The Secret History: A Novel of Empress Theodora (29 page)

Justinian caressed my wet cheek with one hand. “I don’t care what anyone thinks. I love you, and I want to marry you.”

I wanted to say yes, to throw caution to the sky and let myself fall in love with this man. To become his wife. But I could only shake my head.

“I’ll say it again.” He pulled me to him. “I want to marry you. I want you to sit beside me on the throne and tell me when I’m spending too much money, to grow old with you and bicker about what socks I’m to wear and which monuments to build to ourselves.” He tipped my chin back so I could see his eyes, the edges glimmering with gold and rimmed with wet lashes. “I love you, and I want to spend the rest of my life with you.”

I swallowed hard, glad for the rain that hid the tears streaming down my cheeks. There was another rumble of thunder as I spoke, one bittersweet word that might torment me for the rest of my days.

“Yes.”

Justinian moved to sweep me into his arms, but I skittered away. “Under one condition.”

“Anything.”

“We tell no one until your uncle has given his consent.” I held up my hand to stop his protest. “I won’t jeopardize your position as heir.”

“That’s really your concern?”

One of many, but I nodded.

He kissed my knuckles. “Then I’ll simply have to persuade my uncle to change the law.”

My fingers closed around his, locking the ring in his fist. He’d keep his ring, and I’d keep my heart until possibility became reality.

Until then, it couldn’t hurt to dream.

.   .   .

“They say you’ve bewitched the consul with black magic.” Narses leaned against a table as slaves laid out a tray of cured ham and sweet melon to break my fast. I’d risen early, but Justinian had already gone, so I had spent the first rays of sunlight reading a letter from Antonina. She reported that John had fallen from the top of her stairway while playing King of the Mountain. He was fine, but Antonina had been there to kiss the goose egg on his head instead of me.

“If I knew black magic, I’d have used it years ago.” I let the flame of an oil lamp devour the letter and ignored Narses’ watchful eye. I was almost certain he knew of Justinian’s proposal. I’d developed a grudging appreciation for the eunuch—he had thrown his lot in with me, so it only seemed fair.

A slave swept a vivid blue
paludamentum
around my shoulders and pinned it with a lapis bird perched on a gold needle. I let another slave massage my feet before stepping into calfskin slippers soft as butter.

Narses scrutinized me. “I’ll arrange for Justinian to order some emeralds for tonight’s dinner here with the Emperor.”

I choked on air. “Dinner with the Emperor?”

He folded his arms in front of him, his face a mask. “Emperor Justin wishes to meet you. I’m sure you were informed of the dinner days ago.”

I threw a slipper at him, but he dodged it. “You know you didn’t tell me. Neither did Justinian.”

Narses picked up the slipper and dangled it before me. “No point worrying you—we don’t want you to come down with indigestion.”

“Would that get me out of the meal?”

“I imagine not. The Emperor will be joined by Empress Lupicina and Justinian’s sister, Vigilantia.”

“May as well crucify me now.” I sighed, then brightened. “Empress Lupicina comes from humble beginnings.” That was putting it mildly for a barbarian whore who’d taken up with a swineherd before he bought the Emperor’s diadem. “She can’t look too far down her nose at me.”

“If you say so.” Narses reached into his pocket and retrieved an ivory box the size of a fig. “You’ll want this.”

“What is it?”

He pushed open the top to reveal an image of the Virgin Mary in flowing blue robes and surrounded by delicate gold filigree. “I believe you and I share an affinity for the Virgin.”

I took the prayer box, marveling at the detail of Mary’s face and wishing I could manage the same tranquility. My voice sounded like it hadn’t been used in some time. “Thank you, Narses.”

“You’re welcome.” He twisted the tip of his beard and gave a sardonic grin. “You need her help tonight far more than I do.”

I glared, but he was right.

I prayed to the little icon of the Virgin in a hazy fog of incense, then spent the remainder of the afternoon preparing for dinner—bathed,
plucked, massaged, and oiled like an Easter goose. My body shone like Cleopatra’s before she met Marc Antony at Tarsus.

By the time Justinian entered my chambers, I was naked to allow the rose oil to absorb into my skin, and a silk stola the color of new leaves waited on my bed.

“Waiting for me, I see.” Justinian twirled a strand of my hair around his finger, then kissed the thin black strand.

“What mischief have you been up to this afternoon?” I asked.

His smile told me he was clearly up to no good. “I had an important errand. You’ll find out soon enough.”

I let him continue down his path—his touch made me suddenly warm. “I spent my afternoon preparing for the Emperor.”

“His heart might fail if you don’t put some clothes on.”

I shot Justinian a pointed look, and he cleared his throat. “I see Narses told you about tonight—”

“I haven’t decided on your punishment yet.” I kissed his nose and pointed to the waterfall of green silk cascading to the foot of my bed. Justinian fetched it and slipped the cool material over my head. “Don’t worry—I plan to be magnificent.”

I held my arms out for slaves to drape me with an emerald
chlamys
so long that its ends tickled the nose of a mosaic lion underfoot, then pinned pearls to the silk veil tucked over my hair. I had forgone the offer of Justinian’s jewels—at my neck was only Severus’ amber cross, but even my sandals were studded with pearls.

I could grow accustomed to such luxuries.

Justinian and I waited for our guests in the atrium as the horizon swallowed the sun. Tasia fidgeted next to me, her hair brushed until it matched the silk of her stola and a new gold cat brooch with emerald eyes pinned at her shoulder. I’d spoiled her with enough gifts and trinkets for more than two children since we’d moved into the palace. Trinkets and baubles couldn’t make up for our lost years and her brother’s
absence, but it was a welcome change to be able to buy her whatever my heart desired.

Justinian’s sister arrived first, her ebony sedan so tastefully carved it might have passed for a merchant’s litter. Vigilantia took a slave’s outstretched hand and stepped down, a female version of her brother with his thick mane of dark hair. A well-dressed boy with scuffed knees trailed behind her and skidded to a stop before Justinian with a succinct bow.

“Hello, Justin.” Justinian ruffled the boy’s hair and brandished a carved ivory soldier from his pocket. I felt a knife of grief that my son wasn’t here, that Justinian wasn’t able to talk to him as he did his nephew. “Your mother tells me you’ve been learning about military battles from the Golden Age. Which is your favorite?”

The boy’s face lit with delight as he clutched the toy soldier. “Julius Caesar crossing the Rubicon.”

“I like the Trojan War,” Tasia piped up. “Especially the part with the Amazons.”

“Both excellent battles.” Justinian winked at Tasia and gave his nephew’s shoulder a warm squeeze. “I believe this young lady has a fierce little patchwork lion as an accomplice, so watch out once you’re inside.”

“Yes, Uncle,” Justin said.

Tasia gave a little grin and scampered inside, then stopped and ran back to me. She threw her arms around my hips. “I love you, Mama.”

“I love you, too, sweet pea.” My voice was husky as I kissed the top of her head.

A slave girl waited for Vigilantia to kiss her son’s cheek, then herded the children off as Justin scrubbed away the imprint of his mother’s hennaed lips with the sleeve of his tunica.

“Justinian.” Vigilantia kissed his cheek and turned to me. No one would call the woman pretty with her thick neck and square jaw, but
her face was kind. “You must be Theodora. You’re a brave woman to take on all the family at once.”

“Morituri te salutant,”
I said.
We who are about to die salute you.
It was the salute of condemned prisoners from the Golden Age.

Justinian choked and Vigilantia stared at me; then the jangling of the gold discs at her ears joined her laughter. “I like her, Brother. I only hope they don’t eat her alive.”

Justinian squeezed my hand. “I’d certainly prefer to save the slaves the mess on the mosaics.”

“You’ll be fine,” Vigilantia said. “Our aunt believes Justinian walks on water.”

Justinian chuckled into the cool air. “That’s what I like my women to think.” Vigilantia and I rolled our eyes at each other, then laughed, but the racket at the gate made my heart stutter. The royal entourage.

One hundred servants and slaves preceded the imperial sedan, blaring horns and tossing violet petals on the cobbles. Two slaves scrambled to open the doors of the gilded litter while more scurried to lay a carpet of new silk from the litter to where we waited. The Emperor emerged, the gold
torques
blindingly bright on his chest, followed by Empress Lupicina. Her plumage tonight was more gaudy than usual, a terrifying assortment of garnets, rubies, and carnelian that would have sent any self-respecting peacock into hiding.

Things fell apart from the start.

I shared Justinian’s
lectus
as slaves labored to carry gilded trays to the roof so we could enjoy the view of the Sea of Marmara. The last of the sun’s dying light turned the water to molten gold as pelicans swooped and dove into the harbor. I’d barely had time to peruse the menu this morning, but now I watched a parade of baked apricots oozing goat cheese and flecked with cinnamon, roast boar stomach stuffed with Lucanian sausages, and the delicacy of pale blue starling eggs served in their nests. Justinian served me himself, letting his fingers brush my hand every so often.

Vigilantia leaned toward me as the wine was measured and poured and more torches were lit. “I’ve never seen Justinian so besotted,” she murmured into her cup. “It’s about time my brother found a woman to match him.”

I didn’t have a chance to answer. Old Justin interrupted us as a slave cut a quivering bite of boar stomach, nibbled a piece from the point of his knife, and set the plate before the Emperor. “How do you like the Palace of Hormisdas, Theodora?”

Slaves presented golden plates of baked red mullet for each of us. I’d never have guessed I’d dine on fish like those from Justin’s old pond, fattened on bread crumbs and tickled every day by slaves with nothing better to do.

The mullet’s bones crunched between my teeth. “The palace is very comfortable,” I said.

“Certainly more comfortable than a bench in a back room of the Kynêgion,” Lupicina muttered under her breath, so loud we could all hear. Her husband squeezed her hand and sent me an apologetic look.

“As you would know,” I said.

Lupicina sputtered, and Vigilantia grinned into her
mappa.

“Try the boar.” Justinian served the meat onto my plate as if he hadn’t heard me, but I saw the smile tugging his lips. “It’s delicious.”

I’d anticipated trouble from the wrong corner. Vigilantia tried to draw the Empress into conversation about the recent chariot races, but Lupicina only pursed her lips and glowered at me over her starling eggs.

My mouth was full when a slave delivered a large blue silk bag to Justinian. He pushed it across the couch to me. I arched an eyebrow, but he only smiled. “Open it.”

The bag itself was a gift, embroidered with gold clovers so tiny that sparrows might have stitched it. I gasped at what was inside.

Red sandals. The red sandals of a
kyria
.

I could barely speak. “You didn’t.”

Justinian shrugged, taking another bite of apricot as if he’d only handed me another helping of boar. “I delivered the parchment and lead seals proclaiming your elevation to the patrician class to the offices below the Hippodrome this afternoon.”

So that was where he’d been.

“You can’t do that!” Lupicina’s face was red as the mullet on her plate. Vigilantia sat back on her
lectus
as if ready to enjoy a show.

The Emperor shifted on his couch as if sitting atop a bed of thorns. “Actually, my dear, it is well within a consul’s jurisdiction to elevate any worthy citizen to the rank of patrician.”

Justinian looked at his aunt rather matter-of-factly. “It seemed only fitting that I make Theodora a patrician. That way I can marry her.”

I narrowly avoided spewing boar across the garden. Lupicina was not so restrained.

“You can’t marry her,” she screeched. “She’s a whore!”

Her reaction was enough to make me want to shout my acceptance to Justinian’s proposal from the palace rooftop.

Her husband patted her hand. “As were you, my dear.”

It was no mean feat that the Emperor didn’t keel over and die with the look Lupicina leveled at him. “There is a law,” she said.

Justinian scowled. “An antiquated law that serves no purpose.”

“A man of senatorial rank, including a consul, cannot marry an actress even if she does become a patrician,” Lupicina said, and crossed her arms in front of her, looking smug. “It is forbidden.”

Justinian leaned back on his couch. “That’s why I’d like the Emperor to change the law.”

His uncle swallowed hard. I didn’t envy him, stuck like Odysseus between Scylla and Charybdis. He looked to me and tugged the droopy lobe of one of his giant ears. “Would you be amenable to such a marriage?”

Lupicina threw her linen
mappa
to the ground. “Of course she’s amenable! Then she’ll wear the purple once we’re dead. I won’t have it!”

I wished someone would shove the
mappa
down her throat. “I aim to serve the Empire and God.” Justinian coughed into his fist to cover his laugh. He knew by now that I served no one. I looked only at him. “I’d be honored to marry Justinian.”

Justinian’s eyes softened, and he quietly slipped the gold ring over my third finger. Vigilantia gave a little squeal of glee, and Lupicina glared at us with lips sewn shut. Her joints creaked as she knelt before Justinian’s couch, clutched her nephew’s hand in her own, spotted and gnarled with age. “Justinian, you have your choice of any girl in the realm, certainly one blessed with modesty and chastity, a
young
woman still pert of breast with more years to give you the heir you deserve.”