A Flame in Byzantium

'I know who she is. She occasionally visits Belisarius; he's her sponsor.' He bit his lower lip as he considered. 'If you were to see him again, do you think you could engage his attention, for a night?'

Eugenia shrugged. 'I don't know. I don't want to. The man is dangerous to know and you, for all your talk of the Censor, cannot promise me that this would not ruin me.' Her voice raised in defiance. 'I have called upon Antonina, I have done what I can to find out what she knows without being too obvious. You say you do not think I've done enough, but even ill, Antonina is not a stupid woman, and if I am too persistent in my questions she will not want to speak with me. She is not going to be willing to share confidences with me forever.'

'Not more than a year, in any case,' Simones said with a hint of gloating.

'Don't speak of that,' Eugenia pleaded.

'You could help her prepare,' Simones went on, tormenting her deliberately. 'You can turn her thoughts away from the world and into the realms of faith. You can urge her to be rid of the sins that plague her soul and might cast her down into the Pit. It would not be the first time that death brought truth to light.'

'I hate speaking with her,' Eugenia confessed. 'I see her in pain and with her strength ebbing, and it is all I can do to say those things I know will please her.' The fabric in her fingers had started to unravel. 'She is suffering. Doesn't that bother you?'

'It bothers me that we must take such a long time or be discovered.' He came to her side again. 'Listen to me, great lady. I am a slave. I had half my manhood cut off when I was seventeen for no reason other than a pope preached on the joys of celibacy. Mind you, the pope was married, but he spoke of the freedom from lust that comes with the loss of the hairy eggs. So all his male slaves were castrated for their own good. You see how it has dampened my lust. I have nothing in this world. There is everything to gain and nothing to lose. Why should the death of one woman make any difference to me? Do you know how I feel when I see her lying there, her face pale and great circles under her eyes, and that pain consuming her? I know that I caused it, and that her physician doesn't know that I am the one who has suborned him. It is… magnificent to feel so.' He laughed, and though his laughter was genuine, it held no trace of mirth. 'Do not speak to me about Antonina, Eugenia. It means nothing to me that she will die.'

Eugenia's head had drooped as she listened to him. Finally she started to weep. 'You are worse than the barbarians who are slaughtering our troops.'

'No,' he said when he had considered it. 'No, to be their equal I would have to have accounted for more than the death of one woman and the discrediting of a single man.' He reached down and sank his hands into her arms, hauling her to her feet. 'Look at me, Eugenia. Look me in the face and smile for me.'

'Smile,' he ordered, his hands tightening. 'I want to see you smile.'

Her lips twisted into the semblance of happiness, but she could not continue for long. 'Let me go.'

'Not yet. Not until you agree to help me.'

'What choice do I have?' she asked bitterly. 'You're determined to ruin me, aren't you?'

'Of course not,' he said, making no effort at sincerity.

'You want to ruin me as well as your master and mistress. You have wanted that from the first.' She threw her head back. 'I wish I had the courage to spit in your face.'

'It is just as well you do not. I would then have to remind you who commands here.' He released her so suddenly that she staggered. 'You are going to find a note. That note will indicate that Belisarius wanted his officers to join with him in an effort to overthrow the

Emperor. You may choose which of the officers you like, which ones you would like to see disappear. I think that the Censor would believe Drosos was part of the plot before he would believe that Chrysanthos was, but that is for you to decide. I want this note to be phrased indirectly, and I want it to be without date, so that it might apply to any time.'

'I can't do that,' Eugenia said.

'You can and you will.' He caught her arm. 'If I have to persuade you, I will. I might do it anyway.'

'Not—' Her disgust was so great that she did not trust herself to speak.

'I think that it is time you spent another hour with me. I fear you have forgot what I can do to you.' His grimace was ferocious. 'You will write that note in a good imitation of Belisarius' hand and you will leave it in Antonina's quarters the next time you call upon her. You will put it in an unobvious but secret place. There are three alabaster jars of scent; one of those would do very well.' He would not let her move away from him.

'I don't think I can do that,' she said, her eyes wide with fear.

'Be inventive. Bring her another jar of scent, or offer to anoint her wrists or her brow. That will give you the opportunity you seek.'

'No,' she said, her conviction faltering.

'Yes. You will do this, and then you will tell me where you have placed the note. The rest will be for me to manage. You need not be concerned with any of it.' He leaned against her, taking delight in her terror. 'Think of how you will benefit once Belisarius is fallen completely and Antonina is dead. You will be recognized for your service.'

'I do not want such recognition,' Eugenia insisted.

'Perhaps not now, when you are caught up in the danger. But once it is over, you will change your mind. You will be proud to say you helped in unmasking a traitor. The Censor will show you favor, and that is to your advantage, isn't it?' He seized her and kissed her hard.

She pushed against him trying to break his hold. 'I don't want you to touch me.'

'It doesn't matter what you want,' he said simply. 'You will do as I order or you will suffer for it.'

'I suffer for it already,' she said, her mouth set.

'Really?' With one hand he ruffled her hair, destroying its smooth order. 'Is all this so terrible? Do I make things so difficult for you? Do I?'

She did not answer, but the loathing in her eyes was eloquent and for the time being, it satisfied Simones.

* * *

Text of a letter from Drosos to Chrysanthos, never delivered.

To my comrade-at-arms and, I hope, my friend, I send my apologies and belated greetings.

I have not set out to avoid you, Chrysanthos, though you have good reason to think that might be my intention. I know I ought to have explained to you, but I have not been able to discuss the things that you and I endured in Alexandria. I do not want to be reminded, and it is unforgivable in me that because of my cowardice I have not been willing to speak with you since that would remind me of all that transpired.

You are being posted to the frontier, or so I've been told. That's been happening to most of Belisarius' officers, hasn't it? At least you are not one of those who has disappeared forever and whose names are not spoken except when one is very private or very drunk. I hope that you will have the opportunity to show your valor and to convince the Censor and the Emperor that you are worthy of their good opinion. You have always had mine, but that means less and less every day, and never meant much.

Those bleak days in Alexandria you did more for me than I had any right to expect, and for that I am truly and deeply grateful. I have not said it, and I might not say it again, but I want you to know that all you did made my stay there a bearable torture. If it weren't for you, I might have forgot all they have taught us about sin and opened a vein or run on my sword like an old Roman.

That is one of the reasons I can almost envy you: you are going to have the opportunity to fight again, and in battle there is always the chance of a spear in the side or an arrow in the belly or a sword through the neck. I used to think that the greatest challenge, and now I see it differently; I see the release it would bring. I haven't been able to confess this to my pope, though to be honest, I haven't tried or wanted to. I would never be able to make a pope understand why I feel the shame I do, or why I seek to be rid of myself. All that is sin, and admitting it places me among the damned. But I knew that already. I knew that as I watched the Library burn.

The Emperor was wrong to order it. For whatever reason, he demanded a deed that was worse than blasphemy. It may be that he truly believes that it was a triumph of faith, and possibly it was that. I cannot grasp it, and no matter how I try, I can see no reason for it that balances what was lost. So now, on top of my