"You look dreadful," she said as she looked up.
"I've got good reason," he said, and dropped onto the low bench across the reading table from her.
"And what reason is that?"
Niklos did not answer at once. When he did, his manner was remote, as if he were discussing events of the distant past. "You recall those two chests of yours, the ones with the brass fittings?"
As always when they were alone, they spoke in Latin, their accents old-fashioned and elegant, their phrases slightly archaic. "Chests?"
"Yes. Pay attention, Olivia. This is important." His aggravation was mixed with fondness and he touched her shoulder in a way no Byzantine servant—slave or bondsman—would dare to touch a superior. "The chests with brass fittings."
"With camphor on the inside and two drawers on one side, the ones that were made during Caracalla's reign—yes, of course I remember them. What of it?" She had set aside the book she was reading and was now watching him closely.
"I just saw them."
"What?"
"I just saw them," he repeated. "In the market. In a stall filled with Roman goods." He looked away from her, for the first time as if he were ashamed of what he was telling her. "They were for sale."
"In a stall in the market, of course they were for sale. Isn't that the purpose of a stall in the market?" She spoke amiably enough, but Niklos was not fooled.
"Olivia—"
"My things, offered for sale here. How fortunate that I will not be put to the trouble of sending for them, or requiring some account of them." Her hazel eyes had darkened and acquired a metallic glitter.
"Olivia, you're—"
"Furious," she agreed with him, favoring him with a wide, insincere smile.
Niklos nodded. "With good reason. I was appalled."
"The chests. I wonder what else?" She stared up at the ceiling so that she could avoid looking at him. "Was that all, did you notice?"
"I don't know," he said truthfully.
"But there were other Roman things in the stall, you said."
"Yes. All sorts of furniture. I saw some vases and braziers as well, but nothing I could identify for certain." He gave a short sigh.
"Aha." She drummed her fingers on the table. "So someone has helped themselves to what was left behind."
"It seems so," Niklos agreed. "But who it is, I have no way of discovering yet—"
"We will find out in due course," she said with determination. "And when we do, there are steps to be taken." She got up suddenly and began to pace. "I have been afraid this would happen. I sensed the possibility when we left. When Belisarius was recalled, I knew that any protection the villa might have had was lost. I've almost expected it." She touched her hair, fidgeting with the ordered arrangement of pins.
"Olivia," Niklos said, sharing her indignation, "tell me what you wish me to do."
"I suppose we had best find out how to make a complaint, and to whom. And you may be certain that you or a churchman or possibly even Belisarius will have to do the thing officially, since according to the law here, I cannot own property!" She flung a small iron stylus across the room.
Niklos retrieved it and held it out to her. "You'll want this later."
She was still too angry to be chagrined, but she took it and put it back on the table. "They are so certain, aren't they, that they will look after the interests of their women, and they cannot conceive of a situation arising where their judgment is not superior. It comes from having all those male gods. And do not remind me," she went on more sharply, "that they are all aspects of one god. I know Jupiter, Apollo and Mercury when I see them, no matter how they are got up."
"I wasn't going to say anything," Niklos assured her.
This time she looked him straight in the eye. "You're very clever, my friend, and I am grateful for that."
"You're not a dolt yourself," Niklos pointed out.
"And why does Drosos have to be gone now, I ask you. Why does he have to be on his way to Alexandria. After all those weeks of wanting to do something for me and not knowing what, he would have to be gone the one time I truly need him." She went and stared out her window; the oiled parchment had been moved aside and the scent of the garden drifted into the library.
"Then what shall it be?" asked Niklos. "Do you wish me to make inquiries?"
"Yes, but first go to Belisarius. Or better yet, I will go, and I will speak with him. He was at the villa. He will want to know what has been taken in any case." She adjusted the drape of her paenula. "I suppose I must use one of the palanquins, with the curtains drawn. It's exasperating."
"I will see that one is summoned," said Niklos.
"Yes. Thank you for that. And then arrangements will have to be made to have the stall searched thoroughly, and the storehouse of the merchant as well, I guess. What else should we do? What a tremendous amount of work." She sighed.
"Would you rather accept the losses?"
She rounded on Niklos. "Magna Mater, no! And you know it."
"Then to Belisarius first?" he suggested.
"Yes. Belisarius first." Now that she was set on a task, her manner changed. She moved with determination and there was no trace of doubt in her attitude.
By the time Niklos had found a palanquin, Olivia had changed her dalmatica and paenula so that she was more formally attired. She had deliberately chosen Roman cloth and her most Roman jewels to wear on her visit. As she stepped into the palanquin, she said to Niklos, "If there are questions from the Guard, you are to make this as official as you can. I came here with Belisarius' sponsorship, and now that my goods have been seized, I am requesting his aid in reclaiming them. They won't question that."
"As you say," Niklos concurred.
The streets were still busy and it took some little time to go from one hill to the next. The noise was particularly loud near the places where the streets were being widened and old buildings were being torn down to make way for them.
"This is worse than Traianus," Olivia complained from inside the palanquin. "What is it with men in power that they have sudden impulses to remake the world?"
"It's not a bad idea," Niklos said. "These streets are far too narrow for all the traffic and the stalls and shops as well."
"And so for the next year or two, no one can move along them at all," Olivia declared, then said a bit more contritely, "If I weren't already irritated, it would not annoy me as much. Bear with me." She continued to speak in Latin.
Niklos patted the drawn curtains. "How long have I served you? Wasn't the beginning the same year that Commodus was murdered?" He had taken a more playful tone with her, and now he chuckled. "Roma was not yet a thousand years old."
"It wasn't, was it?" Olivia asked, her voice less harsh than before. "It was the last thing Sanct' Germain did before he went—" She stopped. "If he were here, he'd deal with this and there would be no reason for us to be out here on the street going to Belisarius' house. And if we were in Roma, I could take care of the whole thing myself." A little of the gruff ness had returned, and she cleared her throat in a conscious effort to be rid of the sound. "But he is not here, and we are not in Roma but in… Konstantinoupolis, and so we must proceed as the laws require us to proceed."
"Philosophy becomes you," Niklos teased gently.
"Oh, Niklos," she said, permitting herself a rare moment of despair, "what has become of us?"
"We're almost to Belisarius' house," Niklos warned, continuing in Greek. "There are five Guards at the front of the house."
"Speak to the one who is highest in rank," said Olivia, also in Greek. "And be very respectful. They put great store by subservience here."