"Are all popes as cynical as you?" Ghornan asked with a hint of admiration.
"Not all of them are as poor, and few know how to take advantage of opportunity when it presents itself," said Pope Sylvestros severely. "It is not as if I am helping you steal from Byzantines. These are Romans, and you know what godless pagans they are."
"And that is all the excuse we need?" suggested Ghornan.
"It is not an excuse," Pope Sylvestros insisted. "I would never assist anyone in taking goods from a true Christian, but these Romans still have temples to their gods, and they think to mislead us all by declaring that they are now churches. None of us are fooled."
"So you are actually helping the Church by seizing these goods?" Ghornan laughed. "Very well, tell me some more about this widow's villa. Is it all on the list here?" He looked over the two sheets with more care, his eyes growing large with avarice. "What's this?" He pointed to an item on the second page of notes.
Pope Sylvestros glanced at the entry in question. "Oh. Yes, that was very strange. Fourteen chests filled with earth. One of the slaves told me that twenty just like them had been shipped to the widow in Constantinople." He scowled. "I wonder what kind of pagan rites she enacts with that earth?"
"Pagan rites?" Ghornan asked, heavy brows rising.
"What else would she require it for?" Pope Sylvestros twitched with indignation. "Rites of fertility, no doubt, or some other abomination." He indicated another line on the list. "This might interest you: twenty-eight platters of silver. They were in a storeroom along with those large brass tubs. Two barrels of sweet oil, and a whole chest filled with spices, which could be worth a great deal. The chest itself is an old one, all antique lacquerwork with brass fittings. It might be as much as four or five centuries old, and there are some who would like it for that reason alone."
Ghornan rubbed his stubbled chin. "The Spairei Krohma already has a little cargo consigned for the voyage back to Constantinople; we can take the most salable items from this villa, and if that goes well, then we can return for more on my next trip. In the meantime, if you find any other villas that are promising, and that have not been the headquarters for the army, make a note of them. I think that we might be fortunate if we can keep from becoming too greedy, or taking too much from one place. We must loot with discrimination." He belched laughter at his own humor.
"We are not looting," said Pope Sylvestros.
"No? What would you call it?" He gave the pope a friendly thump on the shoulder. "Conversion? Donation?" This time he did not laugh. "Whatever hypocritical reason you have, embrace it if it salves your conscience. And continue to find likely sites for our activities."
Suddenly he lunged to his feet and battered open the nearest door. Beyond the landlord stood, his stained mantele caught in his hands, his face guilty. "Well, well, well, what goes on here?"
"Nothing, Captain. Nothing. I was only curious to know if you had finished your business so that I could resume business."
"For only the two of us? Your tavern isn't very popular these days. Could it be that you were hoping to augment your earnings by applying for a reward as an informant?"
"Never!" the landlord said stoutly as his ruddy face turned hideously pale.
"Ah!" Ghornan was shorter than the landlord, and not as stout, but he was strong as the trunk of an oak tree, and he flung the man across the room with less effort than most would have thought possible. "You craven. You don't even lie well." He strode over to the counter and helped himself to another cup of wine. As he drank, he regarded the landlord, saying at his most affable, "You know, I once caught one of my sailors trying to sell off part of my cargo. I took some of the rope from the sails and I had it soaked in pitch, and then I stuffed it down his gullet and up his ass. It burned quite a while."
The landlord was gulping for air, his eyes wild with terror. "I swear, Captain, by the Mother of God, that I never intended to do—"
"I think," Ghornan went on as if he had not heard the landlord, "that this time I might wrap the rope around the body a couple of times, just to speed things up."
The landlord scrambled to his feet. "You would never do such a thing, not with a priest to watch you."
"What do you think this pope would do? How could he stop me if I decided to act?" He glanced from the landlord to Pope Sylvestros and back again. "How could he stop me?"
With a choking cry, the landlord bolted from the room.
Pope Sylvestros had risen. "He will inform against us."
"Oh, no he won't. I have four crewmen waiting outside; they'll catch him for us. I'll tend to him later." He came and sat back down opposite the pope.
"What… what will you do to him?" he asked uncertainly.
"Do you really want me to tell you?" was the sardonic response. When Pope Sylvestros faltered, Ghornan picked up the pages from the table. "Come. Let's decide what we're going to take this time."
Numbly Pope Sylvestros nodded and turned his mind away from the landlord's fate to the prospect of possible riches.
* * *
Text of an announcement sent throughout the Byzantine Empire.
To all subjects, citizens, and slaves of the Emperor Justinian; your attention, prayers, and devotions are required to mourn the death of the Empress Theodora, who passed from worldly travail into bliss on the feast day of Saint Felix of Nola, after enduring with fortitude the ravages of disease.
Coming so soon after the Feast of the Nativity, her death in this world is seen as especially blessed and more than silences the calumnies that have been spoken of her while she lived and grew in grace as the beloved wife of Emperor Justinian. Any person so lost to faith and charity who believes and repeats all or any part of the lies that have been spread about the virtuous Empress Theodora risks his body in this life and his soul in the next. Empress Theodora rose from her obscure beginnings through her innate kindness and goodness, and it was God's approval that brought her to the throne and bed of the Emperor Justinian.
Anyone discovered defaming the memory of this most blessed Empress will face the full weight of civil and ecclesiastical justice, and the only mercy that will avail so malignant a person then will be the Mercy of God.
For one year the Byzantine Empire will mourn for Empress Theodora. Those who do not observe this period will come under rigorous scrutiny.
By the order of
Kimon Athanatadies
Court Censor
at the behest of
the Emperor of Byzantion, Justinian I
PART IIDrosos
Text of a letter from Antonina to her husband Belisarius.
To my esteemed and beloved husband on the Eve of Good Friday, hail and embraces.
With Theodora dead, there is nothing more I can do on your behalf with Justinian. He has refused to receive either me or those officers—notably Drosos and Chrysanthos—who have continued to support you, and in fact it appears that their constancy has fed his suspicions that you are gathering men around you for the purpose of overthrowing him and assuming the throne yourself.