“The first way makes it sound like there’s a document hidden in a book that includes John’s Testament,” Arcadia ventured.
“Perhaps.” Theokritos pushed a chunk of fat to the side of his plate. “I admit I was intrigued enough to have Feletheus search through our Vulgate editions.”
The old fox. Pretending not to care. “And?” Getorius queried.
“He found nothing.”
“I’m sure there’s nothing hidden in my copy of Jerome,” Renatus said, “but I’ll check the Bishopric library.”
Placidia had been distracted by her son’s attraction to Arcadia. “Again, what are we looking for, Librarian?”
“A forgery at best, Regina. In times of crisis, prophecies give hope to fools.”
“But…but this could initiate a new heresy,” Renatus sputtered, jabbing the air with his knife. “The bishop would want it exposed quickly, rather than having some wild-eyed hermit shouting nonsense from the public rostrum.”
Placidia allowed the conversation to subside while servants refilled the platters. Getorius guessed that everyone felt as stiff as he did from lying down. Except for Aetius and the women, they were shifting position and holding their bodies up with one arm or another. Theokritos, especially, was having trouble finding a comfortable position.
Arcadia allowed herself to be served only small portions of food and refused more wine. It was an excellent vintage, possibly still from the vineyards of Latium in the hills around Rome, she thought, but the honey sweetening masked its rich body.
She had been watching Eudoxia, aware that the eighteen-year-old Augusta had been raised in the court at Constantinople. She had obviously been spoiled by her father, Theodosius ii, the Eastern Augustus, yet had also been taught court protocol, in preparation for her role as the potential wife of an emperor. Arcadia could see that the woman was bored by the scholarly talk and annoyed at her husband’s interest in a guest who was not even a member of a Patrician family.
Eudoxia glanced up at Arcadia, who signaled back with eye contact and a smile that she had no interest in being Valentinian’s new mistress.
The servants had begun to remove the platters of uneaten food, when Eudoxia called over, “Mother Placidia. Perhaps I could show our…your…guests the holy relics my mother brought back from Palestina.”
Placidia was evidently taken by surprise. She had been watching Heraclius, who had slipped into the room to stand by Valentinian’s couch. Tavern gossip suggested that the eunuch steward had too much influence on the emperor, not only in feeding his fascination with astrology, but also arranging the sexual liaisons that were the unspoken scandal of the palace. Now her daughter-in-law had suddenly interfered with a surprise she had planned. Was Heraclius behind this, too, his entrance being a signal for Eudoxia?
Placidia disliked her daughter-in-law’s mother. Athenaïs, the daughter of a Greek Sophist, had been well educated in the Hellenistic culture of Athens. While on a journey to Constantinople, Athenaïs had caught the eye of Theodosius’ sister Pulcheria, who thought her suitable for marriage to an emperor. The marriage took place after she was baptized with the Greek Christian name, Eudocia. Within two years, the pagan philosopher’s daughter had been raised to the imperial rank of Eastern Augusta.
Placidia knew about the relics. Eudocia had recently returned from a pilgrimage to the Holy Land, where the Bishop of Jerusalem had given her several mementos of the Apostles. The most spectacular of these was the chain with which Herod Antipas had shackled Peter, and from which he had been miraculously freed by an angel. Eudocia had shared the relics with her like-named daughter, intending to dedicate a basilica at Rome with the chains as a votive offering for her safe return.
“Relics?” After stalling by rearranging her crown, Placidia forced a smile. “All in good time, my dear. I want my architect to tell us about the progress he’s made on my mausoleum. I’m dedicating it to Blessed Lawrence.”
Sigisvult looked up, startled. “Of…of course, Regina. As you wish.”
“Begin with the symbolism.”
“The building will be an allegory of the cosmos,” he explained. “Its exterior is unfaced brick, to represent our visible world. Inside, the space shines like Paradise itself, with mosaics that rival any in Constantinople. Gold and lapis tiles…vermilions that have never been seen on this side of the Adriatic—”
“Now for my surprise,” Placidia called out. “We shall look at the building this evening. Now, before the sweet course.”
“But Regina, it…it’s dark outside,” Sigisvult objected. “The work isn’t totally complete.”
“Architect, didn’t you tell me niches for two of the sarcophagi are finished?” Placidia demanded in the tone of a woman not used to being contradicted. “And the mosaics of Christ as shepherd…the martyrdom of Lawrence? No, we shall go to my mausoleum.”
“Augustus,” Heraclius stage-whispered to Valentinian in his womanish voice, “Marcian warned against outdoor night adventures in November.”
“Visiting tombs for sure.” Valentinian tittered drunkenly, then called over, “Arcadia, you don’t want to see some gloomy vault. I’ll show you the imperial apartments instead.”
“She’s going with her husband,” Placidia intervened. “You needn’t come, Placidus.”
“And I’m staying here, too,” Eudoxia whined, now deprived of her opportunity to be the center of attention with her relics.
“And I, Regina, with your permission,” Aetius said, sitting up on the couch.
“Yes…Pelagia, your Gothic woman, will want her bed warmed,” Placidia sneered. “You command legions, Aetius, but how lacking in any sense of adventure you are. Leave Us.”
Theokritos crawled stiffly off the couch. “I would like Feletheus to accompany me, Regina. He wants to put a mosaic in the library reading area.”
“Very well. Magnaric, send a servant to fetch him. Have four others light torches.”
Getorius rubbed his stiff legs and half-limped over to Arcadia. “Thank Aesclapius we have a chance to stretch,” he muttered, “but I hope those street lakes have drained off.”
She laughed. “Husband, wet feet are a small price to pay for the privilege of seeing the imperial mausoleum. Besides, you have no choice. The Gothic Queen commanded it.”
Getorius bent close to
