You are all that is left to me now, until the Emperor sees fit to send me elsewhere or I come to understand what purpose I have served in ordering those damned fires lit. You are sense in an insane world, Olivia. You shine like a comet in the skies. I will love you until the blood is gone from my veins and the breath from my lungs.
Remember, destroy this. No one must see it, for your sake as well as mine.
With my devotion and passion
Drosos
10
Zejhil held out two small, golden cups. "I found them in the pantry, next to the glass vessels. I didn't recognize them and I thought you'd better have a look at them."
Niklos took the cups. "They're not ours. I wonder where they came from?" He turned them over, examining them with a critical and practiced eye. "Very good quality, about two hundred years old, I'd guess. Very definitely Roman, but I know that Olivia never had anything like them."
"Why would—" Zejhil interrupted herself. "Someone wants to implicate her."
"As being in league with smugglers, I'd guess," Niklos concurred. "Doubtless you're right." He looked down at the little cups as if he expected them to burn him. "Olivia has gone to church. She's been doing that more recently; she wants to rid herself of some of the stigma of being foreign."
"If this is what someone is doing to her, she will have to try harder," Zejhil said, trying to sound cynical.
"That she will," Niklos said without humor. "I wonder what else has been hidden about the house?"
"You don't think there's more, do you?" Zejhil was not able to conceal her shock.
"If someone wants to make a case for her having things she ought not to have, two gold cups aren't enough. Anyone might have a few things they had forgotten or misplaced, even gold cups. Therefore, if this is part of a plan, there must be other things here. Unless they have just started to act, in which case we may have a chance to surprise them in the act." He gave the cups back to Zejhil. "Put these back where you found them."
"Why?" She was surprised at the suggestion.
"Because whoever put these in the pantry will know that we are aware of what he is doing if he finds they are missing." He tapped the rims of the cups together in ironic salute.
"Are you certain it is a he?" asked Zejhil.
"No. And neither are you." He faltered. "Zejhil, if you do not want to do anything more, I would understand and so would Olivia. It was one thing to assist us in gathering information about the household, but if we have reached a point where someone is attempting to do more than that, you have very good reason not to continue to cooperate."
"I am a slave," she explained.
"You are: a slave to a Roman lady," Niklos said. "She follows the old ways."
"I don't understand."
"There was a time when slaves had rights. Olivia Clemens remembers that time." Niklos took Zejhil by the elbow and pulled her into an alcove. "If anyone comes, I will kiss you. No one will think that remarkable. Now tell me what else you have discovered."
"Very little," she admitted. "Phaon, the new gardener, has been asking questions, but there is nothing strange in a slave doing that when he comes to a household. And the cook has been doing some snooping; it may be curiosity, but it may be something more than that. The laundryman has spent more time in the house than in the washing shed, but the weather is—"
Niklos wrapped his arms around her and pressed his mouth to hers. His hands moved expertly over her and he was startled to discover he was enjoying himself. When the carpenter was out of sight, Niklos released Zejhil with reluctance.
Zejhil was breathing unsteadily. "I… I forgot what I was saying." Her cheeks reddened with her admission.
Niklos ran one finger along her cheek. "It's all right; I'll wait until you remember."
She caught his finger in her hand. "No. You must not."
"Why not?" he asked. "Do I offend you?"
"It's not that," she said, looking away from him. "It would not be permitted if our mistress knew of it. Slaves are not—"
"You don't know Olivia," Niklos said, deeply relieved.
"She is mistress."
"She is also Roman." Niklos let his hands rest on her shoulders. "She will not choose for you, Zejhil, if that is what troubles you."
"She is mistress," Zejhil repeated stubbornly.
"You make her sound like a monster." He dropped his hands. "Tell me the rest. We'll talk about this later, when you've had a chance to think."
"When you've had a chance to think," Niklos reiterated. "You don't have to decide anything now." He deliberately took a step back from her. "Have you noticed anything else in the household? Has anyone said anything to you that you find questionable?"
She shook her head slowly. "Nothing specific," she said in an apologetic manner. "There have been a few comments that might be significant, but slaves learn to keep their council."
"You gossip," Niklos reminded her.
"That's different. Everyone in the household knows that the mistress has occasional lovers but that she is most fond of that Captain who was sent to Alexandria. They say that she has strange ways, Roman ways, and a few of them have said that they worry because they have not seen her eat, ever. The rest don't care one way or another as long as we're fed, which we are." She laughed once, the sound hard and breathless.
"Is that all that matters to you?" Niklos was saddened to hear these things from Zejhil, but not surprised.
"A few are curious about her shoes. They say that the soles are too thick." She dared to look at Niklos. "Why is that?"
"She prefers them that way," Niklos answered evasively. "You think something, Zejhil. What is it?"
"I have no reason for my feelings," she warned him. "It is just a…a feeling I have. Sometimes it seems to me that Philetus has been too attentive to his duties, and doing all his work on the walls near where the mistress is. He does very beautiful work, and the murals he paints are lovely, but there is… a lack in him, as if he were hidden away behind that pious mask he paints on the faces of his Saints." Her eyes watered. "I don't want to get him into trouble for no reason."
"You won't," said Niklos, permitting himself to put a comforting hand on her arm. "When Olivia returns from church, will you come to her and tell her what you have told me? I will have to speak to her in any case, but it would be best if you were willing to answer her questions."
"And you will treat me as you did before?" She had intended this as a feeble joke, but Niklos responded with great seriousness.
"Listen to me, Zejhiclass="underline" you are not to be afraid of me. I am Olivia's majordomo, and I am proud of that, but I am a bondsman, not a slave, and she would not abuse that. She would not abuse slaves, either, but you don't believe that."
"She is mistress." This time when she said it, Zejhil was less remote than before. "She is better than most, I agree, but she is mistress."
Niklos accepted this. "I will come for you when Olivia is back."
"Why do you call her Olivia and not great lady or my mistress?" Zejhil asked, as she had been wanting to for more than two months.
"We have been together a long time, and during that time, her fortunes have fluctuated. We've become… friends." He knew he could not tell Zejhil that his association with Olivia spanned more than three centuries.
"But she holds your bond," Zejhil pointed out.
"Yes. I don't mind. She would not have objected to my leaving her service at any time, and I can easily afford the price of my bond, but the arrangement suits us, and as long as it does, I suppose it will continue." He smiled.