'In the brass?' the other slave inquired, clearly not believing him.
'Yes; it was the custom during the time of the Caesars to mark valuable property in this way. My mistress comes from an old family and has kept to the traditions.' He stepped back and noticed that a small crowd had gathered around the stall. 'I do not accuse your master or even this Captain Ghornan of anything. I am willing to believe that everyone involved is acting in good faith except the actual culprit who took the goods from the villa, but I do not think that the chests wandered out on their own or that they were sold entirely by accident.' He addressed the slave who had finally finished eating his berries. 'I will have to tell my mistress about this, and she, I know, will want to tell the authorities.'
The slave glared at Niklos. 'You are a foolish man,' he warned. 'This is not Roma, and here we do not accept the word of a slave, or a woman, for that matter. Here we demand more proof and greater authority.'
Niklos decided he would not tell Olivia about this remark; she would be irritated enough as it was and this animadversion on slaves and women would enrage her. 'It will be provided. In the meantime, I want you to know that I will hold you accountable for these goods. If they have disappeared between now and the time the case is reviewed, I will testify that you were in charge of the goods and that you were instructed to have them ready for inspection.'
'Slaves do not testify,' the other informed Niklos haughtily.
'True; bondsmen do, however, and I am a bondsman.' With that, he turned and regarded the people clustered around the stall. 'Every one of you will bear witness to this, if that is necessary. This is not something that can be easily forgotten or dismissed out of hand.' He pointed at the two slaves. 'These men are responsible for the contents of this stall. If there is any loss or disruption, the burden of that loss will be theirs.'
'You're harsh, Roman,' said one of the passersby.
'I'm Greek,' Niklos corrected him. 'My mistress is Roman.'
There was a subtle shift of sympathies in the crowd, and Niklos knew that he would not have to complain without support. He smiled at the slaves in the stall. 'Remember my warning.'
'Your warning means nothing to us. Our master will be told of what you have claimed. The rest is up to him.' With that the slave turned away and motioned for his companion to do the same.
Niklos was far from satisfied with this answer, but did not want to press the slaves for fear that he would lose the sympathy he had gained. He moved away from the stall quickly and in a short while he reached Olivia's house. He found her in her library reading.
'You look dreadful,' she said as she looked up.
'I've got good reason,' he said, and dropped onto the low bench across the reading table from her.
'And what reason is that?'
Niklos did not answer at once. When he did, his manner was remote, as if he were discussing events of the distant past. 'You recall those two chests of yours, the ones with the brass fittings?'
As always when they were alone, they spoke in Latin, their accents old-fashioned and elegant, their phrases slightly archaic. 'Chests?'
'Yes. Pay attention, Olivia. This is important.' His aggravation was mixed with fondness and he touched her shoulder in a way no Byzantine servant—slave or bondsman—would dare to touch a superior. 'The chests with brass fittings.'
'With camphor on the inside and two drawers on one side, the ones that were made during Caracalla's reign—yes, of course I remember them. What of it?' She had set aside the book she was reading and was now watching him closely.
'I just saw them.'
'What?'
'I just saw them,' he repeated. 'In the market. In a stall filled with Roman goods.' He looked away from her, for the first time as if he were ashamed of what he was telling her. 'They were for sale.'
'In a stall in the market, of course they were for sale. Isn't that the purpose of a stall in the market?' She spoke amiably enough, but Niklos was not fooled.
'Olivia—'
'My things, offered for sale here. How fortunate that I will not be put to the trouble of sending for them, or requiring some account of them.' Her hazel eyes had darkened and acquired a metallic glitter.
'Olivia, you're—'
'Furious,' she agreed with him, favoring him with a wide, insincere smile.
Niklos nodded. 'With good reason. I was appalled.'
'The chests. I wonder what else?' She stared up at the ceiling so that she could avoid looking at him. 'Was that all, did you notice?'
'I don't know,' he said truthfully.
'But there were other Roman things in the stall, you said.'
'Yes. All sorts of furniture. I saw some vases and braziers as well, but nothing I could identify for certain.' He gave a short sigh.
'Aha.' She drummed her fingers on the table. 'So someone has helped themselves to what was left behind.'
'It seems so,' Niklos agreed. 'But who it is, I have no way of discovering yet—'
'We will find out in due course,' she said with determination. 'And when we do, there are steps to be taken.' She got up suddenly and began to pace. 'I have been afraid this would happen. I sensed the possibility when we left. When Belisarius was recalled, I knew that any protection the villa might have had was lost. I've almost expected it.' She touched her hair, fidgeting with the ordered arrangement of pins.
'Olivia,' Niklos said, sharing her indignation, 'tell me what you wish me to do.'
'I suppose we had best find out how to make a complaint, and to whom. And you may be certain that you or a churchman or possibly even Belisarius will have to do the thing officially, since according to the law here, I cannot own property!' She flung a small iron stylus across the room.
Niklos retrieved it and held it out to her. 'You'll want this later.'
She was still too angry to be chagrined, but she took it and put it back on the table. 'They are so certain, aren't they, that they will look after the interests of their women, and they cannot conceive of a situation arising where their judgment is not superior. It comes from having all those male gods. And do not remind me,' she went on more sharply, 'that they are all aspects of one god. I know Jupiter, Apollo and Mercury when I see them, no matter how they are got up.'
'I wasn't going to say anything,' Niklos assured her.
This time she looked him straight in the eye. 'You're very clever, my friend, and I am grateful for that.'
'You're not a dolt yourself,' Niklos pointed out.
'And why does Drosos have to be gone now, I ask you. Why does he have to be on his way to Alexandria. After all those weeks of wanting to do something for me and not knowing what, he would have to be gone the one time I truly need him.' She went and stared out her window; the oiled parchment had been moved aside and the scent of the garden drifted into the library.
'Then what shall it be?' asked Niklos. 'Do you wish me to make inquiries?'
'Yes, but first go to Belisarius. Or better yet, I will go, and I will speak with him. He was at the villa. He will want to know what has been taken in any case.' She adjusted the drape of her paenula. 'I suppose I must use one of the palanquins, with the curtains drawn. It's exasperating.'
'I will see that one is summoned,' said Niklos.
'Yes. Thank you for that. And then arrangements will have to be made to have the stall searched thoroughly, and the storehouse of the merchant as well, I guess. What else should we do? What a tremendous amount of work.' She sighed.
'Would you rather accept the losses?'
She rounded on Niklos. 'Magna Mater, no! And you know it.'
'Then to Belisarius first?' he suggested.
'Yes. Belisarius first.' Now that she was set on a task, her manner changed. She moved with determination and there was no trace of doubt in her attitude.
By the time Niklos had found a palanquin, Olivia had changed her dalmatica and paenula so that she was more formally attired. She had deliberately chosen Roman cloth and her most Roman jewels to wear on her visit. As
