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

"You expect that of me, from what the Captain has told me. Was it that poor creature beside you, or another who said I was without virtue?" She dared not speak Drosos' name for fear that her calm would desert her. He had been gone for over a month, but she had learned a little of him from Belisarius, most of which distressed her as much as their final night together had.

"You flaunt your godlessness in our faces?" said Konstantos in outrage.

"No," Olivia replied, and sat on one of the hard benches. "I flaunt nothing."

"You come here in Roman dress—" Konstantos began.

"Because I am a Roman. I understand that is part of the reason I am here." She touched the fibula on her shoulder before folding her hands in her lap.

"You are here because you are guilty of great and terrible crimes." Konstantos thundered the accusation before he resumed his seat. "This good pope knows much of you."

"Does he?" Olivia asked. "I wouldn't have thought it." So it was not Drosos who had brought her here, she realized. It had to be another. "What am I supposed to have done?"

"There are three charges," Panaigios said, his voice higher than usual. He cleared his throat and read from the sheet in front of him. "You are implicated in crimes against the Church, witnessed by this pope who vows that he has seen you make pagan sacrifices, and that within your villa in Roma there are objects of pagan worship."

"Which have undoubtedly been looted by now, and so do not exist; very convenient for you, no doubt." Olivia warned herself that she must not be too reckless. These men were capable of condemning her to a slow and painful death that would be as fatal to her as to anyone else. She lowered her eyes and listened.

"There are accusations, brought by those who cannot give witness, that you smuggled goods into the Empire without paying taxes or declaring their worth. Further, it is said that you have kept illegal books in your house, knowing they were banned and aware of the implications of their presence." Panaigios read this in a fast, flat tone, head bowed.

"Again, I must ask what proof you have." Olivia kept her manner subdued. "You say that the accusations are brought by those who cannot testify. That would mean another woman or a slave, or a foreigner who is not part of the Empire. The motives of all such persons are questionable, had they the right to speak out, which they have not."

"The third charge is the most serious," Panaigios went on, glancing once at Konstantos. "It is claimed that you provided and administered the poison that brought about the death of the august lady Antonina."

Olivia was on her feet. "Ridiculous!"

"Be silent!" shouted Konstantos.

"The charge is absurd!" Olivia insisted, but she sat down as she felt Captain Vlamos lay his hand on her shoulder. "What reason would I have for such a terrible deed?"

"You are a widow," said Konstantos. "You have been a friend of the General Belisarius since his campaign in Italy."

"So it follows that I would kill his wife?" Olivia asked in disbelief.

"If you planned to take her place," Konstantos stated.

"I have refused Captain Drosos when he offered marriage." She saw the way Panaigios started at Drosos' name. "Is he among the nameless ones now?" she asked, saddened.

"Captain Drosos was an officer of General Belisarius. He would be willing to serve his General in many ways," Konstantos averred. "It would not be the first time a man held a woman for another man."

Olivia could find no words at first. "You mean that you think Drosos was my lover so that I would be able to marry Belisarius once I killed his wife? Why would Drosos help his General if he knew what I was doing? Unless," she went on more carefully, "you are looking for a way to implicate Belisarius in Antonina's death. That would be laughable."

"You have a fortune." Panaigios refused to raise his head.

"Which Belisarius controls. He has no reason to ally himself with me. He already is in a position to take every coin and all property he has secured for me." She felt the first stirring of panic and forced herself to ignore them.

"In Roma, this pope saw your villa, and in it he found certain compounds that can be used as poisons." Konstantos plucked at Pope Sylvestros' ragged sleeve. "Tell her what you saw."

"I saw Angels descending from Heaven, and each one carried a gem of a different color. All of them had wings of fire and they flew over me—" Pope Sylvestros said in a sing-song.

"Stop him," Konstantos ordered Panaigios, who tugged ineffectively at the man.

"—and their wings made the sound of great whirlwinds, and—"

"Surely you do not expect me to take these accusations to heart, do you?" Olivia tossed her head. "What purpose do you think any of this serves? You bring that… wreck of a man here, who knows nothing but that Angels have come to him. You let him speak. You mention things that have been said by those who are not permitted to testify as if that could have some bearing on the matter. Am I supposed to be so contrite that I offer a confession to you?"

"You are not to speak at all," Panaigios said, his voice going up again.

"You are a woman of dangerous repute." Konstantos pointed at her again, his arm quivering. "You are not simply a Roman whore who has traded on her profession to come to this city; you are—or you claim to be—of noble background, of a gens that would be horrified to see what you have done."

"But I tell you I have done nothing wrong," Olivia said in a reasonable manner. "I am a widow and I do not seek to marry again. My husband's Will is specific about that. I have had one lover since I came here, who was my lover before, and that is Captain Drosos, who has been posted back to the Italian frontier. You seek to make this seem disrespectful when it is nothing of the sort."

"You have herbs and spices in your house," Konstantos said.

"In that I am no different than any other house holder in Konstantinoupolis." Olivia was finding it difficult to remain in unruffled control of herself; her indignation was increasing with every word Konstantos addressed to her. "As to my few remaining Roman goods, there is nothing significant in them, unless you wish to claim that anyone with a bust of an ancestor is worshipping pagan gods." This last was a deliberate slight to Konstantos, who was known to keep portraits of his grandfathers in his private apartments next to his ikonostasis.

"You are clever, and you have Roman guile." Konstantos turned to Panaigios. "The accusation about the poisons; you have it there?"

"I do," said Panaigios, taking care not to look at Olivia, who captivated him.

As Konstantos took the pages from the Censor's secretary, he held them up, showing them to Olivia, who was too far away to read them. "Here we have a report from one who works for the Censor and the good of the Empire."

"You mean a paid spy in a household, probably Belisarius' or mine," said Olivia evenly.

"That is what a dishonest person might believe," Konstantos allowed. "This person states that you have often visited Belisarius' house."

"Of course I have; he's my sponsor." For all her outward scorn, Olivia was listening carefully, aware that this was the only accusation that might cause her trouble.

"And nothing more, or so you claim." Konstantos cleared his throat. "This person describes the number of times you have been at the house, and remarks that you have paid visits to Antonina while you were there."

"Not every time," Olivia corrected him. "I was permitted to speak with her only when she felt well enough to have a visitor, and that was rarely, since she was so ill."

"Doubtless," Konstantos said smoothly, and Olivia wondered what trap she had entered. "You." He poked the demented pope at his side. "What have you seen?"

"I saw at the house of this Roman woman, at her villa outside the walls of Roma, vials and jars and other containers of many substances that were known to be dangerous. There was Purple Slipper and Wolfsbane and hemp as well as Armenian poppies. It was said that she was known to be expert with these herbs, and that there were many who came to her over the years." He recited his information as if he had memorized it badly. "I learned from monks at a nearby monastery who keep to the teachings of Saint Ambrose of Milano. They informed me that the great lady who owned the villa was a sorceress." He fell silent, then cried out, "I am treading the way, Holy Spirit. I am reaching out to You so that You may see what I have done to make amends for my sins and crimes. I am repentant, Holy Spirit. Bear witness to my deeds."

"Yes, yes," said Panaigios, patting Pope Sylvestros' arm and trying to quiet him. "Yes, we know how you strive."

"To make amends," he insisted, his one eye fixing on Konstantos. "You promised me that I would not have to beg if I would bear witness to what I saw in Italy."

Konstantos was so angry that he found it hard to speak. "You will be silent now," he ordered through his teeth.