"Oh, Drosos," Olivia said. She had taken the chair nearest his and was watching him, grief in her tearless eyes.
"I don't know what it was about that cow. I'm a soldier," he said, sitting straighter. "I have killed men, I have been wounded, I have fought in war. I know what it is to have a horse lanced out from under me; I have watched men with their guts in their hands try to reach just one more enemy warrior. I have seen widows and children after the fight. Nothing—nothing—moved me in the way that black-and-white cow…"He looked away. After the silence had stretched between them, he said in another, more remote tone, "I wrote to the Emperor, after we burned the library. I said that I was convinced that we had made a great error in burning the books and that he had been given poor advice by those close to him, who did not know the Library and the things it contained. I thought, you see, that he had been persuaded by those around him to do this, not that he wanted it done himself. I told him if he understood what was stored there, he would have realized that destroying so much knowledge was against every virtue and aim of Christianity. Well, I might as well have ordered my Guard to drag me through the streets of Alexandria behind four maddened horses. It would have spared everyone trouble."
"Don't say that, Drosos," Olivia admonished him in a low voice.
In the light from the brazier only half his face could be seen, and it was more like a mask than a face. "You have to understand that it was Justinian who wanted the books burned. It was the Emperor who had decided that the Library was dangerous and that the things in it were a hazard no Christian dared endure. He was the one who gave the orders, he was the one who decided. It was not some clique around him; it was Justinian himself." He stood up abruptly. "So they ordered me back here, where they can keep an eye on me, and watch what I do, for now the Emperor numbers me among his enemies." He came and stood beside Olivia. "Which is why I must go."
She did not rise. "No."
He dropped to his knee beside her chair and looked up into her face. "Don't you understand, Olivia? Don't you realize that if I visit you, Justinian will consider you to be as dangerous as I am, and you will be subjected to—"
"I have already been counted among those the Emperor dislikes because I am still Belisarius' friend and I have kept him as my sponsor ever since he returned from Italy. If I see you as well, it will mean little to the Emperor. It will be yet another example of Roman corruption. He is almost as disapproving of Romans as he is of books these days." She rested her hands on his shoulder. "How can I endure your being here, in this city, and not see you? How can I be cut off from everything and lose you as well?"
Drosos regarded her with concern. "You are already at risk. If you continue to see me, the risk increases, and there is nothing I can offer you as protection."
"I do not ask you to protect me, Drosos. I want you to love me."
His arms went around her and he rested his head in her lap. "I should not stay."
"But you will?" She ruffled his hair, wishing there was less white in it.
"Since you seem determined to have me, I suppose I must."
"You make it sound an unpleasant duty." She was teasing him now, for the strength of his arms told her more than his spoken denials.
"No; leaving you would be the unpleasant duty." He lifted his head and reached to pull her mouth down to his. "I dreamed of you every night I was away from you. I thought of you each day. I would sit in my reception room, staring out at the ruins of the Library, the way you stare at a soldier's empty sleeve, and I would see your face instead of the ruins. It was the only thing that kept me from going mad."
She kissed his brow. "Drosos."
"If anything goes wrong with you, I will blame myself." He said this as much to the walls as to her.
"That's absurd," she informed him, now very brisk. "You have been gone too long and you've given yourself over to gloom and melancholy. You have permitted yourself to succumb to worry and dread."
Drosos moved back from her, his hands clasping hers. "You would, were you in my place."
"Probably," she agreed. "But you are here now, and we are together again." She rose and tugged on his arms to bring him to his feet once again. "Drosos, stay here. You can stay tonight and any other time you wish. You are welcome here as long as I am living within these walls. You will always be welcome wherever I am."
He attempted a smile without much success. "You are a lovely woman, and you are kind, Olivia. You make me want to believe that nothing else matters but that you and I are together. That isn't true, is it?"
"There are times it is and times it is not," she said, her arm around his waist as she started toward the door. "But think how desolate this place would be if you and I were not ever to be together again. It would cause me—" She pulled the door open and was startled to see one of her household slaves standing a short distance away.
The man was flustered. "I… I am on an errand, great lady."
"It must be urgent if it keeps you away from your evening meal," Olivia said with a serenity that she did not feel. "Do not let me detain you, Valerios." She stood while the slave hurried down the hall.
"He was spying on us," Drosos said, agitation coming back into his voice.
"Very likely," Olivia agreed. "And I will have to discover why and for whom, but not just now. I have other things, more important things to do now."
"You do not—" He started to move away from her. "It probably is best if I leave. I will not have compromised you too much and you and I will be able to…" The words trailed off as he gazed into her face. With a soft moan he pulled her tight against him. "I can't."
"Thank every god I've ever heard of," she whispered to his neck. "Stay with me, Drosos. It is dark and I am lonely. I have ached for you since the day you left me. I do not want to give you up now."
All at once his hands were fevered, hot and urgent in their questing and probing. "What does it matter?" he whispered against her hair, sounding like a man in delirium.
With effort she moved back so that they could walk the short distance to her private apartments. Every step of the way he touched her, his hands seeking out the flesh under her clothes. He spoke little and his words were deep and thickened, as if he had been drugged.
"Let me undress you," she offered when she had closed the door on her sleeping chamber.
"Never mind," he told her as he tore off his pallium and dragged his dalmatica over his head. He reached out for her Roman clothes and nearly ripped them off her.
"Drosos," she murmured as he swarmed over her. "We can savor this. There's no need to rush."
He paid no heed to her, his hands and mouth busy and urgent, frenzied in their quest. He pressed into her with little more than a hurried stroke to open her legs, and he rode her in ominous silence until he spasmed and pulled away from her.
Olivia lay still, her eyes fixed on the ceiling, and she caught her lower lip in her teeth until she was certain she could speak clearly. "You needed—"
"So did you," he said, not looking at her.
"Why do you want to deny us what we can have?" She did not make the question an accusation; she waited for his answer.
"What did I deny?" He meant it as a challenge, but he sounded more like a sulky boy.
"Must I tell you when you know?" she asked as she rolled onto her side and propped herself on her elbow. "You tell me you remember all the times we have been together, you have dreamed about them. And you behave as if I am nothing more than your whore."
He flinched at the word which she said so calmly. "That wasn't it," he muttered.
"Then what was it?" She studied his face. "Drosos?"
He refused to look at her. "I want you. It is worse than a fire in my bones, this wanting you."
"Then why do you—"
"You are relentless, aren't you?" He faced her, something between fury and despair in his eyes. "You will not let me go. You cannot release me."
"Release you from what? To what?" she asked, pain in her voice now.
"From you. From all you are. I… I haven't the strength for it anymore. I'm not…" He touched her hair. "Did I hurt you?"
"Yes," she admitted.
"I didn't want to. But… I don't know. Something within me has… failed. There are nights when I have lain awake and thought that I was taken with disease, that I was being consumed with some vile infection."
"Oh, Drosos," she said as she stretched her arm across his chest. "How can you condemn yourself this way?"
"Why not?" he asked her. "Think of what I am, what I have done."
"I think of who you are," she told him, soothing him, wishing the cold ache under her ribs would fade. "I hear you speak and I long to find the words that would succor you."