“Here.” Markos pressed a cup into his hand, and it didn’t smell like the strong, honey-sweet tea Vasilios was used to. “Are you going to be ill? The tea will help.”
“I’m sorry,” Vasilios said, voice barely above a whisper, and he took an obedient sip of the tea. It was lighter and green, with a hint of sharpness, and it did help settle his stomach a bit.
“Don’t apologize,” Markos said. “What you have witnessed is horrible, and I am truly sorry God chose you for this.”
Vasilios clenched his hand around the delicate cup, fighting back the fear that rose up inside of him at the idea that any God would choose him for anything. “In my last dream,” he said, licking his lips and trying to collect himself, “the creature took the child to someplace dark and cool.” He thought about it a little harder, trying to eke out any detail that might be important. “The air felt moist, and I think the room was made out of stone, the floor certainly was. And then….” He took a breath. “Then the creature devoured the child.”
Vasilios closed his eyes as if that would somehow block out the all-too-clear memory. Fingers brushed against his clenched hands, and he couldn’t stop from flinching away.
“I am sorry,” Markos said again, and Vasilios shook his head.
“Why? It is not your fault.”
“I would not have wished witnessing something like that on anyone,” Markos said, his voice filled with so much compassion that Vasilios had to look away.
With his nerves already frayed to the breaking point, he was not sure he could handle Markos’s kindness, and he’d already felt enough like a fool without doing something like bursting into tears.
“Vasilios, if you have any more of these dreams, I need you to contact me immediately. Send a message if you must, but I would prefer if you came yourself, like you did today,” Markos said. “You can come here at any time, you understand, no matter how early or late. I just need you to come here right away, as soon as you have the seeing. Time is of the essence with this, you understand?”
Vasilios nodded, taking another sip of tea, trying to calm his nerves. “Of course. If I have another dream, I’ll come see you at once.”
“Good.” Markos touched his hand again briefly, and this time Vasilios managed not to flinch. “Also, there’s someone I would like you to meet. I’m going to contact him this morning and will send a message telling you when you should come.”
Vasilios’s fingers clenched around the teacup. “It’s not the Bishop, is it?”
Markos looked startled and then laughed. It was a rich, deep sound that made Vasilios’s stomach heat pleasantly, even under these conditions. It also made those fine lines appear around Markos’s eyes again. “God love you, no.” Markos sobered, but the smile remained, turning up the corners of his lips. “I will be telling the Bishop what you told me, in detail, but I doubt he’ll be interested in meeting you in person. No, the person I am thinking of is a close friend, and I have been relying on his advice quite a lot in this matter.” He ran his fingers through his hair again, causing it to stand on end and making Vasilios’s fingers itch to put it right.
“All right.” Vasilios took another drink of tea. He wished he knew what he should do, but this was so far from the normal course of his life that all his training seemed to have deserted him.
“Stay here.” Markos’s fingertips brushed against his knee and then were gone. “Rest. I need to speak with Phyllis.”
“I….” Vasilios made to struggle up, putting his cup aside. “I can go now. I don’t need to continue to take up your time. I’ve told you everything I know.”
“No.” Markos turned and glared at him, and Vasilios sank back down onto the couch without realizing he’d moved. “When you came in here, you looked exhausted and unwell, and I’m not simply going to grill you for information and then kick you out onto the street. Unless you are commenting upon the hospitality of my house, or the lack thereof?”
Vasilios’s head lowered and his gaze fixed on the floor. “Of course not, my lord. The hospitality of your house has been more than generous.”
When Vasilios glanced up at him, Markos was running his fingers through his hair for a third time, so it stood up even more wildly than before. Vasilios had to bite the inside of his cheek to keep from smiling.
“Just rest.” Markos sounded exasperated more than displeased. “Drink your tea and eat some food, if you can manage it.”
Vasilios nodded, even though he doubted he’d be able to eat anything anytime soon. Markos walked to the door and opened it, then slipped outside. Vasilios sipped his tea and took a moment to look around the room. The walls were covered in frescoes, depicting a fruit orchard with bright blue birds wheeling between the trees.
There was a small desk with papers piled on it over by the one window in the room, which had an ornate wooden grate across it but still let in light. The chair Markos had been sitting in had obviously been pulled away from the desk and placed next to the low couch, which was wood upholstered in light-blue silk. The low table was made of warm, red wood, the legs of which had been beautifully carved.
The door opened again, and Markos reentered the room and smiled at him. Vasilios smiled back before he realized what he was doing and then lowered his head.
“The tea is very good,” he said for lack of anything better.
“Thank you.” Markos walked back over to the chair and sat. “I used to suffer from stomach upset quite a bit while on campaign, and I always found it soothed me.”
Vasilios wanted to ask about it, what had caused Markos’s illness, and how Markos had dealt with being constantly on the move and commanding a larger number of men. He didn’t ask, of course. Instead, he sipped his tea.
“I read over the documents you sent me,” Markos said, and Vasilios looked up, surprised, and then he quickly glanced away. “I like the parcel. The house seems to be in decent shape. It shouldn’t take too much to fix it up so someone could be quite comfortable there. The vineyard is going to take a little work, but I like a challenge.”
“Good.” Vasilios nodded, latching onto something he knew and was confident in his ability to do well. “If you would like, I’ll bring a contract around for you to examine.”
“That would be most appreciated,” Markos said.
“This is a generous thing you’re doing, with the house for your daughter-in-law.”
“Cassandra is sweet, gentle, and intelligent,” Markos said, his voice tired and sad. “She reminds me of my first wife, and I like her a great deal. Isaias, though, suffers from the arrogance of youth and would much rather be courting favor with our young Emperor, or chasing after the first pretty thing that catches his eye, than treating her properly. She is lonely, and there are too many unkind rumors at her expense.” Markos shook his head. “She hates being at court and under the prying eyes of city life, but now that Isaias has given away their country villa to his newest plaything, Cassandra has nowhere else to go.”
Vasilios bit his tongue before he pointed out that Markos was not responsible for the poor behavior of his son. It was not Vasilios’s place, after all.
“Vasilios,” Markos said and then seemed to hesitate. “Please tell me if I’m being too forward asking this, and know you are completely within your right not to answer, but have you ever considered buying your freedom at some point?”
Vasilios jerked and had to put the teacup down quickly so as not to spill any of the contents. He clenched his hands in his lap. “No,” he said flatly.
“I’m sorry for asking.” Markos ducked his head. “I should have known better, but my curiosity often causes me to do or say foolish things.”
Vasilios inclined his head a little. “You do not need to apologize. You are within your rights to ask me anything you want. It is just that I am well educated, with many skills centered around running a household and handling business matters. It means I am valuable, and my worth is very high. I could never possibly make my own cost, and if I even came close,
Panagiotis or Damianos would take the money from me so I would not be able to buy my freedom.” Vasilios took a breath. “So no. I don’t think about it at all.”
“I’m sorry,” Markos said again. “I should not have brought it up.”
“No.” Vasilios shook his head.
Someone knocked on the door, and Markos rose once more to answer it. It was Phyllis again. She said something low to Markos, who nodded before turning back to Vasilios.
“I’m afraid I’m going to have to be a poor host again. I’ve received an urgent message I have to attend to.”
“It’s all right.” Vasilios rose from the couch. “I need to return to the house anyway. I’m sure quite a few people are wondering where I am.”
“If Panagiotis asks, tell him I wished to speak with you about the parcel of land,” Markos said. “It is not, after all, truly a lie.”
Vasilios felt a flutter of unease in his stomach at the idea of telling Panagiotis even a half-truth. He’d never lied to his master about anything before, but he remembered the oath of silence Markos had spoken of, and he squared his shoulders.
“And Vasilios”—Markos took his arm as Vasilios passed him on his way to the door—“remember what I said about coming to me immediately if you have another dream.”
Vasilios nodded, trying to ignore the warm weight of Markos’s hand on his upper arm. “As you wish.” He inclined his head. “May God bless your house, my lord General Markos.”
“I’m not going to be able to convince you to call me Markos without the General or my lord, am I?” Markos let go of Vasilios’s arm with a small smile and rubbed his hand across his hair, fluffing his hair in a completely different direction this time.
Vasilios had to look away to keep from smiling. “No, my lord General Markos.”
“God bless your house as well, Vasilios Eleni,” Markos said, humor in his voice but also a little bit of sadness. Vasilios bowed again and turned back to pull the door open and let himself into the hall.
WHEN Vasilios arrived back at Panagiotis’s house, he found to his relief that Panagiotis hadn’t asked for him while he’d been away. The kitchen, however, was in an uproar over one of the serving women who had not gone to market and purchased the fruit for the morning meal.
Vasilios could hear the servants arguing all the way down the hall as he headed for the kitchen, although the sound stilled when he walked in.
“You, boys.” Holding up a pouch of coins, Vasilios pointed to two serving boys. “Run to market and buy more fruit and sesame seeds. The concubines at least will want fruit with their tea, if there was none for breakfast.” He gave the boys his most formidable glare. “If either of you tarry or do not bring back the proper amount of coins, I will see you severely punished for it, you understand?”
“Yes, Vasilios.” They both bowed and then ran.
“Now.” He turned, his arms folded over his chest as he frowned at the entire kitchen staff. “Who decided because I was not there you did not need to do your duties?”
Everyone looked at the ground, some of the young men frowning and muttering darkly.
“Obedience, doing your duty whether there is someone there to force you to or not, is the way that you uphold the good name of your house and get into your master’s good graces,” he said, shaking his head.
“Everyone’s evening meal will be less today, and no one from the kitchen staff will be drinking wine for a week. You earn these things.” He shook his head again. “I know all of you think I can do whatever I want without working for it. That Panagiotis doesn’t expect me to work for anything and will still give me whatever I want. Maybe you think I got the privileges I have because I was on my back with my legs open?”
He looked directly at the young men who stood glaring at him from behind the women. He glared right back.
“Everyone earns what they have, including me. Everything I have is because I do my duty and more, without being asked, without being threatened or disciplined. And those of you who sneer about the jewels or concubines and think what they do is easy, know that they work hard for the privileges they have, and harder than you have worked today.” He kept right on glaring at the young men, and one of them finally dropped his gaze. “A jewel who refuses to serve his master in bed gets beaten with a switch, not merely less wine for a week. I am being lenient. Be grateful and work to make sure it doesn’t happen again.”
Everyone muttered unhappily and shuffled their feet.
“What?” Vasilios snapped.
“Yes, Vasilios,” they all chorused, and he nodded curtly, then turned and walked out of the kitchen.
“I’m going to need a guard posted on the servants’ wine stores,” he told Bröndulfr when he found him talking to the guards of the women’s quarters. “The kitchen staff aren’t allowed to have any for a week.”
Bröndulfr nodded and then gave him a strange look. “Are you all right?”
Vasilios scrubbed one hand across his face. “Yes, just tired.”
“Kuo told me when he came off duty that you went to General Markos’s house early this morning.” Bröndulfr frowned, and Vasilios waved a hand dismissively.
“I can’t—it was nothing. Don’t worry about it.”
Bröndulfr gave him another dubious look. “You might want to change. I’ve never seen you wear clothes that clash, and if I noticed, then I’m sure he’ll notice too.”
Vasilios nodded and headed up to his room to change. He was tired, he thought, but he couldn’t imagine wanting to sleep, not if he was going to dream. Someone had put a tray of food in his room, but Vasilios couldn’t eat it. He changed into a fresh ankle-length tunic and picked out a new scarf and redraped it around his shoulders. After shuffling through the papers on his desk, he swore as he realized he’d meant to take papers to Damianos about a potential buyer for their silk shipment. He collected the papers, pulled his scarf over his head, and headed for the door.
“ARE you all right?” Damianos asked, peering across his desk at Vasilios, who jerked a little where he knelt on the floor.
“I am fine, Master Damianos.”
“Are you ill? You’ve seemed run-down all day.”
Vasilios kept his expression blank. He’d been kneeling here as Damianos had gone over the papers he’d brought and then drafted a possible contract, all of which had taken several hours.
“I’m fine. I just did not sleep well last night.” He bowed. “I will endeavor to be more attentive.”
“Good.” Damianos went back to the contract he was drafting. “You should get more sleep. We can’t have you drifting off all day long.”
Vasilios inclined his head but stayed silent.
“Also, I’m not sure what father would do if you weren’t in top form.” Damianos smiled.
Vasilios simply concentrated on keeping his eyes open and remaining upright.
“Here, let me read this clause to you.”
Vasilios looked straight ahead and counted backward from fifty as Damianos’s voice droned through the clause he’d already rewritten twice.
“Oh no, I’m going to want to word that differently.” He began scratching out the line, and Vasilios tried to think of anything besides the fact that the muscles in his legs were on the verge of cramping and all he wanted to do was go to sleep. It would be a long time before he got to sleep. Damianos would most certainly make him stay until the contract was complete, and then there was the evening meal to attend to, and Panagiotis might want him for something afterward.
His mind skittered back to thoughts of that morning, and Vasilios wondered what Markos was doing and what the running of his household was like. He’d met the two soldiers and the one servant, Phyllis. From the street, the house looked quite small, as if it would be easily managed with one or two people tending to it.
“All right,” Damianos said. “I’m going to read it again.”
Vasilios clenched his hands in front of him hard enough that his nails cut into his palms. “As you wish,
” he said, keeping his eyes down and his voice soft and completely devoid of emotion.
By the time he dragged himself back to Panagiotis’s house, the kitchens bustled with preparations for the evening meal, overseen by Felicity, one of Eudoxia’s serving women.
“You should go rest,” she said as soon as she saw him. “You look exhausted, and I can handle things here. I’ll have some food sent up for you.”
He nodded, not even trying to argue, and turned to leave. “If our master wants me, send someone.”
Once inside his own room, he collapsed on the couch. He massaged the muscles in his legs and the joints of his knees, both of which had gone stiff. “You’re getting old,” he told himself with a sigh. It was true. If he’d wed and had a son instead of going to war, that child would have reached manhood several years ago and would probably be married with his own son by now.
Vasilios shook his head, not liking to dwell on what hadn’t happened. He stood and stretched until his back cracked and popped.
A knock came at the door, and Vasilios turned to see a servant standing in the doorway.
“I’m sorry, but the master wants to see you,” the servant said. “He wants you to go over the work you and Damianos did on the silk buyer’s contract.”
Vasilios nodded and took a deep breath, then dropped into that place where how tired and ill he was feeling didn’t matter.
“Thank you. I’ll go attend to our master, then.”
Over the last few weeks, Panagiotis’s health had worsened further. Vasilios needed to stop several times in his report while Panagiotis coughed into his linen handkerchief until he spat blood. He started nodding off halfway through Vasilios’s recitation of the terms of their final draft of the contract.
Eudoxia, with her embroidery in her lap, had been sitting on the second couch in the room that was set at a right angle to the one on which Panagiotis reclined.
“Thank you, Vasilios,” she said when Panagiotis began to snore. “I think you can retire now, and I’ll have some of my own eunuchs see my husband to his room.” Vasilios stood from where he’d been kneeling and bowed to her. “Thank you, Mistress.”
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