A Flame in Byzantium (Atta Olivia Clemens #1)

A Flame in Byzantium (Atta Olivia Clemens #1) Page 64

Atta Olivia Clemens

PART III

Olivia

Text of a commendation addressed to Narses in Italy.

On the Feast of the Holy Dormition of the Virgin in the Lord's Year 549, the Emperor Justinian sends his greetings and thanks to General Narses, commanding the troops of Byzantion in Italy.

Know that with this commendation we deliver to you and your valiant men an additional two thousand troops, nine hundred horses, five Imperial wallets of gold coins and twelve Imperial wallets of silver in the hope that they will aid you in your campaign against the enemies of our state and religion.

In order to show our thanks more fully, we have given estates to three of your nephews, General Narses, and have increased your estates; our holdings in Adrianopolis are to be given to you in token of our gratitude for your tireless efforts on the part of the Empire.

Without your constant and diligent care, no doubt the lands you guard would have fallen prey to Totila and all the forces who accompany that barbarian. You have turned the tide, and for that you have the praise of the entire Empire, and you will be acknowledged as the savior of Italy. The complaints of those people who have claimed that your troops have been more rapacious than the godless invaders have been revealed as the calumny they are, doubtless the result of agents of the disgraced Belisarius who are attempting to discredit all you have done and give false praise to the former commander. We are instructing you and your men to pay no heed to these carping objections. We wish to see you add victory to victory, and we are confident that your vigorous campaign will serve to restore all of Italy to the Empire.

Your loyalty is held up as an example everywhere and we are ordering a day of public celebration with Masses and prayers as well as feasting in honor of your continuing achievements. We wish that everyone in the Empire join with us in this tribute, and we encourage your troops to show you their appreciation with favors and gifts for the superior command you show them.

May God look upon you with favor and continue to grant you the might and wisdom to restore Italy to our protection. In your valor you have no equal, neither have you any rival in our esteem. We give you every sign of our approval and gratitude.

Justinian

Emperor of Byzantion

1

"Will you let me come in?" asked Drosos when Niklos came to the door. "Will Olivia see me?"

Niklos swung the door wide. "She'd have my skin if I kept you out. Welcome back, Captain." He kept his smile wide, although once Drosos stepped into the light of the vestibule, Niklos was shocked to see him.

"Are you certain?" Drosos asked. He had aged; there were threads of white in his dark hair, and the fretwork of lines around his eyes was much deeper. He was both thinner and softer. His nails were ragged.

"Of course," said Niklos. "Great gods, Captain, you must have a very poor opinion of my mistress if you think she is as feckless as all that."

"I never…" Drosos began seriously, then broke off. "It isn't wise to know me. I am in disgrace."

"Given those in disgrace," Niklos said lightly, "I think it must be excellent company. Come with me. Olivia is in her library." He did not add that in the last month she had removed and hidden over sixty books that were no longer permitted within the walls of Konstantinoupolis. "She will be delighted that you're here." As he spoke he led the way down the hall, indicating a new fresco as they went. "It's almost finished."

"The martyrdom of Saints Adrian; that's Natalia there, with his hand after they burned him." Drosos pointed to the anaemic figure of a young woman with a haloed hand in hers.

"The artist has also done work for the Censor, so Olivia was confident that it was acceptable to hire him for this work. It's not always safe to choose someone who's unknown." He reached the door to the library and paused. "Do you want me to announce you, or would you rather do that yourself?"

Drosos hesitated. "Let me do it. If she's angry, she'll want us to be private."

"She won't be angry," Niklos promised him, his sympathy going out to the Captain.

Drosos shrugged. With a lift of his jaw he dismissed Niklos, but it took him the length of several deep breaths to work up his courage to lift the latch. At last he opened the door, stepped inside and leaned back, closing it.

Olivia was seated at a low table, an ancient scroll rolled open on the narrow table in front of her. She had her long, fawn-colored hair held back with a wide silk ribbon, and she was dressed in Roman palla and stola, both of a soft muted green. As she heard the door close, she called out without turning her head, "What is it, Niklos?"

"It isn't Niklos," Drosos answered, his voice not much more than a whisper. The sight of her was so wonderful it almost hurt him to watch her.

She turned very slowly, her hazel eyes widening as she looked at him. "Drosos." Carefully she rolled the scroll, always looking at him as she did. Then, when this was set aside, she rose, lifting her arms toward him. "Magna Mater, you are come at last!"

Drosos moved slowly, his somber expression giving way to a faint smile as he reached her. Lingeringly he touched her face with the ends of his fingers. "God and the Prophets," he whispered as he gathered her into his arms.

They stood together, hardly moving, saying nothing with words; their bodies spoke with other voices in silent eloquence. When he finally let her go, Drosos said, "Olivia, I…"

"I'm so glad you're back," she said when he could not go on. "I've missed you, Drosos."

"I've missed you. But it isn't wise for you to see me. I shouldn't come here, but I couldn't stay away." He stared down into her eyes. "I tried to stay away."

"Why?" She took his hands in hers. "I would have been more hurt than you can imagine if you had."

"I am not safe to know," he admitted, trying without success to pull his hands away.

"Half of Konstantinoupolis isn't safe to know," she countered. "I've never let that select my friends for me."

He shook his head, refusing to be convinced. "You're already suspect because you're Roman. Letting me come here only serves to make it worse for you."

"If you stayed away, it would not be better. This way, Drosos, my troubled love, neither of us is alone. Being alone and suspect is worse than having friends with you, even if all of you are suspect." She kissed him on the cheek. "I am pleased you are concerned for me, but not if it keeps you away from me."

His eyes flickered, shifting away from hers and moving restlessly. "You ought to tell me to go."

"Why would I do that?" she asked, her face calm though she was growing more concerned as they talked.

He broke away from her. "I did a… a foolish thing. If I'd thought about it, I would have realized that it was stupid to do it, but I assumed that… I had to do something. You see how it was."

"No, I don't. Tell me, Drosos." She went to him, standing behind him and putting her arms around his waist. "Tell me. What is the terrible thing you did? And why is it so terrible."

He bit his lip, shaking his head. "It would only make things worse."

"Drosos, please. You trusted me when you wrote to me. Trust me now." She used nothing to persuade him, no wiles or tricks that he could later blame for what he did. "I want to know because it is hurting you."

Again he resisted. "If I tell you, you might have to tell others, and that would be bad for both of us."

"Drosos, I am a Roman, and as a Roman I swear to you that I will not tell anyone what you reveal to me, no matter what they require of me. You might not believe it, but there was a time when such a vow was binding and any Roman would rest his life on his honor. My family has held to the old ways and you can depend on me to treat your confidences that way. If you still would rather not speak, very well. But believe me when I say that nothing you tell me will pass beyond these walls." She rested her head against his shoulder. "Drosos?"

He broke away from her and dropped into one of the chairs. "When I was about to leave Alexandria, there had been a storm that swept in from the sea. One of my last duties was to survey the damage and make a report about it."

"Is this the thing you—"

He went on as if she had not spoken. "Alexandria is on one of the branches of the Nile. There are many little fingers of the river, and when there is a storm—and the one we had was worse than usual—some of those little fingers get even more divided, and cut up into spits and sandbars. I was out in a good-sized boat, looking over some of these sandbars. Most of them were nothing more than isolated bits of sand." His face was nearly blank, his eyes distant as if he were standing on the deck of the boat at the mouth of the Nile. "But there was one. It had been cut off from the shore. It wasn't large—no more than twice the length of the boat at most, and very narrow, and it was being reclaimed by the water more and more every hour. The water was salty there, taking as much from the sea as from the river. Nothing grew there except a few stands of marsh grass. But on that sandbar there was a cow. Don't ask me how the poor beast had got out there; the storm must have driven it, not that it matters. It was alone on the sandbar. It had been there for at least three days. It was a black-and-white cow with dark horns; I remember it so clearly. She was bawling, but there was almost no voice left, for she was dying of thirst and starvation. She was on her knees, but she kept trying to rise and to get her head out of the water. I have never seen such despair, not in battle, not in plague, not in a slave market. There was nothing for that poor, dumb creature but her suffering. I asked for a bow, so that I could kill her, but no one had anything other than a spear, and the distance was too great to be certain…"