"But it might be in ruins."
"So might Roma, so might all of Italy." She rested her head on his chest. "It is the waste of life that horrifies me."
"There are always lives wasted in war," said Drosos, trying to sound cynical and instead revealing more despair than he realized.
"I hate them for that, if nothing else." She gazed up at the sky. "And in the end, how little difference it makes."
Drosos shifted under her, his arms going around her as much to give him comfort as to embrace her. "Must we talk about war, Olivia?"
"You said you were sorry to leave. I wanted to know why," she pointed out. "But no, we need not talk about it, nor of anything else that displeases you."
"It doesn't displease me," he protested, then relented. "Yes, it does, and that is troublesome, because I am Belisarius' Captain and an officer of the Emperor. It ought not to displease me. I should be proud of the honor I have been given."
"And if you are not, what then?" Olivia asked, her voice soft and kind.
"I have failed," he said simply, with devastation of spirit.
"Oh, no," she told him, raising herself enough to be able to meet his eyes. "No, Drosos; dear dear Drosos."
"What else can it be?" He sounded lost now.
"Perhaps it is merely that you know you cannot save everyone you wish to save and this causes you anguish. You are a good soldier and a good man; you would not willingly see land lost and people killed if there were a way you could prevent it."
"It's more than that," he admitted, one hand sunk in her fawn-brown hair. "It was the futility of it all. We had not enough supplies or money or troops, and so we lost. Belisarius has done more to hold on to Italy with less than anyone—"
"Such as the Emperor?" Olivia suggested.
"He promises, but nothing comes, or not enough, or not in time," he said uncomfortably. "If he understood, if he knew, then he would not withhold what is needed."
"Perhaps," said Olivia. "Or it may be that he wishes for his forces to manage with less." She said this as gently as she could, but it did not soften the blow that Drosos felt.
"The Emperor is not like that!" He shoved her, almost throwing her off him. "He has the Empire on his mind, and that is why he does not always comprehend what one part of it is up against. He in concerned for the welfare of everyone in the Empire and that often means that he faces conflicts. Even Belisarius knows this, for he has explained it to everyone who has served with him over the last years."
"And you believe as Belisarius does?" said Olivia. "Well, I am new to Byzantium, and it may be that as a Roman I do not have sufficient knowledge to judge what I see." Inwardly she knew better—that Justinian had decided to withdraw his support of his forces in Italy—but had no desire to argue with Drosos about it.
"Women never understand these matters," said Drosos. "Although," he amended, "you have a better grasp than many; it is your Roman heritage."
"No doubt," she concurred. Her hazel eyes grew distant. "And I do miss Roma, more than I thought I would."
"Because it is your home," he said, doing his best to reassure her. "You are like all of us; you would rather be in the place you know than among strangers. That's not surprising. No one could think that it is. No matter how much more opulent and beautiful Konstantinoupolis is, you will miss Roma, because it is where you were born."
"Yes," she said very slowly dragging out the word. "Yes, Roma is my native earth, and for that reason alone it pulls me. And you do not know what it was like at the height of its grandeur. You can't imagine it, seeing it now. You don't know how glorious it was, once."
"But that was centuries ago, when the corrupt Caesars ruled," Drosos reminded her.
"The corrupt Caesars," she mused. "Well, some of them were, certainly, but others only did their best, as you have done, as Belisarius does. You might not think so now, but many of those Caesars were as revered in their time as your Emperor Justinian is now." She shook her head as if to be free of her memories. "Why are we dwelling on the past when the present is so much more enjoyable?"
He did not catch her mood quickly, but he did find a way to respond to her. "I thought all Romans longed for the past."
"If we do, then we are great fools," she said roundly, doing her best to bring him out of the unhappiness that was taking hold of him. "The past, no matter what it was, is over, and there is only the present. The future is still ahead, all unknown. We have what we have now." She kissed him on the earlobe. "Haven't we."
"Possibly," he allowed.
"Oh, Drosos, pay attention," she said, this time tweaking the edge of his well-trimmed beard. "How can I give you pleasure if your thoughts are in Roma with the army?"
"I don't know," he growled, but there was the beginning of a smile in his eyes.
"Do, please, give me your attention. Let me show you all the delights you have missed—I trust you have missed them?—while we have been apart." She tossed her head and her long, loose hair trailed over his chest. "You have returned to me and I want to know every joy with you."
"You're greedy, that's what it is," he told her, his expression less distant. "You want to drain me."
"Hardly," she said, her face inscrutable. "You do not understand what I want if that's what you think I'm doing."
"All right, then; what is it you want of me?" He had moved over her and had succeeded in pinning her shoulder to the couch. "Tell me."
"I want you," she said directly. "All of you, without ruse or deception."
"What?" Her serious answer took him unaware and he released her, watching her with great curiosity.
"You asked me what I want: I've told you." She remained unmoving.
"You want me?" He spoke as if the words were unfamiliar and difficult.
"Yes."
"Why?"
She hesitated before she answered. "Because you touch me, you reach something in me that has not been reached for many, many years."
"I wish you wouldn't do that," he complained softly.
"Do what?"
"Keep talking as if you were as old as the sphinx," he said. "All right, you're probably older than I am, but that doesn't mean you're my great-grandmother."
Olivia chuckled but there was a sadness in her eyes. "I'll try to remember that," she said in a remote way.
"There are times you're impossible," he said, and ended their disagreement with a long, deep kiss that left both of them breathless and wide-eyed. "If I am what you want, then I'm yours." He ran his fingers over the planes of her face, so lightly that she almost could not feel them.
This time they made love easily, with less frenzy than before. The demand they felt grew more slowly, losing nothing in being less urgent than before. Drosos was willing to permit her to take the time she wanted to bring him to a level of arousal that astonished him, for until she did this, he was certain that he would never be more stimulated and eager than he had been when he first sought her.
"Lie back," she said as her hands traced patterns of desire through his body. "There is no reason to press."
He did as she told him, luxuriating in the endless subtle caresses and kisses she bestowed on him. He returned them, taking pride in the depth of her response to him. He had known enough women to realize that Olivia's desire was more profound than any he had encountered before, and that Olivia was more vulnerable to him than any woman he had taken to bed in the past.
"Your breast was made to fit my hand," he said, demonstrating.
"There are other parts that fit as well," she reminded him, her voice low.
"Oh, Kyrios," he murmured, his need for her intensifying even more.
She drew him closer to her, her hands pressing him against the length of her body, and then into her. She arched to meet him, moving with him. The tang of him, the weight of him pervaded her senses and increased as their union deepened.
This time when it was over neither spoke; they hardly moved. Each was replete with the other, each was gratified beyond all expectati
on. They lay together, not quite asleep, their arms around each other no longer straining but unwilling to part more than comfort demanded.
"Olivia?" Drosos whispered, hardly more than a breath.
"Umm?"
"What if the slaves find us?"
"Niklos will bring a blanket," she said, drowsiness making her words slur.
"But you are a widow—"
"I am a Roman," she corrected him.
"But if your slaves gossip, you might be criticized for what you… do with me." He brushed her hair back from her face. "I don't want you to suffer on my account."
She opened her eyes and studied his face. "People will talk no matter what. As a Roman, I will be the subject of speculation. The worst they can say of me is that I have taken a Captain of the army as my lover. If they say any more, then we can worry about it then." She kissed him affectionately. "How good of you to be concerned for me."
"Just as well that one of us is," he said, rousing himself enough to show his worry.
"If there are questions," she said as she smoothed the line that had deepened between his brows, "you need only tell anyone who has the ill grace to speculate that I am bound by my husband's will to remain a widow."
"Are you?" he asked, genuinely startled.
"No." She smiled sleepily. "But many Roman women are, for reasons of property. There was a time when it was different, when…" Her voice trailed off. "That was long ago, and there is no point in recalling. It only serves to make me angry at things I cannot change." She stretched her one free arm and then rested it across his chest. "If you say that I am obedient to my husband's will, no one will question it and you and I can continue as we are."
"But if it is a lie," he began only to have her stop him.
"Drosos, it is close enough to the truth that it does not matter. If you wish to remain my lover and you need some explanation, then this will do as well as any."
He took her hand in his. "And if I wish for more?"
"You are an officer in the army and your life is not wholly your own. Wait a while before you decide that you want more of me." She did her best to conceal a yawn. "In a year, if you think then that you need a different arrangement with me, we will talk about it. By then, you might prefer the way we are now."
"And I might not," he warned her.
Her smile faded as much with sleep as with apprehension. "If you insist," she said.
Drosos slid his hand over her back and drew her more close before he drifted into sleep.
* * *
Text of memo from Panaigios to his superior, accompanying several other memos from several of the Censor's secretaries.
To Kimon Athanatadies, from his devoted Panaigios,
The slave Simones has proven to be industrious and reliable, at least so his first two reports have led me to believe. It is my intention to subject him to another test and if he passes it as well as he has passed the first two, increase his duties and his power so that he will have more freedom of activity than has been allowed until now.
He has revealed that Antonina is actively promoting the interests of her friends as well as the returning officers of her husband Belisarius. This must be watched and guarded against for some little time until we learn one way or another how much power she has gained through the use of her influence with the Empress. It is fortunate that Simones is willing to reveal this, for it makes our dealings much more direct and useful.
You have said that you want to know what changes occur when Belisarius returns, and I have already informed Simones that he will have to be more active then. Doubtless he anticipates these developments with mixed feelings, but he will be prepared to give us the information we require to protect himself as much as to establish any fault on the part of his master.
With prayers for your continued diligence and zeal, and with great thanks for the opportunity to serve you and our glorious Justinian, I am
Panaigios
secretary
8
The Hippodrome resembled the Circus Maximus, though it was not as boisterous or as crowded as the huge amphitheater in Roma had been. The stands were full, but the people behaved more decorously than the Romans. Taking her seat beside Antonina, Olivia watched the stands, her expression carefully blank.
"Is this familiar to you?" asked Antonina as she directed her body slave to arrange her pillows more comfortably.
"To a degree, but it is also very different." She looked down the length of the oblong stadium. "In Roma, everyone was more active than I have seen the people of Constantinople be."
"Yes, we do put more value on good conduct than the Romans," said Antonina with a degree of complacency that made Olivia want to argue with her.
"Your ways are different than Roman ways," she said.
"Yes," Antonina declared, clearly relieved that this was the case. "Roma was beset with strife and the presence of false gods." She was satisfied with her cushions now and waved her slave to the back of the marble-faced box in which she and her guests sat.
"But still Roma thrived," said Olivia in a light voice.
"What does that mean, but that the world of Roma was caught up in trade and that the Romans profited by the misfortunes of their neighbors." She stopped. "Not that I mean any disrespect. Your family was of the nobility, so my husband has informed me, and that certainly must mean more than a title and some estates in the country."
Olivia shook her head and said truthfully, "My family had lost most of the funds and property it had ever had by the time I came to be married, which is why they selected the husband for me that they did." Even five hundred years after, Olivia found that she could be bitter for the bargain her father had made with Cornelius Justus Silius, and all the misery that alliance had brought her in the years she was married to the senator.
"How unfortunate," said Antonina in a tone that indicated she was hardly listening at all.
The smell in the air—a combination of sweat, food, horses, and fabric—was strange to Olivia, for it was different than what she had known in Roma. The food was not the spiced pork and wine of Roma but something more exotic—grilled lamb with onions and cinnamon and pepper—than the fare of ancient Roma. The fabric, too, was cotton and silk, not linen and wool as it had been so long ago. Olivia adjusted her pillows and waved away the offer of food.
"In such a crowd," she said apologetically, "I find that eating makes me feel slightly ill."
"I had such an experience when I was pregnant," said Antonina, and waited in significant silence.
"I have been pregnant only once, and that was long ago," said Olivia. "I did not attend the Great Games then, for it was thought that the excitement might be dangerous for me."
"What of the child?" asked Antonina.
"It did not live," Olivia said, looking away across the stands toward the enormous statue of a quadriga pulled by a matched team of four horses. Unlike the Roman chariots, these harnessed all four horses to the vehicle they pulled, and the value of a perfectly matched team was enormous.
"I had two children by my first husband," said Antonina, "but both succumbed to fever before they were ten. It was a great misfortune, but I have bowed my head to the Will of God, Who gives and takes away all things."
"Truly," said Olivia, listening to the sound of the crowd. "Will the Emperor be here today?"
"He has affairs of state, but Theodora will arrive shortly." Antonina could not keep from smiling, for her friendship with the Empress had given her influence at court that many others envied, though few could emulate. "I informed her that you would be with me today and she has expressed a desire to meet you. It will be a pleasure to present you to her once the races have begun."
"That is very kind of you," said Olivia, not at all certain that she wanted to meet the wife of Emperor Justinian.
"I have given my husband my word that I would do what I could to see you properly established in the world, and I intend to honor that obligation. You are a woman alone in Konstantinoupolis
and it is fitting that you gain sponsorship of more than a pope or two. You are going to need friends at court as well as friends in the Church if you are to survive comfortably in the world." She signaled her slave to bring her food, and once again offered a selection of delicacies to Olivia.
"Thank you, I had better not," said Olivia. "But do not let that stop you from enjoying your victuals."
"I confess that good food is one of my special pleasures. My confessor has warned me that this might imperil my soul, but if that is the case, then everyone alive is in some danger, don't you think?" This was clearly intended to be thought witty and Olivia managed to laugh.
"Appetite is a factor with all of us," she said and was favored with an appraising smile.
"You have a sharp mind, Olivia," said Antonina in a tone of voice that suggested that a sharp mind was not entirely admirable. What she said next confirmed this impression. "If you intend to make such comments, be sure of your company; women are expected to be circumspect."
"Of course," said Olivia.
"Ah!" Antonina turned her head at the sound of the salpinx. "The Empress is entering the Hippodrome."
Olivia listened to the sound of the ivory trumpet and decided she preferred the brazen voice of the lituus and buccina to the muffled and delicate fanfare that heralded the arrival of Theodora. She saw that everyone in the stands was standing, and she, too, rose to her feet. "Which is the Imperial box?" she asked her hostess.
"There, under the statues of the chariot and horses." Antonina did not point—that was much too rude—but indicated the direction with a nod of her head. "There is a tunnel that is used by the Emperor and Empress when they are visiting the Hippodrome, so that they will not have to walk in the crowded streets."
"I see," said Olivia, thinking that it was a sensible precaution for anyone worried about the possibility of harm or death.
"Theodora is wearing her headdress and collar of pearls. It is her most impressive jewel." Antonina again cocked her head to indicate where Olivia should look, then stood very straight, her smile widening as four women entered the Imperial box.
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