"But there might be others who would pay to know what I tell you and that could lead to…"
With an ostentatious display of exhaustion—a yawn, a rubbing of his large, firm belly, a scratching of his chest—the landlord left his post behind the counter and made his way out of the taproom.
"You peawit," said Ghornan. "Now he's suspicious and there's no telling what he might decide to do with what you tell me." He gestured with disgust and drank off his wine. "He'll listen now, or his slaves will. Either way, I'll have to kill him before I leave."
"I didn't intend—" Pope Sylvestros started.
"Whatever you intended, the harm's done now." He slammed his cup down. "What you have had better be worth the trouble you're causing; that's all I can say."
"It is, Captain." Reluctantly Pope Sylvestros drew his lists from his sleeve and spread the sheets out on the table. Though the light in the tavern was poor and the pope's handwriting spidery at best, the two men poured over the pages and at the end of reading the first sheet, Pope Sylvestros could see the greedy interest in Captain Ghornan's eyes. "There is something worth a risk or two here, don't you think?" he could not resist prodding.
"True," agreed Ghornan as he got to his feet and poured himself another generous serving of wine. "How far are these villas, did you say?"
"The nearest is half a day's walk, the walls are still standing, and although the north side of it was put to the torch, most of the building is intact, including everything inside it." He had lowered his voice, leaning forward so that Captain Ghornan could hear everything he said.
"Half a day," mused Ghornan. "And what is left there would make it worth our while? Where are the Ostrogoths?"
"They've been and gone. They took the livestock, not the treasure." He cleared his throat. "There isn't much furniture; I think the owners must have removed some of it when they fled. There is some jewelry, and quite a lot of personal items, such as mirrors and perfume jars. I noticed some garments in a press; I don't think any of Totila's men knew enough to look there—"
"Too personal. They might be identified," Ghornan said, dismissing them.
"There are two chariots, wood covered with brass, very fine looking. I don't know if it's practical to take them both, but if you brought mules we could harness them to one of the chariots and use it to carry some of the heavier goods."
"Such as?" said Ghornan, revising his contemptuous opinion of Pope Sylvestros a little.
"The wine stored under the kitchen floor, for example. Some of it was taken, but a great deal remains, most of it in good condition. The owner had an excellent collection. And who is to say who owns what bottle of wine?" He held out the first page for Ghornan's review and studied the second one. "This villa is not very promising, but there are one or two good paintings that might be removed. There is also a good-sized alabaster vase that could bring a very high price."
"Paintings are usually not worth much," said Ghornan, not interested. "And they're easily identified."
"These are old, and one of them shows the destruction of the lost city of Pompeü under Vesuvius. That ought to make it worth more than paint." Pope Sylvestros ran his finger down the page a little farther. "Here's something quite remarkable: three rosewood chests, all in good condition, one with brass platters in it. I found them behind the tack room in the stables; I guess the owners had intended to pack them and then changed their minds."
"That's more the kind of thing I'm looking for," said Ghornan with a speculative smile. "Chests, furniture, household goods of special quality and workmanship. The chariots are tempting, and I think that if we can find chests of good value, it might be worth a little extra." He tapped the table, his hands hard on the planking.
"There was one villa, then, east of the city. I understand that General Belisarius himself stayed there for a while. It was owned by one of those imposing Roman widows, and must have several fortunes, judging by what was left there. Even after Totila's men went through the place, I found many treasures left in it." He coughed. "It is a little farther away than you said you wished to travel, but I think you'd find it more than justifies the additional time and effort. I made a partial inventory, in case you thought you'd like to risk it."
"You know what they're doing to looters in Roma these days?" Ghornan asked. "You saw the Ostrogoths on the walls coming in, didn't you? I'd just as soon keep my hands and my skin, thank you." He glared at the smoke-blackened beams. "It would have to be really special for me to take that kind of chance." With a speculative lift to his brow, he waited for Pope Sylvestros to speak. "Well?"
"Look at the list for yourself," said Pope Sylvestros, sliding two of the sheets toward him. "Everything I found is catalogued here, and you may be sure that there is more. This is superficial. There were over two hundred volumes in the library, and she must have taken many more with her. Some of them were very old, and that might—"
"Books are dangerous," Ghornan reminded him. "No telling when they might be banned, and then they become more hazardous than a scorpion." He ran his finger down the page, his lips moving as he read. "If this plum is so ripe, what makes you think that we'll be the only one after it?"
"Most of the folk who live near the villa will not enter it for any reason. They say that it has a strange reputation. Even those who do not dislike it treat the place with the greatest respect. The owner was said to be a sybil, and some of the very old peasants insist that she had lived there since they were children." He paused. "I could say prayers for the repose of unquiet spirits. If there are ghosts, they will depart."
"We Copts," Ghornan exclaimed indignantly, "have better sense than to rely on ceremonies for all eventualities. You Byzantines have complicated worship until it is nothing more than a theatrical performance. Chalices and ikons!" He stopped his tirade with an effort. "Still, if you would rather exorcise the villa before we loot it, I will not deter you. If this place has one half the booty you show here, one industrious night might be worth everything. And if the peasants think that it is an unwholesome place, that could be to our advantage. They will attribute what we do to whatever demon they think lurks there, and we will not be hampered." He rubbed his chin. "In fact, let us take care to make it appear that there are restless spirits there. No sense in making this more risky than necessary."
"And if there are such spirits?" Pope Sylvestros could not resist asking.
"We are good Christians, aren't we?" Ghornan asked. "What have we to fear from the Devil? I'd worry more about the owners' wrath than what Hell might do."
Pope Sylvestros blessed himself. "Apostasy," he muttered. "You risk worse than anything the magistrates might sentence."
"And what of the owner?" asked Captain Ghornan with elaborate courtesy. "This widow, where is she and what will she think if we help ourselves to her treasures?"
"She has left Italy. They say that she went to Constantinople, and perhaps she did. No matter." Pope Sylvestros waved his hand to show what a minor consideration she was. "Even if we are found out, what can a Roman widow do to us? I know that her sponsor is a pope and he will not act against another member of the Church simply because a few of her things were taken."
"You're counting on a lot," grumbled Ghornan.
"No, I'm not," said Pope Sylvestros with intensity. "In the very unlikely event she discovers what has happened here, how can she trace this to us? All we have to say is that we bought the goods from a reputable merchant, and there's an end to it."
"You hope," said Ghornan at his most daunting. "And if she can convince someone that something must be done, where does that leave us?"
"Who might she convince?" asked Pope Sylvestros with genuine bewilderment.
"You said that General Belisarius used the villa. She might persuade him that something is amiss. Let me tell you right now that I have no intention of getting on his wrong side. My work is much too dependent on his—"
Pope Sylvestros interrupted Ghornan with a conspiratorial smirk. "Word has it that the General
will not be in Italy much longer. The rumors are that the Emperor is displeased with the progress of the campaign and suspicious of Belisarius' motivations and is going to remove him shortly."
"I have heard those rumors; Belisarius is still here." Ghornan finished his wine. "There are others who will be on watch for contraband of all sorts. This could be a trap for us; did you ever consider that?"
"Yes, but I don't think so. There are palaces in Roma that are bound to be traps, for their contents are famous and many would recognize them if anyone were foolish enough to take them. I have no desire to have my hands cut off and my arms flayed, either. So I say that we go to this villa and take what we want from it. I doubt if anyone would be able to prove that we had taken the items ourselves, and that is what would condemn us." He made a blessing over them. "The magistrates are reluctant to accuse popes and monks of wrongdoing. If you are working with me, then you are shielded by my cloth."
"Are all popes as cynical as you?" Ghornan asked with a hint of admiration.
"Not all of them are as poor, and few know how to take advantage of opportunity when it presents itself," said Pope Sylvestros severely. "It is not as if I am helping you steal from Byzantines. These are Romans, and you know what godless pagans they are."
"And that is all the excuse we need?" suggested Ghornan.
"It is not an excuse," Pope Sylvestros insisted. "I would never assist anyone in taking goods from a true Christian, but these Romans still have temples to their gods, and they think to mislead us all by declaring that they are now churches. None of us are fooled."
"So you are actually helping the Church by seizing these goods?" Ghornan laughed. "Very well, tell me some more about this widow's villa. Is it all on the list here?" He looked over the two sheets with more care, his eyes growing large with avarice. "What's this?" He pointed to an item on the second page of notes.
Pope Sylvestros glanced at the entry in question. "Oh. Yes, that was very strange. Fourteen chests filled with earth. One of the slaves told me that twenty just like them had been shipped to the widow in Constantinople." He scowled. "I wonder what kind of pagan rites she enacts with that earth?"
"Pagan rites?" Ghornan asked, heavy brows rising.
"What else would she require it for?" Pope Sylvestros twitched with indignation. "Rites of fertility, no doubt, or some other abomination." He indicated another line on the list. "This might interest you: twenty-eight platters of silver. They were in a storeroom along with those large brass tubs. Two barrels of sweet oil, and a whole chest filled with spices, which could be worth a great deal. The chest itself is an old one, all antique lacquerwork with brass fittings. It might be as much as four or five centuries old, and there are some who would like it for that reason alone."
Ghornan rubbed his stubbled chin. "The Spairei Krohma already has a little cargo consigned for the voyage back to Constantinople; we can take the most salable items from this villa, and if that goes well, then we can return for more on my next trip. In the meantime, if you find any other villas that are promising, and that have not been the headquarters for the army, make a note of them. I think that we might be fortunate if we can keep from becoming too greedy, or taking too much from one place. We must loot with discrimination." He belched laughter at his own humor.
"We are not looting," said Pope Sylvestros.
"No? What would you call it?" He gave the pope a friendly thump on the shoulder. "Conversion? Donation?" This time he did not laugh. "Whatever hypocritical reason you have, embrace it if it salves your conscience. And continue to find likely sites for our activities."
Suddenly he lunged to his feet and battered open the nearest door. Beyond the landlord stood, his stained mantele caught in his hands, his face guilty. "Well, well, well, what goes on here?"
"Nothing, Captain. Nothing. I was only curious to know if you had finished your business so that I could resume business."
"For only the two of us? Your tavern isn't very popular these days. Could it be that you were hoping to augment your earnings by applying for a reward as an informant?"
"Never!" the landlord said stoutly as his ruddy face turned hideously pale.
"Ah!" Ghornan was shorter than the landlord, and not as stout, but he was strong as the trunk of an oak tree, and he flung the man across the room with less effort than most would have thought possible. "You craven. You don't even lie well." He strode over to the counter and helped himself to another cup of wine. As he drank, he regarded the landlord, saying at his most affable, "You know, I once caught one of my sailors trying to sell off part of my cargo. I took some of the rope from the sails and I had it soaked in pitch, and then I stuffed it down his gullet and up his ass. It burned quite a while."
The landlord was gulping for air, his eyes wild with terror. "I swear, Captain, by the Mother of God, that I never intended to do—"
"I think," Ghornan went on as if he had not heard the landlord, "that this time I might wrap the rope around the body a couple of times, just to speed things up."
The landlord scrambled to his feet. "You would never do such a thing, not with a priest to watch you."
"What do you think this pope would do? How could he stop me if I decided to act?" He glanced from the landlord to Pope Sylvestros and back again. "How could he stop me?"
With a choking cry, the landlord bolted from the room.
Pope Sylvestros had risen. "He will inform against us."
"Oh, no he won't. I have four crewmen waiting outside; they'll catch him for us. I'll tend to him later." He came and sat back down opposite the pope.
"What… what will you do to him?" he asked uncertainly.
"Do you really want me to tell you?" was the sardonic response. When Pope Sylvestros faltered, Ghornan picked up the pages from the table. "Come. Let's decide what we're going to take this time."
Numbly Pope Sylvestros nodded and turned his mind away from the landlord's fate to the prospect of possible riches.
* * *
Text of an announcement sent throughout the Byzantine Empire.
To all subjects, citizens, and slaves of the Emperor Justinian; your attention, prayers, and devotions are required to mourn the death of the Empress Theodora, who passed from worldly travail into bliss on the feast day of Saint Felix of Nola, after enduring with fortitude the ravages of disease.
Coming so soon after the Feast of the Nativity, her death in this world is seen as especially blessed and more than silences the calumnies that have been spoken of her while she lived and grew in grace as the beloved wife of Emperor Justinian. Any person so lost to faith and charity who believes and repeats all or any part of the lies that have been spread about the virtuous Empress Theodora risks his body in this life and his soul in the next. Empress Theodora rose from her obscure beginnings through her innate kindness and goodness, and it was God's approval that brought her to the throne and bed of the Emperor Justinian.
Anyone discovered defaming the memory of this most blessed Empress will face the full weight of civil and ecclesiastical justice, and the only mercy that will avail so malignant a person then will be the Mercy of God.
For one year the Byzantine Empire will mourn for Empress Theodora. Those who do not observe this period will come under rigorous scrutiny.
By the order of
Kimon Athanatadies
Court Censor
at the behest of
the Emperor of Byzantion, Justinian I
PART IIDrosos
Text of a letter from Antonina to her husband Belisarius.
To my esteemed and beloved husband on the Eve of Good Friday, hail and embraces.
With Theodora dead, there is nothing more I can do on your behalf with Justinian. He has refused to receive either me or those officers—notably Drosos and Chrysanthos—who have continued to support you, and in fact it appears that their constancy has fed his suspicions that you are gathering men around you for the purpose of overthrowing him and assuming the throne yourself.
If y
ou have any such plan, my husband, this is the time to act, for I would be astonished if you were permitted to remain in Italy until the end of Spring, given the Emperor's current state of mind. While you have never confided such ambitions to me, I would certainly support you in any advancement or endeavor you wish to undertake, and doubtless you have as worthy a claim to leadership as has Justinian. You have always been loyal, and I do not mean to impugn your loyalty, but there have been those in the past who have professed themselves loyal to the Empire and not to the Emperor. If this is truly the case with you, you are now at that time when action is necessary or you will lose the day and the chance you seek, should you seek it at all.
I am gratified, naturally, that you depend on my affection for your strength, and your avowal of love and continuing passion is most flattering to a woman of my age, but for the moment, let us turn our attention to more pressing matters. There will be time enough later for tenderness and kisses. Now we must take care to minimize the damage that has been done so that you do not lose all credibility at court and thereby endanger yourself even more than is currently the case.
You would do well to send word to all your officers, current and former, that you are devoted to the Emperor and his vision of a New Roma. That is essential if you are not to be implicated in treason before the year is over. When you have done that, I suggest that you do your utmost to expand the area you control in Italy and show your zeal when you do. This may not do much in the long run, and it could strain your supplies and men again, but you must believe me: Justinian demands a victory or he will hold you personally responsible. Once that happens your time in his good graces is over entirely.
Let me tell you now that you are being foolish to plan to live quietly until the worst of this is past. You must not entertain such thoughts even for a moment. Without success and a great display of military prowess, all the lies that have been told of you will be accepted as true and you will be powerless indeed. If Justinian orders you back to Konstantinoupolis, you may be sure that it is to keep watch over you and to undermine any base of power you may have established.
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