Belisarius looked exhausted when he joined Olivia there a little later. "I've missed you," he said. "But with Antonina in poor health, and my condition being what it is, we do not often see anyone these days."
"Antonina is in poor health?" Olivia repeated, startled at the news. "When I saw her last, she was thriving."
"It has only been recently that she has suffered. Her pope tells her that it is the result of the continuing disfavor of Heaven, but I cannot believe it. I have brought so much misfortune on her, and if—" He stopped abruptly. "That isn't why you're here, is it?"
"No," she admitted, her concern not forgotten. "Niklos was in the market today and saw goods from my Roman villa offered for sale." She had not intended to state the problem so directly, but knowing now that Belisarius had many other troubles to plague him, she decided that speaking to the point was best.
Belisarius looked at Niklos. "You're certain?"
"If you had served Olivia as long as I have, you would know these things as if they were your own," he said. "I am certain."
"He would not have spoken to me unless he was sure," Olivia added.
"What specifically did you see?" Belisarius asked.
"Two chests, antiques, with brass fittings. They're most unusual." He paused. "I didn't look further. However, the stall in the market was filled with Roman goods."
"And so you assume that if the chests are there, other things may also be. You suspect that there has been some sort of a raid on the villa." Belisarius nodded heavily. "And doubtless you have good reason to think so. My officers have brought me tales that do not bode well."
"You mean that Totila—" Olivia began.
"Not only our enemies. There are Byzantines who want to pick the carcass before the Ostrogoths get there." His bitterness was ferocious and it was a moment before he could speak safely. "I'm sorry, Olivia. When I left Italy, I was told that my obligations would be honored by Narses and his officers, but… it appears otherwise."
"You've heard of other complaints?" It was not truly a question. She could read Belisarius' expression and knew that there had been others.
"Unfortunately." He lowered his head and rubbed his eyes. "I am profoundly sorry to learn of this. I'll start an official inquiry at once, of course."
"But…" Olivia regarded him with sympathy.
"Yes. You're right." Belisarius stared across the room at a blank spot on the wall. "But as I am under suspicion of conspiracy and treason, I can make no promises for the success of the inquiry. The Court Censor is convinced that I have acted against the interests of the Emperor, and therefore everything I do and say is scrutinized for possible hidden significance." He tugged at the end of his pallium. "It has even been implied that I have poisoned my own wife to direct suspicion elsewhere."
"Oh, my friend," Olivia said, and went to put her arm over his bowed shoulders.
He shrugged her away. "I am contaminated. Don't be tainted by me."
"But I already am," Olivia said at her most reasonable. "I came here with your assistance, and I come to you for aid. You were my guest in Roma, and I have been yours here in… Konstantinoupolis. Doubtless if the Censor believes that women are capable of conspiracy—which I doubt—he will have long since decided that I am not to be trusted." This time when she put her arm around his shoulder, she did not permit him to break away from her. "First, I think we must determine exactly how much has been taken from my villa, and what has already been sold."
"Didn't you hear me?" Belisarius demanded.
"Yes. And now you will listen to me." She sat beside him and kept her arm across his back. "I wish to discover what I have lost. Niklos has an inventory of the goods from the villa at my house here—which I thank you again for helping me to acquire—and a copy of this can be provided to… to whoever needs it."
"The magistrate for the Army," Belisarius muttered.
"Fine. Niklos, a copy of the inventory for the magistrate for the Army. Then it might be wise to inspect the stall and warehouse of the merchant where Niklos found the chest." Her strength surprised Belisarius when he tried once more to move away from her. "Don't you agree?"
Capitulating, Belisarius turned to her. "All right, Olivia. I'll try to arrange for the inspection. Is there anything else you want?"
Her laughter was sadder than any he had ever heard. "Magna Mater, yes. The list is so long—" She forced a half-smile back onto her lips. "But for the time being, tell me what is wrong with Antonina. Perhaps I can help."
Belisarius took her free hand in both of his. As he stared down at their interlaced fingers, he admitted, "Christos, I hope so. I'm frightened, Olivia: I'm afraid."
* * *
Text of a letter from the physician Mnenodatos to his unknown correspondent.
On the Feast of the Armenian Martyrs, the physician Mnenodatos sends his greetings to his continuing friend.
Your request for information regarding certain poisons, while no doubt necessary, nevertheless concerns me. Your generosity is most welcome, and I am grateful for all you have done for me, but I must inquire more closely into the use to which you have put this information, for if there has been any misuse of your knowledge gained through me, I am as culpable as you are, in fact, because I have given you the degree of information I have, I am more culpable in the eyes of the law.
While I have no wish to lose your assistance and friendship, I find myself in a very awkward state, since I am now in a position where I am apt to be blamed for the misfortune of another. Not only do I not know who you are, I am in no position to know who it is you have acquired this information for and to what end it is being used, and I beseech you to tell me at least some portion of what I have requested so that I will not be entirely without protection.
Your latest request comes with a most beneficent payment, one far exceeding the worth of what I have told you, and for that reason if no other, I dread what you might do. I have a wife and children to think of, good friend, and they might easily be made beggars tomorrow if you are not acting as honorably as I pray you are.
At first, it did not trouble me that you did not say who you are or in what capacity you employ the information you have obtained from me. But that was before the riots last week, and now I am afraid that those who believe that the Empress Theodora met her end by poison might search out all of us who have some knowledge of the subject and inquire into their activity. At this time, I could not prevail if such an inquiry were made of me, and that fills me with the gravest foreboding.
Come forth, I pray you, and reveal who you are and what you are doing. I give my word on the Most Holy Spear that I will not betray you, and I will accept your vow that you will not betray me. Until some such assurance is given me, I cannot provide you any more information or assistance, and I am convinced that if you examine your conscience, you will grant my requests as the reasonable protection they are.
If you decide that you cannot do this, or that you will not contact me again, know that I have your various notes and letters which I will surrender to any officer of the court who makes any inquiry whatever of me. I might not be able to identify you for them, but I will reveal to what extent you have involved me in whatever scheme you are acting upon. Naturally I would rather not have to do this, and if you act promptly and in good faith, I will demonstrate my sincerity by surrendering all copies of your notes and letters to you for your disposal in any way you see fit.
Mnenodatos
Physician
6
Thekla was over fifty and revered for her years as well as her long religious vocation. Since age eight, she had lived a virtual hermit in a cell scraped out of the city battlements facing the Sea of Marmara. It was said that the Emperor Theodosius II who had ordered the extension of Constantine's seaward battlements had intended to protect the city from the land as well as the sea, and Thekla was one of many who had brought her holiness to fortify the walls.
"But most holy woman," said Panaigios, leaning nearer the wall so that he
would be able to hear the few, whispered words she would vouchsafe him, "surely you know more of the dangers facing the Emperor from those who stand nearest to him."
"That is always the most dangerous," whispered the dry, ancient voice. "Judas stood nearest Christos, they say. He kissed Him."
"But who stands nearest Justinian that might do such a thing?" Panaigios demanded. His position with Kimon Athanatadies had slipped in the last year and he was growing desperate for the means to renew his situation.
Thekla laughed, or so it seemed to Panaigios who heard the rustling sound with an emotion near awe. "You do not want to know. The righteous are vilified and the vile are exalted."
"Do you mean that the Emperor Justinian is not entitled to rule?" Panaigios gasped.
Again the laugh, and the singsong repetition: "The righteous are vilified and the vile are exalted."
"I don't know what you mean. You must speak more directly." He knew that he was challenging a venerated person who could have him imprisoned for little more than the tone of his voice. He could not stop himself from speaking. "Tell me."
"You do not want to know. You embrace your ignorance. You would not know honor if Hagios Gavrilos himself announced it to you." The old woman's wheezing words came more quickly, as if she were trying to speak her last message on a single breath. "You wallow in corruption as if you partook of the manna of Paradise. The Word of God is a whistle in the rising wind."
Panaigios glowered at the stones that separated him from the famous old anchorite and wished he had the strength of body and character to pull them down and demand that she explain herself. Instead he leaned his forehead against the stones. "Do you speak against the Emperor?"
"I speak against no one," she answered. "I speak only what God sends me to know. Leave me. You are deaf to Grace." With this condemnation she fell silent.
"Thekla." He waited and when no response was forthcoming, he repeated her name several times only to be met with silence.
"I say nothing against any man," the arid voice said as Panaigios started away from the battlements.
He paused, uncertain if he had imagined the last sounds or not, but decided at last that they were the parting words from the old holy woman. He looked up toward the walkway where the Guard patrolled, and saw two soldiers standing some distance away, apparently deep in conversation. How much had they overheard and who would they tell? he wondered.
In a short while Panaigios had reached his two Egyptian slaves who stood beside his chariot. He signaled them both to follow him as he stepped into the vehicle and took the reins from the younger slave. "I have much to think about," he told them in his most important voice.
"There was a messenger from the Censor," said the older slave. "His master wishes to see you before you return to your house."
This was a summons that Panaigios dared not ignore. "Of course," he said as if it were the most natural thing in the world that he should be sent for in this unusual way. "I intended to report there before I went home in any case."
The two slaves exchanged glances; neither was fooled by this show of sangfroid. They fell into step behind the chariot, though the crowding on the streets was sufficient to keep their progress to a slow walk.
At the house of the Court Censor—which was a palace in everything but name—Panaigios turned his horse into the courtyard and waited while one of the armed private guards came and took the chariot in control.
"Where am I expected?" Panaigios asked, doing his best to keep the shudder he felt out of his voice.
"My master will see you in the room adjoining his chapel." The guard regarded Panaigios with an expression that was very near pity. "He has a few questions to ask you."
"Excellent," said Panaigios with an enthusiasm that he was far from truly feeling. "I have a few matters to discuss with him and this will make it possible for us to cover a number of matters now." He strode into the house, praying that his knees would not give way.
The antechamber to Athanatadies' chapel was oppressively small, with high walls and only two lunette windows well above reach. There were frescoes of the hideous death of the Thirty Virgin Martyrs who had been partially flayed and then left in the sun to die. Panaigios stared at the depiction of the blessed suffering and wished he had the courage to run.
Kimon Athanatadies emerged from his chapel some while later, his dusty dalmatica and disarranged pallium revealing that he had spent part of his time at prayers prostrate. He looked sharply at his secretary and indicated the door that led into the private part of the house. "I must speak with you."
"I am pleased to have it so," said Panaigios, lying heroically.
"Are you?" Athanatadies shrugged indicating that Panaigios' opinion made no difference to him.
"Most certainly. I have wanted recently to have more opportunity to speak with you, but there has not been the occasion, and therefore—" He broke off before he became completely lost in his sentiments.
"In here, if you will." He indicated a small reception room where an armed guard waited. "Melisandos, wait at the door," Athanatadies said to the man and closed the door so that he and Panaigios were alone. "Sit. In a while I will order refreshments."
"That isn't necessary," said Panaigios, anxious not to make his social ambitions too obvious.
"I'm hungry; I've fasted since last night." He had already taken the most comfortable chair leaving two small benches for Panaigios to choose between. "I've been busy with the matter of expunging the heretical writings of Eutyches and his followers. The Monophysitism heresy is more insidious than the Nestorian heresy, for it is easy to fall into the error that Christos partook more of the divine than humanity, and that is the grossest and most pernicious error. Anyone can see the error in thinking that Christos partook more of humanity than divinity. I have never feared the Nestorians."
Panaigios knew better than to enter into any religious debate with the Court Censor; he decided to respond safely. "I have never read suspect texts."
"Very wise, although the time may come when it will be required so that you will be able to identify heresy in its most subtle disguises, that of true faith." He leaned back. "What did you want to say to me?"
This direct question took Panaigios by surprise and he stammered as he answered. "I have taken the liberty of approaching Thekla to see if I might discover who near to the Emperor is the most dangerous."
"Thekla!" exclaimed Athanatadies. "You have been busy."
"I have been worried," Panaigios countered, not wanting to appear that he had usurped any privilege of the Censor himself. "I have spoken to officers of Belisarius in the hope that they might reveal treason or the intention to act against the Empire and I have yet to get any of them to reveal themselves."
"And so you went to Thekla. Most ingenious. And what did the venerable old witch have to say?" He laughed at his secretary's scandalized expression. "The woman might be holy but I fear she is also quite mad most of the time. And she is clever enough to say nothing that would jeopardize her situation. She is wholly dependent on the bread and water left her by religious men and women who offer charity. She will say nothing that might end that charity." He folded his hands and gazed at Panaigios apparently enjoying the man's discomfort.
"I… I wanted the benefit of… of…" He could no longer define what he had sought. He decided the whole day had been terribly unsatisfactory.
"Oh, I know you were hoping for some clue that might give you the key to the silence of the officers. But did it ever occur to you that perhaps the reason for the silence is that there is nothing to reveal?" He sighed. "As little as I wish to believe it, and as little as I am prepared to believe it, there is no evidence yet that there was ever a rebellion planned, or that Belisarius ever hankered for the purple. Still, he will be kept under house arrest and his men watched. They are clever men who have learned the virtue of waiting. They may wish to lull us into inattention and then act."
"Yes!" burst out Panaigios. "And that is what I have b
een trying to puzzle out. Thekla had a few things to say, and little as you may wish to believe them, I think there was substance in her warning."
"And what was that?" Athanatadies asked with very little curiosity.
Panaigios was driven to answer, convinced that he might still hold the answer to the mystery that had confronted them since Belisarius had returned from Italy. "She said that the vile were raised up and the righteous were cast down."
"So the Prophets have said, over and over. That's safe enough." Athanatadies clapped his hands and when Melisandos opened the door, he requested that fruit and bread be brought. "Bring something for this man as well," he added as an afterthought.
"I have assigned Yaspros to the matter," Panaigios went on. "I think that if anyone can penetrate the secret, he is the one. I have also enlisted a few slaves within Belisarius' house so that if there is anything that might require our attention we will know of it at once."
"Yes; sensible." Athanatadies smoothed the front of his garments. "I have a request to make in that respect."
"Yes?" said Panaigios, grateful for the interruption.
"Find out what poison it is that is being used on Antonina and how much longer it is likely to take." This was said so bluntly that Panaigios had to bite his tongue to keep from crying out in astonishment.
"Poison?" he forced himself to ask.
"What else? She was not ill until recently, and now she can no longer hold her food and often complains of burning in her vitals. That is very like poison. Her physician hasn't been able to relieve it as he might have if it were merely an aggravation of the gut." He sighed and shook his head sadly. "If that woman had not tried to press the advantage of her friendship with Theodora then she might not have had to endure what torments her now."
"I… I will make a few inquiries," said Panaigios, recovering himself enough to appear unaffected.
"And I wish to know who within the household is doing the actual administration. I am curious to discover who it is who is willing to risk the wrath of Belisarius to do this thing. Such a person might be of great use in the future, and will bear close watching in any case, since anyone willing to poison a woman of Antonina's stature is clearly a dangerous person." He tapped the tips of his fingers together. "Do you think you can do this for me, Panaigios?"
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