"I am grateful to you, Zejhil," said Olivia, handing the woman five silver coins. "You have certainly been diligent, and I appreciate that more than I can tell you."
Zejhil, who had never held so much money in her hands in her life, stared as if she expected the coins to disappear. "My mistress, I do not know—"
"It is little enough. If it were permitted here, I would happily give you your freedom, but for that, sadly, I need the approval of a pope, and they do not often agree to the freeing of slaves." She folded her arms, irritated at the degree of helplessness that engulfed her.
"My mistress—" She reached to take the hem of Olivia's paenula to kiss it, and was amazed when Olivia pulled the garment away.
"Magna Mater! What is the matter with you, girl?"
Olivia burst out, frustration showing in every line of her body. "You don't have to do this; by rights, I should show that courtesy to you." She rounded on Niklos. "By tomorrow morning I want a complete accounting of everything you find that you have any reason to suspect might have been placed here to implicate me or any member of this household in illegal activities."
"And Belisarius: do you still intend to ask him for help?" Niklos asked skeptically.
"I realize you don't approve, but he is the only ally I have while Drosos is in Alexandria, and he—" She did not go on, for the anxiety of the letter Chrysanthos had brought to her clandestinely was too keen.
"Olivia?" Niklos asked, sensitive to her moods.
"It's nothing," she said in a tone that did not convince him. "Truly, Niklos."
He said nothing; as he went to Zejhil's side, he promised himself that he and Olivia would have to discuss Drosos, for something was wrong. He took Zejhil's hand in his.
"Niklos," Zejhil said, trying without success to pull away from him.
"I'm not going to let go," he said gently.
"It isn't for you or me to decide."
"And if it were?" said Olivia. "Tell me, Zejhil, what would you want, if it were up to you? Do you want Niklos? Do not fear to speak honestly to me, and pay no attention to him."
"It isn't my choice," Zejhil said in a small voice.
"Pretend it is," Olivia suggested. "Tell me."
Zejhil gave a little shake to her head. "I don't know."
"Then, Niklos, I suggest that you give her time. She cannot be pressed," Olivia said, and indicated their hands.
He let go. "All right." There was an odd light at the back of his russet eyes. "For now."
"Oh, stop it," Olivia said, and turned her attention to Zejhil. "Do nothing you do not wish to do." She then walked away from Niklos and Zejhil. "I hope that once we find out what is being done here and why that we will have no more trouble here. I am not eager to have to move again."
"If it were permitted," Niklos said with emphasis. "You would need a sponsor, wouldn't you?"
"I would find one," Olivia said with what she hoped was confidence. "Belisarius would do that much for me."
"If it's allowed," Niklos cautioned.
"You're always so optimistic," Olivia reprimanded him, and then held up her hands. "No, I didn't mean to show contempt, Niklos. I am apprehensive, and it makes my tongue sharp."
"I know," said Niklos, and took it upon himself to change the direction of their conversation. "When do we start our search? Do we wait until all the household is in bed, or do we start now?"
Olivia nodded in a businesslike way. "You're right; we ought to settle that." She glowered at the ikonostasis. "I will go to the library now. After church it would not be thought strange for me to read. Providing I read the right books," she added dryly.
"Do you think they will have placed condemned books in the library?" Niklos asked.
"It would not be a difficult thing to do," she pointed out. "And the way things are, it would simplify the accusation—apostasy is worse than smuggling. And they could be rid of me without having to deal with Belisarius, for he would have no means to defend me."
Niklos signaled Zejhil to leave, and as soon as she was gone, he regarded Olivia thoughtfully. "Very well, are you going to tell me what has put that crease between your brows?"
"Everything," she said comprehensively.
"Drosos."
"Yes," she admitted. "His letter—I fear for him."
Niklos waited for the rest.
"We are not welcome here. Simply because we come from Italy and have been friends of Belisarius, they want to be rid of us, and use us in some way against him." She sighed. "I suppose we had best make some arrangements that will allow us to leave Konstantinoupolis quickly and… without fuss."
"Also without goods and money," Niklos stated.
"We have been without goods and money before. Or have you forgot?"
"How could I?" He came and stood in front of her. "Olivia, please, I ask you for your sake as well as mine, be prepared. Have a safe-conduct. You know that Belisarius will do that for you, and there isn't a soldier who will not honor it unless Justinian countermands it. Will you do that?"
"All right," she said slowly.
"It goes against the grain?" he said fondly.
"You know it does." She made a disaster of her smile. "It has to be done, though, doesn't it?"
"It would be best."
"And it would be best to search the house, and all the rest of it; yes, I know, I know, I know." She hit her fists against her thighs.
He stopped her, confining her hands in his. "Olivia, if you'd rather remain here, I will not—"
Before he could say object, she cut in. "Oh, yes you will. Fortunately for me." She returned to the chest and retrieved her writing materials. "If you'll wait a bit, I'll have a note for you to carry to Belisarius. I hope you'll be permitted to give it to him. If the soldiers insist on taking it, then request to see the General. They aren't supposed to prevent that. Make sure you inquire about Antonina."
He listened, and when she gave him the note, he promised to return as swiftly as possible. "Where will you be?"
"In my reading room. With all the furor about heretical books, I can't imagine our enemies would pass up so promising an opportunity." It was the first time she had admitted that she had active enemies and it chilled Niklos to hear her use the words. "It is rare enough for women to read, and to make matters worse, most of my books are in Latin." Her hazel eyes did not shed tears, but there was a look to her that was worse than weeping would have been.
"Olivia—" Niklos said tentatively.
"Go on. Take the note to Belisarius. Do it quickly; I want this over with as soon as possible."
He had the good sense not to argue. "As you wish." He made her a reverence and left her.
She stood alone in the room after he had left, and in spite of the determination she had shown Niklos, she wavered. She was more overwrought than she was aware until that moment. All along, she told herself, she had assumed that her situation would change, that in time she would be accepted or at least tolerated by the Byzantines. Now all hope of that was gone for her and she knew she would have to look elsewhere for the safety she had so orectically yearned for. She had a brief inclination to flee Konstantinoupolis at once, to leave everything behind and set out for Olbia, or Tarraco, or Alexandria.
Alexandria. And Drosos. She steadied herself and set her jaw. She would inspect her books first, making a record of any that were not hers. Then she would confer with Niklos and together they could come up with some means of protection that would last until Drosos returned.
There were no mirrors in her room, but Olivia had long since learned to arrange her clothes and hair without them. Her fingers made minor adjustments in the arrangement of pins that held her coiffure in place, then refastened her tablion at her shoulder. Satisfied, she squared her shoulders and stepped out into the hall. It was not far to her book room but she felt as if she had crossed the desert to Aelana when she opened the door.
By the time Niklos returned with a safe-conduct hidden in the folds of his garment, Olivia had found fifteen banned texts in her shelves, and was less than a third of the way through her library.
"How bad is it?" Niklos asked, looking at the scrolls, rolled and fanfolded, a few bound in heavy leather, that were laid on the table.
"Four of these are considered worse than heretical, and this one"—she held up the largest of the leather-bound volumes—"is said to be blasphemous. The others are simply Roman, and might be questioned because they were not written by Christians. I wonder if I ought to be rid of my copy of Pliny as well?"
Niklos shook his head sadly. "I'm sorry, Olivia."
She cleared her throat. "Yes. I wish… I wish that I could save these, for when Drosos comes back. It isn't much, but it might help ease…" She made an impatient gesture. "What did Belisarius say?"
