"Zejhil, what is going on?" Olivia asked, coming around the trestle table and wiping her hands on the mantele tied around her waist.
Zejhil said nothing, but as Niklos released her, she moved away from him, repugnance in her angular features. She rubbed at her wrists and glared down at the floor.
"Niklos?" Olivia addressed him with a hint of impatience. "I trust you plan to tell me what this is all about?"
Niklos did not answer at once. He leaned against the door and watched Zejhil, his expression detached and difficult to read. "I surprised her in the stillroom," he said at last. "She was putting a vial of… of something-or-another into your spice and perfume chest."
"What?" Olivia asked, clearly disbelieving. She turned to Zejhil. "Did you do that?"
For an answer, Zejhil spat and huddled against the wall, her back to Niklos. There were tears in her eyes; she dashed them away angrily.
"Zejhil?" Olivia said. When she received no response, she looked to Niklos. "Tell me." Her confusion made her tone high and sharp.
"Wait." He opened the door suddenly and looked into the hall. After a little time, he closed the door softly and once more secured the latch. "I am afraid, my mistress, that we are being spied on."
Olivia gave a breathless burst of laughter. "Again?"
"This time, it appears that Zejhil has become part of it, and that changes matters." He cleared his throat. "I have tried to find out whose orders she is following, but she will say nothing."
"Nothing," repeated Olivia, her expression becoming uncertain. "How do you account for that?"
"Whoever has given her orders has impressed her," said Niklos, his eyes never leaving the Tartar slave on the other side of the room. "She is more afraid of this person than she is of you or me."
"That is unwise of her," said Olivia, and the edge in her voice caught Zejhil's attention as nothing else had, for Olivia spoke with gelid calm.
"I went to the stillroom," Niklos continued, "for the oils you wanted. I saw the door was not quite closed, which surprised me a little, but I thought one of the kitchen staff had been careless. When I went into the room, I saw Zejhil at the spice chest with something in her hands. She dropped it—I think her hands were shaking—as I came in. She has refused to explain what she was doing there or what she was putting into the chest." His ruddy eyes grew chilly. "That doesn't bode well."
Olivia nodded and touched Niklos on the arm. "I see." Her breath went out of her slowly. "I don't suppose you could take time to find the vial."
"No," Niklos said, adding, "I know I ought to have found it and brought it with me."
"Do you suppose there's any hope that it might still be there?" she asked.
"I can go look, if that's what you wish," said Niklos. "Do you want me to summon aid while I'm gone?"
"I can manage Zejhil," said Olivia, continuing to the slave directly, "I may be a woman and no longer young, but it would be a serious error in judgment to think that I am incapable of managing this situation." She made a sign to Niklos and he let himself out of the door. Olivia put the latch in place once more and leaned back, studying Zejhil.
The slave-woman looked around her, uncertain what to do. She had been prepared for confinement and chastisement, but this treatment was new to her and she had no defense against it. She moved into the nearest corner and braced herself there.
Olivia continued to watch her, her attentive attitude unchanging. Finally she spoke again. "When I asked you to watch the household on my behalf, you assured me that you would do so, not only for the considerations this brought you, but because you were truly convinced that it was wrong for those outside the house to spy on those within. It seemed at the time that you were sincere and honorable. I showed my appreciation in a number of ways, didn't I? You have funds being held to purchase your freedom, as would any Roman slave." She did not qualify that statement by saying that such rights had disappeared three hundred years ago. "I gave you my word that you would not be punished for reporting on the activities of the others and you have my promise of manumission within five years. What has persuaded you to act against these considerations?"
Zejhil shook her head, her jaw so firmly set that the muscles stood out in ridges in her face.
"You're terrified. What is the reason?" She waited, giving Zejhil every opportunity to speak, and when the silence had dragged out between them, she went on. "I give you my word you will be protected. You will not be harmed."
"You can offer no protection against them," Zejhil hissed through her clenched teeth. "You are nothing against them."
Olivia's lips lifted at the corner but no one could mistake this for a smile. "I am? Who are these formidable beings that I can do nothing?"
Zejhil retreated once again into silence.
"So you believe they are powerful enough to hear through walls," Olivia said gently. "And you believe that they will know anything you reveal and you will be punished for that." She saw Zejhil flinch. "I know; you've said nothing. This is only supposition, though your expression tells me that I am correct." She sighed. "Which means also that you are not the only one of my slaves to be pressed into the service of these nameless others. And that is very… inconvenient." She turned her head to the side. "You knew I was here, and that I would probably require things from the stillroom, yet you did this, which makes me wonder if you didn't wish to be apprehended."
"No. No, that's wrong," Zejhil cried out in protest.
"Is it?"
"No!" Her voice was higher and louder, rough with fear.
"Because," Olivia went on evenly, "you knew that it was necessary for you to have an acceptable reason not to continue your work for these others, whoever they are."
Zejhil was suddenly very still and her face betrayed nothing. She slid down the wall onto her knees, the horror of her predicament making her eyes almost chatoyant.
"So." Olivia came back toward her. "You would rather serve me than these others, but they appear more powerful to you, and so you dare not displease them." She studied the Tartar woman's face. "Eventually I will learn who these puissant beings are, so you might as well tell me now. It will be easier for both of us, and we will not have to say things to each other that we might later regret."
"I will say nothing." She stared down at the floor.
"You will, you know; in time." She looked up as Niklos came in the door, something in his hand. "You found it."
"Yes." His handsome face was grave.
"I gather that it isn't welcome, whatever it is."
"It smells of bitter almonds." He held out the broken vial to her. "Try it."
"I don't have to: I can smell it from here." Olivia's face was quite somber now, and she regarded Niklos intently. "Then something of mine was to be poisoned." Her expression hardened. "Zejhil, where were you supposed to put this?"
She shook her head repeatedly, violently.
"All right," said Olivia, attempting to calm her slave. "You are afraid of telling me even so little a thing as that. You were going to the chest with spices and fine oils, so it was for food." For an instant an ironic smile touched her lips, and then it was replaced by stern determination.
Niklos made sure the door was firmly latched. "I could force her to talk, Olivia, if you wish. You don't approve, but there are times—"
"There may be," she said, cutting him short, "but this is not one of them."
"She put poison into your spice chest," he reminded her with feeling.
"No; she tried to put poison into my spice chest, which is a different matter altogether." She put her hand on his arm. "Niklos, she's been treated badly. If we force her to speak, we will be as reprehensible as those who have forced her to act against us. And do not pretend that you disagree." She went and drew up a small bench. "What am I going to do with you, Zejhil?" she asked as she sat down beside the woman, leaving enough room on the bench if Zejhil wanted to use it.
"Sell me," she answered flatly.
"I'd rather not do that unless
it's necessary," Olivia responded. "You've given me very good service, and until now you have protected my interests within my household. That means a great deal to me. I would not like to reward you with betrayal if I can avoid it; but if I am to avoid it, you will have to give me your aid, won't you?"
"I—" She looked at Niklos as if the bondsman might have a suggestion.
"I do need to know who is attempting to act against me, Zejhil. You must see that." She had no anger in her tone, and no hint of condemnation. "You are a good and sensible person, and you have loyalty. These are very worthwhile and I am pleased to have someone in my household with your virtues, but if you cannot tell me what I need to know, then something will have to be arranged, something neither of us would like." From her manner, it appeared that Olivia was discussing the arrangements of furniture in a room or the pattern of a garden's flowers instead of a threat against her life.
"I mustn't tell you anything. They will not spare you if I do, and they will do terrible things to me." She put her knuckles against her teeth.
"Terrible things. They must be desperate, these unknown men." She glanced quickly at Niklos.
"They are very powerful," Zejhil admitted reluctantly. "They insisted."
"And you are not in a position to resist them, are you?" Olivia straightened up. "And you are convinced that there is nothing I can do to prevent them taking action against you."
"You are a foreign woman," Zejhil said in a small voice.
"So are you," she pointed out. "Or is that what you mean? that I am as much at their mercy as a slave is?"
Niklos snorted. "More fools they."
"Hush, my friend," Olivia admonished him softly. "Zejhil, do you think that these men are trying to be rid of me?"
"One way or another," the slave admitted. "Oh, mistress, I didn't want to do anything to help them. I didn't. I told them that they would do better asking someone else, but they were persistent and they said that if I did not help them, then the officers of the Censor would come here and you would be found to have possessions that are forbidden, and then you would be deprived of your house and the things that you own—"
"But if I conveniently died, that would make it possible for the household to be without taint, or something of the sort," Olivia finished for her. "They are doing this for a reason, and not simply because I am Roman."
"They think that you are aiding Belisarius. They insisted that I tell them of every visit he has made here, and what transpired during his visit." Now that she was speaking the worst of the fear was gone from her eyes. "I told them that I would do everything they required, just so that they would not do… what they threatened to do."
"If they harmed my slave in any way whatever," Olivia said and there was steel in her words, "they would answer for it, in law and in other ways."
"It isn't so simple," Zejhil objected. "They knew I had been watching the staff for you, and they knew that I reported to you, and that meant that they had others telling them what I was doing."
"Yes, that much is obvious." Niklos had come nearer and was watching Zejhil with curiosity. "What makes you speak now? Are you hoping to balance favor against favor until you find the best price?"
"Niklos, for the love you bear me, stop it." Olivia's gaze rested on him and it appeared to calm him, for he fell silent, but without the ill-contained fury he had shown before. "Do you have any notion as to who among my slaves is working for the Censor? And it is the Censor, isn't it?" This last was addressed not to Niklos but to Zejhil.
"I never said that!" Zejhil shrieked.
"It had to be someone high in government and by the sound of it someone who dislikes and distrusts Belisarius. Either the Emperor himself—which is very unlikely—or one of his courtiers had to be responsible. The courtier who has been most consistent in his actions against Belisarius is the Censor, who has no reason to trust me or anything of mine." She nodded as if to remind herself of her thoughts. "I've wondered if we would have trouble because of him, but I never thought it would be so extreme."
"Olivia," said Niklos in a warning tone.
"I am safe saying these things," she told him. "Zejhil is not going to give me away. Are you?"
Zejhil was now sitting cross-legged on the floor, her back against the wall. She shook her head slowly. "I will have to tell them something."
"So you will." Olivia rubbed her face with her fingertips. "You will have to make them believe that you completed your task and that there is poison in the spice chest. That must be the start." She sighed. "And then, if you are willing, find out what they are trying to prove. I wish I knew what I had done to place myself in such jeopardy."
"It may be nothing more than your friendship for Belisarius," suggested Niklos.
"Possibly, but it may also be more." Olivia stared down at her linked hands. "And in any case, we must find a way to warn Belisarius about this. He knows of other actions, but he does not know how far the machinations extend." Once again she looked down at Zejhil. "What did they threaten to do to you?"
"I… I can't tell you." The Tartar slave was appalled.
"Of course you can." Olivia watched her. "Undoubtedly rape. But what else?"
Zejhil shook her head, mute again.
"For the names of your ancestors, girl!" Niklos burst out. "Tell your mistress. She can do nothing if you will not let her. Tell her!"
"Niklos, don't hector her." Olivia waited, then said in a soft voice, "If you are frightened, I don't blame you. Only a fool is not frightened by real danger. But you need not be paralyzed by your fear. You can act against it." She remained still a short time, then sighed once more and got up. "Very well."
"They said they would rape me with swords and cut out my vitals and leave me in the market for the curs to eat. They would make sure I was alive." She said it quickly, as if by getting the words out swiftly their impact would lessen.
"How charming," Olivia said bitterly.
"They would. They are that sort." Zejhil got to her feet. "I was supposed to put the poison in the sweet spices, so that you would get a little of it every day. That way poison would not be suspected until it was too late. Even if you had someone sample your food, it would not prevent your death."
To Zejhil's surprise, Olivia chuckled. "Then I will have to give them some reason to think the plot was discovered without compromising you." She shook her head. "Slow poison. In food. Magna Mater, I'm glad I've found out about this."
Niklos grinned briefly. "In the food."
Zejhil was baffled, but could not bring herself to speak.
Olivia answered for her. "You must understand, Zejhil, that I have… a rare condition that requires I… limit my diet severely. If the Censor expects me to succumb to poisoned spices, he would wait a very long time. So, perhaps, it might be best to make it appear that the poison was discovered, but not the poisoner. Let me think about it awhile."
"They will want some results," Niklos warned.
"And I suppose they will have some," said Olivia. "But this will take careful planning. I will have to think about what must be done, and then be certain that…" The words trailed off. "If Zejhil was given poison, who knows what the other slaves being used have been given or offered. Niklos, I want you to sleep outside my door at night."
"I will," he promised her.
"And Zejhil, I want you to listen more closely than ever to what you hear." She scowled. "Why do they want to be rid of me; it keeps coming back to that."
Zejhil stood with her head down. "I know I must be punished for what I did. I accept that. But do not punish me in front of the others."
"Punish you?" repeated Olivia, startled. "Oh, for the poison, do you mean? Yes, I imagine something ought to be done."
"I'll get the whips," Niklos said without emotion.
"Don't be silly," Olivia told him. "For punishment, I will insist that you replace Pentheus as the night keeper. I will expect you to patrol the house and the garden all through the night, and during the day, I want you to
clean the reception rooms and the vestibule, starting with scrubbing the floors. Every day. Until I tell you otherwise. Is that clear?"
"It is a light punishment," said Zejhil.
"Say that when ten days have gone by and I might agree." She stared at the door. "You are to return to your quarters now and remain there. You will have no meal this evening." She waited while Zejhil made a deep reverence, then motioned to Niklos to let her out of the room.
When Zejhil was gone, Niklos said, "You did give her light punishment."
"Possibly. I am giving the agents of the Censor plenty of opportunity to approach her. If she cleans the vestibule, they can find her during the day, and if she is the night keeper, they can try after dark. And then, old friend, we can find out what it is they're really after." She paced the length of the room. "For some reason, they're becoming desperate."
"And you are becoming lax," Niklos countered.
"If we weren't strangers here, I might do this another way. But we are here on sufferance, and they are already seeking reasons to be rid of us. I would prefer to be free of suspicion, but if that isn't possible, then—"
"Then we move on?" Niklos said. "But where?"
"So you do understand my problem," said Olivia. "Yes; where do we go if not here? What do we do?"
Niklos came and put his hands on her shoulders. "This was supposed to be a haven."
"Yes," she said sadly. "It was, wasn't it?"
* * *
Text of a letter from the physician Mnenodatos to Belisarius.
To the great General Belisarius, Mnenodatos sends thankful greetings and prayers for his well-being and the recovery of his wife.
I confess that your offer of employment has come as a shock: most pleasant and welcome, but nonetheless a shock. I am at a loss to know how so distinguished a hero as you came to know of a physician of my station, but I bless the name of that person and I praise him for taking my interests so much to heart.
It would afford me the greatest satisfaction to attend your wife and to serve as your household physician. Such employment is the dream of any man practicing the healing arts, and I am no different from any of my associates and colleagues who also long for the time they can be sure of their futures.
A Flame in Byzantium aoc-1 Page 26
