B009KUWVHG EBOK

by Thornton, Stephanie

  “You’re the most famous scenica in the city, in the Empire for that matter.” He straightened and scowled, as if insulted by my question. “I only want the best.”

  It was difficult to be a scenica when your usual customers included tanners and fullers, but I wasn’t going to mention that. “I can’t leave my daughter.”

  He dropped my hand, then stepped back. “I didn’t know you had a daughter.”

  “There’s a lot you don’t know about me.”

  “I know you’re just like me—scheming, conniving, and ambitious. And I know you have a sweet little body every man in the city wants, but that body’s going to be in my bed all night, every night, all the way to Pentapolis.”

  His mouth was on mine, making it impossible to think. I pushed him back. “I promised you tonight, but nothing more.”

  “Leave your daughter here and come with me. I’ll be gone only six months, a year at most, before I manage a position in the capital.” His finger traced my jaw, his eyes delving into mine. “What do you have to lose?”

  Nothing, except Tasia. It was a high price to pay, yet Hecebolus might wish to keep me when he returned to the capital. Or perhaps, if I played this right, I might wear his bronze marriage belt and the red sandals of a patrician by then. Tasia’s future would be secure.

  He stepped into the sedan and pulled me onto his hardness, his hands on my backside as he crushed my lips to his. It seemed we were never destined to make it to a bed. He brought me to the edge of ecstasy several times before pushing me over; it was a savage bout of lovemaking, but I matched him until he shuddered his release and collapsed onto my chest.

  Afterward, his finger traced lazy circles on my breasts. His slaves carrying the sedan had circled the city walls at least three times, but I didn’t care if they managed a few more. A perfect lethargy seeped into my bones, but it fled as his teeth teased my nipples. “We were made for each other, Theodora. Pentapolis will never be dull.”

  “I still haven’t decided if I’m coming with you.” I taunted him to readiness as I recognized the crumbling building with its hideous phoenix outside. It wouldn’t hurt to leave him wanting more.

  I managed to pin back my rumpled stola for the neighbors’ benefit, despite his best attempts to keep me indecent, and dropped a kiss on his lip just below his scar. “I’ll meet you on the dock tomorrow.”

  Only I still had to make up my mind if I was going.

  Chapter 11

  “Six months?” Mother clutched Tasia while I made a final sweep of the room. Antonina sat at the lion-legged table and stifled a yawn.

  “Perhaps a year. At least that’s what Hecebolus says.”

  “Of course he does. I must have dropped you on your head when you were young.”

  “You’re getting senile, Mother. It was Comito you dropped.” I narrowed my eyes at her. “And you were the one who told me not to reject Hecebolus.”

  “I didn’t think he’d drag you to the edge of the Empire!”

  Antonina rose from her rickety throne to take a swig from Mother’s amphora and envelop me in a loose hug. “Your mother’s going to miss you,” she whispered. “She’s scared for you.”

  That made two of us.

  I looked to the ceiling to ease the needles in my eyes—the water stain had gotten worse, and the cloud of black mold seemed to be spreading down the wall. “She’s only scared she’s going to have to cut back on her wine.”

  “I heard that.” Mother stomped her foot. “This is absurd. I forbid you to go.”

  Part of me wanted to obey like a little girl, unpack my things, and return to the Kynêgion in September. I could live my life in this dingy room, selling myself every night, but I couldn’t do that to my daughter. I squeezed my eyes shut, barely managing to speak. “Please don’t make this harder than it already is.”

  Tasia gurgled a string of babble and held out her arms for me. I dropped my bag, struggling to swallow my sobs. I loved her baby smell, her tiny hands with their pudgy fingers, and her beautiful brown eyes. And I was leaving it all behind.

  “You’ll be back so soon Tasia won’t even notice you were gone.” Antonina’s hand was warm on my back. “You do what you have to. For her.”

  I swallowed hard and looked at Tasia, her cheeks still rosy from sleep. It tore my heart to think of leaving her, but it was only for her that I could even contemplate going with Hecebolus.

  I wrapped my arms around my family for a damp hug, breathing in the scent of my daughter to carry with me. “I love you all so much.”

  Antonina’s hand on my shoulder pulled me away from Tasia. “The ship will sail without you.”

  I dashed the tears from my eyes. “Take care of her.”

  “We will,” Antonina said. “I promise.”

  My mother sighed and kissed my cheeks, her lips cool. “We do what we have to, I suppose.”

  Antonina hefted my bag onto her shoulder. “I’ll walk you down.”

  My arms were empty, and my chest felt hollow. My life now amounted to three stolas—including the burnt orange I hadn’t returned to Hecebolus—a string of cheap turquoise beads that only looked real onstage, and two bronze hair combs. I’d given my mother everything else, including the few coins I’d saved and Anastasia’s old doll, for Tasia.

  “Good luck,” Antonina said, handing me the linen bag. A woman emptied her night soil bucket from the window of the gray building across the street, earning her a spew of curses from the wizened men below playing dice on a board scratched in the dirt. “Don’t forget us when you come back a kyria dripping in pearls and gold.”

  I hugged her, but she laughed me off. “Gods, it’s not as if you’ll be gone long. Enjoy yourself.” She waggled her eyebrows at me. “And enjoy that magnificent body of his.”

  I wiped my eyes. “You would say that.”

  She shrugged. “Life is short. God knows you’ve never really lived.”

  I detoured outside the city gates to visit Father’s and Anastasia’s graves one last time, both unmarked and long since covered with tall grass. I passed a dusty family on the way back, the man pushing a cart laden with pots, several crates, and a birdcage with a half-dead blue and black starling. The woman carried a baby on her hip and led a little boy with his thumb in his mouth.

  “Excuse me,” the man said, his accent so thick I could scarcely understand his Greek. “Where can I find a place to stay?”

  I gestured to the city walls, the domed churches and great towers looming overhead. “Is tin boli.”

  In the city.

  Everything was in the city; yet I would leave it all behind when I went with Hecebolus.

  The long walk from the graveyard gave me time to compose myself, but my feet felt as if they were bleeding in my new slippers—the only decent ones I owned—by the time I smelled the docks, the heavy treacle of fish and brine. I wished for thunder and lightning to match my mood, but the sun danced on the waters of the Bosphorus, a sparkling mosaic of beveled turquoise glass, and only soaring pelicans marred the sky. A newly varnished ship gleamed in the sun, its crew already at the oars. I hurried as fast as my cursed shoes would let me, but the oars moved like giant dragonfly wings and its curved prow cut into the waters. I dropped my bag and broke into a run. “No! Wait!”

  But the ship didn’t stop. The sun caught the letters painted in gold on its side. Greyhound. The Emperor’s private yacht.

  I was an idiot.

  Behind it groaned a boat bleached almost white by the sun, gulls pecking at the cracked and weathered masthead. Faded letters on its hull spelled its name in Greek—Naiad.

  Hecebolus’ ship.

  “Jesus, Joseph, and Mary.” The thing looked like a leaky bathing tub. “That boat will sink before we make it past the Golden Horn.”

  Hundreds of terracotta amphorae were being hoisted on board, a dozen or so the height of a man pulled by rope on deck while slaves carried smaller ones on their backs. Several paused to gawk at my approach, and one missed his cue as th
e next slave in line tossed one of the pots onto his back. It teetered for a moment, then tumbled to the ground and shattered. Thick red sauce speckled with green oozed onto the planks of the dock like blood.

  But it wasn’t blood. It was garos.

  “By the dog!” I jumped and stepped back. It wasn’t the mess of fish sauce I cursed, but the slave who’d dropped the amphora, the same one now being thrashed about the ears for his incompetence. I recognized the wart on his chin with its thick black hair I could see even from where I stood. The last thing I needed was one of my first customers on the ship with my new patron. I promised God my eternal obedience if Wart stayed behind once the ship set sail.

  “Going to Pentapolis with us, miss?” A slave with more than a few teeth missing stepped out of my way as I walked up the tiny gangplank like one of the Hippodrome’s tightrope walkers.

  I took a moment to answer—I could still change my mind, run back to the room across from the Gate of Charisios, return to Leda and the Swan. And resign my daughter to a life of the same.

  I gave the slave my sunniest smile. “I am.”

  A red tunica passed behind the slave. And sniffed. “The governor has been expecting you.”

  “I don’t believe we’ve been properly introduced.”

  He looked at me as if I were a snake. “Your cabin is below deck. Last on the right.” Then he walked away.

  I thumbed my fist at his retreating back and winked at the gap-toothed slave. He winked back. “Libanius is a nasty snob, almost as bad as the governor,” he said. “I’ll show you to your cabin.”

  The smell of fish grew perversely stronger below deck, but I couldn’t tell if that was the slave’s natural odor or the actual stink of the ship. The entire boat needed to be doused with vinegar.

  My cabin was little more than a closet, empty save for a rope hammock and a metal bucket. Two silk pouches dangled from the hammock, one blue and one red. The first was full of dried herbs, ones that smelled familiar, but I couldn’t quite place them. Perhaps a posy to ward off seasickness. Or poison if Hecebolus tired of me.

  The second pouch held two lumps the size of small grapes. Two perfectly matched pink pearls on gold hooks fell into my hands.

  I’d traded my daughter for eardrops.

  I stuffed them back in the silk and followed my nose out of my cabin to a rickety wooden ladder leading farther into the bowels of the ship. I kicked off my slippers and climbed down. Water slapping walls echoed up at me, not the rush of the ocean outside, but the splash inside the hull as we swayed with the sea. My toes touched water on the next rung. We were sinking.

  I scrambled back up, hearing my hem rip as I stepped on my stola. Libanius stood outside Hecebolus’ closed door—at least I managed to surprise him coming up from the hull.

  “There’s water below!”

  “Of course there’s water below.” He said it as if commenting on the presence of clouds in the sky. “The Naiad is a fish transport.”

  “What?”

  The man actually rolled his eyes at me. “The governor is carrying live fish from the Black Sea to Antioch.”

  “Antioch doesn’t have its own fish?”

  “Parrotfish are a delicacy found only in the Black Sea, and the Patriarch of Antioch likes them fresh. The Naiad is equipped with a special pump to filter fresh seawater into the hull to keep them alive on the journey.”

  Wonders never cease. I eyed the door behind Libanius. “Is Hecebolus in?”

  “The governor is above deck.”

  “Until?”

  No answer—this slave was insufferable.

  I kissed him on the cheek, relishing his look of horror at my honeyed smile. “Thank you for all your help, Libanius. I’m truly sorry I get to have Hecebolus and you don’t.”

  A feral glare followed the flash of shock in his eyes. I’d hit the mark.

  There was a terrible grating noise, and the beast of a ship shuddered. I took the stairs two at a time into the blue sky to find the dock had been emptied of the last amphorae and the gangplank hoisted off. It was time.

  I clenched my teeth as the slaves threw off the ship’s riggings and we slipped fully into the turquoise embrace of the Golden Horn, beards of algae drifting past. There was no going back now.

  The massive wooden roof of the Hagia Sophia watched us depart, and the city walls melted into the buildings clustered like cowering giants on the seven hills. I entertained ideas of jumping overboard and swimming back to shore just as three shiny gray fins surfaced in our wake. Dolphins, racing our boat, with only me to watch.

  Tasia would have loved them; she would have laughed and gurgled as they surged ahead and dove deep into the water.

  I turned my back on the city to face the wild expanse of blue. Even when my entire family had been green and retching on our move from Cyprus, I had loved the feel of the waves and the endless stretch of the sea. I needed it to soothe me now.

  I stayed above deck with the benches of rowers at my back, feeling the sea spray on my face and licking the taste of salt from my lips until the air turned chill and sent me shivering below. I was bored by counting the irregularities in the wooden panels of my cabin walls and wary of the dark stain I’d discovered in the corner. It felt like hours before I finally heard Hecebolus’ voice next door. If I was going to do this, I was going to do it right.

  A surprise up the sleeve of my paludamentum, I knocked on his door and was greeted with a loud grunt. Hecebolus sat next to a washbasin, his chin cocked to allow Libanius to shave the stubble from his neck. Unlike my cabin, his actually had a pallet on the floor. My heart skittered for a moment—Hecebolus might have been a sarcastic lout, but I couldn’t wait to have him between my legs again. I held out my hand for the blade.

  “Come to slit my throat?” The vein in his neck pulsed as he motioned a scowling Libanius away. The door slammed behind him.

  “Not this time. I prefer the element of surprise.” I dipped the metal into the basin and massaged a little olive oil into the coarse hairs on his neck. “This is quite a ship.”

  He arched an eyebrow at me.

  “I’ve seen the fish.”

  “I make money while I sail.” He turned his chin so I could finish scraping his neck. “The fish below are as precious as purple dye.”

  I bent over the basin, and my paludamentum slipped from my shoulder to expose the pale swell of my breast. His finger traced my collarbone down to my nipple, then flicked open the clasp of my pin. The cloak puddled at my feet and I stood naked before him.

  “Surprise,” I said.

  His brow arched and a slow smile spread across his lips to crinkle his scar. “I think I’m going to enjoy this voyage.”

  …

  I woke the next morning to the glow of an oil lamp. And Libanius’ big nose.

  I grimaced. “Didn’t your mother ever teach you it’s rude to wake someone?” I’d retired to my cabin after Hecebolus had me, but my room had no windows—the moon or the sun might have been up for all I knew.

  Libanius ignored me. “I took the liberty of brewing this for you.” He thrust a clay cup at my face.

  I sat up and slipped my arms into my paludamentum as he averted his eyes, but not before I saw the revulsion there. The cup’s curling steam smelled like a spice market, the same as the herbs in the blue pouch left for me. I knew better than to believe this man had discovered a sudden affinity for me. “What is this?”

  “The governor cannot afford any bastard brats birthed by a nefarious prostitute.”

  “Nefarious?” Normally I’d enjoy the new accolade, but I could scarcely think through my fury. I shoved the cup back at him. “No slave is going to tell me what to do.”

  His lips curved into a frown. “My apologies—”

  “Are not enough.” My only real security with Hecebolus would come once he married me. And he’d almost certainly marry me if I gave birth to his son, ensuring his financial support even if he tired of me. Libanius knew that. I was sick of this half
man.

  Hecebolus was stretched on a bench above deck in the morning sunshine, reading a codex. He scarcely looked up as I stormed past the rowers. The wart-chinned slave sat at the end of one of the benches, watching me from hooded eyes. Christ’s blood. I’d worry about him later.

  Hecebolus peered over his reading as I skidded to a halt before him, chest heaving. “Your slave is a fool.”

  “I’ve heard Libanius called many things”—Hecebolus closed the codex and looked at me, crossing his muscled legs under his tunica—“but never a fool. What brings this about?”

  “I brought her the tonic you requested, sir.” I hadn’t noticed the slave follow me, but now he stood behind me, hands clasped around the foul cup with the serene expression of an ascetic.

  “What?” I whirled on Hecebolus. “You asked him—”

  I felt the eyes of all the rowers on our little scene, a scene I had caused. Hecebolus clasped my hand. “Theodora, I plan to be promoted and return to Constantinople.” His voice dropped. “A child could scarcely help my cause with the Emperor. Or the Senate.”

  He meant a child by me. And he was right.

  “You’re young.” He patted my hand. “There’s plenty of time for children.”

  Hope. I knew it was foolish, but I clung to it.

  I took the cup from Libanius and tipped the contents down my throat, then leaned down, my dark hair hanging over my breasts as Hecebolus’ eyes slipped under my cloak. “And this means we have plenty of time to enjoy ourselves.”

  He stood and picked me up like that first night at Justin’s banquet. “Make sure we’re not disturbed,” he said to Libanius.

  I smiled at the eunuch, but he didn’t return the gesture.

  …

  I closed the door to my cabin behind me and almost yelped in surprise to see the slave with the wart on his chin leaning against the wall of the narrow hallway.

  He chewed a sliver of wood, then spat at my feet. “You’ve risen high.”

  “Pardon me?”

  “Sleeping with the governor.” His voice was too loud. “That sure beats mounting slaves in the alleys behind the Kynêgion.”