A Flame in Byzantium aoc-1

by Chelsea Quinn Yarbro

  "My husband," Antonina said when Belisarius had made his reverence to her. "My husband, what has happened to us?"

  "I wish I knew," he said, thinking how beautiful she was, and how much it hurt him to see her so distressed. He went and wrapped his arms around her, saying softly, "The only comfort I can find in this is that I can be with you, beloved."

  She pushed against his embrace. "What is the matter with you? Have you lost all your mettle?"

  He strove to hold her, needing her nearness to assuage the other losses he had been forced to accept. "Antonina, please."

  "Do not beg me, my husband. I am your wife, and yours by rights. For the Lord of Hosts, take something, if it is only me. You are without any steel." She broke away from him. "How dare Justinian do this to you? How dare he forget all you have done to advance him? If Theodora were still alive, this could never have happened." She dashed her hand over her face as if to banish her furious tears.

  "I have asked myself that, Antonina, and I have no answer." He watched her, an ache like a festering wound burning in him. "Antonina."

  "Do not speak to me! Do not do anything. I have endured all the words I ever want to hear." She reached to the nearest ikon and flung it across the room. When Belisarius reached out his hand to restrain her, she turned on him, her mouth square with ire. "What use are the Saints? What use is your precious honor if we are driven to this disgrace? Why must you be blameless? Why didn't you plot against the Emperor if this is to be the reward you have?"

  "For your own sake, Anton—" Belisarius began, then broke off as Antonina threw herself on him, her hands raised and her nails poised as talons to rake his face and gouge his eyes.

  "Coward!" she shrieked. "Fool! Fool! Fool!"

  Striving not to hurt her, Belisarius struggled to hold Antonina and pin her arms to her sides. "Antonina," he panted. "Beloved. Wife. My most dear."

  Her nails scored his neck before she was restrained. "I hate you," she hissed. "I hate you."

  At that, the strength went out of him and he released her, standing without resistance as she scratched and struck him. Only when this gave way to high, keening wailing did he act again. Tenderly he drew her to him, holding her, smoothing her hair, whispering to her. "I can bear the rest, if I must. I will bear it. But I cannot endure to give you pain, Antonina, and your disgust of me is more than I am able to stand. Hush, hush, my dearest, my only beloved. All the rest can be borne, but not your odium. Antonina. Antonina."

  Finally she recovered enough to speak without screaming vituperations. She looked at the blood on his face and shoulders, at the rents in his clothing. "Did I do that?"

  "It doesn't matter," he said, kissing her brow.

  "Did I?"

  "Yes." He met her eyes steadily. "You were very angry."

  "Yes." Some remaining fire flared in her face, then faded quickly. She let him support her and take her to her bed. "I must sleep," she murmured.

  He said nothing, waiting for her invitation which did not come. As he dismissed her body slaves, he watched closely but covertly. "Do you need anything from me?"

  "I have already had more from you than ever I sought," she said with consuming bitterness. "I will have to have time, Belisarius. So much has happened." This last was vague and she did not look at him.

  "Antonina?" He held out his hand to her. When she did not take it, he let it fall.

  "Tomorrow," she said distantly. "Tomorrow, perhaps, we will talk. When I am more myself." It was a dismissal, and he recognized this.

  "Very well. Tomorrow."

  As he went to the door, she said after him, "Perhaps."

  * * *

  Text of a letter from Pope Sylvestros to Captain Ghornan.

  To the heretical Copt Ghornan for whom I still entertain a certain admiration, hail from Pope Sylvestros, currently in Roma.

  Your information about our most recent venture has given me renewed hope in our current enterprise, and I cannot help but believe that if we continue our efforts, we might well do far more than we currently anticipate, given what we have accomplished. It seems to me that a little determination and zeal might provide the impetus your last letter had so little of. While I admire your prudence, I do not think that this is the time for hesitation. Everything has gone so well that I cannot but assume that it will continue to go well for us, no matter what you fear.

  I find it ironic that you, who were so determined at the beginning of our project, are now the one who preaches caution and contentment with what we have achieved.

  In this regard, let me say that there are still many valuable things to be gained in areas we have been before. We have not, by any means, exhausted the possibilities of our venture as defined in the past, and were we to continue as we have begun, there is no reason to suppose that we would not reap the rewards of our efforts. You have advised that we take time to assess what we have gained, and I concur, but you see this as a point where we might suspend our activities; I see it as the first real spur to us to be more determined than we have been.

  You say you are worried at what might befall us because of our partnership, but why should anything unfortunate happen? You are concerned that some authorities could become curious about the achievements we have, and I agree that a little more circumspection about the projects would not hurt us, but I also believe that we must consider the larger benefits we stand to gain from our dealings, and weigh that against the hazards of official objections.

  This is not to say that I am unaware of the risks. I know that what we do may be frowned upon by some of those in Roma, but there are those in Konstantinoupolis who will be delighted with our efforts and who will urge us to continue.

  We are admonished in scripture to turn ourselves to the labor that we do best and to do it with dedication and determination. It is not unreasonable to assume that what we have accomplished thus far has been due to our determination, and if we only persevere, we might look forward to many more such successes. Before you reject the new venture out of hand, consider the possibilities in this light and you will have to come to the same conclusion I have reached, that there is enough treasure here to justify the things we must do to claim it.

  Think of your well-being and you will see that I am right. I pray that you will reconsider and join with me in this expansion of our previous activities. It would pain me to think I might have to search out another to aid me in this worthy pursuit; that would merely serve to increase the danger to all of us, and I cannot think that you would want that.

  I will be waiting for you at the villa where we discovered the chalcedony jars. I will be there for a period of ten days, and if at the end of that time you have not come there, I will conclude that you are no longer interested in what we have done and will at that time begin the task of seeking out other assistance.

  With prayers that you will be guided by me and continue to champion the work I have begun here, I send you my blessings and a list of those items you will find interesting.

  Pope Sylvestros

  at the villa of the Gracchi

  north of Roma

  near Capena on the Via Flaminia

  3

  "They denied me entrance!" Drosos fumed, his eyes hard with indignation. "They would not let me see him."

  Olivia trailed her hand in the fishpond and sought for the right words to console him. "It isn't your fault, Drosos."

  "Of course it's not my fault," he concurred, flinging the parchment scroll he had been given halfway across the garden. "It's the damned Censor and his clique that are to blame, and they will answer for it, believe me." He paced down the wide stone path, then came back to her. "Aren't you going to say anything more? Just that it's not my fault?"

  "What can I say? I am as distressed as you are; it is a dreadful state of affairs, and I wish it were otherwise. But words do not change these things." She watched the flickering shine of the fish under the water lily pads.

  "No, they don't," he agreed, trying to be fair. His disappointme
nt lessened. "You wouldn't want to try to gain entry to Beh'sarius' house yourself, would you?"

  She turned, not quite smiling. "I am not prohibited from seeing him, but I am not allowed to carry any messages to him, or bring any writing to the house." It was only two days since she had paid her first visit to Belisarius since his return from Italy, and she was still shocked by the reception she had received at the hands of the Guard who were posted there.

  "You could tell him a few things from me, couldn't you?" Drosos suggested, putting his hand on her head and starting to loosen the pins that held her complicated hairdo in place.

  "I might," she said, her voice softening as the first lock fell on her shoulder. "If I were caught doing it, I would be prohibited from seeing him again."

  "You're clever. They wouldn't catch you," Drosos said belligerently. "Tsakza!" he cursed, kicking at the path, his manner changed from teasing and sensual to restless dissatisfaction in an instant. He dropped one of her hairpins and let it lie at his feet.

  "But if they did," she went on, unflustered by his behavior, "I would cease to be much use to you or to him. Drosos, I do not want to see you cut off from your friend."

  "My General," he corrected her, moving away from her, her hair forgotten. He paced through her garden.

  "Your friend," she insisted gently. "Drosos, if you had a tail it would be lashing. Come back and let us see if there is a way we might reach Belisarius without endangering him or you or me."

  "You just said there isn't," he reminded her, close to sneering.

  "I said that if I were caught giving him a message I wouldn't be allowed to see him again, and that's another matter entirely." She took the last of the pins from her hair and shook it loose. "Drosos, please."

  "They've made a prisoner of him, but they dare not lock him up. The people wouldn't stand for it." He folded his arms and stopped beside her fishpond.

  "Whether the people would or wouldn't, the Court Censor isn't going to test his power with Justinian quite yet. As displeased as the Emperor is with Belisarius, he isn't ready to be rid of him entirely, or you can be certain that he would already be locked in a cell or have been condemned as a traitor."

  "You learned that in Roma, did you?" Drosos asked her, relenting.

  "It's a familiar pattern, you'll allow that." She indicated a place beside her. "Sit. We'll think of something between us."

  "You're a lascivious creature, Olivia," he said, not accepting her offer.

  "Yes, but right at the moment I am a political one." She sat straight, and even with her fawn-brown hair cascading down her shoulders and back, everything about her implied business and reason. "You will not be happy until we have some tenable solution, and I would rather you be happy while you are with me. So we will consider what is to be done."

  Drosos went back to the fishpond. "I don't want you enmeshed in my snares," he said slowly. "I don't mind risking disgrace for myself, but I don't want to bring it on you."

  "That's very kind of you," she said, her sincerity more genuine for its simplicity. "And if you were nothing to me, I would not act with you in this, for all that Belisarius befriended me in Roma. However, you are dear to me, and he is my friend, and there is no reason for me to hesitate."

  "You're not Konstantinoupolitan. That is always a factor, and it puts you at a disadvantage, no matter how you want to assess this." He had changed again, becoming more determined. "Still, we might arrange something, if you're sure you are willing to do this."

  "Magna Mater!" she burst out, exasperated. "Drosos!"

  "All right; all right. I'll assume for the time being that you are going to aid me. But I want it understood that if we cannot think of something that is at least reasonably safe that you will stay out of it. They might hesitate at condemning Belisarius, but you're not as distinguished as he; Athanatadies would not balk at confining you. Or worse." His eyes narrowed. "I wouldn't like that, Olivia."

  "Nor would I," she agreed. "And I know that you're right. We'll have to work out a prudent way to manage."

  She was serious enough, but amusement tinged her voice.

  "A prudent conspiracy," he said, and snorted once with laughter.

  "Why not?" She rose and went to his side. "What do you want Belisarius to know?"

  He looked at her, a little startled by the bluntness of the question. "Isn't this place a little…"

  "Niklos and Zejhil are watching us, which ought to prevent anyone else from listening. We're as safe here as we're apt to be most other places. Here, if there is someone listening or watching, we will know of it." She looked at the wall enclosing the garden. "I'm not certain there isn't an urchin in the street with his ear open wide, but that might be the case anywhere, and if that is how we must think, then no one would be safe saying anything anywhere."

  "You're made your point," he sighed. "Very well, if you trust your slaves, I suppose I will have to trust them, too. But don't forget that loyalty is purchased with the slave." He said this last with stern cynicism.

  "Niklos is a bondsman, not a slave," she reminded Drosos. "Now, what are we to tell Belisarius?" she went on, returning them to the problem.

  "I want him to know that if he has any need of his officers for any reason whatever, he has only to get word to me, and we will come to him, and the Pit take the Guard set to watch him." He spoke softly but with emphasis, each syllable rapped out as if he were giving orders on a battlefield.

  "You mean that if the rumors are true and Belisarius seeks the purple for himself, you and many of his officers would support him," Olivia said.

  "Yes."

  "He has said all along that he has no such aspirations," she pointed out.

  "I know. I also know that he never thought he would be under house arrest. Ingratitude like that can change a man." He shook his head. "It's the Censor, I know it is. Justinian would not be so unreasonable if he understood.

  He's the Emperor, and he is not unjust. I am loyal to him, but I have a greater loyalty to Belisarius. The Emperor… the Emperor does not have men around him who recognize honor, and therefore they advise him unwisely. Justinian would not treat Belisarius this way if he had a few soldiers close to him. He would realize that Belisarius is his champion, and he would reward the service that he has been given in the past."

  "But you would support an action on Belisarius' part to overthrow the Emperor?" Olivia asked.

  "If nothing else were possible. I would not want to bring Justinian down. He is Emperor. But if there were no other way to remove the Censor and that clique from the Imperial Court, then I would pray to God to forgive me for acting against Justinian. I hope it never comes to that. I hope that there are ways to be rid of men like Athanatadies—he is puffed up with that name of his, thinking he is already illustrious—without having to act against Justinian."

  "And if there isn't?"

  "Then the sooner it is done, the better for all of us. It would be possible to depose Justinian without imprisoning him, or worse. I do not want the Emperor's blood on my hands, even indirectly. There could be no greater dishonor. It's one thing to dispose of those men who are corrupt and ambitious, but no soldier can rise against his Emperor and think himself worthy of his rank."

  "He may be your Emperor, but he's not God, Drosos," Olivia said, chiding him a little.

  Drosos responded seriously. "The Emperor is more than the rest of us. He would not be where he is if he were nothing more than a man. Justinian is… an officer of God, and for that reason alone we who are sworn to uphold his reign would imperil more than our lives if we abused his trust. The rest of the court is as fallible as we are, and they are subject to the sins of men. But the Emperor…" He did not finish.

  "The Emperor is a man like other men, Drosos," Olivia said very quietly.

  "No." He took a deep breath. "I don't expect you to understand. You Romans have had to watch your Church crumble along with the power you had. You don't see that God has taken it from you because you were not willing to find t
hose men who could serve Him as well as the state." He moved away from her. "I know that Belisarius would tell you the same thing."

  "Which is why he has not protested his treatment any more than he has?" suggested Olivia. "For those of us who remember the Caesars, this appears strange." She tilted her head and looked at him speculatively.

  "They were corrupt and corrupting, men without faith and without the power of God to support them." He touched the cross that held his pallium. "The world was in terrible darkness before Christ redeemed us."

  Olivia was silent, not knowing what to say. She had watched the development of Christianity with mixed emotions which in the last century had become increasingly apprehensive. She stared down into the water, watching for the movement of the fish and hoping that Drosos would not insist on discussing his religion with her, for inevitably he would disagree with her.

  "You are a Roman," he said again, some little time later.

  "As you are well aware," she said, trying to make her voice lighter than her heart.

  "Yes. I like that in you. I can say things to you that I could not possibly say to a Byzantine." He reached out and took one soft curl in his fingers. "You do not judge me, do you?"

  "Not in the way you mean," she said.

  He laughed, not understanding her. "And you are not like the women I have known."

  Her smile was stunning. "I should hope not."

  "You are not like anyone I have known before." He let her hair go, the fine strands pulling slowly across his palm.

  "I know that." She had a fleeting thought of the man she now thought of as her first lover, and recalled how he had cautioned her to keep her secret even when she assumed revelation would be welcome.

  "We are so easily loathed, Olivia," he had said in great sorrow. "We are feared and despised, and then it is a simple matter to… be rid of us. Keep your nature to yourself, for your own sake." Looking at Drosos, sensing his turmoil and his desire, she admitted to herself that Sanct' Germain had been right. "Why is that?" Drosos' question cut into her memories.