“I have survived at court for a long time, Anatolius. I see no reason this time should be any different.”
“In the past your main antagonist was the empress. To deal with enemies she and the emperor did not share she had to either work her way around Justinian in secret, or come to an accommodation with her opponents. Consider Patriarch Menas, presiding over things so lugubriously at the church today. A perfectly orthodox cleric who took the place of her handpicked monophysite patriarch Anthimus. Do you think Theodora wouldn’t have breathed the fires of the Christian hell on Menas if she could have? But Justinian is orthodox and, in the end, it is Justinian’s opinion that counts. So it was Anthimus who vanished, right off the face of the earth. And now, with this investigation, it is you who are likely to find yourself up against Justinian rather than Theodora.”
John nodded. He had not told Anatolius about the emperor’s implied threat but it was easy enough to guess. “There was a time when we met you’d read me the poem you had composed for your latest love.”
“We can both be glad those days are gone.” Anatolius brushed a strand of gray hair off his forehead. “Gone, along with my glossy black locks, as someone once called them.”
“I’m sure that someone was most attractive. But you penned good verse unlike that acquaintance of yours, Crinagoras. I suppose he is still at it?”
“No. He managed to marry an aristocrat. Her father convinced Justinian to appoint Crinagoras to a position with the Master of Offices. He also lectures on lexicography at the imperial school.”
“The young lady must have had execrable taste in poetry.”
“Not so young. Her father couldn’t believe his good fortune, finally having her taken off his hands.” Anatolius ran a finger around the outline of the skull gazing eyelessly up at him from his desktop. “Funerals always make me reflect on the past and the future. On passing time.”
“The gods themselves were born of infinite time,” John replied. He wiped away a bead of sweat that trickled down the brown concavity of his cheek. A yellow butterfly found its way into the study, fluttered around the painted flowers brandished by several cupids, and recognizing nothing of interest drifted outside again.
“We don’t usually think very deeply, do we?” Anatolius mused. “I believe we’re designed not to do so. After watching Theodora consigned to eternity I’ll brood about death all afternoon and then feel foolish. Just as I’d feel foolish about how deeply I’d loved some woman after the affair ended, but perhaps that’s just me.”
“I’m surprised you never married.”
“I was always too busy falling in love to marry. And then I started late on a career so I’ve been busy catching up. Some day.” He gave John a quizzical look. “That isn’t the sort of thing you usually say.”
John laughed. “I’ve been thinking about marriages. Cornelia was explaining all of Theodora’s machinations to me. Arranging this marriage, thwarting that one. She believes such actions would give someone a motive for murder.”
“She’s right.” Anatolius raised his gaze to the ceiling thick with chubby, winged cupids. “Eros halts the dance and throws away the bridal torch, if he sees a joyless wedding.”
“Nonnus.”
“You have read his Dionysius?”
“No, but you recited a bit of it to me a while ago. His verse is much too long and turgid for me, even if he is popular.”
A portly, red-faced servant appeared in the doorway leading to the atrium. He was sweating profusely. “Sir, a young woman is here seeking your services.”
John caught a glimpse of a slim girl peering around the servant’s shoulder. Her light hair was coiled on either side of her head in a style currently fashionable at court. He got up from his seat. “I must go. I have work to carry out.”
Anatolius stood also. “Think about my advice, John.” He looked toward the doorway. “I will be with you shortly, Vesta. Why don’t you wait on the bench by the fountain? It’s cooler there.”
When the girl and the servant had vanished, Anatolius gave John a rueful grin. “The fair young ladies now only come to my house on business. Alas.”
Chapter Five
Antonina did not look up as Vesta entered the kitchen of the city house Antonina shared with her husband Belisarius on the few occasions they were both in Constantinople together and not on campaign.
“The ingredients you requested, my lady,” the girl said, laying a fragrant basket on the table.
“You took long enough.” Antonina was stirring a pot of boiling liquid set on the brazier. “I thought you were going straight to the market. Have you obtained only the freshest? It makes a difference and if you wish to learn how to make love potions, you must take care to use only the finest herbs and flowers.”
She finally looked up, frowning, and continued. “And how is my daughter? Still thinks she’s in love with that young oaf Anastasius?”
“I’m sorry,” Vesta faltered. “But-”
“You won’t say,” Antonina replied, waving her spoon. Drops of scalding liquid fell on the other’s clothing. “You may be stupid, but you’re loyal. No wonder, if you get to wear your mistress’ jewelry!”
Vesta’s hand went to one of the dangling silver earrings hung with blue pendants.
“Her father and I gave her those earrings when she was only a baby,” Antonina said. “Valueless, in case she lost them. Just be certain you’re loyal to the right person, that’s my advice. Here, keep stirring this and don’t let it boil over. It’s a ginger preparation for ailments of the stomach.”
She examined the contents of the basket. “You didn’t get as many rose petals as I need so you’ll have to get more. If my potion wasn’t so popular with the ladies of the court I wouldn’t need your assistance.”
My assistance is an excellent opportunity to spy on your own daughter, Vesta thought, but on the other hand it also means I can tell my mistress what you say and do here. “I tried everywhere.”
Antonina laughed. “You can steal roses from the palace grounds easily enough. Go out tonight, pick as many as you can, and bring them to me.”
She paused for a heartbeat, staring out the window at the looming wall of the Hippodrome. “Now as to how to make rose water. The rose is a very prettily scented flower, sacred to Aphrodite so the pagans say. Which is probably how it came by its reputation as a kindler of love when used to anoint the skin.”
“Yes, my lady.”
“It’s effective with many men. I remember when Belisarius was-but never mind about that. Set that pot aside. I’ll give you instructions and when we have enough rose petals you can try your hand at making a batch.”
As Antonina spoke it occurred to Vesta that Belisarius would be advised to be careful what he ate and drink when home on leave. With Theodora now gone and considering Antonina’s ambitious nature, she might well be planning to conquer Justinian.
“Pay attention, Vesta!” Antonina was saying. “All you do is take several handfuls of petals and cover them with boiling water in a lidded bowl. When the mixture is cool, squeeze and remove the petals. As simple as that, but the women at court are too idle to make it themselves and too proud to admit their need of it. And that being so, they can hardly order their servants to make it for them. On the other hand, a visit to their old friend Antonina, a hint dropped, a gift given….”
A sly look came into her eyes as she continued. “Does your mistress ever use it, I wonder? After all, it inflames ebbing passions. Perhaps that betrothed of hers has a wandering eye? Has he ever made any obscene suggestions to you, Vesta?”
Vesta clenched her fists and began to wish she could poison Antonina to protect her mistress, or at the very least still the cold voice asking questions she had been ordered not to answer.