A Flame in Byzantium aoc-1

by Chelsea Quinn Yarbro

  "Bring two drying sheets from the chest by the door." she said, knowing that Niklos would use that time to assess the problem.

  Drosos had consumed half the contents of the cup before he realized it was not wine but the mixture Olivia had ordered earlier. He emptied the last of it into the water. "What is this dreadful stuff?"

  "It might help you feel more yourself," Olivia said with care.

  "I am fine," he protested, and then his whole demeanor changed. "No." He lowered his head and began to sob deeply, wrenchingly. When Olivia started toward him, he pushed her away. "Don't."

  From the edge of the pool, Niklos gave Olivia an inquiring look, and accepted her sign to leave her alone with Drosos. He withdrew silently, remaining in the hall, ready to answer any summons.

  At last Olivia was able to get close enough to Drosos to take his hands in hers. "Oh love," she said, kissing his hands, holding them when he tried to pull away.

  "Why don't you leave me alone?" he demanded when he could speak at all.

  "Because I love you; because part of you is part of me." She said it evenly, calmly, all the while watching his eyes.

  "God and the Angels, you're not pregnant?" he protested.

  "No. No, that isn't… possible."

  He sighed, his breath shuddering. "Well, we're spared that." He took her by the shoulders and shook her, but gently. "I am disgraced. Can't you understand that? I am unworthy."

  "Not to me." She kissed him, just his lower lip. "You are Drosos. That is enough."

  "Am I? Is it?" He moved away from her. "I must have been more drunk that I thought I was to come here. I swore I wouldn't visit you."

  She did not move after him. "Why? To make yourself more miserable than you are?"

  "To save you from sharing my disgrace," he said. "I don't want you to be—"

  "Yes, you've told me before," she said as she came to his side. "But that means little to me. I am suspect already. You can make little difference in that." She took his hand again. "Drosos, stay with me tonight."

  He scowled. "So you can get what you want from me?"

  "Yes; because you will have what you want from me." She ignored the bark of angry laughter he gave. "If you want this to be the last, so be it. I will be sad, but that would be the case whenever you left me, however you left me."

  His dark eyes could not meet hers. "What is the point? I will be gone soon."

  "There are a few things I want to say to you," she told him, swallowing hard against the grief that was chilling her.

  "You mean the tales you told me before, about living after I've died? That fable about the blood being the elixir of life? You're as bad as the popes, with their promise of life everlasting if you drink their wine." He launched himself out of the bath and reached for a drying sheet. "Lord God, how I have missed your body." He stared down at her. "All right. I'll stay. We'll have this one last time."

  His tone and his attitude were not promising, but Olivia got out of the bath and wrapped herself in the other drying sheet. "If nothing else, you can rest in a clean bed."

  "So I can. That's a luxury I won't have again once I reach the north of Italy." He let her lead the way back to her bedchamber. "You're as fine a woman from the back as from the front," he said, patting her rump.

  Olivia glanced back at him, not knowing how to evoke the response she longed for. She nodded toward her bed. "I'll take what you have on."

  Drosos tossed it across the room, on top of his dalmatica. "Let the slaves tend to it, or that arrogant bondsman of yours." He reached out, pulling her drying sheet off her. "I will miss you, Olivia," he said as he stared at her. "You could use a little more breast—but they come with children, don't they?" As he said this, he brushed his hands over her nipples. "They're pretty; it doesn't matter that they aren't very big."

  Olivia listened to him in growing apprehension. She caught one of his hands in hers. "Is that all you want of me?"

  "Bigger dugs? No, not all." He grabbed her. "It would be the best thing in the world to get lost in you and stay lost. That's what I want. But I will settle for what I can have." This time his kiss was more skillful, and Olivia let herself respond, hoping to feel a similar accessibility in him. He took her face in his hands and held her for his second kiss. "I never knew any woman like you and I will never know another."

  By the time they sank together onto the bed, Olivia had been able to evoke a sporadic contact with him, but she felt him flee this intimacy even as his frenzy for her body increased, and her passion for him was tinged with despair. There had been so much between them, and now he eluded her, shut her out of his soul as his body covered and entered hers.

  His release came quickly, seizing him like a palsy. His fingers clutched her as if her flesh would save him from being shaken to bits. He rolled off her and away as quickly as he could, and huddled in the folds of the soft woolen blanket.

  Olivia lay with the taste of him on her lips and abjection in her heart. She knew that he would not permit her to reach him again; he would never offer the wholehearted access he had once given unstintingly. She knew, also, that it was not contempt for her, but detestation of himself that held him back, and the pain of that knowledge was cold and keen as a knifeblade.

  Drosos sat up suddenly, his hand clapped to the little thread of blood that ran over his collarbone and down his chest. "Christos! You did it again!" He rounded on her, his other hand closed in a fist.

  "Drosos?" She was fighting off the anguish that threatened to take hold of her.

  "You bit me! You drank my blood!" He heaved himself out of the bed.

  She raised herself on her elbows. "But I've always—you haven't objected—"

  "You're unnatural!" he bellowed.

  "Drosos—"

  "Monster! Monster!"

  Seriously alarmed, she got out of her bed and took a hesitant step toward him, one arm out.

  "Keep away, monster!" He reached for the heap of his clothes and drying sheet and flung them at her. "Stay back!"

  "I won't—"

  "Monster!" His voice had risen to a shriek. "Vampire!"

  She stopped. "But you know that," she said softly. "From the first you knew that."

  "Fiends of Hell, I did!" He reached the door latch and yanked it open. "Keep off me, you, or I'll dash your brains out." Naked, he went into the hallway, tugging the door closed behind him.

  Olivia stood alone as she listened to his hasty footsteps outside the door. He would find another place in the house to sleep, and later she would see that he was covered. Terrible desolation swept through her, and she went down on her knee to gather up the cloth he had thrown at her. Slowly, automatically, she made a bundle of it and placed it by the door so that it could all be washed in the morning. She moved the way a doll might move, her tragic eyes blank, her thoughts in such turmoil that she could not sort them out yet. She added the bedding to the other bundle, and then sat on the uncovered mattress, trying to keep from capitulating to the despair that clawed at her heart.

  "There have been worse times," she whispered, the words making no sense to her. There had been awakening in her own tomb. There had been the day that Regius discovered her with his son. There was the time that she had been trapped in a burning cottage, when she was sure that she would die the true death. There had been Zaminian who had run her through with his sword six times, but never touched her spine. All of them had been more dire than this. But they were in the past; the immediacy of her debacle overwhelmed her. The loss of Drosos engulfed her.

  Some little time later she was shocked out of her misery by a loud crash from somewhere near the front of her house.

  Gathering one of her bed-curtains around her, Olivia rushed out into the hall. Her sight, keener than others at night, let her find her way quickly and easily to the reception room off the vestibule.

  Drosos had come there to drink the wine kept for visitors, and he had consumed two amphorae of it. Now he lay where he had fallen, amid spilled wine and overturned
roses.

  * * *

  A commendation from the Emperor Justinian to his naval fleet.

  To the men who have achieved so great a triumph over the ships of Totila, we send our grateful commendation for the superb triumph you have achieved.

  The Ostrogothic ships are vanquished and you all share in this victory. Each of you will know the extent of our gratitude in our prayers and our public thanks. For every man who participated in this great campaign there will be a commemorative coin struck and distributed. To all officers there will be greater rewards, which will be heaped upon them and their families.

  All those who have been in this battle will be honored in a great Mass at Hagia Sophia, and upon the consecration of the entire great basilica, another Mass will be offered, so that the building will be made a more holy monument by the addition of the names of these valiant men who have defended our land from the predations of Totila and have discharged their duty to the Empire with greater valor than has ever been shown before.

  There are many tributes that an Emperor values above the riches and treasures of his realm, and a victorious navy is one of them. You have given us more than any Emperor could want, and for that we bless your names and give thanks to God for your courage and might.

  From this time on, all men who set out to sea to conquer the ships of Totila may count themselves excused from taxes levied for the benefit of our warriors, either on sea or land, for a greater measure than gold has already been paid, and we disdain to require more of you. Every officer who was part of this undertaking is relieved of taxes on all chariots, palanquins, and boats owned by his family in recognition of the officer's service in our cause.

  In this, the Lord's Year 551, we offer up praises to God, His Son and the Holy Spirit for the success of the enterprise, and admonish all loyal subjects within the bounds of the Empire to join with us in this celebration, for surely we are delivered for the purpose of Christian vindication throughout the world.

  Justinian

  Emperor of Byzantion

  (his sigil)

  8

  The reception hall in the Censor's house was three times the size of the vestibule, and lined with benches and writing tables. There were three other benches at the center of the room reserved for those about to be questioned by the Censor, for this clearly was not a room intended for anything so frivolous as social entertainment.

  Both Panaigios Chernosneus and Konstantos Mardino-polis were waiting for the Guard escort to arrive. Between them huddled a figure more like a collection of sticks held together with rags than a man. One of his eyes was fever-bright, the other was missing entirely. His hands were wrapped in strips of filthy cloth, but the shape of these improvised bandages suggested that part of his fingers were missing.

  "When is Captain Vlamos supposed to be here?" Konstantos asked, irritated at being kept waiting. It was one thing for Panaigios to suffer these delays; he, Konstantos, was of too high a position to warrant such treatment.

  "His slave said that he was leaving the house immediately. He said there had been no resistance." Panaigios folded his arms. "I suppose there is some reason they are not here yet."

  "There had better be," Konstantos said, his eyes hot.

  "Perhaps there has been another procession for the returning ships," Panaigios suggested.

  "Then Captain Vlamos should use other streets." He lifted his head as one of his eunuchs came to the door. "What is it?"

  "The Guard escort has turned the corner, master. They will be here shortly. Are the Guards to be offered refreshments?"

  "Later," Konstantos said, waving the eunuch away.

  The slave made a deep reverence and left.

  Panaigios hoped that Konstantos might offer him a glass of fruit juice or wine, or even a little water, but he knew better than to ask for it. He concealed a sigh and leaned back, bracing himself against the wall. "Do you think this will take long?"

  "Not very long. We have this worthy pope's sworn statement, and he will confront the woman," said Konstantos, nudging the pathetic creature between them. "You will not require long, will you?"

  Pope Sylvestros rolled his one eye toward the ceiling. "I have called to Heaven from the depth of my agony and I was shown the path of retribution. I was shown the way of righteousness and my soul rejoiced."

  "Will that be enough?" Panaigios asked.

  "If the Emperor is satisfied, you and I are not entitled to question him." Konstantos drummed his fingers on the table. "The Censor requests that we deliver our findings to him personally, so that there will be little gossip. There are those whom the Censor does not wish to know of these proceedings."

  "Of course," said Panaigios, more fretful than before.

  "Be pleased you are serving here," Konstantos recommended. "You and I both stand to advance through this investigation."

  Panaigios nodded, feeling sweat gathering on his chest and under his arms. "It is always an honor to serve the Emperor."

  Both men heard the front door open and the sound of many voices. Pope Sylvestros started to wail and slid back against the wall as if seeking to make himself invisible.

  Captain Vlamos was the first into the enormous reception room. "In the name of the Emperor Justinian, we have carried out our duty," he announced formally.

  "Where is the culprit?"

  Olivia Clemens stepped around the Captain. "I am not a culprit and I will be grateful if you will not use such words until you have some basis for them." She was dressed in Roman splendor and her carriage was confident and regal.

  "She! It is she!" screamed Pope Sylvestros, raising his covered hands as if to ward off a blow.

  "Who is that unfortunate wretch?" Olivia asked; if his behavior caused her any alarm, there was no outward sign of it.

  "He is among those who accuse you," said Konstantos, distaste in his long features. "And it is most improper for you to address any of us directly."

  "Since I have been forbidden the right to summon my sponsor, I can think of no alternative. Incidentally, why have I been forbidden to have Belisarius here?" She glanced from Konstantos to Panaigios. "Or am I not allowed to have answers, either? If I am not, then these proceedings are apt to be difficult for all of us."

  "Your deportment is shameful." Konstantos had half-risen and was pointing his stylus at her.

  "You expect that of me, from what the Captain has told me. Was it that poor creature beside you, or another who said I was without virtue?" She dared not speak Drosos' name for fear that her calm would desert her. He had been gone for over a month, but she had learned a little of him from Belisarius, most of which distressed her as much as their final night together had.

  "You flaunt your godlessness in our faces?" said Konstantos in outrage.

  "No," Olivia replied, and sat on one of the hard benches. "I flaunt nothing."

  "You come here in Roman dress—" Konstantos began.

  "Because I am a Roman. I understand that is part of the reason I am here." She touched the fibula on her shoulder before folding her hands in her lap.

  "You are here because you are guilty of great and terrible crimes." Konstantos thundered the accusation before he resumed his seat. "This good pope knows much of you."

  "Does he?" Olivia asked. "I wouldn't have thought it." So it was not Drosos who had brought her here, she realized. It had to be another. "What am I supposed to have done?"

  "There are three charges," Panaigios said, his voice higher than usual. He cleared his throat and read from the sheet in front of him. "You are implicated in crimes against the Church, witnessed by this pope who vows that he has seen you make pagan sacrifices, and that within your villa in Roma there are objects of pagan worship."

  "Which have undoubtedly been looted by now, and so do not exist; very convenient for you, no doubt." Olivia warned herself that she must not be too reckless. These men were capable of condemning her to a slow and painful death that would be as fatal to her as to anyone else. She lowered her eyes and listene
d.

  "There are accusations, brought by those who cannot give witness, that you smuggled goods into the Empire without paying taxes or declaring their worth. Further, it is said that you have kept illegal books in your house, knowing they were banned and aware of the implications of their presence." Panaigios read this in a fast, flat tone, head bowed.

  "Again, I must ask what proof you have." Olivia kept her manner subdued. "You say that the accusations are brought by those who cannot testify. That would mean another woman or a slave, or a foreigner who is not part of the Empire. The motives of all such persons are questionable, had they the right to speak out, which they have not."

  "The third charge is the most serious," Panaigios went on, glancing once at Konstantos. "It is claimed that you provided and administered the poison that brought about the death of the august lady Antonina."

  Olivia was on her feet. "Ridiculous!"

  "Be silent!" shouted Konstantos.

  "The charge is absurd!" Olivia insisted, but she sat down as she felt Captain Vlamos lay his hand on her shoulder. "What reason would I have for such a terrible deed?"

  "You are a widow," said Konstantos. "You have been a friend of the General Belisarius since his campaign in Italy."

  "So it follows that I would kill his wife?" Olivia asked in disbelief.

  "If you planned to take her place," Konstantos stated.

  "I have refused Captain Drosos when he offered marriage." She saw the way Panaigios started at Drosos' name. "Is he among the nameless ones now?" she asked, saddened.

  "Captain Drosos was an officer of General Belisarius. He would be willing to serve his General in many ways," Konstantos averred. "It would not be the first time a man held a woman for another man."

  Olivia could find no words at first. "You mean that you think Drosos was my lover so that I would be able to marry Belisarius once I killed his wife? Why would Drosos help his General if he knew what I was doing? Unless," she went on more carefully, "you are looking for a way to implicate Belisarius in Antonina's death. That would be laughable."