To Zejhil's surprise, Olivia chuckled. "Then I will have to give them some reason to think the plot was discovered without compromising you." She shook her head. "Slow poison. In food. Magna Mater, I'm glad I've found out about this."
Niklos grinned briefly. "In the food."
Zejhil was baffled, but could not bring herself to speak.
Olivia answered for her. "You must understand, Zejhil, that I have… a rare condition that requires I… limit my diet severely. If the Censor expects me to succumb to poisoned spices, he would wait a very long time. So, perhaps, it might be best to make it appear that the poison was discovered, but not the poisoner. Let me think about it awhile."
"They will want some results," Niklos warned.
"And I suppose they will have some," said Olivia. "But this will take careful planning. I will have to think about what must be done, and then be certain that…" The words trailed off. "If Zejhil was given poison, who knows what the other slaves being used have been given or offered. Niklos, I want you to sleep outside my door at night."
"I will," he promised her.
"And Zejhil, I want you to listen more closely than ever to what you hear." She scowled. "Why do they want to be rid of me; it keeps coming back to that."
Zejhil stood with her head down. "I know I must be punished for what I did. I accept that. But do not punish me in front of the others."
"Punish you?" repeated Olivia, startled. "Oh, for the poison, do you mean? Yes, I imagine something ought to be done."
"I'll get the whips," Niklos said without emotion.
"Don't be silly," Olivia told him. "For punishment, I will insist that you replace Pentheus as the night keeper. I will expect you to patrol the house and the garden all through the night, and during the day, I want you to clean the reception rooms and the vestibule, starting with scrubbing the floors. Every day. Until I tell you otherwise. Is that clear?"
"It is a light punishment," said Zejhil.
"Say that when ten days have gone by and I might agree." She stared at the door. "You are to return to your quarters now and remain there. You will have no meal this evening." She waited while Zejhil made a deep reverence, then motioned to Niklos to let her out of the room.
When Zejhil was gone, Niklos said, "You did give her light punishment."
"Possibly. I am giving the agents of the Censor plenty of opportunity to approach her. If she cleans the vestibule, they can find her during the day, and if she is the night keeper, they can try after dark. And then, old friend, we can find out what it is they're really after." She paced the length of the room. "For some reason, they're becoming desperate."
"And you are becoming lax," Niklos countered.
"If we weren't strangers here, I might do this another way. But we are here on sufferance, and they are already seeking reasons to be rid of us. I would prefer to be free of suspicion, but if that isn't possible, then—"
"Then we move on?" Niklos said. "But where?"
"So you do understand my problem," said Olivia. "Yes; where do we go if not here? What do we do?"
Niklos came and put his hands on her shoulders. "This was supposed to be a haven."
"Yes," she said sadly. "It was, wasn't it?"
* * *
Text of a letter from the physician Mnenodatos to Belisarius.
To the great General Belisarius, Mnenodatos sends thankful greetings and prayers for his well-being and the recovery of his wife.
I confess that your offer of employment has come as a shock: most pleasant and welcome, but nonetheless a shock. I am at a loss to know how so distinguished a hero as you came to know of a physician of my station, but I bless the name of that person and I praise him for taking my interests so much to heart.
It would afford me the greatest satisfaction to attend your wife and to serve as your household physician. Such employment is the dream of any man practicing the healing arts, and I am no different from any of my associates and colleagues who also long for the time they can be sure of their futures.
From what little I have learned of your wife's condition, she will require fairly constant care. Those with such symptoms are never certain when they will once again be seized by the terrible cramping that you described and which I witnessed for myself yesterday. I certainly share your concern. To be candid, I am not sure there is much I can offer to relieve her of her suffering, but what I am able to do, you may be confident I will make every effort to do. In cases such as hers it is most important to alleviate the immediate suffering, but beyond that the cause must be determined and a course of treatment reached that will not in any way increase the symptoms of this or any other disease.
Let me urge you to encourage all your household to pray for the speedy and complete recovery of your beloved wife, for as you are aware, nothing can happen without the aid of God. Such supplications may succeed where no medicine can.
That is not to say that the case is hopeless and only the intervention of Heaven will save Antonina. This is far from the case; your wife's health is not good but she is not in danger of losing her life yet, and with prompt action and good attention, she may recover in good time and enjoy a long life free of pain and attendant distresses. Let me emphasize this to you: at this time I do not fear for her life. To be sure, if she continues as she is going now, then my view of the gravity of her case will change, and of course no illness that so prostrates a woman can be regarded lightly, but there is much room for hope and I want you to think of my treatment in this light.
It is a great honor to have so distinguished a patient, but I trust you will not be offended in any way if I say that it would please me far more if there was no cause for us to meet. The illness of Antonina is not an opportunity for advancement, as many might see it, but an occasion for the best and most devoted service not only to the benefit of the august lady herself, but the office of physician which was elevated by having the Apostle Loukas at the head of its numbers.
At your convenience I will take up temporary residence in your house in whatever quarters you see fit to assign to me. I confess I do not know your eunuch slave Simones, but if you say that his recommendation brought me to your attention, then I will seek him out eagerly to tender my gratitude for his kindness on my behalf.
In the meantime, I ask you take what consolation you can in the knowledge that I will dedicate all my skills to ending the travail your wife currently endures, and I will strive to restore her health so that she may once again live as so august a lady ought to live.
With my prayers and thanks, by my own hand,
Mnenodatos
physician
8
Night hung over Alexandria, oppressive in its remoteness. There was a lazy breeze off the Mare Internum, blowing toward the swath of the Nile.
Drosos stood in the window of his largest reception room staring out into the darkness. Although it was late, he was still in his short military dalmatica and formal, highly embossed lorica. Only his mussed dark hair gave any indication of the distress that consumed him: it was the Feast of the Circumcision and Epiphany was five days away.
"Captain?" Chrysanthos had come into the room a short while before and was still waiting for Drosos to address him.