Panaigios did not hurry to Kimon Athanatadies' quarters at once, although he was aware his duties required him to report to his superior immediately. Instead he sought out the smallest chapel in the palace and took time to pray, for he was terribly afraid. He wanted to seek out Thekla again, to listen to her strange prophecies and try to determine his course from her cryptic statements, but he knew he was being watched, and such an action now might be construed as a ploy to secure a higher position within the government, which the Court Censor would view as highly questionable. There had been too many instances lately when Athanatadies had asked Panaigios awkward things, and he knew his answers had been far from satisfactory.
By the time Panaigios rose from his knees, Simones was halfway to Eugenia's house, his thoughts growing sterner with every step he took. He was determined to show himself to be trustworthy if he had to counterfeit the proof of Belisarius' treachery himself.
At Eugenia's house he was made to wait while she prepared herself to receive him. This only served to make him more aggravated than he already was, so that when Eugenia entered her larger reception room, Simones was glowering with ire.
"Lord protect us," Eugenia said, trying to find the right note to take with Simones. "You look as if half the mules in the market had stepped on your feet."
"I don't find that amusing," Simones said, coming to her side and putting his arm around her. "Find another way to amuse me."
She became very still. "Simones, there are slaves in my house who will defend me."
"Summon them," he offered, almost eager for the opportunity to have direct conflict with someone. "I will resist, but that mustn't bother you. You would like to be fought over, wouldn't you? It would be better if those fighting weren't slaves, but that is better than nothing." He put his hand under her chin and forced her to look at him. "Go ahead; summon your help."
"Not yet," she said, fearful of what might happen.
"Disappointing, but wise." He released her. "Sit down. I must talk with you."
"Simones—" she began in protest.
"I said sit down. Unless you want it known what you have done at my behest." He pointed to the smaller bench near the window. "Now."
Slowly Eugenia did as she was told. "Now what?" she asked when she had folded her hands in her lap.
"Now I must know if you have any letters or notes written by my master to you or to friends here?" He braced his hands on his hips.
"I don't think so," she said, puzzled at his remark.
"Are you certain?"
Eugenia shook her head. "It would not be proper for Belisarius to write to me, in any case, unless at the request of his wife. Since Antonina is able to read and write, there is no reason for her husband to send anything to me." She fiddled with the edge of her paenula. "I can only think of one man who received any word from Belisarius while he was here, and he has not been… to visit me for well over a year. He was one of Belisarius' officers in Italy."
"Drosos?" suggested Simones.
"No; Chrysanthos. He is going to be posted abroad soon, or so he was told by his superiors. They're doing that with a good number of Belisarius' former officers, you know. Most of them are on the frontiers, but a few have… disappeared entirely. They might as well have ceased to exist." She was twisting a section of the edge of her paenula now. "I don't remember any other—"
"Chrysanthos won't do," Simones cut her off. "He's too well-connected for my purposes. I need someone who is not highly placed and has few friends near the Emperor. It's a shame you aren't a friend of Drosos. He would be ideal. He's regarded as a rogue ever since his protest."
"I don't know Drosos, except for the few times I saw him at your master's house," said Eugenia.
"You might try to renew the acquaintance," Simones said, his tone more thoughtful.
"I doubt it," she replied. "I was never able to catch his attention. He was always enthralled by Olivia Clemens, the Roman widow who—""I know who she is. She occasionally visits Belisarius; he's her sponsor." He bit his lower lip as he considered. "If you were to see him again, do you think you could engage his attention, for a night?"
Eugenia shrugged. "I don't know. I don't want to. The man is dangerous to know and you, for all your talk of the Censor, cannot promise me that this would not ruin me." Her voice raised in defiance. "I have called upon Antonina, I have done what I can to find out what she knows without being too obvious. You say you do not think I've done enough, but even ill, Antonina is not a stupid woman, and if I am too persistent in my questions she will not want to speak with me. She is not going to be willing to share confidences with me forever."
"Not more than a year, in any case," Simones said with a hint of gloating.
"Don't speak of that," Eugenia pleaded.
"You could help her prepare," Simones went on, tormenting her deliberately. "You can turn her thoughts away from the world and into the realms of faith. You can urge her to be rid of the sins that plague her soul and might cast her down into the Pit. It would not be the first time that death brought truth to light."
"I hate speaking with her," Eugenia confessed. "I see her in pain and with her strength ebbing, and it is all I can do to say those things I know will please her." The fabric in her fingers had started to unravel. "She is suffering. Doesn't that bother you?"
"It bothers me that we must take such a long time or be discovered." He came to her side again. "Listen to me, great lady. I am a slave. I had half my manhood cut off when I was seventeen for no reason other than a pope preached on the joys of celibacy. Mind you, the pope was married, but he spoke of the freedom from lust that comes with the loss of the hairy eggs. So all his male slaves were castrated for their own good. You see how it has dampened my lust. I have nothing in this world. There is everything to gain and nothing to lose. Why should the death of one woman make any difference to me? Do you know how I feel when I see her lying there, her face pale and great circles under her eyes, and that pain consuming her? I know that I caused it, and that her physician doesn't know that I am the one who has suborned him. It is… magnificent to feel so." He laughed, and though his laughter was genuine, it held no trace of mirth. "Do not speak to me about Antonina, Eugenia. It means nothing to me that she will die."
Eugenia's head had drooped as she listened to him. Finally she started to weep. "You are worse than the barbarians who are slaughtering our troops."
"No," he said when he had considered it. "No, to be their equal I would have to have accounted for more than the death of one woman and the discrediting of a single man." He reached down and sank his hands into her arms, hauling her to her feet. "Look at me, Eugenia. Look me in the face and smile for me."
"Smile," he ordered, his hands tightening. "I want to see you smile."
Her lips twisted into the semblance of happiness, but she could not continue for long. "Let me go."
"Not yet. Not until you agree to help me."
"What choice do I have?" she asked bitterly. "You're determined to ruin me, aren't you?"
"Of course not," he said, making no effort at sincerity.
"You want to ruin me as well as your master and mistress. You have wanted that from the first." She threw her head back. "I wish I had the courage to spit in your face."
"It is just as well you do not. I would then have to remind you who commands here." He released her so suddenly that she staggered. "You are going to find a note. That note will indicate that Belisarius wanted his officers to join with him in an effort to overthrow the
Emperor. You may choose which of the officers you like, which ones you would like to see disappear. I think that the Censor would believe Drosos was part of the plot before he would believe that Chrysanthos was, but that is for you to decide. I want this note to be phrased indirectly, and I want it to be without date, so that it might apply to any time."
"I can't do that," Eugenia said.
"You can and you will." He caught her arm. "If I have to persuade you, I will. I might do it anyway."
"Not—" Her disgust was so great that she did not trust herself to speak.
"I think that it is time you spent another hour with me. I fear you have forgot what I can do to you." His grimace was ferocious. "You will write that note in a good imitation of Belisarius' hand and you will leave it in Antonina's quarters the next time you call upon her. You will put it in an unobvious but secret place. There are three alabaster jars of scent; one of those would do very well." He would not let her move away from him.
"I don't think I can do that," she said, her eyes wide with fear.
"Be inventive. Bring her another jar of scent, or offer to anoint her wrists or her brow. That will give you the opportunity you seek."