A Flame in Byzantium

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?"



"At the correct hours for prayers—of course." The answer was breathless; the majordomo did not know what was coming and was worried about what Athanatadies might say next.



"When you pray, ask God to reveal my enemies to me, and to show me the purpose He intends for me." He blessed himself and watched his majordomo do the same. "Give that instruction to the household."



The majordomo made his reverence and withdrew gratefully.



Athanatadies went through the inner doors of his private apartments to the chamber where his bath was waiting. As he took off the towel, he noticed with distaste that he stank. His sweat was acrid from fear, and he washed himself diligently to be rid of that odor.



By the time he was dried and dressed again, he felt less frightened. He was informed that Panaigios was waiting for him in his private reception room, and he greeted this information with satisfaction. "Excellent. I will speak with him directly. See that he has food and drink and then do not disturb us unless there is a messenger from the Emperor. And send for Konstantos Mardinopolis. I want to speak to him tonight." He dressed himself, refusing his slave's ministrations.



The reception chamber where Panaigios waited was not the littlest one adjoining the chapel, but a pleasant room opening onto the side garden of the Censor's house. The scent of flowers drifted on the air and where the garden could be glimpsed through the half-open door the shadows were lengthening, fading from stark darkness to a softer shade. The reception room itself was gloomy.



"I came as soon as I had your message," said Panaigios as he made his reverence. "I confess I was surprised at the urgency."



"So was I," said Athanatadies, trying to maintain the calm for which he was known. "I was favored by the Emperor with an audience today, to… to hear what he has decided must be done and to learn the means to achieve his ends."



Panaigios said nothing, but he regarded the Censor with a degree of curiosity. "What did he say? that you may repeat to me?"



"He… he had many new goals," Athanatadies began, striving for an air of detachment. "His zeal increases with every new day."



"How this must be pleasing to God," said Panaigios, trying to interpret the Censor's intentions. He sensed an unfamiliar tension in Athanatadies which puzzled him.



"Pleasing to God?" echoed Athanatadies. "Perhaps. It is for other men to discover what pleases God; I am sworn to please the Emperor."



"Surely their purposes are the same." To say anything else might be construed as treason, and Panaigios had the terrible sense that he was being tested in some new way.



"So we are told," Athanatadies said. "The Emperor has decided that he wishes to post certain officers away from this city, to send them into the field once again so that they may use their military skills in the service of the Empire once again."



"Belisarius?" Panaigios inquired.



"No," came the dry response. "No, Belisarius is still confined to his house and Konstantinoupolis. The Emperor believes that for all his protestations, he is part of a group of discontented men who seek to bring him down. He believes that it would be folly to permit the man more liberty than he has now. There are others, however, who might do better on campaign. And there are… there are a few men who are not to be spoken of again." This last came out quickly. He spun as he said it, and discovered a kitchen slave standing in the doorway.



"I have brought the refreshments you ordered, great master," the slave said, trembling at the thunderous expression he saw in Athanatadies' face.



"Present them to my guest and depart," said the Censor. He stood still while the slave carried out these orders, and it was only when the slave was gone and the door closed that he spoke again. "I want you to be on guard, Panaigios."