The Secret History: A Novel of Empress Theodora (25 page)

The same ghastly eunuch stood guard as I approached the vestibule to the palace. This time the grounds were empty, not a single perfumed patrician in sight. I replayed the messenger’s words in my mind to make sure I had the correct night.

“Welcome, Theodora.” The eunuch stepped aside with a little bow, akin to a snake’s slither in sand.

I thrust my chin out. “I was summoned by the consul. Where are the other guests?”

“You are the only guest.”

“I don’t understand.” Only I did. Far too well.

“I delivered your letter and an account of your behavior to the consul last night, against my better judgment.”

Perfect. Perhaps Justinian had summoned me to have me whipped for throwing things at his servants.

The eunuch chuckled. “Justinian was highly intrigued by a woman who spoke her mind so vehemently.”

Right. All men appreciated women who spoke their minds.

“So there’s no one else?” My stomach tied itself in knots worthy of any sailor, but I tried to keep my face a mask.

He smiled. “There’s a Greek urn from the Golden Age in the atrium if you need to empty your stomach.”

It was a wonder I’d ever been an actress. “Are you going to let me in or not?”

He swept me into the atrium with an exaggerated bow. A geometric mosaic stopped at the sunken step of the
impluvium
, full from the afternoon rains. A statue of Julius Caesar holding a map of the Empire stood astride a fountain, and there was indeed a massive Greek urn in one corner, something with a naked Heracles wrestling yet another monster. Definitely male décor. Torches lit a series of wall frescoes, the light quivering so the figures seemed to move. I recognized scenes from the Trojan War, noted the battle of Achilles and Hector, felt a pang as I remembered discussing the famed battle with Severus. How I wished he were here to guide me now.

“The consul is in the
triclinium
.”

I followed the eunuch into the dining room, trying not to gape along the way. Hecebolus’ villa in Apollonia could have fit in the Palace of Hormisdas several times; yet this lacked the garish opulence of Justin’s villa. Not bad for the nephew of a swineherd.

Justinian reclined on one of three
lecti
pushed against the opposite walls. The future Emperor of Byzantium had a sharp nose and no longer wore the first beard of youth, but he was not so old that time had etched itself upon his face or dusted his temples with gray. I guessed him to be a few years shy of his fortieth year. Dark curls brushed his forehead, and underneath, his eyes were a mosaic of mahogany flecked with gold. And those eyes were watching me.

I dropped to my knees but didn’t avert my gaze. A smile turned up the corner of his lips, and he gestured to a second couch. I tucked my feet under my hem as slaves marched in, carrying golden platters of oysters swimming in butter and topped with delicate dollops of salted gray mullet roe, doves on toast with quail eggs, and pale orange
cantaloupe stuffed with minced lamb and rosemary. My stomach growled.

“Thank you for coming, Theodora,” he said. “Your name means ‘gift from God,’ does it not?” His Greek wore an accent, but he was from Tauresium and had likely spoken Latin first. “Or a gift from the devil, if you hear Narses tell it.”

The slave hovering at Justinian’s elbow measured water into two silver goblets of golden wine. I almost wished for something stronger, but I was determined to keep my wits about me. “Narses, my lord? You mean that snake of a eunuch you’ve got guarding your palace?”

“Narses is my steward and a general of the Scholarii cavalry. No one has ever questioned his authority.” He raised his brows. “Except you.”

I shrugged. “He may have sacked Rome for all I care. He looks genteel, but his manners are worse than a Goth’s.”

Justinian laughed. “Precisely why he’s guarding my front door.” He scooped a spoonful of spices into his wine. “Macedonia writes highly of you as well.” I recognized at Justinian’s elbow the letter I’d used to pelt Narses.

“I’m surprised he deigned to deliver that to you.”

“Honesty is a rare quality. Narses is under the impression it’s one you have in abundance.”

I set down the oyster I’d been about to crack open to save the future Emperor from watching me choke on shellfish.

“Macedonia wrote of your travels,” he continued. “Cyrenaica, Egypt, the Levant. Anatolia.”

I wasn’t about to correct him about Macedonia’s exaggerations.

His eyes gleamed in the torchlight. “I’d have to assemble twenty men to learn of all you’ve seen. And yet you’ve returned to Constantinople,” Justinian said. “Why?”

Something stopped my tongue from telling him about Tasia. I shrugged. “It’s home.”

“And do you plan to return to the theater now that you’re home?” A
silent slave refilled his glass. “I’m sure the Blues would be happy to reinstate their former star.”

I covered the silver goblet with my hand before the slave could refill it. “I took up religion in Alexandria. I hope the capital will offer the opportunity to sustain myself without taking to the stage again.”

Justinian set down his glass. “Your story grows more intriguing by the minute.”

I briefly relayed my experiences with Severus while Justinian listened, his food growing cold on his plate. “So you are a born-again Monophysite,” he said when I finished. “They are a group my uncle would like to see swept from the Empire.”

“You can’t keep banishing leaders of the religious opposition from the capital,” I said, the words coming fast. “They only breed dissent in the footsteps left behind.”

A shut mouth gathers no foot.
Why did I never remember my mother’s advice until it was too late?

Justinian stared at me as if I’d sprouted fins, then shook his head and rose from his couch. I waited for his order for Narses or someone armed with a freshly sharpened sword to mete out my punishment. Instead, he smiled, so slightly I might have imagined it. “You are a unique woman, Theodora.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment.”

He chuckled, a deep, throaty sound. “I have more guests arriving at any moment, but I’d be pleased if you’d stay.” He paused, then called over his shoulder, “As my guest.”

I stood in the shadows as Justinian welcomed several well-dressed men into the
triclinium
, observing as he spoke to each of them as if greeting a long-lost friend. He gave a hearty laugh and clapped a handsome young man on the back, eliciting a low rumble of laughter from all his guests. Even surrounded by other men—presumably powerful ones—Justinian dominated the room with his sheer energy.

He arranged himself on his couch once again and gestured to its
foot for me to sit. I perched on the edge and surveyed the ring of men as a slave offered a bronze bowl of rose water for them to dip their fingers.

They all inclined their heads in turn as Justinian made the introductions. General Belisarius wore a full beard and a general’s silver belt, but he appeared to be no older than me; recently returned from his victory at Daras, he was acknowledged as one of the Empire’s rising stars. His second-in-command, General Sittas—the one Justinian had laughed with—seemed even younger, with his smooth skin and soft lips. Justinian’s legal counselor, Tribonium, wore fingers black with ink, and Peter of Thessalonica seemed a thin and quiet diplomat. Narses had joined us as well, although he remained standing. The last man recognized me before I did him. “Gods!” He clutched his heart. “Can it truly be? Theodora has returned at last to the Queen of Cities?”

John of Cappadocia. His dimpled chin was hidden under a dark beard, but otherwise he looked exactly the same. How different my life might be if I’d chosen him instead of Hecebolus at Justin’s dinner party.

“Hello, John.” I let him kiss my palm and press it to his cheek before he settled onto the
lectus
next to me.

“How long has Justinian had you hidden away here?”

The rest of the men had started to talk politics, but Justinian’s eyes flicked occasionally in our direction. I had the feeling the man missed nothing.

“I’ve become newly acquainted with the consul tonight.”

“Watch out for him.” John leaned forward to whisper in my ear but caressed my knee instead. “He’s a sneaky devil.”

I turned my attention—and my knee—toward the rest of the conversation. “We were discussing Germanus,” Justinian told me. His foot twitched.

“The Emperor’s other nephew?” I knew little of Germanus other than his position as a potential heir.

John cracked open an oyster. “Germanus is a nonentity.”

“We would prefer to avoid another debacle like we had last time the throne was vacated,” Belisarius said. “We all agree Constantinople is for Justinian’s succession. He’s the obvious choice.”

Tribonium took a dainty bite of partridge. “And we’re not suggesting Justinian should take his uncle’s place by anything other than natural means.”

Their discussion was only borderline treason then.

“But we’re unsure how the provinces feel,” Peter said.

“Theodora is well traveled.” Justinian scooped the seeds from a pomegranate with a tiny gold spoon too delicate for his large hands. “She’s recently returned from Alexandria and a tour of Anatolia. I think only John here is as well-traveled as she.”

That explained why Justinian had kept me around tonight. This was my chance to prove myself. “The people of the Empire couldn’t care less about power struggles in the capital. They want only three things.” I ticked them off on my fingers. “Food. Safety from invasion. And the freedom to worship the god they choose. Guarantee them those and they’ll sing your praises to the Second Coming.”

Narses spoke from the shadows. “A succinct evaluation.”

Peter’s thick brows knit together. “I don’t believe your traipsing through the frontiers makes you an expert on religious or economic policy.”

I shrugged. “How often have you traveled outside Anatolia?”

John chortled. “She’s got you there, Peter.”

Peter’s ears flushed, and Justinian smiled into his wine.

“The first is easy,” Justinian said. “The grain ships from Egypt are steady as the Nile itself. Belisarius is working on the second. It’s the last that might prove difficult.”

I snorted. “If a farmer wants to damn his soul to Gehenna, that’s his choice. What does it matter to you if a man worships Zeus, or Yahweh, or Jesus? Or the Zoroastrian fire cult even, so long as he pays his taxes?”

The men looked at me in a sort of awed stupor, John with a morsel of partridge stopped halfway to his open mouth. Only Justinian continued to eat. He raised his cup to me, his expression indecipherable. “Something to think about.”

The rest of the evening passed over a discussion of Justinian’s planned legal reforms. I took Macedonia’s advice and listened to the men, absorbing everything I could from them. Justinian planned to compile a codex of imperial edicts to streamline the Empire’s centuries of convoluted laws, many of which contradicted one another. The city’s new consul was nothing if not ambitious.

The night wore on until enough yawns prompted Justinian to stand, a sign of dismissal. The men all stood, oyster shells and partridge bones crunching underfoot, but I took Justinian’s place, the fabric of his couch warm from his body. If he ordered me out, I’d be humiliated, but if not—

There were a few raised eyebrows, but the men all nodded in my direction before Justinian accompanied them to the atrium. Perhaps this was common behavior for Justinian. Yet I recalled Macedonia’s comment and the women talking outside his palace. I’d heard no stories of mistresses, no gossip of illegitimate children hidden in villages across the Empire. Perhaps our future Emperor did follow in the footsteps of so many Emperors before him, preferring pretty boys and soldiers like General Sittas in his bed.

Justinian’s voice carried as he bid farewell to his guests. This was my chance, but it was a huge gamble. My mouth went dry, and I suddenly wished I hadn’t eaten so much.

I was still draped across Justinian’s couch when he returned, two goblets of wine in hand. That was a good sign. He offered me one, his monogram impressed into the silver.

“Interesting company you keep,” I said, raising the goblet to the empty seats.

Justinian sat across from me, his legs stretched out and arms reclined
against the top of the couch. He sipped his wine. “Yourself included.”

“Most especially.”

He chuckled.

I moved my feet so our toes almost touched. “You need me. Those men are smart, but they don’t know your Empire the way I do.”

Slaves doffed the torches in the garden and disappeared while I waited for Justinian to answer. I found it difficult to believe the future Emperor was ever truly unattended, but it appeared we were alone amongst the perfume of potted rosebushes.

“What do you propose?”

“I find out what you need to know from places you can’t get to. Make your life easier.”

“Somehow I doubt you’ve ever made anyone’s life easier, Theodora.” He gave a low laugh and stood. “But I will think on your offer.”

I’d bargained in the market enough to recognize his refusal. “Thank you for a most interesting evening.” I caught a trace of his scent of mint and parchment, no hint of foreign perfume.

“Narses has ordered a sedan for you,” he said. “May God keep you, Theodora.”

I expected cold dismissal in his eyes, and so was surprised to find their warm depths smiling at me. Laughing, actually.

I bowed my head, feeling my cheeks flame with humiliation. “And may God keep you, Consul.”

I stomped past the sedan at the entrance, refusing to accept charity from the man who’d just rejected me, and took what was certainly my last look at the interior of the palace. My skin prickled at Narses’ gaze as I stalked down the dark path, trying to tuck myself into my
paludamentum
to ward off the shivering that had nothing to do with the evening chill.

I’d made a fool of myself, thinking Justinian would ask me to spy for him. I had nothing to offer a man like him.

My heart almost jumped out of my chest as a low voice rumbled behind the massive lion statues. “You are a dreadful woman.”