Chelsea Quinn Yarbro - Olivia 1 - A Flame in Byzantium

PART I

Belisarius

Text of a dispatch to Belisarius near Roma.

Hail to the General Belisarius on the feast of the Holy Spirit in the Lord's Year 545.

We have scouted the villages around Roma as you have required us to do and it is agreed that

siege is the intention of Totila. His forces have already attempted it with some success, which has

given these barbarians a taste of success.

Drosos has taken a small party of five men and is currently foraging. The local farmers do not

welcome us, claiming that we are as bad as the Ostrogoth fighters, which has already caused a

few unfortunate events that we were unable to avoid. The foraging is necessary for Totila's men

have reduced the game in the countryside, otherwise we would not be driven to this extremity.

There is a monastery not far from here, and the monks are cenobites, and so are little help to

us. We have not been able to persuade them to provide us more than a shelter from the rain, and

that was granted grudgingly. Some other arrangements are necessary if we are going to be able to

remain in the field for much longer, as we had intended to do. We will await your instructions

before moving on.

Two days ago we encountered an Ostrogoth scouting party of considerable strength and from

what we were able to overhear, they are part of a larger contingent sent to establish themselves

with the peasants so that they will be supported when they strengthen their assault on Roma itself.

We are trying to gain confirmation on this now, but we do not expect to have more information

for some little time since you specifically ordered that we were not to engage these men in

combat, no matter how much we might wish to do so. It was no easy thing to have the enemy

close at hand and to do little more than cower in bushes and listen like slaves at a keyhole.

We pray that God will continue to aid Roma, no matter how she has fallen into evil, and that it

will be given to us to save her from the rapine and pillage of these barbarians. Surely if God can

pardon all sin, He will rescue this whore of a city as He welcomed the harlot Maria into the

company of Heaven.

From the hand of Captain Chrysanthos and carried by the man-at-arms Iakobos, two hours

before sunset.

1

At Neapolis there was chaos as those who could flee Roma came to this port seeking escape. Carts,

wagons, litters, and every beast of burden had been pressed into use for the rout, and reports from

Belisarius' forces indicated that the flood of refugees ran all the way back to the walls of Roma itself.

"What has become of the Romans, that they do this?" Belisarius asked the officer who rode beside

him against the surge of terrified humanity.

Drosos shrugged. "They're frightened. Small wonder."

"Romans were supposed to be made of sterner stuff than this," Belisarius said, a faint regret in his

words. He shielded his eyes against the sun and squinted down the road through the dust.

"Perhaps they were once," said Drosos, dragging on the reins to keep from running into a heavily

laden oxcart.

His horse quivered with dread as the vehicle lumbered by them.

"That beast of yours is as bad as the Romans," said Belisarius, doing his best to make light of the

situation now that he was faced with it. "The Emperor will be disgusted to learn of this. I hope we can

give him a better report of Roma itself once we arrive there."

"Do you still intend to go there?" Drosos asked, sweating with the effort to hold his mount.

"I am ordered to do so. And I confess that I want to see if any of the old Roman virtues still survive in

the people. Surely they can't all be running away, can they?" Belisarius was not a big man, but he sat a

horse like a giant and he carried himself like one of the most noble. There were lines around his eyes and

his mouth was framed by deep creases.

Drosos was a stockier version of his General, and his junior by eight years. He was as steadfast as

Belisarius was forceful and as such was an ideal subordinate and Captain. "What are the plans now?"

"We leave for Roma at first light tomorrow." He said it as calmly as if he had discussed the weather or

the breed of horse he rode.

"Who rides with you?" As always when he asked such questions, Drosos had to fight the urge to hold

his breath as he waited for the answer.

"You, of course, and one or two others; I haven't decided who yet." He indicated a group of monks

in filthy habits. "Even they are leaving. What does that say of their faith and devotion? How can the

Romans claim any right to the favor of God if His servants fly with the rest of the people?"

"Totila has not been kind to monks and priests," Drosos offered, embarrassed for the religious men

whose vocation had shown itself to be so inadequate.

"And the people of Judah chose Barabbas over Our Lord," said Belisarius more sternly, not willing to

excuse the cowardice he saw.

Drosos had no answer for this; he busied himself with his horse and with watching the wretched

parade that wound from the gates of Neapolis to the quays.

At nightfall, when the gates had to be closed, there were many hundreds of people still on the road,

and they made what little they could of this, some banding together to make a more secure camp to

afford some protection from the Ostrogoths as well as from the other Romans. All along the branch of

the Via Latina the way was marked with cooking fires and makeshift tents, and the sounds and odors

crowded together in the air.

A delegation from the city of Neapolis visited Belisarius early in the night. They were exhausted men,

most of them wary and a few angry with what had befallen their home.

"We are thankful to the Emperor for sending his aid," began the oldest, who boasted his family went

back to the time of the ancient Roman Republic.

Belisarius recognized the note of disapproval in the man's tone and he raised his eyes from the report

that had been handed to him only moments before. "Yes? What are your objections?"

"They are not objections, precisely, General," the man said, glancing at his companions uneasily.

"Then what are they?" Belisarius sensed that the visit would be a long one unless he brought the others

to the point as soon as possible.

"Reservations," said the oldest man. "We are concerned, as you must be yourself. There are so many

people leaving Roma and while we are willing to do what we can for them, we haven't the room or the

supplies to care for all of them."

"And what supplies we have are already reduced," added one of the others. "We cannot continue to

give out food and cloth at the rate we have been doing. It isn't possible."

Belisarius looked at the men before him and tried to find a virtue in them that reflected all he had been

told of Roma in her days of glory. He could find nothing but exhaustion and the venality that was the chief

complaint of most of those who dealt with Romans in these days. "What do you propose?" he asked

them patiently.

The youngest scratched his head and flicked away lice. "We need to know what the situation

is—what we really have on hand and how much of it we can spare. We must find out what the farmers

can actually supply us and how safe the crops will be once Totila and his forces arrive."

"Wait," said Belisarius, holding up his hand to halt the stream of words. "There is no indication that

you have to fear Totila will get this far, and I tell you from experience that you cannot anticipate

everything that happens in a campaign."

"We must be prudent," said the oldest. "You may not think that we are putting up the kind of

resistance that you and the Emperor would like, but we have families and businesses and trade to fill our

time, and we're not eager to see our children starve, no matter who rules in Roma or in Constantinople,

and you may tell the Emperor that. It is not treason to want to preserve our lives and the lives of our

families. According to what you and the others say, that is what Justinian wishes to do." He folded his

arms, revealing two long tears in the threadbare silk.

"It is what all of us wish to do," Belisarius said wearily. "Your goals are no different than those of the

Emperor; we work to the same ends."

"That may be," said the youngest, his expression blank with disapproval. "But what can we do to save

our children? Whether the Emperor agrees or not, we must look to our own welfare or see our families

without shelter and food."

"Yes," said the one with the darkest beard.

Belisarius nodded. He had seen hungry children all over Italy. "We will do all that we must to insure

that as few as possible are lost."

"Fine words," scoffed the oldest man. "But it will not feed our children or save our houses." He glared

at Belisarius and did not bother to appear respectful.

"What do you wish me to do, good citizens?" Belisarius inquired, rubbing his aching eyes as he spoke.

"Tell me."

This was what they had been waiting for; the youngest took a step closer and said, "We want to keep

the gates closed in the morning so that we can take time to find out how much there truly is in the city.

We need to discover how much food is left, where there is room for more people to be housed, where

there can be more animals stalled and fed, how much water is left, what clothing is available—"

The one with the darkest beard interrupted him. "There are also slaves and servants to deal with.

Most of those coming from Roma are not wealthy, but they are bringing their goods and chattels with

them, and all must be considered if we are going to be able to plan for any of them."

"And," the oldest went on with a nod to the others, "there are those who need to find out what has

been taken, what is missing, and where the thieves are taking their booty. The price of certain foods has

already more than doubled, and I have spoken with the Guard Tribune who has said that they cannot

stem the tide. With so many fleeing, all a thief has to say is that he bought an item from one of the

Romans on the road; unless there is good reason to doubt him, no one will question such a statement.

For one thing, no one has the time to carry on an investigation, and for another the Guard has more to do

than inspect baggage for contraband and loot."

A fourth man, very lean and wearing the most elaborate palmata wound over his tunica, spoke at last.

"There are slaves escaping, too. Some have killed their owners and taken treasure, confident that all they

need do is remove their collars to be free of their state and the consequences of their acts."

Absentmindedly Belisarius fingered the metal torque around his neck that indicated his rank,

thinking—and not for the first time—that it was oddly appropriate that his rank and a slave's should be

indicated by a collar. That his was studded with amber did not alter its impact for him. "Most slaves are

branded, aren't they? They can be rid of the collars, but not of the brands." Under his bracchae his legs

were scarred, a General's brand, he told himself.

"But the brands are on the thigh or upper arm. It would mean another inspection," pointed out the

oldest. "I believe Lepidius is correct, that there are slaves taking advantage of this troubled time to flee,

but there are others, certainly there are others legitimately seeking their owners and trying to conduct

themselves according to the laws of God and man."

"It isn't practical to inspect every person coming through the city's gates," allowed the one monk in the

group.

"It isn't practical to permit the kind of influx we have, but no one is concerned about that," said the

one called Lepidius.

"What would be the point?" asked Belisarius. "The problem is already upon us, and there is nothing to

change that. No one can ignore it, and for that reason, we must deal with it." He stretched out his legs

and crossed them at the ankles, feeling the leather rub against his skin. Years ago he would have found

blisters when his boots were removed, but now there were calluses on his hands and feet that prevented

this. "Let me say that it would not be wise to close the city tomorrow, no matter how sensible the plan

may appear to you."

"Why not?" demanded the youngest man. "Are you unwilling to spare the men to aid us?" His face

darkened with the accusation.

"No," said Belisarius, although this was not completely true. "No, I am thinking of what would happen

when you opened the gates once more. There would be a riot at the least, for there are those outside the

gates more desperate than you. They are without homes and they are hungry. Most of them would not

hesitate to seize anything they needed from what they can find here, and the longer they are denied, the

more forceful they will be when the chance is afforded them."

"And you think that troops would not deter them?" asked the one with the darkest beard.

"I think that an army would not deter them," said Belisarius. "They have nothing to lose. You have

much at risk. Therefore they will do more than you to get what they need. What is the threat of a lance if

you have not eaten for two days? At most it ends your hunger, at least it—"

"We will close and bar our houses," the youngest assured the General.

"That will give protection of a kind for a while, until someone breaks down the door, and then there

will be worse carnage than there might have been at first," Belisarius said. "I have seen this before, and I

will see it again many times before I die, if God grants me life."

"Does that mean you will do nothing?"

"Lepidius," said Belisarius, grateful that he had one name he could use for this delegation. "Listen to

me. Most of those who are on the road outside the gates have left all they had behind. They are tired,

they are hungry and they are filled with dread for tomorrow. You cannot change that. They will not stop,

they will not go away no matter how much you wish they would, and they will not listen to you should

you plead with them to spare you. No matter how sensible, how reasonable your requests may be, they

will mean nothing to a man who has lost his fortune and his family. Do you understand that?"

"But you are here with armed men. You can bring your army here to supervise the departure of the

Romans. They are rabble, nothing more." The monk had a deep, stern voice and he used it now to good

effect; the others nodded their support.

"Armed men, you say? Not prayers?" Belisarius made no effort to keep the irony out of his voice.

"You are a man of God, your robes proclaim your calling, and yet you come to ask for an army to assist

you."

"God favors those who are willing to act," said the monk. "God demands our faith in Him and our use

of the reason He gave us through our First Parents in Eden."

The one with the darkest beard was the first to endorse the monk.. "Listen to him, man. You think

that you are aiding us, and yet we are facing the ruin of the city. This man—a man of God, as you

say—has told us what must be done if we are to be spared, and he reminds us that

God is not bought with empty prayers, but by firm action, showing the determination of our faith in

Him."

"Of course," Belisarius said. "And those outside the gates are convinced that God will approve the

stealing of food to save the lives of children, or the killing of another man in order to get passage on a

ship to Constantinople." He got slowly to his feet. "I cannot spare the troops to do as you wish.

Tomorrow I ride to Roma myself, to find out how severe the trouble is, how many have fled and what

defenses remain there."

The oldest man crossed his arms and looked outraged. "How can you do this?" he demanded.

"I have more responsibilities than this place alone," said the General with less accommodation than he

had shown before. "The Emperor has entrusted all of Italy to my care, and expects that I will do all that I

can to save all of it from the invasion of Totila. I must answer to Justinian and God, as you answer to

your city and your families. Therefore, much as I would want to spare your city or any city misfortune, I

must do as I am commanded. I leave for Roma in the morning. Those of my men I leave behind are

mandated to do what they can to aid in the transport of Romans to safe ports, and that much they will do.

Beyond that, you must look to your own resources. I will fail my mandate if I permit your concerns to

override all that has been entrusted to me."

The monk raised his hand, making a gesture against the evil eye. "You are a tool of the forces of Hell,

not of the Emperor."

Belisarius had been cursed by those more expert than this man, but he still disliked the feelings it

awakened in him. "I am no one's tool, good monk. I am the Emperor's General in Italy and will remain so

for as long as he honors me with the position."

"You will fall," said the monk with deep satisfaction.

"That is for God and Justinian to determine," said Belisarius with a faint smile. "I will authorize two of

my Captains to do what they can to aid in controlling the people coming through the city, and if you wish,

I will give them permission to deal with any disruptions in the most direct way possible." He saw the faint

approval in the men's eyes and went on to warn them. "Take care. You have had near-riots here for the

last several days, and now there is no doubt that these Romans will need all the aid they can get or take.

If you are too stringent with them, you may lose all that you seek to preserve through your rules and

limitations."

The monk lowered his eyes. "We submit to the will of God."

"Once you have troops to protect you," said Belisarius.

"And you, proud man, you are fast coming to a time when all your might and all your battles and all

your honor will avail you nothing." The monk glowered at the General. "The Emperor listens to other

voices than yours. Never forget that."

"He listens to his wife after God," said Belisarius, not adding that Theodora was a close friend of his

Antonina; as long as the two women were close friends, Belisarius knew that his position was secure.

"If a man is led by a woman, he makes his own fall, as did Adam," said the man with the darkest

beard. "It is known that these women have given themselves more to the service of Satan than of God."

"Do not let the Emperor hear you say such things," suggested Belisarius. "He says that the words of a

virtuous woman are more worthy than the preaching of fools. He has gained much from his wise

Empress."

It was apparent that none of the men believed this, and Belisarius was too tired to pursue the matter

any further. The tallest of the delegation, a man who had remained stubbornly silent, finally said, "How

many troops will you leave here, General?"

"I can leave no more than two hundred foot soldiers and fifty cavalry. The rest must follow me to

Roma before midday," he said, welcoming this apparent understanding from one of the men of Neapolis.

"I will be certain that the instructions are clear to these troops. You may choose one of your number to

work with the men I leave behind, and that will in turn give you the opportunity to arrange the defenses

you have in whatever way most suits your purposes."

"These troops—are they the best you can provide?" asked the youngest man.

"If you mean, will I leave the exhausted and the wounded behind to guard you and take with me those

soldiers who are in better condition and more fully equipped, then the answer must be no, for those who

are wounded are not required to fight in any sense and are with our ships in the east." He sighed. "I will

be at pains to find you a Tribune you can trust to do all that you require of the soldiers without spreading

them too thin or putting them at a serious disadvantage. Let me point out one thing to you, and you may

then do what you wish: the soldiers can create a corridor from gate to dockside, and can keep most of

the people from spilling over into your city, if you will permit them to act in that way. It would be the best

use of the men you have and it would limit the amount of damage you are apt to sustain during the time

the Romans are in Neapolis."

"Are those your orders?" asked the oldest suspiciously.

"No, those are my observations. You are free to do as you wish with the men so long as your orders

do not contradict those of the Emperor." He stretched. "It has been more than a full day since I slept,

good citizens. Perhaps you will be content to leave this for another time?"

"How can we leave this, when you will be gone tomorrow?" asked the one with the darkest beard.

"There will be other men here. Most of my officers are experienced and will do what they can to

make this a worthwhile time for all of you." He moved away from the narrow table. "I will instruct them to

guard the city from abuse. If you will let them do the work they are trained to do, everyone will benefit,

even the unfortunates from Roma."

"And you will not have to answer for anything that goes wrong. You will be able to say that if there

are problems, if there are those who are injured or in other ways harmed, that it was our actions, not

yours, that brought this about. We have heard about the manner in which you of Constantinople conduct

your affairs."

"Lepidius," said Belisarius, "even if everything you say is true, and everything you believe is true and

everything you deplore is true, nonetheless, Justinian is the Emperor and what he orders and demands is

his by right of his rule. If you question that, you question the order of the world and the word of Heaven."

He reached for a small mallet and struck a small, flat bell with it. "You will be fed while you are here, if

you wish. My slaves will see to it."

"And you?" asked the monk, clearly not satisfied with the hospitality Belisarius offered.

"I will be attending to my duties with my officers so that they will be prepared to act for you

tomorrow." He gestured to the slave who came through the door. "These men are to be given every

courtesy a guest can expect. Is Chrysanthos here, or has he already gone to his men?"

"He is still here, Master," said the slave in Egyptian-accented Greek.

"Then let him dine with these citizens," said Belisarius in Greek.

"Does this man speak Latin?" the youngest member of the delegation wanted to know.

"Yes, that is why I thought of him. You will be able to understand one another. I have three other

officers who are fluent in Latin as well as Greek, and they are most in demand of the men I command in

Italy." Belisarius indicated the slave. "If you follow him, he will see that you are escorted to Chrysanthos."

Most of the men were willing to depart, but the one with the darkest beard was inclined to linger, to

press for more advantages than they had secured already. "I wish your assurance that if there is any

trouble, you will be willing to send your troops to quell any uprising that we may have to deal with."

"You'll have to arrange that with Chrysanthos; I will abide by the terms you make with him," said

Belisarius.

The other men did what they could to get their companion to leave with them, speaking a few words

in low voices urging him to come with them to this new officer.

"If we are not satisfied, you will learn of it," said the oldest delegate as he left the room.

"I'm certain of that," said Belisarius, watching the door even when it was empty, as if aware of a

lingering presence like an odor or the echo of a scream.

Text of a letter to Vigilius, Bishop of Roma and Pope of the Church.

On the anniversary of the election of Your Holiness to the See of Santo Pietrus, the Priest

Formosus of Ostia sends this report with the deepest faith and reverence.

It has pleased Your Holiness to learn of the current state of the Church in her parent city of

Roma, and it has fallen to this most unhappy of men to inform Your Holiness that the great devil

and pagan Totila has made progress with his forces against this most venerable of all cities. It is

his intent to tear the whole place down, or so he swears on his blasphemous gods. To this end, he

has been harrying the merchants on the roads, stopping farmers bringing produce to the city, and

attempting to cut the aqueducts that bring water to the people of Roma. All this has been seen and

heard by many and is not the result of mere rumors and fears that are current with many of those

still living within the walls of the city.

It is of particular note that those who should be most stalwart in their duty—the religious of

Roma—have fled in great numbers, and it would astonish me to find more than two hundred

priests and monks in Roma to minister to the thousands of unfortunates who have remained

faithful to their God and Roma.

While there are many who look to the Byzantines to succor us before Totila can break through

our defenses, Your Holiness must understand that it is only through their efforts that any

semblance of defense has been maintained at the present, and it would not be unreasonable to

prepare for worse to come, for although the great Belisarius brings his men to our aid, the force is

smaller than the one that the Emperor of Constantinople promised to provide, and they are not as

well-equipped as they had been represented to be. No one wishes to think of the ruin of this

greatest of cities, but there can be little doubt that no matter how vigilant we are, there are many

here who will suffer, and the city will not be spared entirely.

I do not wish to make it appear that I am entirely without hope, for that would be a greater sin

than the one the pagans intend to commit here. Yet I would be lax in my duty to you as a priest if I

did not say it would be prudent to prepare for the worst, so that such things as sacred relics and

objects of veneration may be hidden or otherwise protected from the possible ravages of the

Ostrogothic warriors who are bent on destroying the city before the height of summer.

Your Holiness would do well to fortify Monte Casino against the barbarians, and to make an

official request of Belisarius to give you and your company the protection that was assured you by

the Emperor Justinian more than three years ago. If the Church is to survive, it must have the aid

and assistance of all who are devoted to Our Lord and His Church. Whether they are of

Byzantium or of Roma, surely there can be no argument that the fate of Christianity is in the

hands of those willing to take up the cause of Our Lord in the face of those who are determined to

bring the Church and her city to their knees.

What draws the pagans are the earthly treasures which have been stored up out of piety and

devotion. But these are not the true riches of the Church, and while the pagans seek only silver

and gold, they assault far more than walls to obtain it. If we fail to defend the outward gifts of the

Church, it is only too likely that we will also fail to defend the spiritual ramparts as well. I pray

every hour that none of this will come to pass, but while I pray, I seek out men of experience to

aid in the earthly battle, and I admonish all I see to offer up their orisons to God and the Mother

Maria for the salvation of our city and our souls.

In all humility and faith, and with unswerving dedication to Your Holiness and our Church, I

sign myself your most lowly Brother in Christ,

Formosus

Priest from Ostia

currently with the Curia in Roma

By late afternoon the first contingent of soldiers arrived, making camp around the old villa in fields and

orchards that were just coming into blossom. For novelty the old baths were fired up and many of the

men boisterously used them, marveling at the depravity of the old Romans with their passion for bathing.

"What do you think?" Niklos Aulirios asked his owner as he stared out the windows at the camp that

had grown up around them.

From her writing desk, Olivia Clemens did not answer at first; she was putting the last touches on a

writ of manumission for two more slaves. Only when she had affixed both her signature and her seal did

she answer. "What do I think about what?"

"These Byzantines," her Greek majordomo replied. "I'm not sure they're better than the Ostrogoths."

"They are better because they don't intend to raze the city," she pointed out, rising and coming to join

him at the window.

"But look at them. And you know what they have done to half the countryside. I realize that an army

must eat, and that soldiers might not have the manners of saints, but that doesn't excuse the raiding and

looting they've done." He had folded his arms and was looking more stubborn than usual.

"I'm not going to argue with you," said Olivia, faintly amused by his conduct. "But this is not the first

trouble we've seen, is it?"

"No," he admitted grudgingly.

"And with a little good fortune, it will not be the last." She continued to stare into the pallid afternoon.

The light, softened by a faint haze rising from the Tibros, was kind to her face, making her appear

younger than her years. Her soft, fawn-brown hair was braided and wrapped in the current fashion for

widows, and she wore a paenula of wool embroidered with silk and gold thread that showed her wealth

more than her manner.

"You have a strange way of thinking, my mistress," Niklos said, beginning to smile in spite of his own

foreboding.

"It comes with the years, my friend," she said, and shook off her slight melancholy. "I want you to

make sure that copies of these writs are in the hands of the monks by morning. That way, no matter what

happens here, the slaves will be free and they can make lives for themselves. You'd better take the grants

with you to the monks as well."

Niklos laughed cynically. "You're not seriously asking me to put money in the hands of a servant of

God and expect it to go anywhere but into Church coffers, are you?"

"You may be right in that, Niklos," she sighed. "All right; I'll find a way to make sure each gets the

money they've been promised, and the copies of the writs will be safe. Take one or two of the gold cups

with you to make sure the good monks continue to care for the records we entrust to them. I'm not quite

as trusting as you often fear I am."

"And what else?" Niklos ventured. "You have most of your belongings crated and packed and ready

to be moved. Does that trouble you?"

"Of course it troubles me. Roma is my home. I drew my first breath here, within sight of the Tibros. It

is part of me and I am part of it." Her expression was slightly distant as she delved her memory for the

events of her long life.

"We can still arrange for you to stay in Italy," suggested Niklos. "You don't have to go as far away as

Constantinople."

"Almost all those who can afford to leave have done so already and if I remain much longer, I will be

exposed to more risks than the mere clash of Byzantines and Ostrogoths. So long as I must live with

lions, I might as well find myself a good place in their dens." She laughed suddenly. "How unendurable! I

sound worse than one of those Epicureans who ape the manner of their teacher without the least

understanding of what he said."

"You don't want to go, do you?" Niklos persisted.

"No, if it were possible to remain in safety. But since it is not, then I'm… resigned. I will go to

Constantinople, to the house that Belisarius has arranged for me, and when the army is at home, I will

entertain this Drosos and do my best to be as inconspicuous as possible." She held out the parchment

sheets to Niklos once again. "Please, Niklos, take these to the monks and bring me the sigil of the abbot,

or whatever superior they have now, so that I can give proof of the transaction. We can squabble later,

when we're safe."

"As you wish, my mistress," Niklos said, making a reverence to her that just missed being insulting.

He took the parchments and strode to the door. "I'll send Kosmos to guard you while I'm gone. I don't

trust those soldiers to be respectful."

Olivia chuckled. "No more do I, but they're likely to look for female slaves rather than the owner of

the villa who is also known to be the hostess of their General."

"You put more store in that than I do," Niklos warned as he started across the smaller of the two atria

of the villa.

It was not long before Kosmos appeared in the door, his manner as humble as his body was

formidable. He lowered his head and kept his eyes averted. "Niklos sent me, great lady," he said softly.

"He said he would," Olivia agreed.

"And the General Belisarius has returned. His horse has just been taken to the stables." For Kosmos

this was a long speech, and as he concluded it, he appeared to be slightly out of breath.

Olivia gave Kosmos her full attention at this. "General Belisarius. Only he?"

"There are officers with him," said Kosmos.

"I will see them shortly, in the main reception chamber. Have flowers brought there, and send Hogni

and… oh, I guess it had better be Hogni and Beltzin, to wait on them. They will want to have wine and

meat as well as washing basins." To Olivia, this seemed woefully inadequate, for when she was young,

nothing less than a full bath—calidarium, tepidarium, frigidarium—and a massage with costly oils followed

by a nine-course banquet would be considered a proper welcome for so august a man as Belisarius.

"Very good, great lady. But you will be left alone, and that is what Niklos required I not allow to

happen." Again he was sounding breathless.

"I give you my word that I will manage, and that I will be able to fend for myself. Besides, I must do

something about my clothes or I will be more improper than they are." She went briskly toward the side

door. "I am going now to my private quarters, and if you will see that Fisera joins me there, that will

ensure I am not alone and you will be able to complete the commission I have given you." As she

watched him go, she wondered if she had made a mistake in freeing him. Kosmos was not used to living

on his own, and in these troubled times, she feared he would become prey to the first scoundrel who

came across him.

She stopped these ponderings as she reached the door of her private suite of rooms. Always when

she stepped through the door, she felt herself on the brink of the past. It pleased her to indulge in a sense

of nostalgia; this afternoon she had to admit that there was a pang of something more. She stared at the

frescoes on the wall, at the furniture and the ornaments she had gathered together here, and knew that as

many of them as she took with her to Constantinople, it would not be the same, and that she would not

find them as appropriate, as comforting as they were here, where they belonged. They were Roman; so

was she. Here she was on her native earth and there she would be a stranger. Nothing would alter that,

and she knew she would have to reconcile herself to it.

There was a gentle rap on the door on the far side of the room and this brought Olivia out of her

reverie. "Yes?"

"It is Fisera, mistress," said the slave.

"Enter, Fisera," she said, speaking more briskly and moving with renewed vitality. This was not the

time to be distracted, she reminded herself as she admitted the slave. There was too much to do.

Fisera had brought two long pallia with her, one of a rich deep-rose color embroidered all over with

golden medallions, the other a strange shade that was almost not any color—a shadow tone between

gray and tan and green—ornamented with dark brown silken embroidery and with accents picked out in

seed pearls. She stopped, staring at Olivia. "Oh, mistress," she said in a faltering way.

"Tomorrow I am no longer your mistress, Fisera, and you do not need to call me your mistress any

longer." She gave her a heartening smile. "Come, Fisera, don't be troubled. There is no reason for me to

doubt your devotion, whether you wear a collar or not."

"You have been most kind to me, mistress," said Fisera with genuine feeling.

Chelsea Quinn Yarbro - Olivia 1 - A Flame in Byzantium

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