The soldier coughed. "What do we do?"

"Find the least worthy horses in your string and use them for haulage. They won't be much use to you in battle in any case and they might as well earn their hay like the rest of us." Drosos indicated the men on the far side of the camp. "You might see if Stamos' men have any spare oxen. They had one a few days ago, but you never know if they still do. Knowing that lot, they might have eaten it by now."

"Some of the men do complain about rations," the soldier agreed.

"Small wonder," Drosos concurred. "Millet cakes for four days in a row!"

"Maybe I should requisition some of the goats for food," the soldier ventured uncertainly since they were under orders to take nothing from the villa.

"Why not? If we do not eat them, Totila's men will," said Drosos, knowing that if Olivia were here she would give him the goats and anything else he might need. He would think of something to explain this to Belisarius later. "Tell your men to round up a dozen goats and take them along."

"On your authority?" the soldier asked, unwilling to risk his own neck.

"Yes, on my authority as granted by the owner of the villa." He promised himself that he would make restitution to Olivia when he saw her in Constantinople. She would understand and agree that he had done the only sensible thing in ordering the goats be taken. And if she did not, he was confident he could explain it to her.

The soldier grinned. "If that's your order, then I suppose I must obey."

"It's my order," said Drosos. He started away, then stopped. "How many men in your unit are ill?"

"Only three," said the soldier. "Why?"

"Nothing, just curious," said Drosos, and went on his way, thinking that if they continued to have men fall ill, they would not have enough to go into battle, and they were already crucially low on battle-ready troops. Briefly he resented his orders recalling him to Constantinople; Belisarius needed him and every officer and man he could get. Tired as he was of campaigning, he still was uneasy at the thought of leaving his General and friend to face Totila with depleted forces.

"Drosos!" The sharp summons of Belisarius' personal slave caught his attention and he hastened toward the General's standard, the problems of breaking camp now uppermost in his mind.

* * *

Text of a letter accompanying an inventory carried on the Emperor Justinian's ship Resurrection along with military dispatches.

To Antonina, the esteemed and august wife of the General Belisarius, on the eve of the departure of the merchantship Spairei Krohma, which sets sail on the Feast of Saint Iannis in the Lord's Year 545.

It is my honor to inform you that my vessel has been selected by your most worthy and august husband to carry the goods awarded him for his victories to you for proper installation in his home. To that purpose, the inventory he himself prepared accompanies this so that upon our safe arrival in Constantinople you can for yourself ascertain that the goods are the correct ones, shipped in good order, and received in the condition that God Himself has granted they arrive.

Of particular interest is a set of vases of fine workmanship and considerable age that are so fragile that in spite of very careful packing, I must warn you that they might not survive the sea voyage. I pray that this caution will turn out to be completely useless, but I feel that I must warn you that these more than any other items are in danger of breakage or other damage during the days at sea.

Since my ship is a simple merchantman, it will not come with the speed that the Emperor's ships travel, and I estimate that it will be twenty-three to twenty-five days for us to make the voyage, if the weather remains reasonably good.

At this time of year we often have rain but not many storms. Should we encounter a storm, then we are entirely at the mercy of the winds and in the Hand of God, as we are every day and hour of our lives.

I give you my word that I will do all in my power to see that your goods arrive quickly and in proper order. Any loss that is the fault of my slaves and ship's hands will of course be my responsibility. Those goods lost due to the elements I cannot promise to pay for, since that cost grows from acts over which I have no control.

I am sending word to Pope Sylvestros at the same time I send this to you. He may be found at the Church of the Patriarchs and he will make it his business to know where I am and how I am to be found. He will also know what the other merchant captains tell him, and if there are delays, he will send you word of it. The Church of the Patriarchs is located not far from the merchant docks, in the street where the ropemakers work.

Until I have the privilege to present you with your treasures, I sign myself your most eager and sincere servant who is honored for the distinction you and your distinguished and heroic husband have deigned to bestow on me.

Ghornan

ship's captain

by the hand of the priest

Gennarius at Santus Spiritos,

Ostia

5

Between the enormous crush of people and the heat of the afternoon, Niklos Aulirios was ready to give up his task for the afternoon and return to the house where Olivia was busy establishing herself. There had been tradesmen and artisans there all morning, and now that the afternoon was fading, and the merchants had once again situated themselves in their shops, refreshed by food and sleep, Olivia decided that Niklos would have to take advantage of the time and purchase the slaves they needed.

Niklos still bristled at the orders. "How do you explain me, in this world of slaves?"

Olivia had smiled at him. "You are a bondsman—no collar, no chance of sale or… lending."

The memory of that smile brought one to his lips. "Slaves." He had been told that he would do best to talk to old Taiko near the Church of the Dormition. It took longer for Niklos to find it than he had anticipated because four of the streets were dug up as part of the Emperor's restructuring of the city. Niklos had to ask his way several times, his Greek halting and nearly childish.

At last a house was pointed out to him: a narrow, leaning place that bowed over the street like a curious relative. The door was thick and its iron hinges crossed most of its width. A mallet and bell were provided; Niklos used them and waited for someone to admit him to the house.

Two slaves, both fat and sleek and dressed well, answered the door, smiling. If the old house had caused Niklos to doubt Taiko's prosperity, those two slaves banished the doubt at once. The taller of the two inquired who Niklos was and what he wanted from their master.

Once again Niklos cursed himself for the poor quality of his Greek. "I am the bondsman Niklos Aulirios," he began. "I work for the Roman lady Olivia Clemens. The wife of Belisarius told us that your master… he is the best in the city to buy slaves."

"This is very true, bondsman," said the taller slave, stepping aside to admit Niklos to the house. "You will find that here the best slaves are to be found, and the prices are the most equitable for everyone." He bowed and indicated his fellow. "I will inform my master that you are here and Pammez will remain here with you, to bring you whatever refreshment you require."

And to keep an eye on me, thought Niklos. "You are very kind," he said, knowing that he spoke like a child addressing his tutor.

Pammez, who was not Greek but Asian, by the look of him, indicated the smaller of the reception rooms off the vestibule. "I will attend to you." His voice was clear and high, like a boy's.

Niklos wanted to ask how many eunuchs Taiko owned, but did not know the correct way to phrase the question. He was still surprised at the number of eunuchs he encountered. There had been eunuchs in Roma, but not in the quantities he found here in Konstantinoupolis. He was not used to it and was not certain he ever would be.

Pammez made a reverence to Niklos—an extraordinary courtesy to a mere bondsman—and said, "For so august a lady as the wife of Belisarius, there can be no service my master would not perform with gladness in his heart."

So the reverence was for Antonina. "She has been good to my mistress." Niklos cocked his head to the side. "I do not know how these… are done. What does your master need to know from me and from my mistress?"

"He will tell you and you may rely on his discretion, for in these matters, the position of such a lady as your mistress makes discretion necessary. Everything she requires may be accommodated, and her requirements fulfilled without any notoriety."

Niklos was not certain what notoriety there might be in purchasing slaves, but he did not know how best to inquire. He folded his hands and regarded Pammez thoughtfully. "My mistress wishes to buy several slaves."

At this, Pammez laughed aloud, though it was most impolite for him to do this. "Ah, Romans. They are so diverting. Your mistress wishes to buy slaves." He restrained himself to a chuckle.

The indignant inquiry that Niklos was struggling to form was stopped by a sound at the door. As Niklos turned, Pammez fell to his knees and ducked his head, and belatedly Niklos made a deep reverence to the lean, gray-haired man who stood there, and behind him, a lame, bearded fellow with a predatory beak of a nose and ferocious eyebrows came.