Chapter 13

 

The plain of Hebdomon outside Constantinople, September 420

 

THEO BREATHED IN CRISP FALL AIR as he surveyed his troops from horseback. He relished these official visits beyond the confining walls of the palace and the city. He was tired of court ritual and public appearances. Pulcheria seemed to order his days to the last minute. At least on the martial field he could escape her attention. Later, he and Paulinus could have some fun.

Generals Plinta and Ardaburius rode at his side. Paulinus trailed behind.

“Are they ready, General?” Theo surveyed the raw recruits lined up in the late September sun. Compared to those armies in the field, this was an uninspiring bunch. Their armor was mismatched and their tunics varied from bright scarlet to pale pink. Not one in ten wore a helmet, and those looked as if inherited from an ancient grandfather. How did our armies get into such poor shape? Corruption? Three of every four soldi collected in taxes go to defense. One more detail to talk to Pulcheria about.

“Not yet.” Plinta shook his head. “They will be, by spring fighting season. We’ve several months to whip the new recruits into shape. Our manufactories are working every sunlight hour to provide us with weapons and armor.”

“Good.” Theo shaded his eyes to look at the angle of the sun. Too late to go hunting. He sighed, signaling Paulinus to join him. “You may return to your duties, generals. I’ll be on my way.”

“As you wish, Augustus.” They bowed from their waists and called up his escort.

Theo set a leisurely pace toward the city walls.

Paulinus grinned. “Bored?’

“Terribly.”

“I have a surprise for you in the city, if you wish.”

“You know I won’t gamble or go to the theater.” Theo frowned. Paulinus proposed an endless round of forbidden pleasures. Sometimes he was tempted, but always felt virtuous when he turned them down.

“You’ll like this one. Good food, interesting—and quite proper—people. An intellectual salon perfectly suited to your tastes. There will be poets, historians, and diplomats with interesting stories. The host is an administrator in your own government. What’s the harm?”

Theo considered the pile of papers Pulcheria probably had waiting for him. “A literary salon? Sounds quite appealing.” He kicked his mount into a smooth canter. “Race you to the Golden Gate!” he shouted over his shoulder.

“No fair!” he heard Paulinus yell as his horse leaped forward in a gallop.

His escort milled in surprise, but he soon heard pounding hooves behind him. It felt good to be on his own, riding hard, even for a few seconds.

At the gate, the party reassembled. The captain of his guards scowled but didn’t dare complain to him. Pulcheria would hear of it later. For the moment, Theo’s blood raced. His spirits rose.

“This way!” Paulinus took the lead as they wended through the streets toward the palace. Most people recognized the palace guard, but because Theo travelled in ordinary nobleman’s clothes, surrounded and hidden from their eyes, no one knew their sacred emperor moved among them. The neighborhood just outside the palace district housed mostly high-ranking civil servants. Paulinus reined in at the bronze gate of a moderately large complex. Whitewashed brick walls took up half the block and rose two stories above the street. A gatekeeper let them in; grooms took their horses in a stone-paved outer reception area.

“Whose home are we invading?” Theo looked up at the red inner wall.

“Asclepiodotus’, a supervisor in the offices of your agents en rebus.”

“I’ve met the man. He works closely with Helion.” Theo looked at the imposing force arrayed in the courtyard and turned to the captain. “No need for a full guard here. You will accompany me to the door, but not inside. I don’t want to alarm my hosts.”

The captain narrowed his eyes. “I have standing orders not to let you out of my sight, Most Gracious Augustus. Your safety is my highest priority.”

“I understand, but I am the emperor. This is the private residence of one of my trusted officials.” Theo frowned, acknowledging the delicacy of the captain’s position, but resenting it all the same. “You may accompany me into the residence but stand guard at the door. That way you fulfill your duty and allow me some pleasure.”

“As you command.” The captain bowed, then turned to his troop. “Men, at ease, but stand ready.”

Paulinus led them further into the complex, sending servants ahead to announce their presence. “Quietly. The emperor is a guest and doesn’t want a fuss.”

They passed through the atrium into a formal garden complete with fountains and colonnaded sides. Small groups congregated wherever there was seating. Trampled rosemary and mint lightly scented the air. Servants mingled with the guests, carrying trays of small delicacies and flagons of wine.

A short dark man bustled up to them, bowing low.

“Asclepiodotus,” Theo acknowledged.

“Your Serenity does my humble home much honor.”

A plump woman with improbable red hair followed Asclepiodotus, practically throwing herself to her knees. Their actions drew the attention of other guests. Theo did not wish to be recognized and fawned over. He raised the woman with a hand under her elbow. “Please. I’m not here as your emperor. Treat me as you would any other guest.”

“Thank you, Augustus.” The woman blinked large brown eyes.

“May I present my wife, Doria?” her husband offered. This time she curtsied.

“You have a lovely wife and home, Asclepiodotus.” Theo gave both a slight bow.

His host signaled a servant. “Get the emp…my guest a goblet of our best Thracian wine. See to his needs personally for as long as he stays.”

Paulinus stifled a cough. “Theo, perhaps I can introduce you to some of the other guests?”

“Of course!” Asclepiodotus backed away. “You’ll find quite an interesting mix. May I suggest you start with Olympiodorus? He is holding forth under the grape arbor about his visit to the Hunnic court. I’m sure our guest will find him most amusing. He is also a poet and historian.”

Paulinus guided Theo to a small gathering listening to a balding middle-aged man with the robust frame and the deeply tanned face of an outdoorsman. “…the court was in an uproar. I barely arrived and King Donatus dead! Of course his successor, King Charaton, accused me of spying and murder. Only quick talking and the magnificence of the emperor’s gifts kept me from the Huns’ wrath.”

Theo recognized the man as the historian Helion had tasked with documenting his reign. He didn’t look like a scholar. That Olympiodorus acted as a diplomat and befriended Asclepiodotus, head of the agents en rebus, led Theo to one conclusion. A spy! He never got to talk to the agents in the field. This was, indeed, going to be an interesting party!

Olympiodorus caught Theo’s gaze. His eyes widened. Theo shook his head slightly.

“Tell us of your sea adventures.” A lovely girl diverted Olympiodorus by grabbing his arm. “I never tire of hearing those stories.”

The diplomat continued his tales of wandering and perils at sea. Theo’s attention strayed to the girl. She could have modeled for a statue of Venus, her face and form a perfect example of classic beauty: heart-shaped face with large, wide-spaced eyes, small nose and bowed lips. From her golden curls to her neat toes, Theo couldn’t avert his gaze.

“Who is she?” he whispered to Paulinus.

“Athenais. Aclepiodotus’ niece. Her brothers serve in your provincial governments—Thrace and Illyricum, if I remember right.” Paulinus gave Athenais an appraising glance. “Lovely, isn’t she?”

“I’ve never seen such beauty.” Theo felt a wave of heat radiate from his groin to his face—an unaccustomed pleasurable pain. He curled his hands into fists, digging his nails into his palms, trying to fight this sinful lust. “She’s not like the girls in my sister’s court.” Theo sometimes thought Pulcheria chose the women who attended her for their plainness, as well as their dedication to God.

“Athenais is not an empty-headed fool, like some women,” Paulinus said. “Her father held a chair in rhetoric at the Athens Academy and allowed her to attend lectures in philosophy. She’s also an accomplished poet.”

“Will you introduce us?” Theo spied his personal servant lurking with a goblet of wine, grabbed it, and gulped. The smooth vintage took the edge off his nervousness.

“Of course.” His friend grinned.

Olympiodorus finished his tale as Paulinus approached arm-in-arm with Theo. “Well met, Olympiodorus.” He dropped Theo’s arm, bowing slightly to the girl. “Athenais, may I present my good friend Theo?”

“My pleasure.” Eyes wide, she bowed, but otherwise did not acknowledge his rank. Her deep blue eyes bordered on violet. “Theo, do you like poetry?”

“Yes! Very much,” he managed to get out, though his tongue seemed swollen to twice its size.

“Then you’ve come to the right place. My friend,” she nodded to Olympiodorus, “will be reciting some of his work later. It’s quite good.”

Theo smiled until he thought his face would crack. Paulinus nudged him in the ribs. “I…uh…I understand you write verse as well.”

“I only dabble.” She lowered her lashes and shrugged delicate shoulders.

“I’d love to hear some.” Theo stood tongue-tied, not knowing what to do with his hands and feet.

Paulinus stepped forward, taking both by the elbow. “Perhaps this is too public a place.” He led them to an alcove shaded by a fig tree. “Sit here and get acquainted. I’ll send the servant.”

Theo didn’t notice Paulinus’ exit. He barely heard Athenais’ next remark from the blood roaring in his ears. “Uh, what did you say?”

“I asked where you had been earlier. You’re dressed for riding.” Athenais’ blue eyes sparkled.

“Inspecting the troops. It’s my responsibility, you know.” Theo wanted to bite off his tongue as the words came out of his mouth. She’ll think you a pompous ass, you fool!

He caught a whiff of sweat and horses. Oh, God, I stink!

He nearly got up to run out, but the servant appeared with goblets. Theo grabbed one to gulp. Now she thinks you are a drunk, you lackwit! He set the goblet aside, took a deep breath.

Athenais smiled and his heart nearly stopped. “I’ve always admired people who learned to ride. I’m afraid my exercise is confined to walking and wielding a pen.”

“I enjoy riding, but I find wielding a pen to be more satisfying. Some of my friends call me ‘the calligrapher.’”

“How delightful! What do you copy?”

“Mostly ancient texts. Some Holy Fathers, some historians.” Theo’s breathing slowed as he talked about his favorite hobby.

“I’d love to see your work sometime.”

“I’d love to show you.” He nearly lost himself again in her blue eyes. A horrible thought surfaced. “Are you visiting your uncle? For how long?”

Her face fell into sorrowful lines. “My father died last year. Uncle Asclepiodotus and Aunt Doria were kind enough to take me in.”

Though his heart soared at the news she would not be leaving soon, he recognized the grief of her loss. “I’m so sorry to have invoked painful memories.”

“I miss him very much.” Tears glistened in her eyes. “My mother died when I was quite young, and he was both father and mother to me.”

Theo heard a raucous squawk behind him.

Athenais looked up, startled. Then a smile lit up her face. “Olympiodorus has brought out his pet parrot. He is most amusing and can sing in several languages. I like when he dances.”

“Then, by all means, let us go watch this wondrous bird.” Theo stood, held out his hand, and accompanied Athenais back to the grape arbor.

Paulinus assured him later the parrot put on quite a show. Theo could only remember Athenais’ blue eyes and laughing smiles.