"No; there's no saying if we'll have any privacy if you do. Here." She took one of the soft pillows and dropped it onto the wine, watching the stain spread across the linen.

"You'll ruin the pillow," Eugenia warned.

"And who would see it that would care?" She picked up the pillow and dropped it on the floor.

"Antonina, you aren't—" Eugenia cried out.

She was interrupted. "What use for us to pretend, Eugenia? The Emperor has withdrawn the favor he bestowed and for all the position my husband now has, he might as well be posted to the most remote fort in the Empire. In fact, he would think himself lucky if that would happen." She shivered and not entirely because the storm was sniffing at the walls of her house like a hungry animal.

"You must not despair," Eugenia said, repeating what her confessor had told her so many times.

"Why not? I pray that the Emperor will escape the influence of those who are my husband's enemies, but I cannot do as Belisarius does and assume that Justinian is at the mercy of those who wish him ill. I believe—and if I were a man, the belief would be treason, I know—that Justinian is jealous of Belisarius and has decided to take away his power so that he need not fear for his throne. I believe that the Emperor is petty and ungrateful and filled with spite. I believe that he wishes to disgrace my husband and to make an example of him to those who might desire to advance themselves at the Emperor's expense. I believe that nothing my husband does or says will change this and that he would have done better to have died in battle, which is what I think Justinian prayed would happen." She stopped, breathless and flushed.

"I won't repeat that," Eugenia said.

"No matter," Antonina told her with a shake of her head. "The Emperor has spies in this house and he knows all that is said here, and most of what is invented. The slaves know that if they bring a report that further impugns my husband the reward will be greater, and so they embroider everything they hear until a chance remark becomes a flagrant threat." She reached out and gave both of them more wine. "Here. It doesn't matter now. I have already unburdened myself and there is no reason to try to keep a silent tongue in my head."

Eugenia was becoming actively alarmed by her friend's behavior, and she tried to shift their conversation. "Do you think that the mourning we must observe for Theodora will last longer than a year?"

"Who is to say?" Antonina responded. "She would have limited it, but now that she is gone, there is no one to keep the Emperor from his most rigorous demands." She took a long sip of wine and clapped twice loudly. "Simones! Another jug of hot wine."

The eunuch came into the reception room and took the empty jug from the table. "Some sweetmeats as well, great lady?"

"Anything," she answered without any inflection. "Whatever the cooks wish to serve. Just so that the wine is well-spiced and hot. And see if anything can be done about that window. It's cold as a tomb in here."

Simones made a deep, insolent reverence. "Of course, great lady. And I will have a pope petition heaven bring sunshine and balmy days at once."

Antonina straightened. "If you do not wish to find yourself on a sale block, you will never speak to me again in that manner." There was no doubt that she was in earnest, and her eyes bored into him. "And my husband will know of your conduct, so that you will be watched in future. Do you understand that?"

"I understand," said Simones, aware that he had gone too far. He knew that any value he might have existed because he was in the Belisarius household, and that if ever he was sold, he would be of use to no one, and in fact might be thought a liability for his knowledge. The prospect of what could happen then made him correct his demeanor, and he went on, "I vow before God that I will not forget myself again."

"You think that because there are Guards at the door, you may show the same contempt they do, don't you?" Antonina accused him, glad to have someone she could vent her rage and frustration on in safety.

"I forgot myself," he allowed.

"And you have assumed that no one in the household would dare to correct you because of the Guard. You are the slave of this household, not of the Guard, and as long as that is so, you will show yourself subservient and obedient." She paused, satisfied at the fright she recognized in his eyes. "If you are abusive, there is the lash."

"Abusive slaves deserve the lash," Eugenia said severely as she watched Simones. "Don't they?"

"Yes," he said softly. "And when I give abuse, I will thank God for the correction you mete out to me." It was the same formula he had been taught since he was a boy, but he no longer said it like a chastized child.

"You should also thank God that you were made a eunuch," said Antonina. "Rebellion in a whole man is regarded far more seriously than in a eunuch." She indicated the ikonostasis. "Even the Saints have said so."

"Because eunuchs are more tractable?" Eugenia suggested.

Simones bowed his head, and decided to take a chance. "General Narses"—no one in the household had dared to mention Belisarius' replacement in Italy—"is a eunuch."

"Who has nephews," Antonina said curtly. "Speak that name again, and I will assure you that you will be mining copper in Syria before the week is out."

"I did not mean to give insult," said Simones mendaciously. "But there are many who suppose that a man who lacks testicles is unable to turn traitor or be of a warlike disposition. With some this is true, but not with all. I pray that the Emperor will remember this."

"Do you?" Antonina demanded.

"Yes. We are all required to pray for the Emperor, aren't we? The pope where I worship exhorts us often to ask God's especial care for the Emperor's benefit so that he might never lose the wisdom that a ruler must have, and which must come from God." He had the knack of showing correct piety, and he now enjoyed its success again. "I am filled with fault, as man is, but the Emperor is not one who can afford similar faults."

Both women murmured the required response—"Grace of God shine over us"—and then Antonina indicated the wine-soaked pillow.

"Take this away, and bring wine and something to eat. And remember that you are not exempt from the rules that govern a slave's conduct." She waited in silence as Simones picked up the pillow and started for the door. "And Simones?" she called after him. "I never want to hear you speak out again, on any matter. If you do, I will have to send you to market or give you to… someone I dislike. You do understand me, don't you?"

This time his reverence was perfect. "In all things, great lady. I am grateful for your correction."

As soon as he was gone, Eugenia leaned forward. "Do you think that you ought to keep him? He seems… dangerous."

"In a household like this one, all slaves are dangerous," Antonina sighed. "If my husband were not so much in disfavor, then I might insist that we be rid of him at once, but any slave we purchased to replace him is almost certain to be the creature of one courtier or another. Simones lacks respect, but he has been in this household for more than ten years and he is loyal. As things stand, that is worth more than conduct." She leaned back once more. "Oh, Eugenia, I am sorry that I have turned out to have so little use to you."

"You must not expose yourself and your husband to greater indignities," said Eugenia with a primness that did not match her look. "And it fills me with dismay that I must make the choice I must. I have consoled myself with the realization that if I were married, my husband would forbid me to come to visit you at all, if he were connected to the court. We would not have this chance to speak."

Antonina nodded. "Yes. And it might have been wiser if you had done that. But still, I am glad that you were willing to see me."

"I… I will not see your husband," Eugenia stipulated, her cheeks becoming flushed.

"No, of course not," Antonina concurred. "There would be no good for any of us if you did." She sneezed suddenly and wiped at her eyes. "The storm has brought illness with it."

"You should apply to one of the Greek physicians to give you a tincture for it," Eugenia advised. Greek physicians were trusted more than most, and it was fashionable to have one come to treat minor ailments. Serious disease was another matter: for that you summoned the nearest pope for his prayers and then summoned an Egyptian.

"Perhaps I ought," said Antonina. "But there are herbs here that I can use myself. I am afraid of what a physician might be bribed to give me."

"Why would anyone want to poison you?" Eugenia asked. "You have taken precautions to protect your husband, so why would anyone wish to injure you?"

"I don't know, but the Censor is a man who needs no reason beyond his whim." She coughed once and then looked up as Simones returned bearing a tray. "And hot wine. Hot wine will cure most simple ills except hangnails."