'It was,' Athanatadies said tightly.
'Did he give you more orders than usual?' He was used to the Censor's severe appearance, but his expression was more dire than on other occasions.
'Yes,' Athanatadies said, wanting to get out of the palace and back to his own luxurious house, away from the orders and demands of the harsh man who ruled the Empire.
'He's still mourning Theodora,' Captain Vlamos said. 'You can't blame him for his grief.'
'Of course not,' Athanatadies said swiftly.
'Is there anything more you need to do here, or do you want me to send the slaves for your chariot?' He interpreted the distress of the Censor as impatience.
'My chariot, at once.' He barked out the words, and then did what he could to modify the tone. 'There are so many things to do—'
'I don't envy you the work you do, and that's a fact,' said Captain Vlamos as he signaled one of the slaves near the far door. 'The Censor's chariot.'
'It is an honor to labor for the Empire and the Glory of God,' said Athanatadies, his emotions giving heat to this statement.
'There's many another who would not be as diligent as you are,' Vlamos insisted. 'The Emperor is well-served by you, no doubt about it.'
Kimon Athanatadies almost demanded that Captain Vlamos tell him outright what it was he wanted rather than listen to more of this flattery, but instead he made a gesture of dismissal. 'Those who wish to serve greatness must rise to the occasion.'
'Just what I have said to my nephew,' Captain Vlamos agreed with enthusiasm. 'He is finishing his studies with the Metropolitan Odilos and is an eager young whelp. I have given my word that I will do what I can for the lad. Perhaps you have a suggestion you could give me?'
'Suggestion?' He wanted to tell Captain Vlamos to send his nephew far from Konstantinoupolis into the service of some district magistrate, to record harvest weights and trade agreements for all his life long, and be thankful for it. There was no safety, no protection at court. Anyone might fall at the Emperor's whim. 'Is he ambitious?'
'He's a young man,' Captain Vlamos chuckled. 'He sees himself in ambassador's robes by the time he's thirty. I've told him that for such a thing to happen, another plague, like the one we had seven, eight years back, would have to come along.' This was clearly intended to be amusing and the Censor did his best to smile.
'Is he capable, this nephew of yours?' He knew the answer before the Captain spoke.
'So his tutors have always said, not that I set much store in that. But the fellow does read and write Latin as well as Greek and has some knowledge of Persian.'
'He would do well to keep that last to himself,' Kimon Athanatadies warned Captain Vlamos. 'The Emperor has recently taken a dislike to the Sassanid rulers and any reference to Persian is not welcome unless the Emperor speaks of it. Tell your nephew to confine himself to Latin and Greek.'
Captain Vlamos was a bit startled. 'Very well. And I thank you for your good advice.'
'Tell the boy, if you wish, that in a year, if he has not found someone else to sponsor him, to come to me. He must try other routes first.' And there is no telling, Athanatadies added to himself, if I will still be Censor a year from now. The way things were going, Justinian might decide to send him to the most distant outpost of the Empire, or order him to live in a hermit's cave.
'That's very good of you, Censor,' Captain Vlamos said with feeling. 'I didn't mean to ask for so much.'
'You didn't; I offered it.' He saw that the slave had returned. 'My chariot has arrived.' His head was beginning to throb and he could not bring himself to recite all the proper phrases of leave-taking. 'I trust you will excuse me: I have much to do.'
'God send you His aid,' Captain Vlamos called after him, too pleased with the suggestion Athanatadies had made to be offended by his informality.
The streets were terribly congested; not far from the palace four buildings were being demolished and traffic had to find its way around these obstructions. Athanatadies swore silently and comprehensively at the delays, urging his driver to make all progress. 'If you cannot go faster, I will get out and walk.'
The slave holding the reins was aghast. 'You cannot. A man of your position must not—'
'Then hurry,' Athanatadies snapped. He had no intention of getting out of the chariot, but he felt the need to press someone—anyone—to relieve the sick dread that had taken hold of him.
'I will do everything I can,' said the slave. 'If you needed to move quickly, why did you not ask for an escort of Guards?'
This petulant question was rewarded by a sharp blow on the shoulder. 'I do not permit my slaves to be insolent. You will remain silent for the rest of the way.'
The slave complied at once, and kept his eyes fixed just ahead of the horses' ears.
When at last Kimon Athanatadies arrived at his house, he was more exhausted than he would have been had he walked three times the distance. There were smudges of dirt on his fine silk garments and his shoes were fouled with horse and camel dung. He bellowed for his majordomo, and when that middle-aged eunuch appeared, Athanatadies issued several brisk orders. 'Send for Panaigios. I want to speak with him within the hour. I will need to have several documents delivered by Guard this evening. See that the officers are ready. I want to bathe. See that a change of clothing is made ready for me. At once.'
The majordomo made a very deep reverence and hastened away to do Athanatadies' bidding.
In his private chambers, the Censor stripped, shivering though the air was warm enough. His terror was like a fever, making his flesh alien to him. 'Be calm,' he said firmly, his hands locked together. 'Think. You must think.'
In a short while, the majordomo informed Athanatadies that his bath was ready. 'There is a slave to assist you,' he informed his master, then went on, 'There has been comment on your bathing.'
'Who has said anything?' Athanatadies demanded, his precarious grip on himself loosening.
'Slaves will talk,' was the evasive answer.
'Who?' Athanatadies pressed. 'Which one has said anything, and what has been said?'
'I don't know,' the majordomo said, becoming more self-effacing with each word. 'It means nothing. Slaves talk, great master, and they say silly things.'
'What do they say?'
He sighed. 'A few wonder why a Christian must wash so often. I don't recall who brought it up. One of the household slaves was puzzled, for his former master bathed infrequently and required the rest of his household to emulate him.'
'I want the name of any slave who has remarked on this. I want the names tonight. If you do not bring them to me, they will not be the only ones I sell.' He had wrapped a length of cotton cloth around him and he tugged at the ends of it for emphasis.
'Great master, it is not important what they say.' His voice, already high, turned to a squeak.
'It is always important. Understand that. I will have no slave who will not mind his tongue. I have enemies. All men in high places have enemies. A slave that speaks against me, be he houseman or gardener, has allied himself with my enemies. I will not tolerate that. Tell them.' He glared at his majordomo. 'If you do not aid me, then I will see you gone from here, and you will serve some magistrate in Aguntum.'
'That is outside of the Empire!'
Athanatadies nodded with feigned satisfaction. 'It is.'
'You would not do that.'
'If I decided it was necessary I would,' he declared, knowing that he could not allow a rebellious slave to be sold to someone who might take advantage of the knowledge the slave had of him to use against him. 'Any slave sold from this household will go far from Konstantinoupolis.'
'I will… see you have the names, great master,' the majordomo said with resignation.
'Fine. And my bath?'
'It is almost ready.' He stepped backward to the door, his face slick with sweat. 'Great master, no one means you any disservice.'
'That is for me to determine,' Athanatadies countered. He rubbed his hands together and directed his gaze toward the small ikonostasis on the far side of the room. 'Do you pray?'
