The Secret History: A Novel of Empress Theodora (26 page)

John the Cappadocian straddled the farthest marble lion, a clutch of lavender crocus in his fist. A few still had roots clinging to bits of dark earth. He jumped down in one swift movement and offered the flowers to me with a crooked grin. “I’ve waited for you all my life.”

I gave him a weak smile. “Somehow I doubt that.”

“I think you enjoy toying with my heart. I was beside myself with the thought that Justinian might have snared you tonight. Or perhaps the other way around.” He leaned forward like a gossiping fishwife, but I didn’t react. “I have a better proposal for you.”

“And what might that be?”

“Take up with me.”

I pretended to sniff the blossoms. John was a little rough around the edges—Cappadocians were widely known as backwater rustics—but he seemed a good sort, at least easy on the eyes, even if a little soft around the middle. I had no wish to hurt him, or humiliate him as I’d just been.

“That part of my life is behind me, John.”

He sighed. “It’s never too late for love. I shall simply endeavor to change your mind.” I noticed a second sedan waiting as he offered me his hand. “But for tonight at least let me take you home. The streets can be wicked at this hour.”

“I can walk. Truly—”

He held up a hand. “No arguing. I won’t have it on my conscience if you were attacked in some dark alley.” He gave a mischievous smile. “Or tripped and fell into a puddle.”

I smiled. It was a bit of a walk and I was exhausted. “All right.”

“That’s a girl.” He handed me into the sedan and closed the door behind him. I settled onto the cushion, glad for the single seats facing each other.

I spared a last glance at the Palace of Hormisdas as we passed the
palace gate. If I’d blinked, I’d have missed the dark outline of a man in the shadows. He ducked back into the warm light of Justinian’s atrium, too quick for me to make out who it was.

I wanted to spy for the consul but couldn’t even tell when I was being watched.

Justinian was right to dismiss me.

W
eeks passed.

John the Cappadocian sent a steady stream of notes extolling my beauty and stealing randy verses from Catallus that managed to make even me blush. I never replied but used the back of each to help Tasia sketch her letters, then let her crumple them into balls to kick back and forth with John. Several of the Cappadocian’s messages were accompanied with jewelry—one offering a pair of tiny gleaming ruby earrings. Closer inspection showed the stones weren’t really rubies but garnets. Perhaps the Cappadocian’s finances hadn’t changed much in the past three years.

Despite his pitiful attempts to court me, I felt my resistance chip away and wore my knees out praying to the Virgin for guidance. I wanted to keep the life I’d promised myself; yet my children were more important than any ideals I set for myself. My pitiful wage from the wool house would see us through with food on the table and a roof over our heads, but not much else. Tasia was almost old enough to start school, but the idea of a tutor was as likely as dining on suckling kid and wild gazelle each night. She would be
lucky to attend the patriarchate’s charity school when the leaves unfurled.

The Cappadocian started to look like a better alternative with each passing day.

I bundled the children off with Antonina’s blond slave one morning, their noses pink and drippy from the cold. The little apartment was silent as I wrapped a wool scarf around my head and blew out the oil lamp, the room saved from black only by the murky light of a cloudy dawn. The brazier was cold since we shivered through the mornings to save on wood. Things would be easier come spring.

My hand was almost on the door when someone knocked. “I’m in a hurry today—”

I started to lambaste yet another of John the Cappadocian’s slaves, but my mouth ceased to work. Justinian, dressed in plain brown wool, stood at my door, his breath curling like fog above him. “Hello, Theodora.”

I think I managed to choke out a greeting.

“May I come in?”

Into my dark little hovel with no heat? “Of course, my lord.”

“Please,” he said. “Call me Justinian.”

Thank God I had already emptied the night buckets out the window. I rubbed my trembling hands and warmed them with my breath. The oil in the lamp was still warm, but it took several tries to light before it sputtered unwillingly to life.

“How did you find me here?” I crossed my arms in front of me to stifle a shiver.

“Narses.” His eyes swept over the shabby room. “You were on your way out?”

“To the wool house.”

“May I?” He gestured to one of the chairs, fortunately not the shaky one with a leg shorter than the rest. The man wasn’t huge, but he filled the room. “Do you enjoy spinning?”

“Not at all.”

A smile flickered over his face—perhaps a trick of the light. “I won’t take much of your time. I need to know people’s reaction to the new tax collection in the city.”

Probably best not to mention I knew nothing about the topic.

Justinian leaned forward, elbows on his knees. “The system is one I intend to implement across the Empire to increase revenues. The rates remain the same, but the taxes will be collected more efficiently.”

“Resulting in more money for the Treasury.”

“Precisely.”

“From what I’ve seen, you’re going to need all the money you can get.”

He arched an eyebrow in my direction.

“Your consular games probably cost more than Anastasius and Justin ever spent in their entire reigns combined.”

Justinian shrugged. “Octavian knew what he was doing with free bread, beer, and circuses. My uncle is a wise man, but he doesn’t dream big. I do. And I need the people on my side if I’m to accomplish what I wish during my own reign.”

“When will you need the information?”

“Within a week.”

“Done.” It wasn’t spying on senators or prefects, but it was a start.

“Good. As you said, you can get honest answers from people I cannot.” He stood to go. “Oh, and keep John out of this.”

For a moment I thought he meant my son. “John?”

Justinian’s eyes lost their warmth. I pitied the poor soul that fell on the wrong side of this man’s temper. “The Cappadocian is in charge of the tax reforms. I believe you and he are well acquainted.”

A hesitant knock stopped my response. “Someone from your entourage?” I asked.

I opened the door to see Tasia’s bright hazel eyes, her cheeks round apples of pink. She peered behind me and bit her lip. “I heard voices, Mama.”

So much for keeping my life secret.

I nudged her into the room, my hands on the frail wings of her shoulder blades. “Tasia, this is Consul Justinian. Justinian, this is Tasia.” His name felt foreign on my tongue.

Tasia stared at the floor. “I am honored to meet you.”

“Consul,” I whispered.

“Consul,” she repeated.

Justinian crouched before her. His eyes had warmed again, and lines crinkled at their edges. “And I am honored to meet you as well, Tasia.”

I kissed her cheek. “Did you forget something, sweeting?”

She pointed to our pallet with its rumpled green blanket. “My doll. And Augustus Caesar. Auntie Nina said we’d have a party with them today.”

“Go fetch them.”

She returned with Anastasia’s one-eyed doll and a brown wool sock with hog hair whiskers and two mismatched button eyes.

“That’s a handsome cat you’ve got,” Justinian said. I had no idea how he’d identified the brown lump as an animal, much less a cat. “Is he a good mouser?”

She looked at her cat, to me, and then to Justinian. “He’s the best mouser ever.”

“I’d expect so with a name like Augustus Caesar.”

I gave her braid a little tug. “Tell Auntie Nina I may be a bit late today.”

“Yes, Mama.” She trundled down the stairwell, singing a song to Augustus Caesar. The day was growing stronger now, watery sun trying to nudge its way out of the clouds. I was terribly late. Justinian’s sedan waited on the street—at least I assumed it was his, despite the lack of imperial insignia.

I felt him behind me. “I didn’t realize you had a daughter.”

“She’s the reason I came back to Constantinople.” I wished I hadn’t
said the words as soon as they were out of my mouth. It would be best if this man knew as little about me as possible.

“A good reason. Do you have any other children?”

“A son.”

Something akin to dismay passed over Justinian’s face, and the next words jumped unbidden from my lips. “But he died.”

I don’t know why I lied. Perhaps it was the urge to keep my life secret, or maybe I didn’t want to disappoint Justinian. He stared at me for a moment, but then his expression relaxed and he crossed himself. “I’m sorry.”

I stared at the frayed weft of the table weaving, wondering what was wrong with me. What kind of mother lied about the death of her child?

Justinian cleared his throat. “My sedan can take you to the wool house if you’d like.”

That would set tongues wagging for at least a month.

I looked at him, startled at the warmth in his eyes. “No, thank you. I’ll send a report to the Palace of Hormisdas within a week.”

He walked down several steps, then stopped. “Deliver it yourself. And bring your daughter if you’d like.”

.   .   .

I did not bring Tasia.

I left the children with Antonina and a story about spending extra hours at the wool house. Antonina raised her brows, but I didn’t care if she believed me, so long as she didn’t know what I was really up to.

I wore the plum-colored stola again, although Justinian had already seen me at my worst. I had finished his task in five days, so he wouldn’t be expecting me.

The Palace of Hormisdas was quiet as Narses led me down the chilly corridors. We passed several closed chambers and were almost to the
triclinium
when a man emerged in the darkness before us.

“Theodora?”

An oil lamp illuminated John the Cappadocian, his sandy hair lit like a halo. “What are you doing here?”

I stifled a groan. The Cappadocian was the last person I wished to see.

“Meeting Justinian.”

He smiled at Narses. “I’ve just finished my meeting with the consul, but perhaps I can deliver this precious jewel to him?”

I struggled for a reason to ask Narses to stay, but the eunuch’s expression contradicted the idea that I was a precious stone of any sort. He gave a stiff bow, and his lamplight disappeared around the corner.

I didn’t relish lurking about Justinian’s dark halls with John. “Shall we?”

John stepped so close to me that the flame from his lamp singed my arm. “I’m not good enough for Constantinople’s fallen star?”

“Pardon me?”

“You reject me so you can take up with Justinian?” His lip wrinkled in a sneer.

“I have no intention of taking up with anyone.” Least of all another man with a hidden temper—I’d had enough of those to last several lifetimes.

“Likely story.” He glared at me through slitted eyes. “If you’re not on your way to his bed, then why are you here?”

“That’s really none of your business, now, is it?”

“Did you have a hand in my dismissal?”

No wonder he was in a black mood. I wondered why Justinian had dismissed him, but it was truly none of my business. And it certainly didn’t excuse his pushing me around.

“In case you haven’t noticed,” I said, “I work at the wool house. I’m in no position to influence the hiring or firing of the consul’s advisers.”

A vein ticked in his throat. Then his hands fell to his sides. “I need you, Theodora.” He pinned me between his arms, the wall cold against my back. The heat of his oil lamp fluttered too close to my face. “And you need me.”

I needed him like I needed a hole in my skull.

“Unfortunately, I’m not available.” I ducked out of his arms and around the corner, unable to breathe. His voice rang out behind me.

“That’s what you think.”

I drew a deep breath at his retreating footsteps. This was the sign I’d prayed for. I’d spend the rest of my life stinking of lanolin with the skin scoured from my hands before I took up with the Cappadocian.

“May I take you to the consul?”

Narses appeared from nowhere, hands clasped behind him. The man was silent as a cat before it pounced. I wondered how much he’d overheard.

“Please.” I tried to look imperious—hard to do since Narses was a head taller than me. “And if you ever dump me on the Cappadocian again, I’ll ask Justinian for what’s left of your manhood.”

Narses bared his teeth in what I hoped was a smile. “Follow me.”

He didn’t lead me to the
triclinium
, but to a cozy room at the opposite end of the palace, with a fire crackling in the brazier and a thick bear rug tossed over geometric swirls of mosaic. A water clock told the late hour, and a table large as a bed drooped under towers of scrolls and codices. Some of the open parchments revealed architectural schematics of great domed churches and what might have been aqueducts or triumphal arches.

“Theodora, what a pleasant surprise.” Justinian set down his stylus. His fingers were stained black at the tips, and his thick hair seemed somewhat wilder than usual, if that was possible. Narses bent to whisper something in his ear, and Justinian’s eyes flicked to me. There was a clumsy silence. I almost feared he’d send me away before he finally spoke. “Have you eaten?”