A Flame in Byzantium aoc-1

by Chelsea Quinn Yarbro

  "True." She fell into a musing silence. "Do you have any recommendations about a slave?"

  "No; do you?" He had learned long ago to trust her sense about people, for her impressions were always more accurate than his. "Tell me."

  She did not answer at once, and when she did, her tone was slightly remote. "That Eastern woman, I think. Zejhil is her name. The one who comes from Vagarshapat, if that's the place I think it is."

  Niklos regarded her with interest. "Why her? The rest of the slaves treat her oddly. They don't trust her."

  "That's why, in part," Olivia said. "She will be under less suspicion because she is already thought strange." She looked at him and shook her head. "You don't really understand, do you?"

  "No," he admitted. "But I know that you do, and that's sufficient."

  "I'm grateful for your confidence," she said lightly. "I will want to speak to her in the morning. See that she is sent to me before the first meal. I don't want the summons to start gossip."

  Niklos was deeply relieved. The worry had not left him, but he no longer felt that he and Olivia were floundering, at the mercy of the shifting Imperial tides that had claimed so many others. "Very well, I'll see that she is sent to you. For what purpose?"

  "Oh, to inspect my clothes. Something must need mending." She reached down and picked up the scroll. "I was hoping that we might have respite here, but I was wrong."

  "Olivia—" Niklos began.

  She rolled the scroll tightly. "I used to think that there would come a time when I would not have to live with…oh, with fear and anger around me, poisoning the world. I thought there would be good fellowship and sensible actions because we would grow wiser and more caring." She put the scroll back in its pigeon hole, then glanced over at the small ikonostasis. "I feel as if all our time is spent in terrible darkness, and that if we are fortunate, from time to time we stumble into a little light. If we are not too frightened of what we see, we huddle around it, like traders in the desert at their fires. But most are terrified or blinded, and they seek the darkness again, preferring that to—" She shook her head. "Forgive me."

  "Always," said Niklos, more moved by what she had said than he wanted to admit.

  This time her smile was genuine. "You're too good to me, old friend."

  "Me? Never." He came to her side, kissed her cheek, and went to the door. "Zejhil, tomorrow morning."

  She nodded. "I suppose I must." She turned away and did not look back again when she heard him close the door.

  * * *

  Text of a letter to Olivia from Sanct Germain.

  To my most cherished Olivia, hail from Perath.

  Your letter reached me after five months, which is good time, or so I am informed. For the next year I will be here at Perath and can be reached at the House of Foreign Scholars. I hope you will send me word of how you are, for you seemed unhappy with your life in Constantinople, and that saddens me. You have already endured so much, and to have that haven denied you grieves me more than I can tell you.

  How good to know that Drosos is with you. He may not be able to compensate for your vexation, but surely you find some consolation in his company. Love given so honestly is rare indeed, as you and I both have cause to know. It has been many, many years since I knew such intimacy; thinking back, I cannot recall such profound rapture since you and I were lovers. Treasure your Captain Drosos, Olivia.

  You say that you suspect Belisarius will be removed from command, and you believe that it is foolish. Of course it is. But are you surprised, you who saw the Year of the Four Caesars and knew Tigellinus? If Belisarius is the man you say he is, no Emperor could tolerate having him in power; as it is he is a living rebuke to Justinian.

  This hardly provides the comfort I wish I could give you, and for that I rely on your understanding. There are so few things I can offer at this distance, and that distresses me. Still, in spite of it all, this brings you my enduring love.

  Sanct Germain

  his seal, the eclipse

  by the good offices

  of Brother Petros

  on pilgrimage to Roma

  2

  Captain Vlamos strove to hide his embarrassment. "I have to take your sword as well, General," he said to Belisarius as he and his men waited in the vestibule of Belisarius' house.

  "Why? Who is there for me to use it on but myself?" Belisarius asked with a bitter laugh. "Or is that Justinian's fear? Does he think I will deprive him of my shame?"

  "It isn't wise to speak so to us, General," Vlamos said stiffly. "The Emperor has given his orders and we are his sworn officers. There is nothing—"

  Belisarius held up his hand to stop this confession. "I am also his sworn officer, little as he believes it." He reached down and unbuckled his sword. "Take it. It's only a symbol, but that is enough. The Emperor has already taken my personal guard, and he has restricted my movements."

  "General." Vlamos held the sword as if he expected it to strike of its own accord.

  "Well, he is Emperor and I am his General, no matter what he believes, and I will be his General unto death."

  He pinched the bridge of his nose and rubbed his eyes. "I will do what I am able to, and I will strive to understand what it is that he wishes of me."

  "He wishes your loyalty, General," said Vlamos, delivering this statement with the stiffness of one repeating a lesson by rote.

  "Then he has his wish," said Belisarius, suddenly weary and out of patience with the ceremony. "I have always been loyal, and I will always be loyal. It sorrows me that the Emperor is not aware of this, but I can do little but protest. Those who have told the Emperor anything else of me lie. Those who have sought to have me removed from command for fear that I might use my position against Justinian do so without justification." He folded his arms. "Will you inform Justinian of this?"

  "We are to give our report to Kimon Athanatadies, and he will present a report to the Emperor," Vlamos said, being as meticulous as he could. "I am only Captain of the Guard; I cannot address the Emperor directly."

  "That's new," said Belisarius, surprised at the information. "How long has this been the case?"

  "A year." He looked away from Belisarius, fixing his gaze on the murals of martyred saints. "It has been determined that the Emperor requires… less interference from those who are not of true importance to the Empire."

  "That's a mistake, especially if the Censor thinks that the Captain of the Guard is not important to the Empire," said Belisarius dryly. "He could come to regret that decision one day."

  "Is that meant—" Vlamos started.

  "As a word of caution, nothing more. If a man does not think those who guard him are important, he invites problems. I was thinking of the Caesars who were overthrown by the Praetorian Guard, who watched over them."

  "We are not Praetorians," Vlamos pointed out uneasily.

  "No, but Justinian might err as the Caesars did," Belisarius said. "It would grieve me if that were to happen." He glanced at the other officers with Vlamos. "Is that all, or is there something more we must do before this is over?"

  "I must announce to your household what is and is not permitted here now that the Emperor has removed your command and your personal guard." Vlamos coughed, the only display of emotion he permitted himself.

  "Must it be the whole household, or can I limit it to the majordomo, who will give orders to the rest?" He thought it galling that he would have to face his slaves at this time; it was sufficiently degrading to be denounced before soldiers; to have the terms of his disgrace announced to his slaves was intolerable.

  Although Vlamos had been told to give the orders to every member of the household, he said, "The family and majordomo will suffice." He would deal with his reprimand—and there would surely be one—later.

  "Very well." He clapped his hands. "Simones! Arius!" The summons was sharp and loud as orders on a battlefield. "Come here. Bring your mistress and her aunt. And my brother." For the first time in his life, he was gratef
ul that he had no children, and that as a bastard, he could not directly dishonor his father.

  Vlamos and his men waited in silence while the summoned members of the household came to the vestibule and stood in front of the murals of the suffering holy men.

  Simones and Arius stood apart from the rest, both attentive, both curious. They knew that Antonina was consumed with rage at the way Justinian was treating her husband, and both wondered if she would be able to contain her wrath during the proceedings. Both slaves waited as Captain Vlamos prepared to recite the Emperor's mandate.

  "General Belisarius," Vlamos declared with almost no inflection. "You are required to give up your command and all claims to command. You are to surrender your personal guard and all personal support of those guards. You will be permitted to maintain your house and your fortune in the manner you wish as long as you do not have guards or the support of guards as part of it. You are not to receive any military officers without the presence of a pope or an officer of the Censor in attendance, and any defiance of this requirement will bring with it an assumption of treason on the part not only of General Belisarius but of the officer in question. If the General is as devoted to the Emperor as he insists, he will be at pains not to implicate his officers in any possible guilt. The members of General Belisarius' household may not consort with members of the households of other military officers but in the presence of a pope or an officer of the Censor. This restriction includes all female members of the household in their dealings with the females of other households."

  Antonina gave a short, stifled cry, but said nothing more. Her aunt, a little, wizened creature in a simple dark brown paenula, reached over and put her hand on Antonina's arm.

  "There is not to be written communication of any kind between General Belisarius and any military officer," Captain Vlamos went on, "except if it has been read and copied by an officer of the Court Censor. Any communication that is clandestine will be assumed to be treasonous, and will result in imprisonment of the officer involved in the communication."

  "Is that all?" Belisarius asked when Vlamos fell silent.

  "For the time being," Vlamos answered. "I'm sorry, General. I have to say it that way."

  "I'm sorry too, Captain," said Belisarius heavily. "All right, you may tell whomever-it-is you report to that I have heard Justinian's strictures and I will abide by them, though I maintain now, as I have from the first of this regrettable misunderstanding, that there is no need for the Emperor to take these precautions, and I will pray God every day that the Emperor will come to know this for himself." He made a small reverence to Captain Vlamos. "Thank you for discharging your duty."

  "You should curse me," Vlamos said with feeling.

  "What would be the point of that?" Belisarius asked. "Take what you must take and leave me. I would like to spend some time alone with my family." He nodded to Antonina and his brother.

  "Of course," said Captain Vlamos, and barked a command at his men. "We must post a guard at your door, so that we may know who comes here, how often, and when."

  "Certainly," said Belisarius, already turning away from the soldiers. "Come into the private reception room, Lysandros; we must talk."

  Lysandros set his jaw and glared at his older brother. "I have little to say to you, Belisarius."

  "But I have a great deal to say to you," said Belisarius, his face darkened with sorrow. "When I have done, you may say what you like."

  "And what of me?" demanded Antonina, who had contained herself as long as she could and was now filled with indignant fury.

  "Let me have a short time with Lysandros, my delight. You and I have many hours to spend together; Lysandros returns to Nicaea in the morning, and who knows when we will speak face to face again?" He watched the door of his house as Captain Vlamos and the Guard soldiers left. "Anus, Simones, one of you close that, will you?"

  Arius busied himself with the door; Simones went to Antonina. "Great lady, would you want a cup of honied wine?"

  "I would want a cup of hemlock and gall," she said in a hate-thickened voice. "I want poison and acid and instruments of torture to exact vengeance."

  "My niece," said her aunt in a small, distressed voice.

  "To think that this could happen!" Antonina burst out, and then began to weep in great, angry sobs, refusing to be comforted. "I am going to my quarters," she informed the air, shrugging off the ineffective consolation of her aunt.

  "Your wife is overwrought," observed Lysandros as Belisarius closed the door.

  "She is also in despair, and I am the cause of it," Belisarius said.

  "You are the cause of misfortune for all of us," Lysandros accused him. "You ought to have thought of that before you embarked on your schemes."

  Belisarius looked steadily at his brother. Lysandros was eight years his junior, and had had a different father; the two brothers had little in common except the blood of their mother. "I had no schemes, except those aimed at running Totila's army out of Italy. Believe that or not as you wish. It is the truth."

  "Then why does the Emperor confine you in this way? Why are you relieved of command and your personal guard? What sort of innocent do you think I am, brother?" Lysandros put his hands on his hips, which were already growing ample.

  "I don't think you are innocent, or foolish, or any similar thing," Belisarius said carefully. "But I hope that you have some faith in me yet, for our mother's sake if no other."

  Lysandros laughed and the sound was mirthless. "Then you are the one who is foolish. How could you have let this happen? I have already been told that I can no longer sell my horses to the army because of you. That accounts for more than half my earnings, and I am to lose it because you could not act in time to preserve your rank." He turned so quickly that he overset a brazier.

  As the iron tripod clattered to the floor, Belisarius went to right it. "I am the Emperor's General, Lysandros. That is all I am."

  "You mean you are not a husband and a brother? You're just a General?" He hurled his words like clubs and took a perverse satisfaction when they struck.

  "I am all those things," Belisarius said quietly as he steadied the brazier. "And it seems I have failed at all of them."

  Lysandros snorted. "Penitent, too. Doubtless I should tell you now that you are forgiven for all the misfortune you have brought down on everyone. But I am not deceived by your ways, brother. You aspired to the purple and you failed to grasp it for yourself, and now you are taking refuge in contrition. No one accepts this false front you show to the world. All the world knows you are guilty of treason and we are amazed that our Emperor should show you the clemency he does. If I were in Justinian's position, I would see you flayed on the steps of Hagia Sophia, and would hang your skin from the palace gates."

  Belisarius listened to this without interruption; only the quickening of his breath revealed his feelings. "Is that the lot?"

  "How can you face me? How can you face your wife, who has been your staunchest ally at court for all the years you were in foreign lands?" He slammed his fist into his open hand. "By all the Saints in the calendar, if I were she, I would despise you."

  "You despise me enough for you both," said Belisarius. "You may speak of yourself to me, but you are not to say anything for Antonina." He read astonishment and guilt in his brother's face. "You have traded on our relationship for years, and now you are about to lose that which I made possible. You are entitled to disappointment, even anger, but you are not permitted to drag my wife into this dispute."

  "Belisarius—" Lysandros blustered.

  "No, you have had your opportunity, and now I will have mine. I have had to listen to more accusations and calumnies in the last two months than I have heard in all my previous years, and you now will have to hear me out." He hooked a thumb into his belt. "You think—because it is the current myth bruited about the court—that I was on the verge of rebelling against the Emperor, and it was only the swift action of the Censor that prevented me from attacking Justini
an. That is not and never was the truth. I have never aspired to the purple, as you claim. I have had all that I could deal with in fighting to reclaim the old Roman Empire for Justinian. I was satisfied to be the first General of the Emperor, and I was content to follow his orders to the best of my abilities and to the extent that my men and supplies made possible. I was and am now loyal to the Emperor. I am not a traitor. If I must live this way in order to satisfy the Emperor of that, then I am content to do it, and pray only that I will have the chance to show that everything I have said is true."

  "And the spies will tell the Censor," jeered Lysandros.

  "If there are spies they can tell whom they wish. It is the truth. Understand that, Lysandros, if you understand nothing else." He turned on his heel and went to the door. "If there is nothing else, I will leave you. I am sorry that you must suffer because of me, but you chose to prosper through our relationship, and so it haunts you now."

  "Wait, Belisarius," Lysandros called less certainly.

  "Why? So that you can revile me more?" For the first time there was anguish in his voice.

  "I… If what you've told me is true," Lysandros said to his brother's back, "then I grieve for you, for you have truly been destroyed by your own honor."

  "But you think otherwise," Belisarius said, and left the room. He stood in the hallway for a moment, his emotions in turmoil. This was worse than walking over a battlefield after a victory and seeing the ruined, broken men whose lives purchased it. He ground his teeth together, wishing that he trusted himself to get drunk and end the pain for a few hours.

  Simones stood a little farther down the hall, and he hesitated before speaking. "Master, your wife… your wife desires your company."

  "In a moment," said Belisarius, not confident he could remain calm with her.

  "She is eager for you," Simones informed him.

  "In a moment," he repeated. He indicated the door behind him. "My brother is about to depart. I pray you, give him escort."

  This was not what Simones hoped for, but he made a reverence. "At once."

  "See that he has an appropriate gift. Something suitable. I suppose a dozen brass cups will do." He rubbed his chin, and wished he had the excuse of shaving to postpone what he knew would be a harrowing time with Antonina. He gave a sour smile, that he who had fought armies in Italy and Greece and Africa should falter at an hour with his wife. With that thought to goad him, he went to Antonina's private quarters.