By our own hand on the Feast of the Evangelists at midsummer

Justinian

Emperor of Byzantion

his sigil

5

Just off the Mese there were a number of smaller markets that specialized in various ways. One was filled with jewel merchants, another was the home of leather workers. This street boasted furniture from foreign ports, some brought by sea, some carried overland along the Old Silk Road.

Niklos strolled through it, mildly curious about what was being offered. He had to meet with a chariot-builder in the next street, but was pleased to have a little time to spend in this way.

One of the stalls set up was filled with Roman goods: chests, tables, chairs, braziers, benches were all piled together in confusion; two bored slaves watched over the stall, one of them more interested in the food vendors than in selling anything from the trove.

Niklos regarded the Roman goods, an amused, ironic expression in his dark, ruddy eyes. He went to examine the nearest pile, remarking to the nearest slave, "I am the bondsman of a Roman lady, and she might wish to purchase some of your stock."

"Look at what we have," the slave offered without much enthusiasm. "There is more available."

"How much more?" Niklos inquired as he picked up a small chair and examined it.

"I'm not sure. My master and the merchant Ghornan have an agreement of sorts." He waved flies away from a dish of fruit. "Every time Captain Ghornan returns, he brings more things with him, and he and my master make their arrangements."

"Captain Ghornan sails to Italy, then?" There were not many merchants willing to take the risks necessary to do this now that the Ostrogoths had increased the strength of their navy.

"Regularly," the slave said with marked indifference. "He has never encountered serious trouble and does not expect to. It must be his Coptic heresy that makes him think that way." He reached over and took a handful of berries out of the dish. As he munched them, he went on. "Captain Ghornan is one who takes advantage of secret landings, I guess."

"Secret landings or bribes?" Niklos asked as he poked around the furniture.

"Probably both," the slave said through a full mouth. "He claims that he is not bothered."

"How fortunate," Niklos said dryly. He was about to observe that bribes always became more expensive as time went on when he noticed two wooden trunks with brass fittings. "Do you know where this Captain Ghornan gets these goods?" he asked very carefully.

"He says he buys them from homeless Romans." The slave ate more berries.

"Homeless Romans," Niklos repeated as he uncovered the two chests and studied them. "More likely he has them from Roman homes," he said.

"How do you mean?" asked the slave with a signal to his companion.

"I…" Niklos faltered. Both slaves at the stall were now watching him with suspicion. He took a short, deep breath and plunged in. "I am afraid that these two chests belong to my mistress. They were left in her villa when we came here. At the time we were assured that they would be guarded. Now, it may be that one of Totila's men commandeered the chests and then sold them, but it may also be that your Captain Ghornan has been dealing with men who are taking goods from villas that ought to be protected."

One of the slaves laughed unpleasantly. "Your mistress wants a few Roman things, and so you make this accusation in the hope that she will not have to pay the price of the things; is that it?"

"No," said Niklos, no longer attempting to be deferent. "I think that someone has taken her goods from her villa and sold them. I do not say that your Captain Ghornan is the one, but it is clear that someone has sold my mistress' goods, and that I must inform her of it."

The two slaves exchanged looks. "You will have to speak to one of the army magistrates," said the slave who was still eating berries. "That is, if there is any justification to your absurd accusation."

"My mistress had all her goods marked, and I know that these two chests have her mark." Niklos indicated the chests. "If there are other goods from the same shipment, I will have to tell the authorities."

"Marks can be added or changed," one of the slaves said.

"These marks are in the brass," Niklos said.

"In the brass?" the other slave inquired, clearly not believing him.

"Yes; it was the custom during the time of the Caesars to mark valuable property in this way. My mistress comes from an old family and has kept to the traditions." He stepped back and noticed that a small crowd had gathered around the stall. "I do not accuse your master or even this Captain Ghornan of anything. I am willing to believe that everyone involved is acting in good faith except the actual culprit who took the goods from the villa, but I do not think that the chests wandered out on their own or that they were sold entirely by accident." He addressed the slave who had finally finished eating his berries. "I will have to tell my mistress about this, and she, I know, will want to tell the authorities."

The slave glared at Niklos. "You are a foolish man," he warned. "This is not Roma, and here we do not accept the word of a slave, or a woman, for that matter. Here we demand more proof and greater authority."

Niklos decided he would not tell Olivia about this remark; she would be irritated enough as it was and this animadversion on slaves and women would enrage her. "It will be provided. In the meantime, I want you to know that I will hold you accountable for these goods. If they have disappeared between now and the time the case is reviewed, I will testify that you were in charge of the goods and that you were instructed to have them ready for inspection."

"Slaves do not testify," the other informed Niklos haughtily.

"True; bondsmen do, however, and I am a bondsman." With that, he turned and regarded the people clustered around the stall. "Every one of you will bear witness to this, if that is necessary. This is not something that can be easily forgotten or dismissed out of hand." He pointed at the two slaves. "These men are responsible for the contents of this stall. If there is any loss or disruption, the burden of that loss will be theirs."

"You're harsh, Roman," said one of the passersby.

"I'm Greek," Niklos corrected him. "My mistress is Roman."

There was a subtle shift of sympathies in the crowd, and Niklos knew that he would not have to complain without support. He smiled at the slaves in the stall. "Remember my warning."

"Your warning means nothing to us. Our master will be told of what you have claimed. The rest is up to him." With that the slave turned away and motioned for his companion to do the same.

Niklos was far from satisfied with this answer, but did not want to press the slaves for fear that he would lose the sympathy he had gained. He moved away from the stall quickly and in a short while he reached Olivia's house. He found her in her library reading.

"You look dreadful," she said as she looked up.

"I've got good reason," he said, and dropped onto the low bench across the reading table from her.

"And what reason is that?"

Niklos did not answer at once. When he did, his manner was remote, as if he were discussing events of the distant past. "You recall those two chests of yours, the ones with the brass fittings?"

As always when they were alone, they spoke in Latin, their accents old-fashioned and elegant, their phrases slightly archaic. "Chests?"

"Yes. Pay attention, Olivia. This is important." His aggravation was mixed with fondness and he touched her shoulder in a way no Byzantine servant—slave or bondsman—would dare to touch a superior. "The chests with brass fittings."

"With camphor on the inside and two drawers on one side, the ones that were made during Caracalla's reign—yes, of course I remember them. What of it?" She had set aside the book she was reading and was now watching him closely.

"I just saw them."

"What?"

"I just saw them," he repeated. "In the market. In a stall filled with Roman goods." He looked away from her, for the first time as if he were ashamed of what he was telling her. "They were for sale."

"In a stall in the market, of course they were for sale. Isn't that the purpose of a stall in the market?" She spoke amiably enough, but Niklos was not fooled.

"Olivia—"

"My things, offered for sale here. How fortunate that I will not be put to the trouble of sending for them, or requiring some account of them." Her hazel eyes had darkened and acquired a metallic glitter.

"Olivia, you're—"

"Furious," she agreed with him, favoring him with a wide, insincere smile.

Niklos nodded. "With good reason. I was appalled."

"The chests. I wonder what else?" She stared up at the ceiling so that she could avoid looking at him. "Was that all, did you notice?"

"I don't know," he said truthfully.

"But there were other Roman things in the stall, you said."