A Flame in Byzantium aoc-1

by Chelsea Quinn Yarbro

  Begoz put his hands to his face. "I didn't mean anything against you, General, and I wouldn't for a moment cause you to be displeased if there were any way I could prevent it." He approached, and it was apparent that he had a severe limp; one of his feet was malformed and the leg was twisted, as if a giant hand had taken a doll and tugged the limb out of line.

  "No, of course not," said Belisarius, making a motion to keep Drosos from speaking out impulsively. "But that will not prepare the saddle for Olivia, and I would like it to be sent with Drosos when he returns to Constantinople in the next few weeks. If the saddle is ready before he leaves, there will be an advantage for you." He reached into the leather pouch that depended from his wide, metal-studded belt. "This"—he held up a large gold coin with the image of the Emperor on it, his crown like a halo—"is yours if the saddle can go with Drosos to Byzantium."

  The old slave stared at the coin, captivated by its size and color. "I might be able to work in the evening, when others are taking their leisure."

  "If that is required, then do it," he said, keeping the gold archangel within reach for Begoz. "It is unfortunate that the widow Clemens has lost her villa to us, but we are about to lose it again. The least we can do now is to show her some sense of our appreciation. The saddle is only a token, but it is a necessary one. If you cannot aid me in this, say so now, that I may find another to undertake the task."

  "No need for that," said Begoz hastily. "Grace of God, no. You need only tell me what you require and it will be yours."

  "Excellent," said Belisarius dryly. "I will expect that the day after tomorrow, wherever we are camped, you will be able to report to me that you have progressed on this saddle, and will be able to say when it will be done. If you are false, and if you tell me that you are more advanced in your work than you are, then you will be flogged. Do you understand this?"

  "Yes," said Begoz in a subdued voice. "Yes, I understand you, General, master."

  "Then report to me at the end of the day after tomorrow and we will then determine if you are capable of completing this commission." Belisarius tossed a small silver coin. "This, for any special supplies you may need."

  The old saddler caught it. "As you say, there may be supplies and you might not be free to see they are provided."

  Once they were out of the tent, Drosos turned curiously to Belisarius. "You said nothing to me about this saddle."

  "I wanted to be certain it could be finished."

  "And do you think it will be?" They stood aside as a large cart drawn by four sweating mules lumbered by them.

  "Drosos, do not concern yourself; either Begoz will complete it or I will find another who will, and by the time you leave you will have a saddle to take to Olivia, with my compliments for all she has given us. It might take some of the sting out of learning that this villa has fared badly. I do not think that once we are gone Totila will require that his army defend the place. They have been destroying villas in the north, and they have sworn to flatten Roma herself. A saddle is a little thing compared to a villa, but it is better than nothing." He peered across the busy staging area. "Look at the orchards—more than a third of the trees are cut down, and that was only for firewood. What would it be like if we had been bent on destruction? You know that the walls would have fallen and most of the furniture would be lost." He walked slowly, speaking in an undervoice that Drosos had to strain to hear over the jostling and shouting around them. "There are not many like her left. It is not to our credit if we abuse them: we are no better than the barbarians we oppose if we make no acknowledgment of her generosity."

  "She is a generous woman," said Drosos, a reminiscent smile on his lips.

  "In more ways than the one you choose to remember," Belisarius reminded him sharply.

  "But—" He broke off as three mounted bowmen clattered by. "My General, we will not be able to replace anything she has lost. I will take the saddle, or any other gift you request, and I will repeat any message, just as you bid me, but do not assume that this is recompense, even for a generous woman."

  Belisarius laughed. "No, I make no such assumption. We were more fortunate than we deserved to be. It might not happen again while we are in Italy."

  "What… what do you anticipate?" Drosos asked, reading distress in his General's eyes.

  "I try to anticipate nothing. But I fear that there are not going to be more Romans like Olivia Clemens to give us their villas and their provisions as she did." He pointed away toward the distant walls of Roma, just barely visible through the dust and a wide gap in the stout fencing that surrounded the villa's grounds. "That is what we all seek; Totila and all of us. And the city is growing tired of changing hands."

  "Once we strengthen our occupation, Totila will not be able to maintain his position and then he will have to withdraw to the north." Drosos said this as if he were repeating a lesson, and he was surprised to see that there was no certainty in Belisarius' expression to answer his own.

  "If all we have been promised is delivered, and if all the men we need are sent, and if there is no more looting or raiding, and if Roma decides to defend herself, and if there is food enough and water enough to withstand a siege, then perhaps Totila will be discouraged, or perhaps instead he will become enraged and then the fighting will erupt with greater severity than any we have seen so far." Belisarius shook his head. "I could envy you, if it did not compromise the Emperor."

  "How?" asked Drosos, surprised by this admission.

  "I am the General of Justinian, and whatever he commands of me I will do. My oath binds me to him and to God. But when I look ahead, I long for soft nights and the riches of Constantinople, and the company of my wife without the promise of marches and battles." He scratched at his graying hair. "But another time, another time. Now the Emperor wants me here, and I will do all that I can to be worthy of his confidence and commission." He lifted his hand as a signal to Savas, who was supervising the loading of sacks of grain to be used as fodder for the horses.

  "Why not request a posting to Constantinople, if you miss it so much?" Drosos asked, knowing the answer, and providing it before Belisarius could speak. "Because you do not want to risk losing Imperial favor, which such a transfer might entail."

  "Yes," agreed Belisarius. "That's part of it. And the rest is my oath. I am bound to serve Justinian in any capacity he demands, for he is Emperor and anointed in the service of God." He summoned Savas with an impa-tient gesture. "Drosos, tonight we will speak again, but for now I must see what the trouble is with these carts. If we cannot carry the grain with us, we will have to make sure that it is not left behind for Totila to use." He started away from his Captain, but stopped and turned back to regard the younger, stockier man with interest. "You took an oath, too, Drosos. Never forget your oath. It is what separates us from barbarians like Totila."

  "I will remember, General," Drosos promised him.

  "Also, do not forget that the hottest fires of hell burn for those who betray their oaths." He then trod purposefully toward the half-laden carts.

  Drosos watched him, wishing he could ask what had prompted him to give so stringent a warning. What was it that prompted Belisarius to remind him of his oath? He never doubted that he would honor his oath, for that was the duty of a soldier. As an officer, he accepted the full weight of the obligation.

  "Captain," said a young soldier who approached him from the left. "Captain, there's a problem. Will you come?"

  "Aren't you Leonidas' man?" Drosos inquired.

  "Yes, but he is still busy with others," said the young soldier. "Someone must help us."

  Drosos sighed as if to chase the glum thoughts from his mind. "Very well. Tell me what the trouble is." He set a brisk pace, permitting the soldier to point out the way.

  "We have a shortage of carts and wagons," said the soldier. "We have to find a way to carry more."

  "The same as everyone else," said Drosos heavily. "All right; how many mules and how many oxen do you have?"

&nbs
p; "Not enough," the soldier said. "We lost a dozen mules in the last night-raid. We're on the perimeter of the camp, and so we're more vulnerable than some. Three of the oxen are lame and we have been told we cannot use them. Captain Leonidas has already issued orders."

  "If you cannot use oxen and you are short of mules, what do you have for haulage?"

  "Not much," said the soldier. "We have horses, but we're supposed to reserve those for riding and battle. We have been warned that they are not to be exhausted by moving camp."

  "I see," said Drosos, shoving a water-carrier aside.

  "We tried the goats, but they don't work well in harness," the soldier went on, becoming embarrassed.

  "Holy belching angels! I should think not," said Drosos, his patience almost exhausted.

  "There wasn't much else we could use," the soldier offered by way of excuse.

  "I know; I know," said Drosos, clapping one hard-palmed hand on the soldier's arm. "You're doing the best you can under the circumstances. It's all any of us can do."

  "We wanted to find some of those big hounds they had in the north, but no one around here breeds them. I've heard they're pretty strong." He was hoping for a word of encouragement, but he was disappointed; Drosos sighed and shook his head.

  "The Emperor doesn't… understand. He's not aware of how strained our resources are here. He assumes that because we have come to save Italy from Totila that we are welcome everywhere and that the country is as rich as it once was. Nothing can convince him that we are not the heroes to the people that he believes we are. It is a great compliment to us, I suppose, and one that our General deserves, or would if things were not so difficult." He had almost said desperate but had stopped himself in time.

  The soldier coughed. "What do we do?"

  "Find the least worthy horses in your string and use them for haulage. They won't be much use to you in battle in any case and they might as well earn their hay like the rest of us." Drosos indicated the men on the far side of the camp. "You might see if Stamos' men have any spare oxen. They had one a few days ago, but you never know if they still do. Knowing that lot, they might have eaten it by now."

  "Some of the men do complain about rations," the soldier agreed.

  "Small wonder," Drosos concurred. "Millet cakes for four days in a row!"

  "Maybe I should requisition some of the goats for food," the soldier ventured uncertainly since they were under orders to take nothing from the villa.

  "Why not? If we do not eat them, Totila's men will," said Drosos, knowing that if Olivia were here she would give him the goats and anything else he might need. He would think of something to explain this to Belisarius later. "Tell your men to round up a dozen goats and take them along."

  "On your authority?" the soldier asked, unwilling to risk his own neck.

  "Yes, on my authority as granted by the owner of the villa." He promised himself that he would make restitution to Olivia when he saw her in Constantinople. She would understand and agree that he had done the only sensible thing in ordering the goats be taken. And if she did not, he was confident he could explain it to her.

  The soldier grinned. "If that's your order, then I suppose I must obey."

  "It's my order," said Drosos. He started away, then stopped. "How many men in your unit are ill?"

  "Only three," said the soldier. "Why?"

  "Nothing, just curious," said Drosos, and went on his way, thinking that if they continued to have men fall ill, they would not have enough to go into battle, and they were already crucially low on battle-ready troops. Briefly he resented his orders recalling him to Constantinople; Belisarius needed him and every officer and man he could get. Tired as he was of campaigning, he still was uneasy at the thought of leaving his General and friend to face Totila with depleted forces.

  "Drosos!" The sharp summons of Belisarius' personal slave caught his attention and he hastened toward the General's standard, the problems of breaking camp now uppermost in his mind.

  * * *

  Text of a letter accompanying an inventory carried on the Emperor Justinian's ship Resurrection along with military dispatches .

  To Antonina, the esteemed and august wife of the General Belisarius, on the eve of the departure of the merchantship Spairei Krohma, which sets sail on the Feast of Saint Iannis in the Lord's Year 545.

  It is my honor to inform you that my vessel has been selected by your most worthy and august husband to carry the goods awarded him for his victories to you for proper installation in his home. To that purpose, the inventory he himself prepared accompanies this so that upon our safe arrival in Constantinople you can for yourself ascertain that the goods are the correct ones, shipped in good order, and received in the condition that God Himself has granted they arrive.

  Of particular interest is a set of vases of fine workmanship and considerable age that are so fragile that in spite of very careful packing, I must warn you that they might not survive the sea voyage. I pray that this caution will turn out to be completely useless, but I feel that I must warn you that these more than any other items are in danger of breakage or other damage during the days at sea.

  Since my ship is a simple merchantman, it will not come with the speed that the Emperor's ships travel, and I estimate that it will be twenty-three to twenty-five days for us to make the voyage, if the weather remains reasonably good.

  At this time of year we often have rain but not many storms. Should we encounter a storm, then we are entirely at the mercy of the winds and in the Hand of God, as we are every day and hour of our lives.

  I give you my word that I will do all in my power to see that your goods arrive quickly and in proper order. Any loss that is the fault of my slaves and ship's hands will of course be my responsibility. Those goods lost due to the elements I cannot promise to pay for, since that cost grows from acts over which I have no control.

  I am sending word to Pope Sylvestros at the same time I send this to you. He may be found at the Church of the Patriarchs and he will make it his business to know where I am and how I am to be found. He will also know what the other merchant captains tell him, and if there are delays, he will send you word of it. The Church of the Patriarchs is located not far from the merchant docks, in the street where the ropemakers work.

  Until I have the privilege to present you with your treasures, I sign myself your most eager and sincere servant who is honored for the distinction you and your distinguished and heroic husband have deigned to bestow on me.

  Ghornan

  ship's captain

  by the hand of the priest

  Gennarius at Santus Spiritos,

  Ostia

  5

  Between the enormous crush of people and the heat of the afternoon, Niklos Aulirios was ready to give up his task for the afternoon and return to the house where Olivia was busy establishing herself. There had been tradesmen and artisans there all morning, and now that the afternoon was fading, and the merchants had once again situated themselves in their shops, refreshed by food and sleep, Olivia decided that Niklos would have to take advantage of the time and purchase the slaves they needed.

  Niklos still bristled at the orders. "How do you explain me, in this world of slaves?"

  Olivia had smiled at him. "You are a bondsman—no collar, no chance of sale or… lending."

  The memory of that smile brought one to his lips. "Slaves." He had been told that he would do best to talk to old Taiko near the Church of the Dormition. It took longer for Niklos to find it than he had anticipated because four of the streets were dug up as part of the Emperor's restructuring of the city. Niklos had to ask his way several times, his Greek halting and nearly childish.

  At last a house was pointed out to him: a narrow, leaning place that bowed over the street like a curious relative. The door was thick and its iron hinges crossed most of its width. A mallet and bell were provided; Niklos used them and waited for someone to admit him to the house.

  Two slaves, both fat and sleek an
d dressed well, answered the door, smiling. If the old house had caused Niklos to doubt Taiko's prosperity, those two slaves banished the doubt at once. The taller of the two inquired who Niklos was and what he wanted from their master.

  Once again Niklos cursed himself for the poor quality of his Greek. "I am the bondsman Niklos Aulirios," he began. "I work for the Roman lady Olivia Clemens. The wife of Belisarius told us that your master… he is the best in the city to buy slaves."

  "This is very true, bondsman," said the taller slave, stepping aside to admit Niklos to the house. "You will find that here the best slaves are to be found, and the prices are the most equitable for everyone." He bowed and indicated his fellow. "I will inform my master that you are here and Pammez will remain here with you, to bring you whatever refreshment you require."

  And to keep an eye on me, thought Niklos. "You are very kind," he said, knowing that he spoke like a child addressing his tutor.

  Pammez, who was not Greek but Asian, by the look of him, indicated the smaller of the reception rooms off the vestibule. "I will attend to you." His voice was clear and high, like a boy's.

  Niklos wanted to ask how many eunuchs Taiko owned, but did not know the correct way to phrase the question. He was still surprised at the number of eunuchs he encountered. There had been eunuchs in Roma, but not in the quantities he found here in Konstantinoupolis. He was not used to it and was not certain he ever would be.

  Pammez made a reverence to Niklos—an extraordinary courtesy to a mere bondsman—and said, "For so august a lady as the wife of Belisarius, there can be no service my master would not perform with gladness in his heart."

  So the reverence was for Antonina. "She has been good to my mistress." Niklos cocked his head to the side. "I do not know how these… are done. What does your master need to know from me and from my mistress?"

  "He will tell you and you may rely on his discretion, for in these matters, the position of such a lady as your mistress makes discretion necessary. Everything she requires may be accommodated, and her requirements fulfilled without any notoriety."