When the two Guards were gone, Captain Vlamos posted himself at the door, protecting the Censor and the General from spies and each other.
"What is it you wish to say?" Athanatadies inquired as he sat down on the largest of the padded benches.
Belisarius went to the windows, positioning himself between the ikonostases, the light behind him so that the
Censor could not see his face clearly. "I want," he said in a light, neutral tone, "to see justice done for once."
"For once?" the Censor demanded.
"Let's not waste time in debate, Censor. You have accused the Roman lady I sponsor of several crimes, including the murder of my wife. The physician who was responsible for her death left a confession—a copy of it was sent to you—that indicated he had been corrupted by a member of my household, a slave. I have learned which slave it is, and that he claims to be working at your request. He believes that he cannot be blamed or punished for any of the wrongs he has done because he has been assured that you will protect him."
Kimon Athanatadies smoothed the loose ends of his pallium. "I am not certain I understand you."
"I thought I spoke plainly," said Belisarius. "Is this slave of mine spying for you, or one of your officers? If so, did you give him permission to have my wife killed? Because if you did"—his voice was suddenly soft and cold—"I will see you die for it."
"I would never authorize such a sinful thing," Athanatadies protested smoothly. "If your slave thought he would be allowed to act in that way, he was mistaken. If he did anything at all." The last was an afterthought.
"The physician said he did."
"Oh, yes, the confession you claim was sent here. I do not recall seeing it. I will have to ask my officers; they deal with so much that occasionally something is overlooked." He hoped that Belisarius was far enough away from him not to smell the sharp sweat that betrayed his fear.
"Such as a murder confession." Belisarius made his tone light again. "I am certain that if you search for the document, you will find it. Then you can start to dismiss the charges brought against Atta Olivia Clemens. And when that is done, you will tell me what punishment will be given to my traitorous slave."
Athanatadies coughed delicately. "Which would you rather have: the Roman woman free, or the slave condemned and punished?" For the first time since he entered the room, Athanatadies felt he had some power, and it almost made up for the trepidation that had gripped him.
"What?" Belisarius stared at the Censor. "What did you say?"
"Would you rather free the Roman lady or punish your slave? It's a simple matter of choosing one or the other."
"Are you offering me a bargain?" Belisarius said in disbelief. "I come for justice and you barter with me?"
Athanatadies put his fingertips together. "General, the Emperor is determined to be rid of the Roman influence in this city. He is not inclined to look indulgently on crimes when a Roman is implicated. He is also determined to punish erring slaves. A man who is in your position will not do well by asking too much of Justinian; he regards you with suspicion already and it would not take much for him to decide you are actively his enemy. If that happens, then neither your slave nor the Roman woman will get what they deserve." He paused, giving Belisarius time to consider.
"You will do one, but not the other?" Belisarius asked harshly.
"I can see no way to do both," Athanatadies said.
"What you mean is that you will not act in both cases. You refuse to risk your position, and because I am in disfavor you are free to abuse your trust." He studied Athanatadies. "You enjoy this. You are reveling in your authority. It pleases you to be despotic."
"Those words could be fatal, General." Athanatadies sat straighter, one hand clutching the crucifix that hung around his neck.
"But there is no witness to them," Belisarius said gently. "Is there, Captain Vlamos?"
"I heard nothing disrespectful, General," said the Captain of the Guard.
"You will answer for this insolence, Captain," Athanatadies warned.
"Then I will have to reveal the offer you have made. I don't think it would be appreciated." His face was blank and he spoke in a monotone, but all three men understood.
"Since you insist," Belisarius said evenly, "we will strike your noxious bargain. But I warn you, Athanatadies, that your victory will be Pyrrhic; this is only the first skirmish—you have yet to enter battle."
* * *
Part of a series of clandestine orders from Kimon Athanatadies to the Guard Captain in charge of detained suspects.
In regard to the apostate pope called Tomus, the Censor in the name of the Emperor requires you to strip him bare in the narthex of Hagia Sophia and batter him with workmen's mallets until no bone within him is left unbroken. He is then to be hung from ropes in the narthex where those Christians of catechumen status may see the consequences of the loss of faith.
In regard to the musician Narsissos, his tongue is to be cut out and he is to be branded on the arm and the chest so that all will know he fouled his mouth with libelous and unholy songs. Also, the fingers of his right hand are to be broken so that he may no longer pluck a lyre.
In regard to the traduced slave Simones, he is to be taken to the public courtyard of the Censor's house where he is to be flayed in strips, so that his skin will hang in tatters from him. Let care be taken that he not die too soon, for when he is flayed, he is to be left for the curs to devour.
In regard to Pope Sylvestros, who is demented: let him be immured in one of the cells in the new extension of city walls where his prayers may strengthen the fortifications and where he will be no harm to anyone. Further, let him be visited often to hear what he is saying. If it is treasonous, then his cell must be walled up entirely.
In regard to the Roman sorceress Olivia Clemens, she is to be held for twenty-one days, until the next full moon, at which time she is to be sewn in a sack and taken into the Sea of Marmara. The boat is to leave the east end of the Bucolean Harbor at the end of the first quarter of the night. Because this is a dangerous sorceress, the sailors are to be told in advance that she is not to be listened to or believed.
In regard to the desecrater of tombs, the heretic Pthos, he is to be sewn into the skin of a fresh-killed goat and taken to the highest Guard tower on the city walls at dawn, and left there exposed to the sun for three entire days, at which time his corpse is to be thrown to the swine to eat, said swine then to be used to feed other heretic suspects.
In regard to Szoni, the smuggler of condemned books, he is to be taken to the main portal of the Emperor's Forum where he is to be flogged with parchment lashes until he dies.
10
At sunset Captain Vlamos came to Olivia's cell for the last time. He stood in the door, not quite certain what to say. "I have to tell them you will be ready," he said unhappily.
"I am not ready at all," Olivia said in a tranquil way. "I do not want to be… executed." She wondered what the Censor would think if he knew what a long and agonizing death he had ordered for her. She sighed and glanced toward the small, high window where a little fading light glowed. "Was it a fine day?"
"Very clear," said Captain Vlamos. "The night should be the same."
"Full moon," she sighed. "Will they let me keep my garments and my shoes?"
"If you request it, yes, if they are very simple. You may wear a dalmatica but not a paenula." He shifted to his other foot, disliking his task more with every passing moment.