His laughter continued, warm and unfettered. Reluctantly he moved aside, gathering her close against him, kissing her eyes as his chuckles subsided at last.
"It is so good to have you here," she said with a long, satisfied sigh.
"I didn't remember how wonderful you are," he told her, his fingers brushing the planes of her face. "You delight me."
"Wonderful," she said, deeply content. "It's been a very long time since I have wanted anyone as I want you."
She stared up into the star-strewn night.
"So ancient you are," he teased, and was surprised when she responded quite seriously.
"Yes; so ancient I am." She touched him tenderly where her mouth had been at the height of their passion.
"You bit me," he said, amused.
"Yes." She kissed the place then kissed his mouth. "I used to think that it would not be possible to care this way again, certainly not after so long."
He was startled at her somber tone, and he smiled at her a bit uncertainly. "What is it?"
"Oh, nothing." She moved closer to him. "I'm being foolish; pay no attention."
"If this is foolish," he said, leaning over to kiss her yet again, "then I like it better than wisdom."
"So do I." There was a roguish light in her eyes now, and she pushed at his shoulder so that he rolled onto his back; she braced one arm across his chest and grinned.
He tangled one hand in her hair and drew her down to him. "You are the most awe-inspiring creature I've ever known. You're like an angel."
"An angel?" she asked, laughing again. "I thought that angels did not indulge in these things." As she said this she ran her fingers over his chest, just barely touching him; she smiled as he shivered with pleasure.
"Angels indulge in ecstasy," he said with unruffled calm. "So you are like an angel."
"I see." She kissed him on the edge of his beard. "Do all soldiers have these?"
"Most of us. It isn't convenient to be clean-shaven on campaign, though Belisarius managed most of the time I was with him." His expression darkened at the memory. "I delayed coming back as long as I could. It was hard to leave him."
"Is it bad?" She had stopped her teasing and was watching him with serious concern.
"Yes." He met her eyes. "We had to abandon your villa. I don't know what Totila's men did to it." It shamed him to admit this, and he was surprised that she waved his apology away with some impatience. "We tried to protect it as long as we could."
"You assured me that would be the case and I had no reason to doubt you. I was more concerned for you and your men than for the villa. I have lived there more years than I care to remember, and while I am fond of the place, it is only stone. Men are living flesh, which is another matter." Neither she nor Drosos assumed that she was saying this erotically.
"But it might be in ruins."
"So might Roma, so might all of Italy." She rested her head on his chest. "It is the waste of life that horrifies me."
"There are always lives wasted in war," said Drosos, trying to sound cynical and instead revealing more despair than he realized.
"I hate them for that, if nothing else." She gazed up at the sky. "And in the end, how little difference it makes."
Drosos shifted under her, his arms going around her as much to give him comfort as to embrace her. "Must we talk about war, Olivia?"
"You said you were sorry to leave. I wanted to know why," she pointed out. "But no, we need not talk about it, nor of anything else that displeases you."
"It doesn't displease me," he protested, then relented. "Yes, it does, and that is troublesome, because I am Belisarius' Captain and an officer of the Emperor. It ought not to displease me. I should be proud of the honor I have been given."
"And if you are not, what then?" Olivia asked, her voice soft and kind.
"I have failed," he said simply, with devastation of spirit.
"Oh, no," she told him, raising herself enough to be able to meet his eyes. "No, Drosos; dear dear Drosos."
"What else can it be?" He sounded lost now.
"Perhaps it is merely that you know you cannot save everyone you wish to save and this causes you anguish. You are a good soldier and a good man; you would not willingly see land lost and people killed if there were a way you could prevent it."
"It's more than that," he admitted, one hand sunk in her fawn-brown hair. "It was the futility of it all. We had not enough supplies or money or troops, and so we lost. Belisarius has done more to hold on to Italy with less than anyone—"
"Such as the Emperor?" Olivia suggested.
"He promises, but nothing comes, or not enough, or not in time," he said uncomfortably. "If he understood, if he knew, then he would not withhold what is needed."
"Perhaps," said Olivia. "Or it may be that he wishes for his forces to manage with less." She said this as gently as she could, but it did not soften the blow that Drosos felt.
"The Emperor is not like that!" He shoved her, almost throwing her off him. "He has the Empire on his mind, and that is why he does not always comprehend what one part of it is up against. He in concerned for the welfare of everyone in the Empire and that often means that he faces conflicts. Even Belisarius knows this, for he has explained it to everyone who has served with him over the last years."
"And you believe as Belisarius does?" said Olivia. "Well, I am new to Byzantium, and it may be that as a Roman I do not have sufficient knowledge to judge what I see." Inwardly she knew better—that Justinian had decided to withdraw his support of his forces in Italy—but had no desire to argue with Drosos about it.
"Women never understand these matters," said Drosos. "Although," he amended, "you have a better grasp than many; it is your Roman heritage."
"No doubt," she concurred. Her hazel eyes grew distant. "And I do miss Roma, more than I thought I would."
"Because it is your home," he said, doing his best to reassure her. "You are like all of us; you would rather be in the place you know than among strangers. That's not surprising. No one could think that it is. No matter how much more opulent and beautiful Konstantinoupolis is, you will miss Roma, because it is where you were born."
"Yes," she said very slowly dragging out the word. "Yes, Roma is my native earth, and for that reason alone it pulls me. And you do not know what it was like at the height of its grandeur. You can't imagine it, seeing it now. You don't know how glorious it was, once."
"But that was centuries ago, when the corrupt Caesars ruled," Drosos reminded her.
"The corrupt Caesars," she mused. "Well, some of them were, certainly, but others only did their best, as you have done, as Belisarius does. You might not think so now, but many of those Caesars were as revered in their time as your Emperor Justinian is now." She shook her head as if to be free of her memories. "Why are we dwelling on the past when the present is so much more enjoyable?"
He did not catch her mood quickly, but he did find a way to respond to her. "I thought all Romans longed for the past."
"If we do, then we are great fools," she said roundly, doing her best to bring him out of the unhappiness that was taking hold of him. "The past, no matter what it was, is over, and there is only the present. The future is still ahead, all unknown. We have what we have now." She kissed him on the earlobe. "Haven't we."
"Possibly," he allowed.
"Oh, Drosos, pay attention," she said, this time tweaking the edge of his well-trimmed beard. "How can I give you pleasure if your thoughts are in Roma with the army?"
"I don't know," he growled, but there was the beginning of a smile in his eyes.
"Do, please, give me your attention. Let me show you all the delights you have missed—I trust you have missed them?—while we have been apart." She tossed her head and her long, loose hair trailed over his chest. "You have returned to me and I want to know every joy with you."