In the name of the Savior, the
Father and the Sacred Spirit,
Pope Sylvestros
Church of the Patriarchs
7
By sundown the heat of the day faded and the first slow night breeze moved over the Black Sea to Konstantin-oupolis, its light touch heralding the coming darkness. The voices of bells brazen as the western sky called a farewell to the sun; the shouts and bustle from the wharves and markets gave way to the drone of chants from the churches.
For Drosos, this was the familiar rhythm of home, one that he noticed only because he had so recently returned from the chaos of Italy. That campaign was still fresh in his mind, and often he had to remind himself that it was behind him. One thing he treasured from Italy waited for him now; he smiled as he trod up the gentle hill to the house where Olivia lived. It was his second visit since his return to Konstantinoupolis three weeks ago, and this time he hoped that their meeting would be more than the formal ritual that society required. His memory burned from the three nights they had spent together at her villa outside the walls of Roma, and he hungered now for more of her.
Niklos opened the door to him, saluting instead of making a reverence. "Welcome back, Captain."
Grinning, Drosos returned the salute. "I am happy to be here, Niklos." He glanced around the vestibule and saw no sign of other guests. "What company this evening?"
"Just you, Captain," said Niklos with a knowing look.
"For the entire evening?" He was a bit surprised at the majordomo's bluntness.
"For the entire evening," Niklos confirmed, adding, "My mistress waits for you in the garden."
"Will you take me there?" He could find his way himself, but it would be taking a liberty that could easily be thought a serious breach of good conduct. "You, or one of the household slaves."
"I will take you," said Niklos, indicating the hallway they should use and following a pace behind Drosos.
"How is your mistress?" Drosos inquired, attempting to keep the tone of the evening properly reserved.
"She misses you, Captain," said Niklos, his candor putting aside the practiced phrases that Drosos expected.
"I have missed her," said Drosos, aware that it was not correct for him to discuss Olivia with her bondsman.
Niklos gave Drosos an understanding nod. "You wonder that I should say this to you, that I know so much about my mistress? It is because I have been with Olivia Clemens for a long time, and as her bondsman and majordomo, I know many things about her. She confides in me and has done so for many years." They had passed the dining room and Niklos indicated the small supper laid out for the Captain. "Refreshments are waiting for you whenever you wish for them."
"Not yet, I think," said Drosos, his appetite whetted for something other than food.
"No," agreed Niklos, and opened the door to the garden.
Olivia, swathed in soft olive-green silk shot with silver, rose from her low couch as Drosos came toward her, her hand extended to him, her lyre set aside. "Welcome, Captain."
The polite compliments died on his tongue as he touched her; his eyes darkened with emotion and he made a deep reverence to her. "Olivia."
Her smile was warm and lucid as sunlight. "How glad I am you are here." Her paenula whispered and clung as she moved. "It has been too long."
"Much too long," he said, his senses almost overwhelmed by her presence.
"It pleases me that you feel as I do." She turned to Niklos. "I will call you in a while."
"Very good, my mistress," he said, withdrawing and closing the door, leaving Olivia and Drosos alone with the lengthening shadows and the first scent of jasmine.
Drosos was used to much more complicated preliminaries, and he stood uncertainly, baffled by the directness Olivia used. "How is it with you?"
"Better now you are here." She sank back onto her couch and indicated the place beside her. "Come, Drosos; join me."
Drosos did not move for the space of two long breaths, and then, very slowly and joyously, he moved to her side. He put his hand over hers, letting them rest together. "The other time I was here," he said quietly, "I wondered if you would grant me this…"
She touched his face just above his short-clipped soldier's beard. "Why would I not?"
"It has been a while." He stopped and went on with difficulty. "You have been alone here, and you might have found another you preferred to me." His last few words came quickly and he could not bring himself to meet her eyes.
"Drosos," she said and waited until he turned to her. "I have not found anyone I prefer to you, not in many years, certainly not since I have been here." She reached out to her lyre, the strings murmuring under her fingers.
He listened to the sound, his mind drifting with it. There was a stillness around him that was as tantalizing as an embrace. He was afraid to break it with words, afraid that he would lose the joy that filled him. Finally he brought her hand to his lips and kissed her palm: he felt her lips brush his shoulder through the fabric of his dalmatica.
For some little time neither of them moved. The air around them was as quiet as they were, suspended in breathlessness and anticipation. Then a finger of air stirred the leaves; the silence turned to soft rustling.
"Drosos," whispered Olivia, moving back from him far enough from him to see his face clearly in the fading light.
He let her read his features, exulting in the yearning in her eyes. He pulled her closer. "I want you, Olivia."
"And I you," she said as she wrapped her arms around him.
"Now."
Olivia laughed low in her throat. "There is no reason to rush when there is time to savor. Pleasure is not to be squandered when it can be relished."
"But it has been so long," protested Drosos, before he kissed her mouth.
When she could speak, she said, "Be patient, Drosos. Now that we are together, we need not hurry."
He pressed close to her, urgency melding with desire. He felt her body with his need, knowing she would not deny him. He fumbled with her paenula, seeking the flesh beneath it.
"Here," she said softly, and unfastened the tablion that held the garment at the shoulder. The silk fell away, and beneath it she was naked.
For an instant Drosos stared, transfixed with wanting her. His flesh trembled, his entire being as inflamed as his organ. Abruptly he started to tug his clothes off, casting the garments around him until all he wore was his shoes.
Olivia had watched this in silence, and as he reached for her, she acquiesced.
The couch was wide enough for both of them, and they fell together in a glorious tangle, legs and arms intertwined, hands seeking. They had been apart long enough that some of their old familiarity had been forgotten; it was ineffably sweet to rediscover one another, to find once more the ways each awakened the other.
As the first rush of desire calmed, Drosos was willing to let Olivia set the pace for them, delighting in her explorations of his body and longings. She coaxed more pleasure from him than he had thought they could share, offering herself to him as wholeheartedly as she indulged him. Every caress, each kiss increased their ardor; both gave the full bounty of passion even before he entered the depths of her body.
"Lord God of the Prophets," he gasped as he felt her tighten around him. His senses swam with rapture as they moved together. Only when he had succumbed to fulfillment and released her did he feel the world return. He propped himself on his elbows and looked down at her.
She smiled up at him, her face radiant. Then she began to laugh, and he joined her. "Oh, Drosos," she said, her head pressed to his shoulder.