can. I will not hold you responsible for what others do.'
'I could request that Drosos—' Belisarius offered.
'Drosos is in more disgrace at court than you are. And he is questionable since he is known to be my lover.' She frowned, hesitating. 'He is also… very much troubled. Ever since his return from Alexandria, he has been unlike himself. I… I have tried, but he—'
'I know,' Belisarius said. 'I've talked with him, and he is overburdened.'
Olivia nodded in agreement. 'He is not what he was. There are times I fear I will not be able to… to reach him again.'
'Is that so important?' Belisarius asked in surprise.
'There is nothing more important,' Olivia said quietly but with so much feeling that Belisarius found it difficult to look at her.
'Yes.' He rubbed his hands against his pallium. 'Is there anything you would like to eat?'
'No,' she said. 'I would like to be able to help Drosos, but he won't permit it. When we talk, it is as if he were a stranger, an angry, guilty boy.'
Belisarius made a curt gesture. 'This is folly.'
'He cannot reconcile himself to what he has done.' Now that she said it, she saw compassion and resignation in Belisarius' face.
'And if he had not done it, he would not have been able to reconcile himself to that, either.' He reached for a plum. 'I do not know what more can be done for him.'
'He does not want to listen to me; will he listen to you?'
'I don't know.' He averted his eyes. 'If I were able to speak to the Emperor, I might be able to find out all his reasons for ordering the Library burned. But as it is, I cannot answer the questions that haunt Drosos, and—'
Olivia rose. 'It wouldn't matter. Even if the Emperor gave his reasons to Drosos, it wouldn't end his doubts, not now.' She sighed. 'What does a peasant from Macedonia know about the value of books?'
Belisarius looked up sharply, his hand raised in warning. 'It isn't wise to be so outspoken in this house.'
'I have said the same thing in my own house and I am certain that there are spies.' She walked toward the tall window that was open on the garden. 'Your Emperor began life as a peasant. He was not much different from others, except in his ambitions.'
'In his vision,' Belisarius corrected her, an edge in his voice.
'Call it what you will; he aspired to more than the life of a peasant—will that do?' She shook her head. 'He has no concept of the worth of those books, of the tradition he has ruined.'
'If the Emperor believes that the burning was necessary, then it is not for us to question him.' Belisarius spoke with conviction.
'That is what Drosos tells me, too. I can't understand. You have to forgive me,' she said, turning away from the garden to look squarely at Belisarius. 'You are Byzantine; I am Roman.'
Belisarius strove to make light of her words. 'I allow that there are differences, but we are all Christians, and we all bow to the same altars.'
Olivia could say nothing in response; she stared blindly at the roses, hoping to quell the anguish she felt: Drosos, Belisarius, Antonina, Chrysanthos, herself; all of them were caught in a labyrinth. Her attention was caught by a bee that had strayed too deeply into the heart of a rose and had been entrapped by a spider. Now it lay in its filament-prison, enmeshed in bonds that were all but invisible.
Belisarius spoke, but not to Olivia. 'What is it, Simones?' he said to the slave who had come to the door and made a deep reverence.
'It is your wife, General. She would like a little of your time. She apologizes for this intrusion.' He lowered his head in Olivia's direction.
'Is she—?'
'She wishes to see you,' Simones said, his tone and attitude wholly neutral.
Belisarius was on his feet. 'I will come at once,' he said, adding to Olivia, 'It is most improper to leave you without escort in my house, but—'
'What nonsense,' Olivia said, silencing him. 'I will come with you, if you don't object, and if she is willing to see me, I would be delighted to visit with Antonina.' She did not wait for him to make up his mind but followed him out of the room.
'She might be too ill—' Belisarius warned her.
'Then I will return to your reception room, or you may dismiss me.' She kept pace with him, her attitude pragmatic, her words crisp.
'It isn't correct,' was the only observation he made to her suggestions.
'I don't care if it is or is not,' she told him. 'Your wife needs your help.' She halted at the door to Antonina's apartments and stopped Belisarius. 'Believe me, my friend, I am sorry that you are in such travail. I am sorry that your wife is ill. You will not offend me if you give her trouble precedence over mine; if you did not, I would be displeased.'
'Thank you,' he said, and went through the door that Simones held open for him. 'I will find out if she is willing to see you.'
'Your august lady is not able to rise from her bed,' Simones said to Belisarius, pointedly ignoring Olivia.
'Let me speak with her,' Belisarius said, directing this to Olivia. 'I will return directly.'
'If you like, my master, I will bear a message,' Simones volunteered.
'No,' said Belisarius. 'If Olivia has questions, it is for me as her sponsor to answer them.' With that, he entered his wife's quarter, indicating that Simones should wait with Olivia.
'My mistress suffers much with her disorder,' Simones informed Olivia in his most daunting manner.
'I understand that she has been failing; it saddens me to hear of it.' What would Simones think, she wondered, if he knew how many times she had expressed similar feelings over the centuries? What would Simones do if she described all the losses she had endured in her five hundred years. 'It is always difficult to lose those we love. Both your mistress and master have grief in their hearts.'
Simones glared at her.
In a short while Belisarius returned. 'Antonina would be pleased to speak with you for a time, Olivia. You must not be too upset by her appearance. She has lost flesh and her pain has… changed her.' He led her through the door, closing it on Simones. 'Come.' In an undervoice he added, 'I am grateful to you for doing this. Many of her friends have ceased to visit her and that has been as hard a burden as her illness.'
Olivia nodded once. 'They are afraid,' she said.
'Why should they fear? If there were contagion here, others would be ill, but it is only she.' He paused at the door to Antonina's room.
'They are afraid because they fear their time will come,' said Olivia gently. 'It isn't the illness, it is the inevitability that terrifies them.'
Belisarius regarded her uncertainly. He pressed the latch and opened the door. 'My dear wife,' he said as he approached Antonina's bed, 'Olivia Clemens has come to see you.'
'You are welcome, friend of my husband,' Antonina said, more cordial than she had ever been; her voice was low and harsh, no longer musical.
'God give you a good recovery, August Lady,' Olivia said with formal kindness.
'It will be God and God alone who does,' said Antonina. She was indeed much changed. Her dark hair was now the color of tarnished silver, with a wide swath of chalk white through it. Her skin, always pale, had turned almost lunar, and there were deep hollows in her cheeks; her eyes were sunken but enormous and shiny with fever.
'Then we will pray for you, all of those who know you and care for you,' said Olivia, aware that the woman was in agony.
'We're grateful for your prayers,' Belisarius said when Antonina said nothing to Olivia.
'I have heard that you had goods taken from your house,' Antonina said, making the information a challenge.
'Unfortunately I have been suspected of illegal activities and the Censor desires to clear up the matter before deciding on my petition to leave the city.' Olivia watched Antonina as she spoke, a question unspoken in her eyes.
