A Flame in Byzantium

The old slave stared at the coin, captivated by its size and color. "I might be able to work in the evening, when others are taking their leisure."



"If that is required, then do it," he said, keeping the gold archangel within reach for Begoz. "It is unfortunate that the widow Clemens has lost her villa to us, but we are about to lose it again. The least we can do now is to show her some sense of our appreciation. The saddle is only a token, but it is a necessary one. If you cannot aid me in this, say so now, that I may find another to undertake the task."



"No need for that," said Begoz hastily. "Grace of God, no. You need only tell me what you require and it will be yours."



"Excellent," said Belisarius dryly. "I will expect that the day after tomorrow, wherever we are camped, you will be able to report to me that you have progressed on this saddle, and will be able to say when it will be done. If you are false, and if you tell me that you are more advanced in your work than you are, then you will be flogged. Do you understand this?"



"Yes," said Begoz in a subdued voice. "Yes, I understand you, General, master."



"Then report to me at the end of the day after tomorrow and we will then determine if you are capable of completing this commission." Belisarius tossed a small silver coin. "This, for any special supplies you may need."



The old saddler caught it. "As you say, there may be supplies and you might not be free to see they are provided."



Once they were out of the tent, Drosos turned curiously to Belisarius. "You said nothing to me about this saddle."



"I wanted to be certain it could be finished."



"And do you think it will be?" They stood aside as a large cart drawn by four sweating mules lumbered by them.



"Drosos, do not concern yourself; either Begoz will complete it or I will find another who will, and by the time you leave you will have a saddle to take to Olivia, with my compliments for all she has given us. It might take some of the sting out of learning that this villa has fared badly. I do not think that once we are gone Totila will require that his army defend the place. They have been destroying villas in the north, and they have sworn to flatten Roma herself. A saddle is a little thing compared to a villa, but it is better than nothing." He peered across the busy staging area. "Look at the orchards—more than a third of the trees are cut down, and that was only for firewood. What would it be like if we had been bent on destruction? You know that the walls would have fallen and most of the furniture would be lost." He walked slowly, speaking in an undervoice that Drosos had to strain to hear over the jostling and shouting around them. "There are not many like her left. It is not to our credit if we abuse them: we are no better than the barbarians we oppose if we make no acknowledgment of her generosity."



"She is a generous woman," said Drosos, a reminiscent smile on his lips.



"In more ways than the one you choose to remember," Belisarius reminded him sharply.



"But—" He broke off as three mounted bowmen clattered by. "My General, we will not be able to replace anything she has lost. I will take the saddle, or any other gift you request, and I will repeat any message, just as you bid me, but do not assume that this is recompense, even for a generous woman."



Belisarius laughed. "No, I make no such assumption. We were more fortunate than we deserved to be. It might not happen again while we are in Italy."



"What… what do you anticipate?" Drosos asked, reading distress in his General's eyes.



"I try to anticipate nothing. But I fear that there are not going to be more Romans like Olivia Clemens to give us their villas and their provisions as she did." He pointed away toward the distant walls of Roma, just barely visible through the dust and a wide gap in the stout fencing that surrounded the villa's grounds. "That is what we all seek; Totila and all of us. And the city is growing tired of changing hands."



"Once we strengthen our occupation, Totila will not be able to maintain his position and then he will have to withdraw to the north." Drosos said this as if he were repeating a lesson, and he was surprised to see that there was no certainty in Belisarius' expression to answer his own.



"If all we have been promised is delivered, and if all the men we need are sent, and if there is no more looting or raiding, and if Roma decides to defend herself, and if there is food enough and water enough to withstand a siege, then perhaps Totila will be discouraged, or perhaps instead he will become enraged and then the fighting will erupt with greater severity than any we have seen so far." Belisarius shook his head. "I could envy you, if it did not compromise the Emperor."



"How?" asked Drosos, surprised by this admission.



"I am the General of Justinian, and whatever he commands of me I will do. My oath binds me to him and to God. But when I look ahead, I long for soft nights and the riches of Constantinople, and the company of my wife without the promise of marches and battles." He scratched at his graying hair. "But another time, another time. Now the Emperor wants me here, and I will do all that I can to be worthy of his confidence and commission." He lifted his hand as a signal to Savas, who was supervising the loading of sacks of grain to be used as fodder for the horses.



"Why not request a posting to Constantinople, if you miss it so much?" Drosos asked, knowing the answer, and providing it before Belisarius could speak. "Because you do not want to risk losing Imperial favor, which such a transfer might entail."



"Yes," agreed Belisarius. "That's part of it. And the rest is my oath. I am bound to serve Justinian in any capacity he demands, for he is Emperor and anointed in the service of God." He summoned Savas with an impa-tient gesture. "Drosos, tonight we will speak again, but for now I must see what the trouble is with these carts. If we cannot carry the grain with us, we will have to make sure that it is not left behind for Totila to use." He started away from his Captain, but stopped and turned back to regard the younger, stockier man with interest. "You took an oath, too, Drosos. Never forget your oath. It is what separates us from barbarians like Totila."



"I will remember, General," Drosos promised him.



"Also, do not forget that the hottest fires of hell burn for those who betray their oaths." He then trod purposefully toward the half-laden carts.



Drosos watched him, wishing he could ask what had prompted him to give so stringent a warning. What was it that prompted Belisarius to remind him of his oath? He never doubted that he would honor his oath, for that was the duty of a soldier. As an officer, he accepted the full weight of the obligation.



"Captain," said a young soldier who approached him from the left. "Captain, there's a problem. Will you come?"



"Aren't you Leonidas' man?" Drosos inquired.



"Yes, but he is still busy with others," said the young soldier. "Someone must help us."



Drosos sighed as if to chase the glum thoughts from his mind. "Very well. Tell me what the trouble is." He set a brisk pace, permitting the soldier to point out the way.



"We have a shortage of carts and wagons," said the soldier. "We have to find a way to carry more."



"The same as everyone else," said Drosos heavily. "All right; how many mules and how many oxen do you have?"



"Not enough," the soldier said. "We lost a dozen mules in the last night-raid. We're on the perimeter of the camp, and so we're more vulnerable than some. Three of the oxen are lame and we have been told we cannot use them. Captain Leonidas has already issued orders."



"If you cannot use oxen and you are short of mules, what do you have for haulage?"



"Not much," said the soldier. "We have horses, but we're supposed to reserve those for riding and battle. We have been warned that they are not to be exhausted by moving camp."



"I see," said Drosos, shoving a water-carrier aside.



"We tried the goats, but they don't work well in harness," the soldier went on, becoming embarrassed.



"Holy belching angels! I should think not," said Drosos, his patience almost exhausted.



"There wasn't much else we could use," the soldier offered by way of excuse.



"I know; I know," said Drosos, clapping one hard-palmed hand on the soldier's arm. "You're doing the best you can under the circumstances. It's all any of us can do."



"We wanted to find some of those big hounds they had in the north, but no one around here breeds them. I've heard they're pretty strong." He was hoping for a word of encouragement, but he was disappointed; Drosos sighed and shook his head.



"The Emperor doesn't… understand. He's not aware of how strained our resources are here. He assumes that because we have come to save Italy from Totila that we are welcome everywhere and that the country is as rich as it once was. Nothing can convince him that we are not the heroes to the people that he believes we are. It is a great compliment to us, I suppose, and one that our General deserves, or would if things were not so difficult." He had almost said desperate but had stopped himself in time.