"Two fires—yes, two fires are much too dangerous," said Drosos, hardly hearing the words.

The younger scholar indicated the Third Daughter. "This Library has two large warehouses directly behind it, but they front on the leatherworkers' market, and so it will be tricky to keep the burning from spreading."

"My men will see to it," Drosos declared, wishing fervently he did not have to listen to any of this. "I will send a contingent of Guardsmen to you tomorrow after-noon and you can show them everything that will have to be protected." He gazed around the courtyard, thinking for a wild moment that there might be a way to protect all of it, or perhaps a few of the warehouses. Surely the loss of one building would be enough to satisfy the Censor. He imagined all the arguments he might put forth, and abandoned the notion at once. His orders were specific and if he failed to carry them out, he would be disgraced.

"Captain?" the older scholar ventured.

"I'm sorry," said Drosos, coming back to himself. "I was attempting to assess the—"

"—the magnitude of the task," the younger scholar supplied enthusiastically. "Yes, it must be a challenge to find the most effective means to burn such large buildings."

"A challenge," Drosos echoed as if he did not comprehend the word.

By the time Drosos left, the moon was down and the streets were wholly deserted. He set a brisk pace for his Guard and would not speak to them as they made their way back to the small palace where the Byzantine garrison was housed. Once there, he dismissed the soldiers and went back to his reception room, black despair in his heart.

"Captain." Chrysanthos shook his head and got unsteadily to his feet, a yawn concealed behind his hand.

"Chrysanthos," Drosos exclaimed angrily. "What are you doing here?"

"You wanted me to stay," Chrysanthos reminded him sleepily.

"And I wakened you." His face showed no emotion.

"I was drowsing," Chrysanthos admitted. "But I'm awake now."

Drosos had gone to the window, drawn by the dark mass of the Library. He stood as if transfixed by the sight, though it. was now impossible to make out anything more than an irregular shape where he knew the buildings to be. "Only one will be left when we're through," he said after a little time.

Chrysanthos heard the pain in Drosos' words and had no anodyne to offer. "At least there will be one."

"They'll probably be rid of that, one day," Drosos said unhappily. "It's like that, once the burning starts."

"Captain." He was not sure Drosos had heard him, but he went on doggedly. "Captain, you asked for wine. I brought two skins with me. They're right here."

Drosos turned heavily. "Wineskins." He laughed harshly. "Why not?"

"And I have two cups," Chrysanthos said, taking them from a narrow shelf by the door. "Choose the one you wish."

"Oh, I leave that to you," Drosos said, coming away from the window at last. "Just so long as you keep it full. I want to be drunk as a barbarian whore." He threw himself down into his chair and looked at Chrysanthos expectantly.

"On good Cypriot wine?" Chrysanthos pretended to be scandalized at the suggestion.

"On any wine," Drosos said with determination. "God, God, God, I want to forget tonight." He sighed suddenly and deeply.

"Drosos—"

"Pour the wine," he ordered. "When we've drained a cup or two, I might say something. But then it will only be maundering, and it won't matter; you'll be drunk, too, and you won't care what I say." He braced his arm on the table at his side. "Hurry up there, Chrysanthos."

As Chrysanthos poured out the first generous measures of wine, he said, "Did you take that Egyptian slave to bed with you at last?"

Drosos stopped in the act of loosening the buckles that held his lorica and said, "I decided against it. She's tempting enough but… I never trust a slave in bed. Who knows why they're there?"

Chrysanthos held out the larger of the two cups to Drosos and lifted the other. "Well, here's to forgetfulness."

"Amen," said Drosos as he took the cup. He drank greedily, a little thread of wine sliding down his chin from the corner of his mouth. He wiped this away on his cuff. "No, I changed my mind about the Egyptian girl."

"You miss your Roman widow," Chrysanthos said, making the suggestion a teasing one; in Drosos' mercurial mood he did not know how he would react to such a remark.

"Yes," he said after taking a second draught. "That is just what I need," he told Chrysanthos.

"The wine or the widow?"

"Either. Both." He picked up the cup a third time but did not drink at once. "She would understand."

"Then it's a pity she's not here," said Chrysanthos, feeling his way with his Captain.

"Yes, a great pity." He drank and held out his cup for more.

They sat together until the sun came up; gradually their words became slurred and indistinct and their thoughts no longer held together. But though Drosos drank with single-minded determination, the anguish remained at the back of his eyes and nothing he could do or say touched it.

* * *

Text of a letter from Captain Ghornan to Pope Sylvestros.

To Pope Sylvestros, currently in Puteoli, Captain Ghornan sends greetings and thanks for his perseverance.

The tables and chests you found for me when we last dealt together have brought a higher price than we expected, and I have paid the monies to your wife's family, as you requested. You will find that they are more pleased with your absence now than they were a year ago.

However, I must warn you that the Emperor has ordered that more inspections for contraband be carried out on ships landing in Byzantion, and therefore I am considering marketing our goods elsewhere. There is a good market in Nicopolis which is not as profitable as that of Konstantinoupolis, but has the advantage that there are very few questions to answer and no soldiers to seize questionable items. It might mean that we do not realize as much gold, but we will have our hands and our ears which means much to me.

You mentioned that you found a villa near Vivarium that has eight fine chairs inlaid with ivory. That would be a treasure, but something that distinctive might be too risky for us just now. We've had some cargo identified as smuggled, and we had better save those until later. If you still have space in that warehouse in Ostia, it might be worth taking the chairs there and storing them for a while until a suitable market may be found for them. The same is probably true of those statues you mentioned, although shipping them is difficult. As to your suggestion that we take the last of the couches from that villa near Roma, I would recommend that you stay away from there for the time being since I have learned that the owner was able to identify some of the pieces when we offered them for sale in Konstantinoupo-lis.

It might be wisest if you were to return to your church in Konstantinoupolis for a short while. Your continued absence might create more questions than you or I wish to answer, and I for one do not want to come under suspicion, for then we will all have to be circumspect in a way that has not been necessary before. When you return, you need only claim that the battles in Italy were too costly for you to be able to continue your ministry without great risk. It might be fashionable to court martyrdom, but your metropolitan will endorse your prudence if you are not foolish about it.

The jewels you discovered in the villa near the Via Valeria are more promising than some of the other discoveries you have made, for they are small and it is not likely that the owners survived the onslaught of Totila's men. You can put the jewels into large barrels and fill the rest with grain or some other anonymous substance and the chances are excellent that it will go undetected through the inspections that are being imposed upon us all. You can indicate that you are bringing grain or something similar to your family or the poor who come to your church and it is certain that you will be unscathed.

Let me also remind you that once you are back with your wife and your church that it will be necessary for you to have a consistent tale to tell them all. You can prepare that in advance, but once you have decided on it, you must memorize it and hold to it, or there are those who will be prepared to leave your name with the officers of the Censor and then you would be in a very bad position. As harsh as the magistrates are being with sailors accused of smuggling, they are more severe with popes who take advantage of their cloth and calling to turn the service of their faith to profit. In your case, they might want to make an example of you. Guard yourself well, you Orthodox heretic.

As soon as it is safe, we will deal together again, but not, I think, in Konstantinoupolis. If you think of a market we might exploit, let me know of it.

This by my own hand and with the recommendation that you not keep it in your possession for more than a day or two since it would go hard for us both if it were discovered,

Ghornan

9

When Eugenia came into the vestibule of her house she was startled to discover Simones waiting for her. "Is… has something happened to your mistress?" she asked, unable to account for his presence and wanting her majordomo to hear whatever it was that the eunuch had come to tell her.