Roma, and I will not pretend that I have come to terms with the position in which I find myself. You may be right and it might be prudent for me to make my peace with the requirements of this city, but I cannot. I am a Roman woman, I am a nobleman's widow and I am not accustomed to the hindrance I find here." She saw Niklos motion for more, and so she went on. "If there are no other means to regain my property, then I suppose I must accommodate the laws here but it galls me."

  "Mistress, be cautious," said Niklos, again gesturing to her for more objections.

  "Why? Because it is inconvenient for you, or for some of the Byzantines? What is it to me if there are popes in this city who believe that it is improper for women to have property of their own? You tell me to bide my time, but I wonder to what purpose. I hold your bond, Niklos, and as long as I do, you are beholden to me. I will not tolerate opposition and insolence from you." She brought her hand down on the small table beside her low chair. "Keep that in mind, you arrogant Greek."

  Niklos gave her a thumbs-up as he said, "Mistress, I think only of your welfare."

  "You think only of your own welfare, you mean. You are trying to curry favor with the officers of the Court Censor. I will not have it."

  "You're wrong, mistress," he said, flashing her a smile. "I would never do such a—" He broke off and moved silently to the door, waiting. "Whoever it is has left."

  Olivia's manner changed as abruptly as Niklos'. "How bad is it?"

  "We must be very careful, and we must be always on guard. There are spies everywhere." He sat down opposite her. "They are going to make inquiries about you in Roma."

  "I have no worries there," said Olivia. "There are enough people to testify that I have been living as a widow for some time, and I think that the Bishop of Roma has some of the old records on my land claims, since I have leased sections of it to the Church from time to time." She took a deep breath. "I'm glad I did that, now."

  "The Court Censor is afraid that you might be part of a conspiracy," Niklos went on.

  "Magna Mater, who could think such a thing?" Olivia asked the ceiling. "What would I gain from it, and who would I conspire against?"

  "They think that everyone associated with Belisarius might be aiding him in overthrowing the Emperor," said Niklos with a slow shake of his head.

  "That's ridiculous," said Olivia. "I can't take such ideas seriously." She hesitated. "Yes, I can."

  "Then do so," warned Niklos. "And be aware that whatever you say might be reported."

  "Accurately?" she asked at once.

  "I don't know," admitted Niklos. "Most of what was recorded of the examination I had this afternoon was put down in more or less true form, but there was a slant to it, just in case. I think they are preparing material in case they need it."

  "Why?" said Olivia.

  "Because they are trying to discredit Belisarius. He is too popular with the army and the Guard. Justinian is not a fighting man, and there are those who say that if the Empire is to be restored it will be through battles and conquest. For this they will have to have a soldier on the throne. At least that is what the Court Censor appears to think." He leaned back. "These questions were slipped in between those about your genealogy and rumors about the Empress Theodora, and yet the answers I gave to them were more completely recounted than any others."

  "Ah," said Olivia. Her hazel eyes grew tired. "I wonder why—Who will benefit if Belisarius is discredited?"

  "Those close to the Emperor. In that I think your friend Drosos is correct. There are factions at court that strive for power that they cannot have if Belisarius remains where he is; he must be brought down so that they can gain access to the army through various officers. If the eunuch Narses does indeed replace Belisarius, then there are many who could take advantage of this change and see men of their family advance in the ranks and in military influence." Niklos rubbed his jaw. "I used to think that Roma was bad, but they are amateurs compared to these Byzantines."

  Olivia got up from her chair and began to pace. "I can't let them inquire too closely. If they ever found out all there is to know about me, they would have me stoned in the marketplace, and once my spine was broken, I would die the true death at last."

  "We could leave Konstantinoupolis." The suggestion lacked any conviction.

  "So soon after arriving? That would attract more attention than we have already." She halted, her eyes fastened on the ikonostasis. "I wish I could find a way to profess my conversion to the religious life, but it isn't practical."

  Niklos laughed. "No, a vampire is not often welcome in a religious retreat. And you would be noticed, after a while."

  Reluctantly Olivia joined in the laughter. "And I doubt I could convince anyone it was my way of taking communion, although in a way, it is."

  "That would be worse than the rest." He met her eyes seriously. "You must be careful, Olivia. It grows more and more dangerous for you here."

  "And elsewhere," she said. "I wish we had not left Roma, but I know it was necessary."

  "Yes," said Niklos. "And while we are here, I will do what I can to be alert. If I knew who in the household was spying on you, I would do what I could to keep watch over that person and be sure that the information he got was carefully controlled."

  "But you don't know, and neither do I. And if we are too obvious in trying to find out, it will only serve to make matters worse for us both." She touched his arm affectionately. "We are strangers surrounded by enemies," she said softly. "We must
depend on one another more than ever."

  Niklos nodded gravely. "You can rely on me, Olivia."

  "And you can rely on me, Niklos." She gave a sudden, fleeting grin. "What mere mortal has a chance against the two of us?"

  "Do you want me to make a list?" he answered without a trace of humor.

  Outside there was a sudden shouting in the street and the rush of footsteps. Both Olivia and Niklos listened with hushed alarm.

  "No," she said when the footfalls were gone.

  "Nor I," he agreed.

  In a distant part of the house, they heard a door close softly.

  * * *

  Text of a letter from Antonina to Eugenia.

  In anticipation of the festivities to come, Antonina sends her warmest greetings to Eugenia and wishes to tell her how pleased she is that Eugenia will be able to attend the celebration that will take place in eight days.

  Naturally, most of the guests will be officers of Belisarius, recently returned from the Italian campaign. It is appropriate that they have such distinction for their action on my husband's behalf, and doubtless I will be able to learn more of what has transpired since I had my last letter from my husband.

  Not to be too blatant, Eugenia, this will give you a wonderful opportunity to meet men of rank and ambition who are sensible to the realities of court life and the lives of those close to the court. There are certain to be officers who are of a good age to marry who seek a woman with some skill in court matters and proper conduct for the level of society to which they all aspire. There may be a few, also, with better connections than either of us may easily boast of. Those will be of special interest to you, I am sure, and you will do well to come a trifle early so that we may see who among those who have accepted will be most interesting to you. Since you are to serve as my companion, there is no bar to your addressing any of the guests, or to being the first to speak if that is what you wish to do.

  Lamentably, Empress Theodora will not be with us. Her health is not what it should be, and her physicians are forbidding her almost all public appearances. I have heard it said by certain malicious and unwise persons that she is paying the price of her early debauchery, and that the illness that is overtaking her is the result of all she did before she became the love of the Emperor. Even if this were true—and it is never wise to think the worst of the Empress, no matter who she is—it is most shortsighted of those speaking against her to do so, for if she recovers, or if Justinian learns of these allegations then the results might be severe.

  On that note, let me advise you to be very circumspect in what you say about Theodora. Not only are there spies everywhere, but considering the circumstances, you will be well advised to keep your opinions to yourself, no matter what they are, for until it is established how ill Theodora truly is, no statements about her can be thought safe.

  You were wise to break off with Chrysanthos when you did, but of course you will see him here at the celebration. If there should be any trace of awkwardness, you have only to seek me out and I will deal with him appropriately.

  At my husband's request, I have asked Olivia Clemens to come, and she has accepted. We will do what we can for her, but she insists that she is not searching for a husband. But then, she has taken Drosos for her lover, and doubtless for the time being she has little need of one. If her sponsor should question her choice, then it might be different, for she could find her money withheld on the grounds that she is using it immorally. That might prove drastic, and all she need do then would be to marry Drosos and put her fortune in his hands instead of her sponsor's, but so far she has shown herself reluctant to do this.

  I want to advise you to wear something in light red with a good deal of gold and pearls. Not only is this most fitting in terms of the occasion, but I have learned that Justinian has said that he considers wearing pearls to be a tribute to his wife, and if that is the case, we are in an excellent position to make the most of this without seeming to be courting favor. Also, have your hair dressed with restraint; it is sometimes thought frivolous of widows to be too extravagant, at least that is what Theodora told me the last time we spoke, which was ten days ago. She had some very good advice that I will pass along to you. She said that few men really admire caprice except in a brief infatuation. If a woman seeks to secure a marriage contract then she must show herself sensible and determined for the good of her husband and those around him. We have discussed this before, of course, but I think that you do not always bear it in mind, and that is a mistake, my dear Eugenia. You continue to put men to the test with sudden and outrageous demands, and this cannot help you in your search. Try to be a little less fanciful in your dealings with men, especially these men, for it serves you ill to imagine more than has been offered. You might see if Drosos is willing to become intimate with you, for if he is not going to marry Olivia, he might as well marry you, for he stands in my husband's good favor and is a man of promise as well as some little fortune of his own.

  We will speak of this further when you come, and in the meantime, select your most luxurious clothes of red and gold, and let me advise you to wear the pearl-inlaid tablion, the large one with the rubies in the sigil of Christ.

  This by messenger at midafternoon with my affection,

  Antonina

  wife of General Belisarius

  12

  By sunset Pope Sylvestros had reached Ostia, and as he waited to pass through the Porta Romana, he watched the carrion birds feast on the bodies of Ostrogoths hanging from the city walls.

  "Name?" demanded a grizzled officer, grubby, unshaven and red-eyed.

  "Pope Sylvestros," he answered. "From Constantinople."

  "Business, Priest?"

  "I am here to speak with a ship owner," Pope Sylvestros answered vaguely.

  "Pass," grunted the officer.

  At another time Pope Sylvestros might have taken time to criticize the laxness shown by the officer, but not now; he was not eager to be more closely questioned about his purpose here in Ostia. Meekly he did as he was ordered, and found himself in the narrow streets of the old port city.

  At the far end of the old wharves there was a tavern known as The Seagull. It had been there more than three hundred years and had established its own particular fame among the sailors who made up its patrons.

  Pope Sylvestros waited there at an evil-smelling table by the smaller fireplace. He held a cup of wine which he had been nursing long enough to earn him several nasty glances from the landlord, but he refused to buy more and fuddle his wits before his meeting with Ghornan, whose ship was supposed to have made port with the incoming tide. He felt in his sleeve for the fiftieth time for the lists he would offer the Captain.

  "Food, Priest?" snarled the landlord.

  "I am correctly addressed as 'Pope.'" He wished God had bestowed a more impressive face upon him, but knew that his very ordinary features aided him in his work.

  "Pope or priest, you have the same appetites as the rest of us; you're as venal as the next man, but you wrap it in homilies."

  "I pray God will forgive your impiety," said Pope Sylvestros, his nervousness making his words sharp.

  "Impiety!" jeered the landlord. He lifted a large cup to his mouth and drank deeply. From the rosy state of his nose and cheeks, this was a habit with him. "You meeting a Byzantine ship?"

  "Yes."

  "Totila gives rewards to those who sink Byzantine ships," the landlord said with satisfaction, adding as he watched Pope Sylvestros bless himself, "You priests are all alike. You think that prayers and gestures make a difference. Any idiot can mumble—most of 'em do—but no one thinks that God does more than look after them in their affliction. Except for the likes of you." He started to laugh at his own bitter humor.

  "In Constantinople you would not dare to speak so disrespectfully of the servants of God." Pope Sylvestros was deeply indignant and he was not willing to overlook the landlord's challenge.

  "If I pour you another tot of wine, will you turn it in
to water to spite me?" suggested the landlord.

  "That's blasphemy, even in Italy."

  The landlord filled his own cup with the dark, raw wine that was standard fare at The Seagull. "Who's to report me—you?"

  In order to silence the landlord—and because he was growing increasingly anxious—Pope Sylvestros tossed him a silver coin and ordered more wine.

  "Been away from home long?" Now that he had money in his hand again, the landlord assumed a mendacious cordiality. He tested the coin in his teeth and counted out half a dozen dissimilar copper coins in change, flipping them in the air and showing the stumps of his teeth as Pope Sylvestros scrabbled to retrieve them. He was still hunkered down on the floor when the door to the tavern swung open and a squat-bodied sailor surged into The Seagull. He bellowed for wine and looked quickly around the room as if expecting to find armed men behind the tables and benches.

  "I am Ghornan," he announced to the room, daring anyone to contradict him.

  "That is your good fortune," was the landlord's laconic response. He poured wine into a large-sized cup and held it out to the newcomer. "Three standard copper pieces; I don't care where they came from if the weight is right."

  Ghornan pulled the coins from the folds of the narrow pallium wound around his waist. "Here. And this had better not be watered." He slammed down the coins, and without waiting for the landlord to put them in the small scale at the end of the counter, he trod the width of the room to stare down hard at Pope Sylvestros. "Are you the one I'm supposed to meet?"

  "I am Pope Sylvestros," he admitted, his voice going higher with each word.

  "You've lost flesh. I was told you were portly. You ought to go home to your wife." He straddled the bench. "The Bishop of Roma doesn't like his clergy to marry. So far, he hasn't been able to stop it." He stared hard at Pope Sylvestros. "What information do you have for me?"

  "I…" He touched his sleeve but also inclined his head toward the landlord. "If we were more private…"

  "Oh, you needn't worry about Gordius here. He knows that if he repeats a word of what he overhears, he'll have a second smile by morning." He drew his fingers across his own throat to illustrate his meaning.