“You can’t keep banishing leaders of the religious opposition from the capital,” I said, the words coming fast. “They only breed dissent in the footsteps left behind.”
A shut mouth gathers no foot. Why did I never remember my mother’s advice until it was too late?
Justinian stared at me as if I’d sprouted fins, then shook his head and rose from his couch. I waited for his order for Narses or someone armed with a freshly sharpened sword to mete out my punishment. Instead, he smiled, so slightly I might have imagined it. “You are a unique woman, Theodora.”
“I’ll take that as a compliment.”
He chuckled, a deep, throaty sound. “I have more guests arriving at any moment, but I’d be pleased if you’d stay.” He paused, then called over his shoulder, “As my guest.”
I stood in the shadows as Justinian welcomed several well-dressed men into the triclinium, observing as he spoke to each of them as if greeting a long-lost friend. He gave a hearty laugh and clapped a handsome young man on the back, eliciting a low rumble of laughter from all his guests. Even surrounded by other men—presumably powerful ones—Justinian dominated the room with his sheer energy.
He arranged himself on his couch once again and gestured to its foot for me to sit. I perched on the edge and surveyed the ring of men as a slave offered a bronze bowl of rose water for them to dip their fingers.
They all inclined their heads in turn as Justinian made the introductions. General Belisarius wore a full beard and a general’s silver belt, but he appeared to be no older than me; recently returned from his victory at Daras, he was acknowledged as one of the Empire’s rising stars. His second-in-command, General Sittas—the one Justinian had laughed with—seemed even younger, with his smooth skin and soft lips. Justinian’s legal counselor, Tribonium, wore fingers black with ink, and Peter of Thessalonica seemed a thin and quiet diplomat. Narses had joined us as well, although he remained standing. The last man recognized me before I did him. “Gods!” He clutched his heart. “Can it truly be? Theodora has returned at last to the Queen of Cities?”
John of Cappadocia. His dimpled chin was hidden under a dark beard, but otherwise he looked exactly the same. How different my life might be if I’d chosen him instead of Hecebolus at Justin’s dinner party.
“Hello, John.” I let him kiss my palm and press it to his cheek before he settled onto the lectus next to me.
“How long has Justinian had you hidden away here?”
The rest of the men had started to talk politics, but Justinian’s eyes flicked occasionally in our direction. I had the feeling the man missed nothing.
“I’ve become newly acquainted with the consul tonight.”
“Watch out for him.” John leaned forward to whisper in my ear but caressed my knee instead. “He’s a sneaky devil.”
I turned my attention—and my knee—toward the rest of the conversation. “We were discussing Germanus,” Justinian told me. His foot twitched.
“The Emperor’s other nephew?” I knew little of Germanus other than his position as a potential heir.
John cracked open an oyster. “Germanus is a nonentity.”
“We would prefer to avoid another debacle like we had last time the throne was vacated,” Belisarius said. “We all agree Constantinople is for Justinian’s succession. He’s the obvious choice.”
Tribonium took a dainty bite of partridge. “And we’re not suggesting Justinian should take his uncle’s place by anything other than natural means.”
Their discussion was only borderline treason then.
“But we’re unsure how the provinces feel,” Peter said.
“Theodora is well traveled.” Justinian scooped the seeds from a pomegranate with a tiny gold spoon too delicate for his large hands. “She’s recently returned from Alexandria and a tour of Anatolia. I think only John here is as well-traveled as she.”
That explained why Justinian had kept me around tonight. This was my chance to prove myself. “The people of the Empire couldn’t care less about power struggles in the capital. They want only three things.” I ticked them off on my fingers. “Food. Safety from invasion. And the freedom to worship the god they choose. Guarantee them those and they’ll sing your praises to the Second Coming.”
Narses spoke from the shadows. “A succinct evaluation.”
Peter’s thick brows knit together. “I don’t believe your traipsing through the frontiers makes you an expert on religious or economic policy.”
I shrugged. “How often have you traveled outside Anatolia?”
John chortled. “She’s got you there, Peter.”
Peter’s ears flushed, and Justinian smiled into his wine.
“The first is easy,” Justinian said. “The grain ships from Egypt are steady as the Nile itself. Belisarius is working on the second. It’s the last that might prove difficult.”
I snorted. “If a farmer wants to damn his soul to Gehenna, that’s his choice. What does it matter to you if a man worships Zeus, or Yahweh, or Jesus? Or the Zoroastrian fire cult even, so long as he pays his taxes?”
The men looked at me in a sort of awed stupor, John with a morsel of partridge stopped halfway to his open mouth. Only Justinian continued to eat. He raised his cup to me, his expression indecipherable. “Something to think about.”
The rest of the evening passed over a discussion of Justinian’s planned legal reforms. I took Macedonia’s advice and listened to the men, absorbing everything I could from them. Justinian planned to compile a codex of imperial edicts to streamline the Empire’s centuries of convoluted laws, many of which contradicted one another. The city’s new consul was nothing if not ambitious.
The night wore on until enough yawns prompted Justinian to stand, a sign of dismissal. The men all stood, oyster shells and partridge bones crunching underfoot, but I took Justinian’s place, the fabric of his couch warm from his body. If he ordered me out, I’d be humiliated, but if not—
There were a few raised eyebrows, but the men all nodded in my direction before Justinian accompanied them to the atrium. Perhaps this was common behavior for Justinian. Yet I recalled Macedonia’s comment and the women talking outside his palace. I’d heard no stories of mistresses, no gossip of illegitimate children hidden in villages across the Empire. Perhaps our future Emperor did follow in the footsteps of so many Emperors before him, preferring pretty boys and soldiers like General Sittas in his bed.
Justinian’s voice carried as he bid farewell to his guests. This was my chance, but it was a huge gamble. My mouth went dry, and I suddenly wished I hadn’t eaten so much.
I was still draped across Justinian’s couch when he returned, two goblets of wine in hand. That was a good sign. He offered me one, his monogram impressed into the silver.
“Interesting company you keep,” I said, raising the goblet to the empty seats.
Justinian sat across from me, his legs stretched out and arms reclined against the top of the couch. He sipped his wine. “Yourself included.”
“Most especially.”
He chuckled.
I moved my feet so our toes almost touched. “You need me. Those men are smart, but they don’t know your Empire the way I do.”
Slaves doffed the torches in the garden and disappeared while I waited for Justinian to answer. I found it difficult to believe the future Emperor was ever truly unattended, but it appeared we were alone amongst the perfume of potted rosebushes.
“What do you propose?”
“I find out what you need to know from places you can’t get to. Make your life easier.”
“Somehow I doubt you’ve ever made anyone’s life easier, Theodora.” He gave a low laugh and stood. “But I will think on your offer.”
I’d bargained in the market enough to recognize his refusal. “Thank you for a most interesting evening.” I caught a trace of his scent of mint and parchment, no hint of foreign perfume.
“Narses has ordered a sedan for you,” he said. “May God keep you, Th
eodora.”
I expected cold dismissal in his eyes, and so was surprised to find their warm depths smiling at me. Laughing, actually.
I bowed my head, feeling my cheeks flame with humiliation. “And may God keep you, Consul.”
I stomped past the sedan at the entrance, refusing to accept charity from the man who’d just rejected me, and took what was certainly my last look at the interior of the palace. My skin prickled at Narses’ gaze as I stalked down the dark path, trying to tuck myself into my paludamentum to ward off the shivering that had nothing to do with the evening chill.
I’d made a fool of myself, thinking Justinian would ask me to spy for him. I had nothing to offer a man like him.
My heart almost jumped out of my chest as a low voice rumbled behind the massive lion statues. “You are a dreadful woman.”
John the Cappadocian straddled the farthest marble lion, a clutch of lavender crocus in his fist. A few still had roots clinging to bits of dark earth. He jumped down in one swift movement and offered the flowers to me with a crooked grin. “I’ve waited for you all my life.”
I gave him a weak smile. “Somehow I doubt that.”
“I think you enjoy toying with my heart. I was beside myself with the thought that Justinian might have snared you tonight. Or perhaps the other way around.” He leaned forward like a gossiping fishwife, but I didn’t react. “I have a better proposal for you.”
“And what might that be?”
“Take up with me.”
I pretended to sniff the blossoms. John was a little rough around the edges—Cappadocians were widely known as backwater rustics—but he seemed a good sort, at least easy on the eyes, even if a little soft around the middle. I had no wish to hurt him, or humiliate him as I’d just been.
“That part of my life is behind me, John.”
He sighed. “It’s never too late for love. I shall simply endeavor to change your mind.” I noticed a second sedan waiting as he offered me his hand. “But for tonight at least let me take you home. The streets can be wicked at this hour.”
“I can walk. Truly—”
He held up a hand. “No arguing. I won’t have it on my conscience if you were attacked in some dark alley.” He gave a mischievous smile. “Or tripped and fell into a puddle.”
I smiled. It was a bit of a walk and I was exhausted. “All right.”
“That’s a girl.” He handed me into the sedan and closed the door behind him. I settled onto the cushion, glad for the single seats facing each other.
I spared a last glance at the Palace of Hormisdas as we passed the palace gate. If I’d blinked, I’d have missed the dark outline of a man in the shadows. He ducked back into the warm light of Justinian’s atrium, too quick for me to make out who it was.
I wanted to spy for the consul but couldn’t even tell when I was being watched.
Justinian was right to dismiss me.
Chapter 17
W eeks passed.
John the Cappadocian sent a steady stream of notes extolling my beauty and stealing randy verses from Catallus that managed to make even me blush. I never replied but used the back of each to help Tasia sketch her letters, then let her crumple them into balls to kick back and forth with John. Several of the Cappadocian’s messages were accompanied with jewelry—one offering a pair of tiny gleaming ruby earrings. Closer inspection showed the stones weren’t really rubies but garnets. Perhaps the Cappadocian’s finances hadn’t changed much in the past three years.
Despite his pitiful attempts to court me, I felt my resistance chip away and wore my knees out praying to the Virgin for guidance. I wanted to keep the life I’d promised myself; yet my children were more important than any ideals I set for myself. My pitiful wage from the wool house would see us through with food on the table and a roof over our heads, but not much else. Tasia was almost old enough to start school, but the idea of a tutor was as likely as dining on suckling kid and wild gazelle each night. She would be lucky to attend the patriarchate’s charity school when the leaves unfurled.
The Cappadocian started to look like a better alternative with each passing day.
I bundled the children off with Antonina’s blond slave one morning, their noses pink and drippy from the cold. The little apartment was silent as I wrapped a wool scarf around my head and blew out the oil lamp, the room saved from black only by the murky light of a cloudy dawn. The brazier was cold since we shivered through the mornings to save on wood. Things would be easier come spring.
My hand was almost on the door when someone knocked. “I’m in a hurry today—”
I started to lambaste yet another of John the Cappadocian’s slaves, but my mouth ceased to work. Justinian, dressed in plain brown wool, stood at my door, his breath curling like fog above him. “Hello, Theodora.”
I think I managed to choke out a greeting.
“May I come in?”
Into my dark little hovel with no heat? “Of course, my lord.”
“Please,” he said. “Call me Justinian.”
Thank God I had already emptied the night buckets out the window. I rubbed my trembling hands and warmed them with my breath. The oil in the lamp was still warm, but it took several tries to light before it sputtered unwillingly to life.
“How did you find me here?” I crossed my arms in front of me to stifle a shiver.
“Narses.” His eyes swept over the shabby room. “You were on your way out?”
“To the wool house.”
“May I?” He gestured to one of the chairs, fortunately not the shaky one with a leg shorter than the rest. The man wasn’t huge, but he filled the room. “Do you enjoy spinning?”
“Not at all.”
A smile flickered over his face—perhaps a trick of the light. “I won’t take much of your time. I need to know people’s reaction to the new tax collection in the city.”
Probably best not to mention I knew nothing about the topic.
Justinian leaned forward, elbows on his knees. “The system is one I intend to implement across the Empire to increase revenues. The rates remain the same, but the taxes will be collected more efficiently.”
“Resulting in more money for the Treasury.”
“Precisely.”
“From what I’ve seen, you’re going to need all the money you can get.”
He arched an eyebrow in my direction.
“Your consular games probably cost more than Anastasius and Justin ever spent in their entire reigns combined.”
Justinian shrugged. “Octavian knew what he was doing with free bread, beer, and circuses. My uncle is a wise man, but he doesn’t dream big. I do. And I need the people on my side if I’m to accomplish what I wish during my own reign.”
“When will you need the information?”
“Within a week.”
“Done.” It wasn’t spying on senators or prefects, but it was a start.
“Good. As you said, you can get honest answers from people I cannot.” He stood to go. “Oh, and keep John out of this.”
For a moment I thought he meant my son. “John?”
Justinian’s eyes lost their warmth. I pitied the poor soul that fell on the wrong side of this man’s temper. “The Cappadocian is in charge of the tax reforms. I believe you and he are well acquainted.”
A hesitant knock stopped my response. “Someone from your entourage?” I asked.
I opened the door to see Tasia’s bright hazel eyes, her cheeks round apples of pink. She peered behind me and bit her lip. “I heard voices, Mama.”
So much for keeping my life secret.
I nudged her into the room, my hands on the frail wings of her shoulder blades. “Tasia, this is Consul Justinian. Justinian, this is Tasia.” His name felt foreign on my tongue.
Tasia stared at the floor. “I am honored to meet you.”
“Consul,” I whispered.
“Consul,” she repeated.
Justinian crouched before her. His eyes had warmed again, and lines cri
nkled at their edges. “And I am honored to meet you as well, Tasia.”
I kissed her cheek. “Did you forget something, sweeting?”
She pointed to our pallet with its rumpled green blanket. “My doll. And Augustus Caesar. Auntie Nina said we’d have a party with them today.”
“Go fetch them.”
She returned with Anastasia’s one-eyed doll and a brown wool sock with hog hair whiskers and two mismatched button eyes.
“That’s a handsome cat you’ve got,” Justinian said. I had no idea how he’d identified the brown lump as an animal, much less a cat. “Is he a good mouser?”
She looked at her cat, to me, and then to Justinian. “He’s the best mouser ever.”
“I’d expect so with a name like Augustus Caesar.”
I gave her braid a little tug. “Tell Auntie Nina I may be a bit late today.”
“Yes, Mama.” She trundled down the stairwell, singing a song to Augustus Caesar. The day was growing stronger now, watery sun trying to nudge its way out of the clouds. I was terribly late. Justinian’s sedan waited on the street—at least I assumed it was his, despite the lack of imperial insignia.
I felt him behind me. “I didn’t realize you had a daughter.”
“She’s the reason I came back to Constantinople.” I wished I hadn’t said the words as soon as they were out of my mouth. It would be best if this man knew as little about me as possible.
“A good reason. Do you have any other children?”
“A son.”
Something akin to dismay passed over Justinian’s face, and the next words jumped unbidden from my lips. “But he died.”
I don’t know why I lied. Perhaps it was the urge to keep my life secret, or maybe I didn’t want to disappoint Justinian. He stared at me for a moment, but then his expression relaxed and he crossed himself. “I’m sorry.”
I stared at the frayed weft of the table weaving, wondering what was wrong with me. What kind of mother lied about the death of her child?
Justinian cleared his throat. “My sedan can take you to the wool house if you’d like.”
That would set tongues wagging for at least a month.
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