A Flame in Byzantium (Atta Olivia Clemens #1) 1

"I have," he said, his voice low and indistinct. He had done his best to appear invisible since Antonina had admitted Olivia to her box.

"She is regarded with great respect and affection by everyone," Antonina declared. "Her conduct is not questioned by even the most censorious." She folded her hands and averted her eyes from the Imperial box. "It isn't proper to watch them too long. It then appears that they are drawing attention to themselves, which is poor behavior for a woman of merit."

"With the splendor of her garments and ornaments," said Olivia doing her best not to sound critical, "it is most amazing that the eyes do not drop out of the heads of everyone who can see her."

Antonina responded with gentle laughter. "You Romans say the most outrageous things. I have heard from my husband that everyone in Roma thinks nothing of making the most incendiary remarks, and if this is an example of Roman wit, I can readily understand why he remarked upon it to me."

"Romans have need of a little humor, like everyone else," said Olivia, taking her seat as she saw Antonina motion to the chairs once more.

"How inventive," said Antonina, but her enthusiasm was now diminishing. "I must remember your remarks to repeat them when the General finally arrives home." She inclined her head to the pope near the back of the box. "Remind me, Pope Demosthenes."

"Yes, Antonina," said the old pope with a sour expression.

"And Olivia," Antonina went on, as if beginning a question, "when you are more familiar with our ways, let me know then what service I can be to you. I understand that you are not yet able to express those things you require since you are not able to determine what it is you ought to have to live properly in this time and place."

"You're most thoughtful," Olivia forced herself to say. "Your husband must be very proud of you."

"He has told me that before, certainly, and I do not think he has any reason to dissemble." She had adjusted the drape of her paenula so that the silk looked like water cascading over her, the most chaste and revealing caress. Her jewels were lavish hanging earrings of pearls and sapphires; her tablion holding the paenula at the shoulder was as large as her hand and was made of gold and amethysts. "For a woman to live properly and well in this city, there are certain forms you must obey. In finding a pope to sponsor the purchase of your property you have done well, for that shifts any taint of harlotry from you, and your little meetings with Captain Drosos can go on without comment or much suspicion."

"I wasn't aware it concerned anyone—Drosos stayed at my villa outside Roma for many days. Your husband and the rest of his officers were there at the same time. If anything might cause suspicions, I would have thought that this would be worse." She permitted her tone to become snide but kept her eyes wide with amazement as she regarded her hostess.

"That was Roma at time of war, which is hardly the same thing as a dalliance with an officer not active on campaign." Antonina was better at the game than Olivia was, and more patient.

"No one I knew in Roma thought anything of the arrangement, nor would they have if there had only been

Drosos—or any other officer, for that matter—who had come to me at my invitation. In Roma we understand how the will of dead husbands impose on the living, and we accept that the living will find a way to comply with the dead and with life." All her life she had hated smug women, and that word summed up Antonina so perfectly that it was difficult for Olivia to maintain her pretense of good fellowship. What about the woman had so captivated Belisarius that he could ignore this behavior and dote on her as he did? No matter how long she lived, Olivia knew that she would be baffled by what the people around her did, and with whom.

"You are severe, and I think you may be teasing me. I have heard Romans claim that on the nights of the full moon, virgins sacred to the old moon goddess cover themselves in goat dung and dance through the streets. While I was never taken in," Antonina assured Olivia with a faint, condescending smile, "I knew many others who actually believed that such things happened."

In spite of herself, Olivia laughed. "Yes, I know that such tales exist, and that no one promotes them more than Romans. It is utter foolishness, but nevertheless they continue." She saw that the first pair of chariots were being led onto the sands, and she leaned forward to look at them, studying the difference in harnessing and in the chariot—it was no longer the racing quadriga she remembered from her youth, but a similar vehicle, a little smaller in size, a little heavier in weight, and more maneuverable than the quadriga had been, which was why all four horses could be attached to it without risking spills on the tight turns of the course—as well as the manner of the charioteers, who appeared to be somewhat older than the charioteers had been in Roma.

"You enjoy the races?" Antonina asked.

"If they are done well, if the quadrigae are well-matched and the teams are paired for contest." She looked at the pair being positioned not far away from her. "The bays are a good team, but I would think that they would not last as long as that other team of chestnuts. The bays are more sprinters, judging from their rumps, and the chestnuts are runners. They will not hit their full speed until the bays are starting to tire."

"Sinhareitiryiah!" exclaimed Antonina. "I see you are no novice where horseflesh is concerned."

"I have raised them for more years than you would believe. It was one of the principal businesses of my villa. At one time we also supplied mules and hennies to the army, but that was long ago, when there was not such unrest in the land. Recently we have contented ourselves with breeding horses." She discovered that she missed her villa intensely, the sound of the place, the smells of it, the rhythms of its days.

"You mean you actually participated in the breeding of horses?" Antonina for the first time appeared to be sincerely shocked.

"Well, of course," Olivia said at her most matter-of-fact. "It was my villa and my home. What else was I going to do with my time?"

"But surely there were slaves to attend to such matters," protested Antonina.

"Certainly, and a great many freed- and freemen who were in my employ. But horses were what the villa produced, and it was my responsibility to see that the work went on as efficiently as possible," She decided to take advantage of her hostess' repugnance. "It was also my work to select which stallions would cover which mares, and which of the male foals would be gelded. We had a great reputation for the quality of our horses, as your husband will tell you, if you ask him."

Antonina had recovered her composure. "You… you may certainly mention these things to those you knew in Roma, I suppose, but you would do well to keep such reminiscences to yourself when you are dealing with those who live here in this city, in the Empire; you might want to be more circumspect, since here we understand that women do not participate in such things. To say that you owned a villa where horses were raised is all very well, but to add what you did in the matter would be most unwise. Because of my husband, I can understand your position a little, but there are many wives in Konstantinoupolis, believe me, Olivia, who would be so deeply distressed to learn these things of you that they would do everything they could to exclude you from the activities of the city, and that would be most unfortunate."

"I am used to living quietly on my own," said Olivia.

"Yes, that is apparent. But here we do not leave our women so rudderless. There are matters that must be tended to, and if you are not received by the women of the city, it will make your life very much more difficult for you. You were permitted to purchase slaves without sponsorship through my intervention, but ordinarily this would not be possible. Now that you have a pope to endorse you, this is better, but it still limits what you can do and where you can do it."

There was a blare of trumpets and the race began, a five-lap course between the Blue and Green teams.

Over the eruption of noise, Olivia said, "I am capable , of handling my affairs for myself. I have been a widow for some time."

"Here that is not possible," Antonina reminded her.

"So I am learning," said Olivia wistfully as she watched the chariots make their first lap of the track: as she had predicted, the bays were ahead. "Those horses are very young," she said critically.

"They are most swift when they are young," said Antonina, repeating what she had so often heard.

"They are also least sensible. They are timid creatures for all their size, and it takes a while for them to learn sense and trust. Putting them in harness to race makes them more crazed than they need be." She sat back. "The chestnuts will win; they are better long-distance runners and they are older. It will give them the victory."

"You are certain of this, are you?" Antonina said, disliking the notion that Olivia might actually know more than she did about the races.

"Yes. Just watch and you will see for yourself." She looked at her hostess. "But don't be concerned. I won't mention the horse breeding unless there is no choice about it. And from what I have seen, there are few people here who think to wonder where any woman gets her wealth, so I suppose the matter will never come up."