A Flame in Byzantium aoc-1

by Chelsea Quinn Yarbro

  Belisarius' house was one hill over—although Olivia refused to think of such bumps as hills—and in a street that was made narrow with the extensive reconstruction and rebuilding that was the passion of Justinian. By the time the bearers set the palanquin down, they were sweating and blowing hard as dray beasts for the added effort of lifting the vehicle around the heaps of masonry and over piles of rubble that littered the streets increasingly as they neared the palace of the Emperor and his most ambitious project—the expansion of the Basilica of the Most Sacred Wisdom.

  Four armed guards uniformed in the manner of Belisarius personal soldiers flanked the door to the house as Olivia was helped from the palanquin. All the men watched her closely, each with a hand on the hilt of his sword.

  "I am Olivia Clemens, a widow from Roma," she told the majordomo of Belisarius' house. "I would like the honor of spending a little time with the august lady who is wife to the great General Belisarius." She hoped that was formal enough for these ceremony- and ritual-loving Byzantines.

  The majordomo, a smooth-faced eunuch in garments far richer than what most merchants could afford to wear, made her a deep reverence as he admitted her to the vestibule of the enormous house. "Be kind enough to wait here; one of the household women will escort you to the august lady."

  "How good of you," said Olivia mendaciously.

  The eunuch said nothing as he moved away from her, leaving her to stand by herself in the huge octagon-shaped entryroom with nothing more to look at than a series of dreadful frescoes of military Saints in battle against devils and other foreigners all in grotesque and frozen postures. Olivia found herself longing for the mosaics of her youth. Where, amid this vehement and abstracted suffering, was one dolphin, one dog worrying a bone, one cherub dangling a flute or a wine cup? These were the scenes she recalled most affectionately from those long-ago days when she grew up. In her father's villa there was one wall showing Jupiter turning into a bull, with a buxom Europa waiting for her lover with more enthusiasm than awe. There had been two swineherds in the corner of the fresco, off to the lower right-hand corner. They had been sharing a wineskin and bread, and they idly watched the transformation. One of them was forever in the act of tossing a scrap to a tabby cat. There had been nothing so everyday, so human in the art Olivia had seen here in Byzantium; even in Roma now, the touches she loved were disappearing.

  "Great lady?" repeated the eunuch, who had returned.

  Olivia looked up sharply. "Oh; excuse me. These pictures—" She indicated the walls.

  "Antonina is a woman of much piety, and this is only the outward sign of it," said the eunuch, apparently favorably impressed by Olivia's interest. "If you will condescend to follow me, I will bring you to Antonina."

  "Thank you," said Olivia, falling into step behind the slave.

  "You are not the only great lady to visit Antonina today," said the eunuch. His voice was low and mature: he had been emasculated after manhood. Because he had run to fat it was hard to say if he had ever been handsome, but there was a sweetness to his round face that could once have been more attractive than it was safe for a slave to be.

  "What is your name, slave?" asked Olivia.

  "I am Arius," he told her, apparently surprised at the question.

  "In Roma, I always wanted to know the names of those who did me service so that I would be able to leave some token of my appreciation for good service," she said, remembering how many slaves had once been able eventually to buy their freedom with those accumulated tokens. Olivia was still distressed that those laws had been changed.

  "No token is necessary. This is Konstantinoupolis, great lady, not Roma, and here we give thanks to God, not to those whose place it is to serve." He had led the way down a long hall and now stopped at two tall doors. "These are the reception apartments of the august lady Antonina."

  "I am looking forward to the honor of meeting her," said Olivia, doing her best not to be impatient.

  Arius made his reverence as he opened the door. It was a graceful gesture, as formal and unnatural as the attitudes of the figures in the ikons that flanked the doors. "August lady, this is the great lady Olivia," said the eunuch before he stepped aside to let Olivia enter.

  Antonina was seated on a silk-covered couch; she was a magnificent woman, all stark contrasts. Her hair, black as onyx, had two white streaks that only served to make the dark more impressive. Her eyes were large, rimmed with heavy lashes and accented by curving dark brows. Her skin was the lightest shade of peach that Olivia had ever seen. Her clothes were silken, the paenula so extensive that it surrounded and engulfed her in vast folds of shimmering red. At her shoulder, her tablion was the size of the palm of her hand, encrusted with garnets and gold. "Welcome to my husband's house," she said, not rising.

  Olivia smiled without warmth. "I am pleased to bring you his greetings and remembrances," she said, hoping that she had come close to the proper formula.

  "And this"—she indicated the other woman in the room—"is Eugenia. She is the widow of Katalinus Hyakinthos, who was the bastard of Elezaros." This name was apparently supposed to mean something to Olivia, and Antonina waited for her response.

  "There was a… naval commander, wasn't there?" She hoped that her memory was correct; she sensed that neither woman would be forgiving of an error.

  "My husband's father, yes. They were killed in the same storm." She was not as tall as Antonina, nor quite as richly dressed. Her body was rounder and softer, more yielding, and her posture was more inviting. She, too, wore an enormous paenula, hers of a deep sea-green shot with gold, and her tablion was not as large or as be jeweled as Antonina's.

  "How unfortunate," said Olivia.

  "My husband sends me word that you, too, are a widow." She pointed to another couch, making it clear she wished Olivia to sit there.

  "For many years, yes," she answered candidly.

  "Yet you are not ancient," said Antonina.

  "I wear my years well," Olivia said.

  "That may be fortunate," Antonina declared. "Widows are not uncommon and it is not always the most simple thing to find them proper mates. There are men who prefer women who have never been married to those who have. I was fortunate, for my husband told me from the first that he was pleased that he had found me a widow, for that meant I knew men and I knew marriage. I was most pleased that he felt that way, and I told him then, as I have continued to tell him, that no woman can appreciate a marriage until her second one." She smiled, and it was clear she expected her two guests to smile as well.

  Realizing that this was likely to be more awkward than she had thought at first, Olivia said, "That may be, and certainly I have no means to tell, but let me assure you, august lady—"

  "You must call me Antonina," she purred.

  "You are all kindness," said Olivia, going on before she could be distracted. "Let me assure you that I have not come to you with the hope that you will supply a husband upon request. I have had such experience of marriage that I am not in a hurry to resume my married state. For a time, I am content to be a widow, and if this does not exclude me from friendships and society, I will abide as I am." She folded her hands in her lap and gave what she hoped was a trusting and guileless look to her hostess.

  "No woman has a distaste of marriage," Antonina said in a manner that would clearly tolerate no disputes.

  "I have, I am afraid. My husband was a man of strange appetites which he imposed upon me and that has left me with a lack of trust of marriage." She regarded Eugenia, hoping she might find an ally. "If your husband held you in respect and affection, then you have known two things I never had from my husband."

  "It is not fitting to speak against the dead, let alone a dead husband," announced Antonina, but she relented. "If what you say is true, then the Church failed you, for it is the responsibility of the priests to be certain that God's commands are obeyed on earth. As you are to be submissive to the will of your husband, so he is to give you care and comfort."


  Privately Olivia thought that the last characteristic she saw in Antonina was submission, but she made no comment about it. "The priests… were not as apt to take a hand," she said, trusting that her vagueness would be seen as tact instead of the evasion it was.

  "There are those who do not uphold the honor of their God as they ought," said Antonina, directing a hard glance at Eugenia. "I have said that your priest was wrong in permitting you to travel to Cyprus without a guard to accompany you."

  "He said that since there were others in the ship who were also visiting the shrine that it would be satisfactory," said Eugenia, clearly rehashing an old argument. "My priest said that when the journey is a holy one, then it is necessary to leave all pomp behind in order to show humility in the proper manner." She smiled, her mouth turning up at the corners and making her look even more like a kitten than her angular face and pointed chin already did.

  "Still, think of the insult if anything had occurred," Antonina persisted. "It may be spiritually wise to make pilgrimages, but I do not believe that it is sensible to take such extreme risks."

  "You have a General for a husband," said Olivia, deciding that she might as well discover as much as she could about what Antonina's opinions were since she would have to deal with them while she lived in Constantinople.

  "Yes, and a very great man. He is filled with distinction and honor, and he does not use this for anything but his service to God and the Emperor." There was a faint regret in her words, as if Belisarius' integrity was a subtle disappointment to his spouse.

  Eugenia must also have been aware of the underlying lack of satisfaction in Antonina's voice, for she said, "How it must please you to know that Belisarius is as stalwart as he is, and free from the taint of manipulation and intrigue that has compromised so many others."

  "It is most… rewarding," said Antonina in a reflective tone.

  As she settled back onto the couch, Olivia said, "I am truly in your debt for your willingness to receive me, Antonina. I have come to realize that many Romans are not so well-treated here in this city, and often for excellent reason. That you have been willing to speak with me, to invite me into this house fills me with gratitude."

  "My husband has said that you have donated your villa to his use while he and his men are in Roma, and that merits my hospitality." She nodded toward the ikonostasis on the far side of the room. "We know the obligations of our faith."

  "Belisarius spoke glowingly of you, august lady," said Olivia, sensing a faint anxiety in Antonina. "He and his officers were always most respectful in what they said of you while they were at my villa."

  Eugenia's smile was sharpened with malice. "Now the officers speak of you, Antonina."

  "Only because I asked them," said Olivia, realizing her blunder almost as soon as it was spoken. "I know so little about this city and its ways, I wanted to learn how best to comport myself, and I thought that you were likely to be the best example I could have. Your husband was so proud of all you've done, and so sincere in his praises, I asked questions and had answers that truly amazed me."

  "It was not correct to ask such questions," said Antonina, but her condemnation was modified by the tone of her voice. "In Byzantium we women are not eager to have our names and reputations bandied about. In Roma it might be otherwise, but here we all assume that it is not proper for a Christian woman to seek after notoriety or approbation."

  "And a man placed as General Belisarius is often is seen in the guise of his wife when he is not here to be evaluated," added Eugenia. "As some husbands are judged by their widows' conduct after the husbands are dead." She did not smirk, but it was more of an effort not to than it appeared to be.

  "Then I can see why Belisarius reposes such great trust in you, Antonina." It was blatant flattery, but Olivia spoke with such skill—and Antonina was so eager to hear such praises—that if Antonina was aware of the intent, she was willing to ignore it.

  However, Eugenia did not leave the issue unanswered. "It is only right for a man of Belisarius' position to rely on the good offices of his wife, and for him to know and acknowledge all that she does for him. A husband who must depend on his wife to put forth his position cannot be indifferent to her activities." From the tone of her voice, Olivia suspected that just such lapses had occurred with her and her late husband, who was the bastard of Elezaros.

  "I am the helpmeet of Belisarius and his devoted servant," said Antonina in her most forceful accents. Then she regarded Olivia again. "You say he was well?"

  "Well but tired," Olivia reassured her. "The campaign was hard, and the worst had not yet begun. He had been trying to find enough men to stop the raids that Totila's men had been making all around the city. It was wearing down the resistance of the peasants and farmers. Many of them wished to leave, and one of the tasks that Belisarius had set his men was convincing the farmers, as he tried to convince the citizens of Roma, not to leave, no matter how desperate their plight might seem."

  "Tired. Not ill?" Her concern was without artifice; whatever else Antonina might be, she was truly concerned for the safety and welfare of her husband.

  "Not while I was there, august lady. He complained of headaches from time to time, but nothing more than that. One of his officers had dislocated his shoulder and was carrying his arm in a sling while the ligaments mended, but that was the worst injury I saw, and if there was illness among them, I was not aware of it." Olivia saw the worry fade from Antonina's jet-black eyes. "Believe me, your husband is not in danger, at least he was not when I last saw him."

  "May God watch over him and give him protection and guidance," said Antonina, her imperious manner returning. "I would like to know what plans he revealed, if any, for his homecoming."

  "He said nothing about it while I was with him. I do not think he has made plans that are not in accord with the orders of the Emperor." This time Olivia sought to find a diplomatic way to deliver what she knew would be a disappointing message.

  "It is the great honor of my husband to be high in the esteem of the Emperor and to be given the privilege of carrying out his orders." Antonina could not entirely disguise the sigh that accompanied this patriotic sentiment.

  There was a discreet tap at the door and Arius opened it to admit three slaves bearing cups and plates. "As you have ordered, august lady," he said with a reverence to Antonina.

  "Very good. Present the sweetmeats." She signaled the slaves with a wave of her hand.

  Olivia had experienced many awkward moments of this nature and she used her abilities with the ease of long habit. "Oh, I am most upset; I did not realize there would be refreshments offered, and…"

  "What is it?" asked Eugenia when Olivia did not go on.

  "I have the misfortune to suffer from an antipathy to many fruits and some spices. They do not agree with me at all, and if I should eat them, I become horridly sick. I hope you will pardon me for refusing your gracious hospitality, but I am certain that I would prove to be a most reprehensible guest if I let myself succumb to your kindness."

  "An antipathy?" repeated Antonina.

  "Yes. Doubtless you know others who have similar conditions; I recall that one of Belisarius' officers becomes short of breath and flushed if he eats shellfish." She was hoping that Belisarius had taken the time to outline the failings as well as the virtues of his men to his wife.

  "That would be Gregorios, I assume," said Antonina.

  "The one who you introduced to me last year?" inquired Eugenia. "With the dark curly hair?"

  "No, that is Drosos," said Antonina with a knowing inclination of her head. She was watching her friend and so she did not see the faint smile that flickered over Olivia's face. "Yes, Gregorios has such an antipathy, I am certain of it."

  "Whichever man it was," said Olivia, "I felt for him most sincerely, for I know of my own experience how unendurable such episodes can be."

  The slaves who had waited as still as monuments now moved at a signal from Antonina and placed their offerings on the lo
w table beside their mistress' couch. They then made deep reverences and left, Arius in their wake like a whale following fishing vessels.

  "Take what pleases you, and if you feel it best, touch nothing," said Antonina, making it clear that her remarks were intended for both women.

  "I am hungry, and fortunately I have no antipathies that might interfere with my pleasures," said Eugenia, managing to infuse a world of meaning into her statement.

  "Then you may thank God for His kindness," Antonina said as she reached for one of the wine cups.

  "Oh, I do," said Eugenia, full of mischief.

  Olivia leaned back on the couch and wished that this stilted, unendurable, endless afternoon would be over before either of the others had finished her wine.

  "You have said," Antonina said, addressing Olivia once she had tasted some of the food set out, "that you are not interested in finding a husband, and if that is the case, I do not know what more I will be able to do for you. My area of influence is limited, as it must be for all women."

  Knowing that Antonina was a close friend of the Empress Theodora, Olivia decided that this last assertion could be interpreted very loosely. "Your civility in my welcome is more than enough. If, from time to time, you are willing to permit me to call upon you and to invite you to my house—once it is fit to be lived in—then I will think myself favored beyond my deserts."

  Antonina nodded, but said, "Should you eventually change your mind, you must tell me."

  "Of course," said Olivia, retreating into silence while the other two women nibbled at sweetmeats and speculated on the success of the most illustrious chariot team in the Empire.

  * * *

  Text of a letter front Belisarius to the Emperor Justinian.

  To the most august and favored ruler, the elevated and esteemed Emperor Justinian, his most devoted General Belisarius cries "hail" on this Feast of Saint Servius.

  While it is not my place to offer any criticism to you, most magnificent and knowledgeable of Emperors, I am constrained to inform you that those entrusted with carrying out your orders would appear to have been lax in their execution, for although two months have passed since our last request for additional troops, money, and supplies, little more than two or three measures of gold have been sent. Of troops and supplies we have seen nothing. I pray that this indicates that your activities are such that they require more time in order to make adequate preparation. Send me word of how many men I am to expect, and with what provisions.