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Authors: Bertrice Small

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Cailin was pacing around the fish pond. She whirled at the sound of his step and shouted at him, “How could you keep such a thing from me, my lord? Or was it a lie told simply to annoy that dreadful creature?”

“It is true,” he said. “You have been a free woman again since that day I promised it to you. I could not tell you the whole truth, Cailin. I am not a young man, but God help me, I love you! I feared if I told you that you were free, you would leave me; that you would attempt some foolish flight back to Britain, and end up in a worse situation than the one from which I rescued you.”

For a moment pity welled in her eyes, but it was quickly gone. “Oh, Aspar,” she said to him. “Do you not know that I love you also? Until you found me, and yes, even for a time afterward, I dreamed of returning to Britain to avenge myself upon Antonia Porcius. But what good would it do me? Would vengeance return me to my family? My husband? My child? I do not think so. Antonia’s revenge certainly did not return Quintus to her. Wulf Ironfist will have found himself another wife by now. Perhaps they even have a child. He husbands the lands that were once my family’s. My return would bring but unhappiness to all involved. It is a new age for Britain, and it would seem that I am not meant to be a part of it. This is where my fate has brought me, and here I will remain, by your side and in your heart as long as you will have me, Aspar.”
She surprised herself with her own words, but even as she had spoken them, she realized it was time to put her dreams aside and face reality. It was unlikely that she would ever see Britain again.

“They will not let us marry, Cailin,” he said sadly.

“Who? Your Christian priests? I am not a Christian, Aspar. I am, what was it your wife called me? A pagan. Do you remember the old words of the Roman marriage? Perhaps you do not, but divorce Flacilla, and I will teach them to you that we may say them to each other. Then whatever others may say, we will be bound together for all eternity, my dearest lord,” Cailin promised him. Slipping her arms about him, she pressed herself hard against him and kissed him with all the passion her young soul could muster. Then looking up at him, she said, “And you will
never
, ever again keep things from me, or tell me half-truths, my darling lord, or I shall be very, very angry. You have not yet seen my wild temper in full force, and you do not wish to, I promise you!”

She astounded him, and the happiness filling him would only allow him to say, “You love me?
You love me!”
He caught her up in his arms and swung her about happily. “Cailin loves me!”

“Put me down!” she said, laughing. “You will have the servants thinking that you have lost your wits entirely, my lord.”

“Just my heart, my love, and that you will keep safe for me, I know it!” He placed her gently upon her feet.

“Go to Constantinople now, my lord, and convince those you must to rid you of that harpy you wed for expediency’s sake,” Cailin told him. “I will eagerly await your return.”

“I will legalize any children you bear me,” he promised her.

“I know you will do the just thing,” she replied. “Now go!”

He did not even have to give orders. Zeno appeared to inform his master that his horse was saddled and awaiting him in the courtyard. Aspar laughed aloud. It was a conspiracy, he thought to himself. His servants adored Cailin and would do whatever they must to ensure both her happiness and his. He
rode off down the road to the city, eventually catching up with Flacilla’s litter. Together they traveled the rest of the distance to the patriarch’s palace, where they were admitted immediately and announced to Constantinople’s religious leader.

The patriarch looked warily at the couple before him. “And to what do I owe the pleasure of seeing you both?” he murmured nervously.

“We want a divorce,” Flacilla said bluntly. “Both Aspar and I are agreed upon it. You cannot refuse us. We have no marriage, and never have, my lord. We have not even cohabited once, and I have constantly betrayed my husband with men of low degree,” she finished.

“Constantly?”
Aspar said, one dark eyebrow arching quizzically.

“You rarely knew,” Flacilla said smugly, and then she laughed almost ruefully. “They do not all end as scandalously as did the little episode of the gladiator and the actor, my lord.”

The patriarch paled. “You knew of that unfortunate incident?” he asked Aspar.

“I knew,” the general replied. “My sources are even better than yours are, my lord patriarch. I chose to overlook it.”

“Because of your little mistress?” the patriarch countered, his black robes swirling about as he paced the room edgily. “You will never be permitted to marry her. Your prestige is too valuable to Byzantium, Flavius Aspar. Your behavior is tolerated because you have been discreet, but only for that reason. Go home, both of you.”

“I have twice married for the good of my family,” Flacilla said, taking up the argument. “I was content to remain a widow when my husband Constans died, but the Strabos would make me this man’s wife. Well, I have served my purpose for them, and for you. Now I want to be happy with a man of my own choosing.”

Her blue eyes glared fiercely at the patriarch. “Cousin, I wish to marry Justin Gabras, and he wishes to marry me. He is the first lover with whom I have been involved who is my
equal. The Gabras family is, as you well know, the first family of Trebizond. The emperor is in your pocket now, and Aspar is the most loyal citizen in this land. You need fear neither of them. I would be far more useful as Justin Gabras’s wife, as this should give you an important toehold in Trebizond. Refuse us, and we will cause such a scandal that neither you nor this emperor will survive it! I mean it, cousin, and you know that I am capable of such destruction,” Flacilla finished threateningly.

“You are content to allow this marriage?” the patriarch said feebly to Aspar, but even as he spoke he knew that Aspar undoubtedly considered this situation a pure stroke of luck.

“I have no quarrel with Flacilla,” Aspar replied smoothly. “If this marriage can make her happy, why should we refuse her, my lord? To what purpose? She is correct about the Gabras family, and they would, I suspect, even be grateful to Flacilla. Her lover has never before married, and a marriage may settle his rather erratic personality. That would certainly reflect well on the Strabos, and upon you. And if marriage does not settle him, we are, none of us, any the worse off.” He shrugged. “As for my situation, I will continue to remain discreet. Little can be said about an unmarried man who keeps a mistress and is faithful to her, my lord. It is small reward I ask for all my services to the empire.”

“She must be baptized,” the patriarch said. “We can tolerate a Christian mistress, Flavius Aspar, but never a pagan. I will choose a priest myself for her instruction, and when he tells me she is ready to receive the sacrament, I will baptize her myself into the true Orthodox faith of Byzantium. Will you accept my decision in this matter?”

“I will,” Aspar said, wondering just how he was going to explain it to Cailin. She would find it very irrational, but in the end he knew she would do it to please him, and because it was the only way that their relationship would be tolerated by the powers that be.

The patriarch turned to Flacilla. “You will have your divorce, cousin, and before your Strabo family relations even
know it. I do not intend to argue with them over this matter. Choose a wedding date, and I will personally marry you to Justin Gabras. It is to be done, however, privately and with a little decorum, Flacilla. I will not allow either of you to make a circus of this matter. And afterward you will hostess a family party to properly celebrate this new union. There will be no orgy. Do you understand? Will Justin Gabras understand?”

“It will be as you desire, my lord patriarch,” Flacilla said meekly.

The cleric laughed humorlessly. “If it is,” he said, “then it will be the first time you ever really obeyed me,
cousin.”

Chapter 11

S
pring always came sooner to Byzantium than it did to Britain, Cailin noted, not displeased by the early display of flowering trees in Aspar’s orchards. The general was a good master, as each peasant she met was quick to assure her. While many on neighboring estates were worn down by the incredible taxation placed on the farmers by the imperial government, Aspar paid the taxes imposed on his people so that they would not have to leave their own small bits of land. Taxes unfortunately could not be paid in kind. They had to be paid in gold, yet the price of all produce and farm animals was strictly regulated by the government, making it nearly impossible for freedmen to meet their obligations. The government kept these prices artificially low to satisfy the populace. Many small farmers attached to other estates had practically sold themselves into serfdom to their overlords so that they and their families might just survive.

“If you had no farmers,” Cailin said to her lover, “where would we get our foodstuffs? Does the government not consider that? Why are the merchants taxed so little, and the farmers so much?”

“For the same reason ships docking in the Golden Horn are only charged two solidi on their arrival, but fifteen solidi on their departure. The government wants luxury goods and staples brought into the city, but not traded away out of it. That is why the merchants are charged such low taxes. Someone has to make up the deficit. Since the farmers have no choice but to farm the land, and are so scattered throughout the country they cannot unite and complain, the heaviest burden
of taxation falls upon them,” Aspar told her. “Governments have always acted thusly, for there is always someone willing to farm the land.”

“That is totally illogical,” Cailin responded. “It is the luxury goods that should be taxed, and not the poor souls who supply the necessities of everyday life! Who makes such foolish laws?”

“The senate,” he said, smiling at her outrage. “You see, my love, the bulk of the luxury goods are sold to the ruling class, and the very rich have a strong aversion to heavy taxation. The government keeps the majority of the populace content by regulating the price of everything that is sold. The poor farmers, a minority, can cry out all they want. Their voices will not be heard in either the senate or in the palace. Only when the majority of the people threaten rebellion do those in power listen, and then not particularly closely, but just enough to save their own skins,” Aspar finished cynically.

“If they tax the farmers out of existence,” Cailin persisted, “who will grow the food? Has the government considered that?”

“The powerful will grow the food, using slave labor,” he said.

“That is why you pay your tenants’ taxes, isn’t it?”

“Free men are happier men,” Aspar said, “and happier men produce far more than those who are not happy, or free.”

“There is so much beauty here,” Cailin said slowly, “and yet so much wickedness and decay. I miss my homeland. Life in Britain was simpler, and the boundaries of our survival were more clearly defined, even if we had not the luxuries of Byzantium, my dear lord.”

“Your thoughts are complex even for a wise man,” he replied, taking her hand and kissing the inside of her wrist. “Your heart is great, Cailin Drusus, but you must accept the fact you are only a woman. There is little you can do to right the world’s ills, my love.”

“Yet Father Michael tells me that I am my brother’s keeper,” she answered him cleverly, and he smiled at her
tenacity. “This Christianity of yours is interesting, Aspar, but its adherents do not always do what they preach a good Christian should do, my lord. I like your Jesus, but I think he would not like some of the ways in which his teachings are interpreted by those who claim to speak in his name. I have been taught that one of the commandments handed down says that we shall not kill our fellow man, and yet we do, Aspar. We kill for foolish reasons, which is worse. A man does not worship as we think he should worship, and so we kill him. A man is of a different race or tribe than we are, so we kill him! This is not, I think, what Jesus meant. Here in Byzantium there is so much evil amid so much piety. Yet that evil is ignored by even those in the highest places who proudly worship in the Hagia Sophia, and then run off to commit adultery, or cheat their business associates. It is all very confusing.”

“Do you tell Father Michael of your thoughts and concerns?” he asked her, not knowing if he should be truly amused or fearful for her.

“No,” she said. “He is too intense in his religious fervor, and very bound up with the correctness of his worship. He says that I am far from ready for baptism, which is, I think, a good thing, Aspar. A good Christian woman, it is said, must either be a wife or go to live in a convent. I am told I cannot be your wife, and I certainly have no desire to live a cloistered existence. Therefore, once I accept the rite of baptism, I must either leave you or be forever damned. It is not a particularly broad choice, my lord, that is offered me.” Cailin’s violet eyes twinkled with amusement. Then she slipped her arms about his neck and kissed him slowly. “I am going to avoid baptism as long as I can, my lord.”

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