A Flame in Byzantium aoc-1

by Chelsea Quinn Yarbro

  "But not if that hide is wasted." He knew that it was not impossible that he had been selected to be a sacrifice, a toy to distract while others worked in the shadows.

  "That is not my intention," said Panaigios. "A slave in your position, in Belisarius' household, is too valuable to waste. If we were to permit you to be a sacrificial goat, as you imply—and not unwisely—it would ruin any chances for placing others in that household to do the work we need. And no other slave has earned the power and trust that you have."

  "You are very thorough," said Simones, wondering who had told the Censor so much about the household and his place within it.

  "It is what I must do." Panaigios rose. "I will want to speak with you in three days. Think about what I have said, and consider the danger in which the Empire stands. You have it within your power to be of aid, and if you are willing to be the Emperor's man, then you can do much. If you are not willing, then I warn you to tread carefully, for you are in a nest of vipers and may be stricken without warning."

  As Simones stood he nodded. "I will consider this, and I am grateful that you are willing to think of me in this venture. If I hesitate, it is only because I have a duty to my master and his wife, and I must—"

  "It is not only your master who interests us," said Panaigios, "but there are others. Who visits there, what they do, what they discuss, how they comport themselves. All that you may learn we wish to know. It is often through his associates that a man's true sentiments are discovered. Those who are close to Belisarius are not to be overlooked simply because they seem harmless, or because they have good reason to be his friend. If there are others in this conspiracy, they must be unearthed."

  Now Simones was able to relax. "I know of everyone who visits the house, how long they stay and often what is said. I know of no reason I cannot report this to you without harming my master. Rest assured that I will reveal all I learn of this to you whenever you wish to know of it."

  The two men regarded each other with new understanding. "So," said Panaigios, drawing out the word.

  "Very well; for a start you will report to me everyone who comes and goes from the house. You will tell me what they say and to whom, why they come and where they go when they leave. Find out what it is they want from Belisarius and his wife, and what they are offering for what they want. It is important that we learn these things."

  "Important?" said Simones. "For them as well as my master."

  "If you continue to think that Belisarius is blameless, you may discover that there is more than enough guilt in others to implicate him in some way. Do not withhold information from me or it might be impossible for me to continue to protect you, and once your master learns of your conduct, well—"

  Simones nodded. "Of course. And you are in a position to deny anything I might claim." He accepted this with relief. He knew now that he would have to be careful in all that he did.

  "You are not unintelligent, slave, and you are dedicated. All that is required of you is that you maintain your dedication but to a higher purpose." He indicated the door. "My slave will see you out. He will tell you when you will be admitted to the courtyard for your reports."

  For a moment, Simones stared contemptuously at Panaigios, then changed his demeanor so that he was once again submissive. "I am in your hands, secretary of the Censor. You can shape my destiny as God controls the fate of Man."

  "That could be considered blasphemy," said Panaigios, but there was a degree of delight in the warning.

  "For a churchman, perhaps, but for a slave?" He stepped back and opened the door. "I will report to you soon, Panaigios, and whatever I tell you will be the truth. I care not what you do with it so long as you do not throw me to the .storm."

  "I can't afford to do that, in any case," admitted Panaigios. "You will come to believe that in time. Once you do, we will deal together much more effectively."

  Simones made him a deep reverence that bordered on insult. "I await the opportunity to serve," he said, and left before Panaigios could say anything more.

  The Egyptian slave glared at Simones, but handed him a slip of parchment with a few instructions scribbled on it. "You will receive the other items when you make your first report. Until then you must restrain yourself."

  "I understand," muttered Simones. He was ready to argue with the Egyptian, but was not given the chance. Almost at once there was a household slave waiting to escort him to the main gate, and then the Captain of the Guard to send him on his way.

  As he walked back to the house of Belisarius, Simones let his mind have free rein. He was determined to turn all that he had learned to his advantage. Plots and posturing, he told himself, could be made to serve his ends as well as anyone else's. But for this he would need an ally, someone who could share his risk. It would be useless to speak to Antonina, for if she ever discovered what he was doing, she would have him flogged to death without hesitation. It had to be someone close to her, someone who would listen to him. There were the two widows, and one of them might be what he wanted. Eugenia was Byzantine, and that was a tremendous advantage. She knew how the power moved and who moved it, and she was greedy for it, he could tell from her eyes. If not Eugenia, then that Roman woman, the widow Olivia might have to be used, but Simones was uncertain about her. She was too foreign and had too much power for him to be able to manipulate her as he would like.

  A cart drawn by a single ox trundled by and Simones had to step to the far side of the road to avoid being injured. He called the might of heaven down on the drover's head, then resumed his progress along the noisy streets.

  As he neared the house of Belisarius, he made up his mind: he would approach Eugenia first, striving to convince her that he could give her power and an access to position that he did not currently have. He liked her better than Olivia in any case, for he could sense her rapacity, and he trusted it. He did not know what it was that Olivia longed for, and was not willing to take the risks he would have to take in order to find out.

  He entered the house by the side door and was informed that Antonina was waiting to speak with him, for she required his help in planning her next gathering. It was a simple matter, he decided, to make sure he remained an essential part of the household. It would satisfy both Antonina and Panaigios, which in turn would eventually satisfy Simones himself.

  * * *

  A letter from Pope Sylvestros to the Bishop of the Church of the Patriarchs.

  To the most reverend, sanctified and august superiors and the Bishop, Pope Sylvestros submits this most humble request on the Evangelical Feast in the Lord's Year 546.

  From my prayers and other devotions, it has come to me that there are those in Italy who yearn for the consolation of true religion, and who toil under the burdens of war and apostasy. For that reason, I am petitioning you to permit me to travel to Italy to undertake the comfort of these unfortunates. It is not unlikely that I will remain some time among those who need me, and who will be grateful to have the opportunity to find the solace of faith.

  I am known to several of the sea captains who ply the waters between here and Ostia, and it would not be a great difficulty for me to secure passage with one or another of them. This will make my travels of little cost to the Church as well as providing yet another chance for me to reach those who are usually deprived of the offices of faith, for the captains would permit me to preach to the crew and anyone traveling with them to Italy.

  We have heard of the losses and disgraces suffered by our troops facing the forces of Totila, and it may be that the presence of one of true religion might inspire courage and greater dedication among the soldiers so that they will be moved to battle with more determination for the saving of the city of Roma as well as the rest of the countryside.

  Whatever your decision, I bow my head to your wisdom and your choice, and I profess myself wholly accepting of anything you permit me to do.

  In the name of the Savior, the

  Father and the Sacred Spirit,


  Pope Sylvestros

  Church of the Patriarchs

  7

  By sundown the heat of the day faded and the first slow night breeze moved over the Black Sea to Konstantin-oupolis, its light touch heralding the coming darkness. The voices of bells brazen as the western sky called a farewell to the sun; the shouts and bustle from the wharves and markets gave way to the drone of chants from the churches.

  For Drosos, this was the familiar rhythm of home, one that he noticed only because he had so recently returned from the chaos of Italy. That campaign was still fresh in his mind, and often he had to remind himself that it was behind him. One thing he treasured from Italy waited for him now; he smiled as he trod up the gentle hill to the house where Olivia lived. It was his second visit since his return to Konstantinoupolis three weeks ago, and this time he hoped that their meeting would be more than the formal ritual that society required. His memory burned from the three nights they had spent together at her villa outside the walls of Roma, and he hungered now for more of her.

  Niklos opened the door to him, saluting instead of making a reverence. "Welcome back, Captain."

  Grinning, Drosos returned the salute. "I am happy to be here, Niklos." He glanced around the vestibule and saw no sign of other guests. "What company this evening?"

  "Just you, Captain," said Niklos with a knowing look.

  "For the entire evening?" He was a bit surprised at the majordomo's bluntness.

  "For the entire evening," Niklos confirmed, adding, "My mistress waits for you in the garden."

  "Will you take me there?" He could find his way himself, but it would be taking a liberty that could easily be thought a serious breach of good conduct. "You, or one of the household slaves."

  "I will take you," said Niklos, indicating the hallway they should use and following a pace behind Drosos.

  "How is your mistress?" Drosos inquired, attempting to keep the tone of the evening properly reserved.

  "She misses you, Captain," said Niklos, his candor putting aside the practiced phrases that Drosos expected.

  "I have missed her," said Drosos, aware that it was not correct for him to discuss Olivia with her bondsman.

  Niklos gave Drosos an understanding nod. "You wonder that I should say this to you, that I know so much about my mistress? It is because I have been with Olivia Clemens for a long time, and as her bondsman and majordomo, I know many things about her. She confides in me and has done so for many years." They had passed the dining room and Niklos indicated the small supper laid out for the Captain. "Refreshments are waiting for you whenever you wish for them."

  "Not yet, I think," said Drosos, his appetite whetted for something other than food.

  "No," agreed Niklos, and opened the door to the garden.

  Olivia, swathed in soft olive-green silk shot with silver, rose from her low couch as Drosos came toward her, her hand extended to him, her lyre set aside. "Welcome, Captain."

  The polite compliments died on his tongue as he touched her; his eyes darkened with emotion and he made a deep reverence to her. "Olivia."

  Her smile was warm and lucid as sunlight. "How glad I am you are here." Her paenula whispered and clung as she moved. "It has been too long."

  "Much too long," he said, his senses almost overwhelmed by her presence.

  "It pleases me that you feel as I do." She turned to Niklos. "I will call you in a while."

  "Very good, my mistress," he said, withdrawing and closing the door, leaving Olivia and Drosos alone with the lengthening shadows and the first scent of jasmine.

  Drosos was used to much more complicated preliminaries, and he stood uncertainly, baffled by the directness Olivia used. "How is it with you?"

  "Better now you are here." She sank back onto her couch and indicated the place beside her. "Come, Drosos; join me."

  Drosos did not move for the space of two long breaths, and then, very slowly and joyously, he moved to her side. He put his hand over hers, letting them rest together. "The other time I was here," he said quietly, "I wondered if you would grant me this…"

  She touched his face just above his short-clipped soldier's beard. "Why would I not?"

  "It has been a while." He stopped and went on with difficulty. "You have been alone here, and you might have found another you preferred to me." His last few words came quickly and he could not bring himself to meet her eyes.

  "Drosos," she said and waited until he turned to her. "I have not found anyone I prefer to you, not in many years, certainly not since I have been here." She reached out to her lyre, the strings murmuring under her fingers.

  He listened to the sound, his mind drifting with it. There was a stillness around him that was as tantalizing as an embrace. He was afraid to break it with words, afraid that he would lose the joy that filled him. Finally he brought her hand to his lips and kissed her palm: he felt her lips brush his shoulder through the fabric of his dalmatica.

  For some little time neither of them moved. The air around them was as quiet as they were, suspended in breathlessness and anticipation. Then a finger of air stirred the leaves; the silence turned to soft rustling.

  "Drosos," whispered Olivia, moving back from him far enough from him to see his face clearly in the fading light.

  He let her read his features, exulting in the yearning in her eyes. He pulled her closer. "I want you, Olivia."

  "And I you," she said as she wrapped her arms around him.

  "Now."

  Olivia laughed low in her throat. "There is no reason to rush when there is time to savor. Pleasure is not to be squandered when it can be relished."

  "But it has been so long," protested Drosos, before he kissed her mouth.

  When she could speak, she said, "Be patient, Drosos. Now that we are together, we need not hurry."

  He pressed close to her, urgency melding with desire. He felt her body with his need, knowing she would not deny him. He fumbled with her paenula, seeking the flesh beneath it.

  "Here," she said softly, and unfastened the tablion that held the garment at the shoulder. The silk fell away, and beneath it she was naked.

  For an instant Drosos stared, transfixed with wanting her. His flesh trembled, his entire being as inflamed as his organ. Abruptly he started to tug his clothes off, casting the garments around him until all he wore was his shoes.

  Olivia had watched this in silence, and as he reached for her, she acquiesced.

  The couch was wide enough for both of them, and they fell together in a glorious tangle, legs and arms intertwined, hands seeking. They had been apart long enough that some of their old familiarity had been forgotten; it was ineffably sweet to rediscover one another, to find once more the ways each awakened the other.

  As the first rush of desire calmed, Drosos was willing to let Olivia set the pace for them, delighting in her explorations of his body and longings. She coaxed more pleasure from him than he had thought they could share, offering herself to him as wholeheartedly as she indulged him. Every caress, each kiss increased their ardor; both gave the full bounty of passion even before he entered the depths of her body.

  "Lord God of the Prophets," he gasped as he felt her tighten around him. His senses swam with rapture as they moved together. Only when he had succumbed to fulfillment and released her did he feel the world return. He propped himself on his elbows and looked down at her.

  She smiled up at him, her face radiant. Then she began to laugh, and he joined her. "Oh, Drosos," she said, her head pressed to his shoulder.

  His laughter continued, warm and unfettered. Reluctantly he moved aside, gathering her close against him, kissing her eyes as his chuckles subsided at last.

  "It is so good to have you here," she said with a long, satisfied sigh.

  "I didn't remember how wonderful you are," he told her, his fingers brushing the planes of her face. "You delight me."

  "Wonderful," she said, deeply content. "It's been a very long time since I have wanted anyone as I want you."


  She stared up into the star-strewn night.

  "So ancient you are," he teased, and was surprised when she responded quite seriously.

  "Yes; so ancient I am." She touched him tenderly where her mouth had been at the height of their passion.

  "You bit me," he said, amused.

  "Yes." She kissed the place then kissed his mouth. "I used to think that it would not be possible to care this way again, certainly not after so long."

  He was startled at her somber tone, and he smiled at her a bit uncertainly. "What is it?"

  "Oh, nothing." She moved closer to him. "I'm being foolish; pay no attention."

  "If this is foolish," he said, leaning over to kiss her yet again, "then I like it better than wisdom."

  "So do I." There was a roguish light in her eyes now, and she pushed at his shoulder so that he rolled onto his back; she braced one arm across his chest and grinned.

  He tangled one hand in her hair and drew her down to him. "You are the most awe-inspiring creature I've ever known. You're like an angel."

  "An angel?" she asked, laughing again. "I thought that angels did not indulge in these things." As she said this she ran her fingers over his chest, just barely touching him; she smiled as he shivered with pleasure.

  "Angels indulge in ecstasy," he said with unruffled calm. "So you are like an angel."

  "I see." She kissed him on the edge of his beard. "Do all soldiers have these?"

  "Most of us. It isn't convenient to be clean-shaven on campaign, though Belisarius managed most of the time I was with him." His expression darkened at the memory. "I delayed coming back as long as I could. It was hard to leave him."

  "Is it bad?" She had stopped her teasing and was watching him with serious concern.

  "Yes." He met her eyes. "We had to abandon your villa. I don't know what Totila's men did to it." It shamed him to admit this, and he was surprised that she waved his apology away with some impatience. "We tried to protect it as long as we could."

  "You assured me that would be the case and I had no reason to doubt you. I was more concerned for you and your men than for the villa. I have lived there more years than I care to remember, and while I am fond of the place, it is only stone. Men are living flesh, which is another matter." Neither she nor Drosos assumed that she was saying this erotically.