Antonina’s eyes were as blue as a clear morning sky and her hair as pale as the moon in that sky. There were those who claimed she practiced magick and by that means not only controlled her husband but also the hand prints of time. John ascribed her youthful appearance to the lotions and other cosmetic preparations she prepared for herself and other ladies of the court.
If you approached closely enough her age would show, but once you got that close it would be too late.
John sat in an ornately carved but uncomfortable chair facing her, separated from her couch by a low table, acutely aware of Theodora’s menacing stare. “A few questions, Antonina,” he began. He suddenly realized the window behind her providing a glimpse of an exotic garden, was, like Antonina’s complexion, nothing more than cleverly applied paint.
“I know why you are here and will be happy to assist,” Antonina replied. “In fact, I can give you information you will find useful.” She remained in her reclining position, as if prepared to dine in the old Roman style. Her light blue silk robe were slightly rumpled, showing a trim ankle and smooth muscular calf. She smiled. “I do not have to tell you there are several persons with grievances who might not be amiss to helping our dear empress leave the world.”
She glanced at the fresco. “A faithful rendering of the beautiful mosaic in Ravenna, Lord Chamberlain. I was able to obtain the artist’s designs. They were costly but well worth the price. The imperial couple could hardly go to Ravenna so their portraits went instead and the mosaicists copied them. Unfortunately the empress looks ill, not that we can wonder at that.”
She sighed, theatrically John thought. “I intended it as a gesture of friendship to Theodora but it was completed too late. She will never see it now.”
John wondered if a reproduction of the companion Ravenna mosaic of Justinian and his courtiers graced another room and whether Belisarius would approve of these new decorations. Equally, they would serve as a reminder of his taking Ravenna from the Goths, as well as flattering the imperial couple.
As if reading his mind, Antonina said, “No doubt you have heard I was hoping to persuade the empress to intercede with Justinian in the matter of sending more troops and supplies to my husband. It is quite true. Unfortunately, by the time I arrived in Constantinople earlier this month, Theodora was so ill she refused to receive me. As an old friend, it was hurtful even though I believe she was trying to spare me the pain of seeing her as she had become.”
Or sparing herself being seen, John thought. “Very few were admitted to her room once she began her final decline,” he replied.
“Let us be frank, Lord Chamberlain. I am well aware you suspect me, given I have made it plain I wish to stop the proposed marriage between my daughter and Anastasius. However, since I was not able to visit Theodora, obviously I had no opportunity to do her harm. Then too, even you must agree preventing a marriage is hardly a good reason to arrange for an empress to be poisoned. Particularly since the empress was my closest friend.”
“You are of the opinion Theodora was murdered?”
Antonina pursed her lips. “That is Justinian’s opinion. Do any of us dare to entertain another?”
“Although you did not visit Theodora you must have sent her gifts. Cosmetics or perhaps something to ease her pain?”
Antonina gave John a frigid smile. “It is customary to send gifts to one’s friends. It is hardly a matter of official concern or anything I care to talk about in detail. I am sure my modest offerings were thoroughly examined, as gifts to the imperial couple always are. Since you are looking for the culprit have you considered the Cappadocian?”
“He is imprisoned in Egypt. As he has been for years, since you conspired with Theodora to have him removed from office.”
She glared at him. “He can still have eyes and ears and hands here in the capital.”
“They would require payment and Justinian was eventually persuaded to strip him of his wealth.”
Antonina gave a dismissive wave of her hand. “The Cappadocian’s wealth is like the root of a noxious weed. It goes too deep to be pulled up entirely. What I hear is he is free to return and resume his rape of the populace now that the empress is no longer here to protect us.”
“I doubt the Cappadocian will have his way with you, Antonina.”
She looked as if she was about to spit at him. As John knew, she hated the former Praetorian Prefect, usually derisively referred to as the Cappadocian or more simply as the tax collector.
“I would think you and General Belisarius would welcome the Cappadocian’s efficiency in raising revenues,” he went on. “Justinian would then have more funds to pursue the war in Italy.”
Antonina’s eyes sparkled with cold fire. “Let me educate you about how the Cappadocian assisted my husband’s soldiers. Bread for an army must be carefully twice baked so it does not spoil for a long time, during shipping, in storage in camp, during marches.”
“I am aware of that.”
“I forgot. You are from a humble background too.” Her expression softened momentarily. “At any rate,” she continued, “the method of baking requires extra firewood and extra wages for the bakers, money which otherwise could have been spent by the Cappadocian on luxuries and debauchery. This extravagance, as he saw it, offended him so he had uncooked dough delivered to the basement of the Baths of Achilles where fires continually burn to heat the water. He had the dough placed near this free source of heat until it appeared more or less cooked, then thrown into bags and shipped to Italy. Needless to say, the loaves started to rot before they arrived. My husband tells me you could smell them at the dock where the ship lay moored. Yet there was nothing else to eat. It was in the middle of a summer as hot as this one. Five hundred of my husband’s men died. He ordered the armies be furnished bread from the surrounding countryside. At our own expense, Lord Chamberlain.”
“It is good to know our soldiers have a champion like yourself.”
“You are sarcastic. Doubtless you think I only care about my husband’s fortunes.”
The cloying odor of the lilies and roses ranged about the room had begun to irritate John. He allowed his gaze to wander, avoiding Theodora and coming to rest in the painted garden outside the painted window behind Antonina’s couch. For the first time he noticed, half hidden amongst the elaborately painted leaves, a yellow bird caught in the jaws of a lion.
“I do not see the Cappadocian as a credible suspect,” John said.
“If you are looking for a better possibility, consider Justinian’s cousin General Germanus. If it weren’t for Theodora he would already have been accepted as heir to the throne. She did everything she could to cripple his career. Now he will thrive.”
“At your husband’s expense, Antonina. Aren’t you afraid he may supplant Belisarius both as Justinian’s foremost general and his eventual successor?”
John noticed Antonina’s fists clench and quickly relax again. “My husband has no designs on the throne. You remember that was the Cappadocian’s undoing. He mistakenly believed Belisarius to be a traitor.”
“Yes, and when he went to meet Belisarius you were there with officials from the palace.”
“He deserved it for thinking ill of Belisarius. My husband is an honorable man.”
“Honorable men are so rare at court, it is dangerous to assume honor in anyone.”
She glared at him again. John wondered if her approach to their conversation might be different were he more prone to fall to her artfully preserved charms.
“You are being unfair to me,” she said. “Germanus had more to gain by Theodora’s death than I did. Why do you insist on turning your suspicions toward me? I know how much you hated the empress. Do you hate her friends too? Which of your enemies will you choose to turn over to the emperor? Everyone is speculating and some are trembling. Am I to suffer for Theodora’s sins?”
Antonina got up, kissed her finger, and placed it tenderly against Theodora’s painted cheek. “My dear, dear empress. Even in death you are wronged.”