"Sanct' Germain saved you," she insisted.
"Because you asked it." He looked directly at her. "It isn't a debt, not as other debts are, because it can never be paid. I am not grateful, not as gratitude is understood. I am… beholden to you."
"I don't—" she began, trying to move her hand away.
His grip tightened. "No, you don't require it. I remain where I am because I wish to. It isn't your bond, it's mine." He let her hand go, but she did not move. "So. Do you want me to find Drosos for you?"
"Not yet." She bit her lower lip. "I am hoping that he will come of his own accord. If he does not, then I suppose we must act."
"As you wish," he said, letting go of her hand at last. "I will try the wharves again, if you like, and see if there is anyone willing to carry two people out of this impossible place, no questions asked."
"I suppose it will be necessary," she said, rising. "It's foolish, but I have a foolish desire to be cleared of suspicion. I want to be… exonerated. It offends me to have so many ill things said of me, for no reason other than I am a Roman woman."
"If they knew what else you are…" Niklos made a cutting gesture with his fingers.
"Then we must hope that they never learn. I am not ready to die the true death yet." She took the ledger with Petronius concealed in it, replacing it in its pigeonhole.
"Do you think Drosos might—?"
"Might speak against me?" she finished for him. "It is possible, I suppose. He could decide that he needed to purge himself, and this would be one way." She linked her hands behind her neck and rolled her head back. "If he does, then there will be more trouble than—"
"You have a house on Kythera," Niklos said, deliberately stopping her.
"Yes," she said, a bit surprised that he mentioned it. "I haven't been there in centuries."
"It is still standing, although it needs some work." He folded his arms. "I spoke to a fisherman from there, and he told me all about the house; all it took was a few leading questions and he recited everything that is known about the place, including the local conviction that the place is haunted. The monks in the monastery above the harbor have records of the house, so you would not have any difficulty claiming it."
"If it is still unoccupied, then…" She turned to him. "What made you think of that house?"
"Honestly?" he asked. "Seeing that fishing boat and hearing the men speaking with the Kythera dialect." He turned his hands over, palms up. "I'd like to say it was inspiration or some such thing, but it was nothing more than chance. You haven't been there in a long time. The last time you were there," he went on more somberly, "was while I was learning to live with the… changes of my restoration."
She nodded. "I remember."
"That raw chicken?" Suddenly he laughed, a great, unfettered sound. She could not resist him, and in a moment they were laughing together.
"Do you recall that peasant with the two spotted goats?" He could hardly speak, but he gasped out the words. She nodded helplessly as he guffawed.
When they had recovered, and even the residual giggles had faded, Olivia folded her arms and regarded Niklos thoughtfully. "Perhaps a fisherman is the answer. We wouldn't get as far away as I might like, but Kythera could be the answer, at least for a little while. It would remove us from danger, and I doubt anyone would think of looking for us there. Who hides on Kythera?"
"You would be visible there," he warned her. "And the people would talk."
"Then we will have to take some precautions. I think that for a time I will have to be aged and ugly. That ought to keep all but the most curious away. Is there any of the walnut-juice tincture left, do you know?"
"Darkening your hair again?" he ventured. "On that island they won't notice dark hair in the way they'd notice light brown."
"You approve?"
"Certainly, if that matters." He watched her. "What about a limp? You would only have to have it when you were outside the walls of the house." He cocked his head to the side. "Unless you want a large staff for the place; then it becomes riskier."
"We'll need some staff. Anything else would be suspicious. And there are other problems, I agree." This last was said in a harder tone. "I will have to make arrangements."
Niklos studied her. "How?"
"I can always appear as a pleasant dream. That way there is no knowledge and no danger. At most the dreamer will recall a face, a touch, nothing more than that. It isn't—"
"Do not tell me that it isn't hazard; there is always the chance that someone will become curious, or will denounce you out of… guilt, I suppose."
"I try to avoid such men," Olivia said in her most sensible manner. "There are times, Niklos, that you're as bad as Sanct' Germain—not that he has any claim on avoiding risks, after what he did for me."
Niklos got to his feet. "Well, shall I talk to the fishermen, then?"
"Yes. Make it seem that we are destitute, that we had to leave almost everything behind in Roma, and that we cannot afford to remain here, nor can we afford the cost of filing a departure petition. The fishermen will be sympathetic at that. Oh, and add that I have been ill. That will account for my poor aptitude for sailing." Now that she had made up her mind, she showed her customary energy and clarity of thought.
"And Drosos?"
She faltered. "I don't know. I wish I did."
"Would you remain here if… if it were necessary?" The concern was back in his face and his words were sharp.
"You mean if he required it of me? How could I refuse, after what has passed between us? I might as well try to swim naked to Kythera." She indicated her shoes with the thick, earth-filled soles.
"How much of your native earth is at the house on Kythera?" asked Niklos.
"Enough, if the place has been undisturbed. There are three chests of it, as well as what is under the floor. It will suffice for a time." She stretched. "So it will be Kythera."
Niklos came up behind her and put his arms around her waist. "I know you will honor the ties of blood, and I cannot and would not fault you for it, but you will have to pardon me for my concern, and for—"
"For being my loving friend?" Olivia chided gently.
"Among other things." He turned her to face him. "In all the time I have known you, I have never seen you as… attached to anyone as you are to Drosos. With the exception of Sanct' Germain, of course."
"Yes, he always is the exception," she said, then went on. "There is something in Drosos that moves me. When he became my lover, he did it so… so wholeheartedly. There was no reservation, no guardedness. He was like a clear stream. Now—I don't know. But I cannot…"
Niklos put his hand to her hair, holding her head close to his shoulder. "I know, Olivia." He kissed her brow.
"If you would rather go to Kythera ahead of me and wait, it would—"
"No it wouldn't," he told her.
Text of a letter from Mnenodatos to Belisarius.
To the most esteemed and noble General Belisarius, the physician Mnenodatos sends his most abject apologies and sympathy upon the death of the august lady Antonina, and begs that the General will be able to forgive.
This is a most difficult letter to write to you, not only because as a physician I have failed to render the necessary treatment to save your wife, but because I permitted myself to be party to the plan that led to this eventuality.
I have not always felt this way. When I was first approached, little as I liked the notion, it had little meaning for me, for my family was hungry and I did not have the means to support them, no matter how great my skill.
Sadly, I had other skills as well, and someone found them out and turned them against me, and against you. I do not know for certain who the person was who paid me to do this reprehensible deed, but I am convinced, after examining the events that have taken place, that the person is known to you and very likely attached to your household in some capacity.
My other skills, I must confess to you, and to God, Who already knows this, is in the area of poisons, the treatment and detection of them, and their administration. It was in the latter capacity that I was paid to act, and I am dismayed to tell you that I did not question the person or the motive of the person who hired me. At the time I was willing to believe that there was good basis for the request and that you were indeed guilty of conspiring against the Emperor, and that you and your wife were enemies of the Empire and of God.
I am aware that this is not the case, and I have thought for some time that the charges against you were at best misdirected. I have assumed that you were involved with conspirators but were not one yourself, and that for reasons of honor you would not reveal the names of those who acted against the Empire because you had fought with them and would not willingly expose them to the punishment such acts would require. Your wife said many times that you had had the chance to take action and had not done so, and that she respected you for your integrity while she also doubted your wisdom in holding off from such action.