Year of the Fox: A Justin and Sophie Mystery

By Jeff Southard

Year of the Fox is the third volume in the continuing saga of Justin and Sophie Cataphlates, a very unlikely husband and wife crime-fighting team. Set in the year 1018, Justin continues as the Treasurer of the Roman Empire (which we now call Byzantine), while Sophie is the chief lady-in-waiting to Princess Zoe, the oldest daughter of Emperor Constantine, one of the two reigning emperors.

While carrying out their duties and raising their daughter and son, the couple has to deal with the death of a senator, the forging of gold coins, and the theft of a priceless relic. Then, the fun begins, as they accompany Zoe on a hazardous trip to Rome, the long-ago abandoned capital of the empire where the papacy itself is in danger! As before, the Fatimid Caliph of Egypt is lurking in the wings!

• Language: English
• Publisher: Page Publishing, Inc.
• Release date: Nov 4, 2022
• ISBN: 9781662486395

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Year of the Fox

A Justin and Sophie Mystery

Jeff Southard

Copyright © 2022 Jeff Southard

All rights reserved

First Edition

PAGE PUBLISHING

Conneaut Lake, PA

First originally published by Page Publishing 2022

ISBN 978-1-6624-8636-4 (pbk)

ISBN 978-1-6624-8629-6 (hc)

ISBN 978-1-6624-8639-5 (digital)

Printed in the United States of America

Table of Contents

Author's Note

Prologue

Chapter I

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Chapter 32

Chapter 33

Chapter 34

Chapter 35

Chapter 36

Chapter 37

Epilogue

Historical Notes

About the Author

Also by Jeff Southard

Year of the Dolphin

Year of the Hoopoe

This book is dedicated to my

grandchildren—may they

one day read and enjoy it

Author's Note

This is a work of fiction set in the year 1018 A.D. Most of the early action takes place in Constantinople (now Istanbul), in what is referred to as the Roman Empire. Readers may find this confusing, in that modern historians refer to Constantinople as the capital of the Byzantine Empire. I have used the term Roman throughout, in keeping with the conservative practice of the inhabitants of the empire of that time. So, even though they spoke Greek, were Christian and had not ruled over Rome for centuries, ‘Roman' they were, and they remain so in this book. When the action is in Rome itself, I try to distinguish between ‘Italians' ‘imperials.'

J.S.

Gold solidus (histamenon) of Basil II (left) and Constantine VIII. From the author's collection.

Prologue

The red fox approached the small cottage on the shore of the body of water men called the Bay of Naples and cautiously sniffed the air. She knew humans used the cottage often, and tonight she discerned them inside. While wary, she was not afraid of people, who were a good source of scraps and bones. Although she had no kits yet, she was pregnant with a litter, and so was always hungry. She would wait here a while before moving on, for the night was young and she had a regular route to patrol before returning later to her den. It was a few hundred yards further up the slope, excavated out of a buried stairwell in a Roman villa in a town once called Pompeii.

From time to time, one of the men inside stepped outside and looked across the bay, as if searching for something. Off to the right, the lights of Naples were visible, while behind the cottage the large dark bulk of Vesuvius rose up, illuminated by the nearly full moon coming up across the sea. Finally, he saw what he was looking for, and raised a lamp up and down several times as a signal. Off shore, another light was displayed from a fishing vessel in return. Satisfied, the man at the door returned to his comrades and the fire, for it was cold, as nights usually were in February in central Italy.

The fox continued her watch, now focusing on a small boat coming from the ship. On board were two men, with the younger man doing the rowing. Once the boat had docked, they began walking to the cottage, and the fox could hear them talk. Since she did not understand human speech, the fact that they were conversing in Arabic made no difference. One was a clean-shaven man in his early 30's wearing simple clothing, while the other was bearded, considerably older and richly dressed. While the fox was oblivious to such things, any human viewing the scene would have concluded the older man was the master, while the younger man was the servant. The reality was just the opposite.

The younger man was Abu ‘Ali Mansur Al-Hakim bi Amr Al-lah, the 6th Caliph of the Fatimid Caliphate, which had its capital at Cairo. Now 33, he already had been Caliph (Commander of the Faithful) for 22 years. Impulsive and arbitrary, he ruled with an iron hand, and even his supporters had reason at times to question his sanity. Those he oppressed, including Christians and Jews in his domain, referred to him in private as The Mad Caliph. The older man walking beside him was the governor of the Fatimid province of Sicily, Abdul al-Jamira. As he well knew, his position and his life were subject to the will and whims of the caliph.

Now, are you clear as to the role you must play? said the younger man as they walked towards the cottage. I am Ali the interpreter and you are, well, who you are. Just look stern and follow my lead.

But, Eminence, the governor said before catching himself, I mean, Ali, how will I know what is going on? I don't speak Italian.

It is not necessary that you know, the caliph replied in a voice full of quiet menace. I will know, and that is enough. I will whisper to you as needed, and then you can look wise and whisper back to me. What you say is immaterial. Do not make me think I need to look for a new governor. Understand?

Yes, Ali, perfectly. Then, contradicting his words, the governor attempted to walk ahead of the caliph and knock on the door. He was quickly intercepted by the younger man.

Idiot! I am surrounded by idiots! I am the servant, remember? Thus saying, ‘Ali' knocked on the door, which was quickly opened by a man about ‘Ali's' age. Like the caliph, he was clean shaven and modestly dressed.

Good evening, the man said in Italian. I assume you can understand me?

Yes, Signore, the caliph smoothly replied. I am Ali, the humble servant of His Eminence the governor of Sicily. I will serve as your interpreter this evening. May I assume that you do not speak Arabic?

That's correct, nor do my colleagues. Here, come in out of the cold.

When Ali and the governor did so, they found themselves in a small room in which a fire was blazing in the fireplace. On one side were three chairs, two of which were occupied, while on the other were two that were empty. In one of the occupied chairs was a middle-aged man with a long beard who was clad in the peculiar armor characteristic of the Lombards. To his right was a younger, beardless man wearing chain mail of a kind not usually seen in Italy.

The man who had let them in continued. May I offer you some wine?

Ali bowed politely. Thank you, but no. Allah has, through the Prophet, peace be upon him, forbidden believers to indulge in alcohol. Now, I believe introductions are in order? he said as he looked to the two other men who had now risen to their feet.

Oh, yes, pardon me. I am Romanus, Count of Tusculum and chief magistrate of the city of Rome. My older brother is Pope Benedict VIII. This gentleman, he said, pointing to the Lombard, is Melus of Bari, who has been in revolt against the Greeks for several years.

Several? Melus growled. More like nine!

Smoothly, Romanus continued, And this knight is Gilbert Buatere. He is from northern France. His people are called Normans. The knight said nothing, but gave a slight bow of his head.

The caliph now turned to his companion and repeated what had been said, concluding with the words, Now nod and look interested, then tell me how many years you have been governor, along with the city where you were born! Once this was done, he looked back to the other three men and said. Governor al-Jamira thanks you for your presence, and wishes you to know that he is here at the express command of Caliph al-Hakim. If you will be seated, I will read to you the message that the caliph wishes to convey to you.

Romanus exchanged glances with his two comrades after they sat and said, Please continue. But first, we want to have some idea why we are here. This meeting is most unusual, to say the least.

No longer able to contain himself, Gilbert Buatere exclaimed, We were promised gold, not words! Where is the gold?

Ali then looked to the governor and gave him a wink, and, when this did not elict a response gave another, more pronounced, one. This last produced a nod, to which Ali responded by taking out a pouch and pouring the contents on the floor in front of him. They consisted of several dozen gold coins bearing the likenesses of Basil II and Constantine VIII, co-emperors of the Roman Empire.

Upon seeing this golden shower, Gilbert responded by lunging for the coins, while Romanus and Melus looked on with anticipation of what was to come. They were not long disappointed.

After looking at the Norman with brief disdain, Ali went on, Now, if I may continue, the caliph wishes to extend to you his friendship and to assure you that he has no designs on any of the territories you control. He has Sicily, and that is enough. On the other hand, Basil the king of the Greeks is about to conclude his long war against the Bulgarians and soon will be coming for each of you. First it will be you, Melus, then your friends the Normans, and then to Rome itself. If the Germans do not come in time, Romanus, what will happen then to your brother, the Pope?

At this, Ali got his first surprise of the evening, as the three men opposite him exchanged glances. At last Romanus spoke.

It seems that you are a little behind events. In Rome, we received word several days ago that the Bulgarian czar Ivan Vladislav was killed by the Greeks in battle outside Dyrrachium earlier this month. The war there is basically over.

Ali could think of nothing else to do but to translate this news to the governor, after first telling him that bad news was on the way and that he should not appear to be surprised or alarmed before saying something, anything in response. He was gratified that his underling actually performed his role well, leaving him free to respond to the Christians.

The governor thanks you for this news—he was not aware of this development. He goes on to say that this is even more reason for each of you to consider our offer of assistance against a realm that is our common enemy.

Romanus, who had been listening to the interchanges between Ali and the governor closely, commented, Excuse me if I am mistaken, Ali, but it seems that you are telling him far more than he responds to you. Are you sure that you are communicating everything that he says?

Ali relied on the keenness of his mind to respond immediately without any doubt or hesitation.

You are very astute. What you say it true. The answer is this—Italian is a very beautiful and poetic language. Arabic is direct and to the point. The result? While it takes Italian speakers six, seven or eight words to say one thing, Arabic can often need only one or two words. Believe me, sir, everything you say is being communicated and understood.

At this point, Melus the Lombard spoke up. As has been said, I have been fighting the Greeks for many years. How can you help us, and I mean really help us? The gold you showed us here would hire only a handful of knights. We will need chests of coins like this one to make a difference. Do you agree, Gilbert?

The Norman knight spoke with an accent that was a curious mix of Italian and something else. Oui, it is true. Silver may hire footmen, but for knights it takes gold. Looking at ‘Ali' directly with his blue eyes, he went on, Give me enough gold and I will have 500 knights here when the campaigning season begins in June. The Greeks will not stand a chance against us!

Still, Romanus said, how can my brother, the Holy Father, justify accepting money from Muslims to fight our fellow Christians?

Even before this last comment, Ali had grown tired of going through the charade of talking to the governor and then replying to these non-believers, two of whom were clearly fools. The third, Romanus, was not, and comments like this made the caliph want to quickly conclude their business even more. He decided to make his final arguments and hope for the best. After murmuring into the governor's ear and then waiting for the befuddled man to do the same, he was able to respond.

Drawing a breath, he said, ‘Fellow Christians?' Really? Even when they deny the use of unleavened bread in Communion? Even when they claim that the Holy Spirit comes from the Father through the Son? They don't even celebrate Easter when you do! Given all of this, you will still let them roll over you instead of accepting our help?

From the look on Romanus' face upon hearing this, Ali realized that he had gone too far. However, for whatever reason the count said nothing. This let Ali take a breath and go on.

Now, on behalf of my master the governor and his master the Caliph, do we have an agreement? If we do, chests containing thirty thousand Greek gold pieces will be delivered when and where you desire. What shall I tell my masters?

After conferring in low tones for a few moments, the three men sitting across from Ali and the governor reached a decision. It was left to Romanus to speak for them.

Looking directly at Ali as if he had not seen him clearly until now, Romanus quietly said, My colleagues will accept your offer. Given the Holy Father's relationship with the German emperor, none of the money will go to the Pope, leaving me without a personal stake in this matter.

In his haste to wrap things up for the evening, the caliph now made a mistake. Rather than go through the motions of pretending to convey this news to the governor and then get a response, he responded directly with an acceptance. While this was lost on Melus and the Norman, Romanus picked up on this immediately, but again said nothing. It was not until Melus and Gilbert had left the cottage that he addressed the issue after his comrades were out of earshot.

Speaking in a low voice, Romanus said, Very well, Ali, or whoever you are, the deal has been made. That many Italians and Normans will die as a result, I do not doubt. While you may not know much about the Greeks in Constantinople who call themselves ‘Romans,' I do. Melus and his friends may triumph for a day, but when Emperor Basil brings his full forces to bear, there can be no victory. I have been there—I have seen what they can do.

His eyes narrowing, the caliph responded. And so what will you tell your brother, the Pope?

Only that we have retained the help of a new friend. The rest is up to God.

Indeed, at least we agree on that—Allah is in control of all things. Good evening.

A little later, when the caliph and governor were walking back to the row boat at the dock, the governor found the courage to speak.

That seemed to go well, Eminence. Did I play my part well?

After a silence long enough to make the governor uneasy, the caliph answered. Yes, at least well enough that I will not have you tied to an anchor and dropped over the side of my ship before we get to Palermo. Whatever problems may have arisen tonight are not of your doing. Now be silent—I must think!

With that, the two men got into the row boat and pushed off. The fox, who had followed them to the dock from the cottage, decided to cut her losses and look elsewhere for her next meal. Morning would be coming all too soon, bringing with it new challenges for both fox and man.

Chapter I

Mother! Would you tell Simon to stay out of my room! He's going through all of my things!

This impassioned cry was uttered by a girl named Maria in the city of Constantinople in the Year of Our Lord 1018 in the dreary month of February. She and her little brother were the children of two of the most powerful and influential people in the Roman Empire, and lived in a villa overlooking a harbor in Constantinople called the Golden Horn. While she and Simon would normally have been outside on the veranda or in the gardens, the weather had been rainy and cool, and Maria was feeling increasingly confined and persecuted. The fact that she was 12 years old, along with being very bright, only added to her frustration.

Simon, the object of Maria's ire, now 3 ½, was her brother. In the manner of younger brothers in all times and all places, he took innocent but persistent delight in annoying her. While he preferred to be outside playing with the family's dogs in their gardens, he was making do now as best he could with what he had.

‘Mother' was Sophie Cataphlates, chief lady-in-waiting to one of the imperial princesses of the empire. Now 38, the still-slender brunette had the entire confidence of her mistress, the Princess Zoe, with whom she had now spent half of her life. Their friendship, always close, had been cemented forever in the pilgrimage they had made together several years before to Jerusalem, where they were kidnapped by the Fatimid Caliph and taken to Cairo. Through the efforts of Sophie and her husband Justin, now Treasurer of the Roman Empire, they had escaped, although it had cost the life of Zoe's confessor, former army officer-turned monk Simon, who was the name-sake of their son.

Sophie also had the distinction of being high in the confidence of the current emperors of Rome, the brothers Basil and Constantine. Working with Justin, she had earned the reputation of being able to solve crimes that baffled everyone else. The combination of her observational abilities and his analytical talents had solved many mysteries and crimes over the years and had given valuable help to the empire on more than one occasion.

Now, though, she was just ‘Mother', and her reputation in the empire counted for nothing. Still, her diplomatic skills stood her in good stead, although dealing with an irritated imperial princess paled in comparison with handling an upset 12-year old. Taking a breath, she excused herself from Philip, the steward of the household, with whom she had been speaking in the dining area.

As she headed upstairs, Philip called out, Excuse me, mistress, but do you expect that you and Master Justin will be back for dinner? Cook would like to know.

Pausing, Sophie sighed and said, Oh, Philip, I don't know. The reception with Princess Zoe is not scheduled to go that long, but once she gets talking, we could be there for a while. I've got some of the other ladies to cover for me in the preparation stage, but I'll have to stay and get things wrapped up. Justin can come back without me, but it would be best to assume that I'll be late—just have cook set something covered aside for me. The children and Justin can dine as usual at 6.

Very well, mistress, thank you.

Now I need to go and stop a war from the sound of things. Please excuse me. With that, she ascended the spiral staircase that was in the main hall of the villa. While it was not nearly as large or elegant as many others in the city, it suited Sophie and Justin very well, and they had no intention of leaving. Besides, as Justin liked to say, it doesn't look good when the treasurer for the empire seems to be living beyond his means.

The sight that greeted Sophie'e eyes when she went into Maria's room was about what she had expected. Simon, blissfully ignoring the sign on the door that said KEEP OUT in both Greek and what Sophie assumed was Arabic, had planted himself firmly on her bed, along with two of the household's dogs. (The third, an old hound named Shadow, was past her bed-jumping days and was watching from the floor.)

Maria was red-faced and seemed ready to launch herself towards her laughing brother. Using her finely-honed diplomatic skills, Sophie defused the situation by loudly saying, Tag! You're it! and touching Maria, who showed that she was truly her mother's daughter by doing the same to Simon. When Sophie smiled and headed for the door, Simon did the same followed by the dogs, as Maria shut the door behind them.

Sophie went down the stairs and hid, not too convincingly, behind the dining room table. Simon saw her at once, and threw himself on her, again followed by the dogs. It was this squirming pile of humans and dogs that Justin found when he came in a minute later.

Is this a private party or can anyone join? he asked.

Hearing his voice, Simon gave a squeal of delight, and hopped down from his mother to run to his father, who stood there beaming. Now 38 as well, Justin Cataphlates was of medium height and build, with sandy hair that was getting thinner every year. He looked very much the part of the Imperial bureaucrat he happened to be, albeit at a rather high level in his post of Treasurer for the entire Roman Empire.

Justin had no sooner uncoiled himself from his squirming son than he was tackled from the back by Maria, who grabbed his legs and cried Papa!

Giving her a hug, Justin exclaimed, My goodness, family, you'd think that I'd been gone for days! Turning to Sophie, who was still sitting on the floor, he said, Shouldn't you be getting ready for the reception? Does this mean perhaps that we're not going? he said with a hopeful note in his voice.

No such luck, mister, Sophie replied, and where I go, you go. I'll head upstairs with Anna to get ready while you play with the children. I won't be long.

Justin then took the time to play ball with Simon, while at the same time quizzing Maria on her Arabic lessons. Justin was a polyglot who could speak seven languages with various degrees of fluency, and hoped that Maria would have the same skills. Over the last two years, she had done well in learning Arabic, which was very different from Greek. Besides her father, she had had two very good tutors in this effort. One, Agatho, was a native of the empire's eastern frontier near Aleppo, and had been the family's groom before engaging in a second career with Anwar, a Syrian-born Arab. Together, the two young men earned their living as tutors to the children of the city's elite families.

Meanwhile, Sophie was getting ready for the reception that her mistress was giving for all the women who had previously served her as ladies-in-waiting, as Sophie had now for 18 years. Like her idea for soup kitchens, Zoe had actually come up with this idea on her own, which Sophie saw as yet another sign of the maturation process Zoe had experienced since their harrowing experiences in Egypt. So, while it was essentially just a party, it was still Zoe's idea.

Like most women of her status in society, Sophie wore her dark hair long, which required considerable attention. While at home she could let it down, that would never do in public, let alone at court, and so she needed assistance in braiding and wrapping it up in coils that could fit under the headdress she wore with whatever outfit she chose. She was aided in this by her latest maid, a young woman from Thrace named Anna who had been with the household for a year. Donna, her previous maid, had assisted in solving the affair of the fake Norse goddess by being suspended off the side of a building. With the bonus she received from Sophie for this work, she had retired from service and gotten married. Anna was still learning, and apart from having a slight blue-green color blindness and a habit of humming to herself, was a hard worker. It didn't hurt that she was in total awe of Sophie.

So it was that Sophie found herself seated in front of her mirror with Anna working diligently to get her long tresses under control. Sophie found it helpful that Anna, unlike Donna, would rarely initiate a conversation, although she sometimes found it necessary to start talking herself in order to stop her maid's humming. Today was not such a day.

So, it must be exciting to go to this reception, Mistress! How many of your fellow ladies-in-waiting will be there?

Sophie paused for a moment before answering. I don't know for sure. Zoe has had so many over the years—it could be as many as 40 in addition to those of us there now. I do know that we planned for up to 100 people attending, in order to include spouses.

Will these all be ladies that you are friends with? said the innocent maid.

Well, ‘friends' may be a little strong—I haven't seen a lot of them for a while, but I would say that yes, by and large, they are.

Sophie had reason to reflect on this last remark as she and Justin rode in their carriage to the Great Palace. Due to the cold, they had the top up, and during the drive along the boulevard past Hagia Irene and Hagia Sophia, they could hear the rain pelting on the roof. Justin had resigned himself to attending the event and, consistent with his analytical background, now attempted to get some information on the people he could expect to meet.

Sophie sighed and explained, A typical woman who enters into the service becomes a junior lady-in-waiting when she is 18 or 19. Without exception, she's a daughter of a notable family in Constantinople and wins the position due to her beauty, her grace, or her wit. Most women who hold such a position are there for two or maybe three years before getting married and leaving the royal service. I was unique, since even my betrothal and marriage to an unknown young man from the provinces did not diminish my standing with the Princess, she concluded with a smile.

‘Unknown young man?' Justin replied with a grin. I guess that he and his wife have both made good. Seriously, will there be anyone there today that you really don't want to see?

Sophie thought for a moment before answering. Maybe one or two. Since we came back from Egypt, Zoe has left the selection process open to me, I guess as a sign of the trust she has. Before then, I had a lot of influence on who was picked, but there were a few who came in as a result of favors that others, particularly her father, needed to pay off.

As the rain came down harder on the carriage roof, Justin found himself intrigued. And all of this time I thought that you had Zoe's entire household in your pocket! Did it work out?

Oh yes, for the most part the women were willing to learn and work and put in the long hours that were necessary. The only one that we had to let go was the daughter of the head of the racing guild at the Hippodrome—Constantine was the guild's patron and felt he owed the man a favor. Anyhow, his daughter, who was named Ariadne, was lazy and self-centered and generally a pain to deal with. Most of us saw it from the beginning. Unfortunately, it took Zoe about a year. When she realized the gravity of the situation, she gave me the go-ahead to dismiss the young woman from service, which I did gladly, although with the utmost tact of course. As it turns out, she had a husband lined up so she could go right on making someone else's life miserable.

Anyone we know?

Oh, I forget, some senator—you know how many of them there are. Mostly rich and useless. I do recall there was a substantial age difference—perhaps he was a widower?

Just then, they felt the carriage slow and come to a stop. While the reception was being held in the Great Palace, they were fortunate that it was to be held in the Marble Hall, one of the many halls that had an outside entrance. After only a short walk they were under the canopy and approached the door, which was guarded by Varangians, the mercenary soldiers from Scandinavia who made up the elite of the honor guards in the empire. From years of associating with the men who guarded Zoe at all times, Sophie had learned their language, a talent which she had put to good use on more than one occasion.

As they went through the door, Sophie was sure to acknowledge the guards, saying to their leader, Godr dag, Vini. Ek bida yovarr wel? {Good day, Leader. I hope you are well?}

With no change of expression but with a slight bow, the blond giant responded, Ek fagha vel, Jarnlayden. Yovar all kyn. Beste gesornd…aen madr ofh. {I am well, Iron Lady. You are very kind. Be of good health…and your husband, too.}

Still ‘Iron-Lady' I see—what was the last part? asked Justin as they walked into the reception hall.

Oh, nothing that can be translated! Sophie said with a smile. Now, enjoy yourself!

As to be expected, they found Zoe, clad all in white, holding informal court in the middle of the hall, surrounded by many of her former ladies-in-waiting. Per Sophie's instructions, the current ladies were serving as hostesses, led by Irene, who had been with Zoe and Sophie for 12 years. Sophie thanked God and all of the saints for Irene on a regular basis, for her presence enabled Sophie to have a normal family life. For her part, Irene did not seem to be interested in marriage, yet was perfectly willing to serve Zoe through the oversight of Sophie.

Zoe was in her element, and waved to Sophie and Justin when she saw them. The woman whom Sophie served as chief lady-in-waiting was Zoe Porphyrogenita (‘born in the purple' when her father Constantine was already emperor). She was 40 years old, but did her best to look ten years younger. Her appearance was aided by never having to work a day in her life or to ever want for anything. It was also helped by her generous use of various creams, lotions and potions designed to keep her skin smooth and white. Very pious and with a short attention span, she was still a good and loyal friend to those few people she knew well. Fortunately, Sophie was at the head of this list.

From what Justin could tell in looking around the hall, there were about 100 people in attendance. While some were servants and some were the current ladies-in-waiting, most were the previous ladies and their husbands. The ladies were congregated in a cluster around their former mistress, while the husbands seemed to be grouped around the wine table on the other side of the room. Each of the former ladies-in-waiting had tried to outdo the others in her dress, with the result that they collectively resembled a flock of butterflies clustered around a white rose. The husbands, by contrast, to a man looked like they wanted to be somewhere, anywhere else. Justin sighed and looked forward to a long afternoon, for out of personal choice he drank very little.

Since Zoe was surrounded by admiring women, Sophie slid over and spoke to Irene.

So, how many women showed up? There was a possible total of 46 former ladies, right?

That's right. We ended up with 40. One is very close to delivering a child, one is confined after having just done so, two have passed away, and two are in exile with their husbands. As for the husbands who are present, we have eight senators, seven military officers and 18 bureaucrats of various types. The rest are still single, either because they are still looking or they are like Zoe and me.

Sophie smiled and shook her head. No, old friend, you are single by choice. Zoe, well, she's single for the empire. Come on, let's mingle with some old friends!

Sophie found the mingling very enjoyable. Almost every woman there had shared many pleasant times with her, and she had almost forgotten about the few who had not when one came directly up to her.

Well, Lady Sophia, still in charge of things, are you? said a tall brunette in her late-twenties. Her clothing and jewelry were beautiful, but it appeared to Sophie that she was trying too hard. Her mouth smiled, but her eyes did not.

Sophie, measuring her words, replied, Yes, very much so, Ariadne. Given how you left us, I am surprised to see you here.

Wouldn't miss this for the world, the younger woman said with forced gaiety before adding in a quieter voice, Not that my husband would let me.

As she spoke, that worthy gentleman was enjoying the offerings of the wine bar that was hosted by two of the eunuchs assigned to Zoe's household. Senator Isaac Pronates was handsome, witty and 25 years older than Ariadne, and had been widowed when they married. With Ariadne came a considerable dowry, which the senator used to keep himself comfortable. Wine was one such comfort, and he now was enjoying the fruits of Emperor Constantine's wine cellar. After his near-death experience two years earlier, the emperor was still making a game effort to pursue sobriety, or the next thing to it, and reducing the holdings of his 10,000 bottle cellar was one way to do that. Senator Pronates was making a game effort to assist in that regard, and was still downing Bithynia's best reds when most people had said their good-byes.

Justin, who by now had joined Sophie as she chatted with Zoe, kept an eye on the increasingly inebriated senator, who had been obsequious in his conversations with his betters and dismissive with those he perceived to be beneath him. As the fourth highest ranking official in the Roman Empire, Justin was in the former group, but made it a point to avoid the man whenever possible. Nonetheless, he still witnessed the senator confront Ariadne when she asked him to leave.

We'll leave when I want to leave, understand? he snarled in a voice loud enough to be heard by all. Then, to emphasize his point, he struck her across the face with the back of his hand, knocking her to the floor. The gasps from those left in the room were apparently enough to convince him it was time to go after all, and the last Sophie and Justin saw of the couple he was half-dragging, half-pushing her through the door.

Zoe was shocked enough by this sight that she immediately retired to her devotions. Sophie was therefore able to get things wrapped up quickly enough to drive back with Justin. The couple said little during the trip, but both made it a point to hold hands while they gave silent thanks for each other.

Chapter 2

Friday morning came too early for Sophie, for after indulging in some of Constantine's largess at the reception, she drank a little more wine at home later that evening. She came downstairs on Friday with a grim look on her face which the household staff knew all too well. For his part, Justin was unsympathetic, although he knew better than to give his wife any temperance lectures. It was just as well, for she was in no mood to hear them.

Oh why couldn't Zoe have had this reception today, so that we would have had the weekend to recover! she complained to no one in particular.

‘Weekend'? ‘Weekend?' replied Justin. Zoe doesn't know the meaning of the term. Why should she? For her, there are days she goes to church and days she doesn't.

Faced with such irrefutable logic, Sophie lapsed into silence, which lasted about as long as it took for the children to realize she was up. Both Maria and Simon rushed over to her with cries of Mother! and gave her hugs. She reciprocated, and then, as was another still-gratifying custom, gave Justin a kiss. Breakfast was a little bread, cheese and fruit, washed down with apple juice made from the couples' own trees, which grew in the terraces below the back of the villa.

Soon the couple was riding in their large open carriage across the broad avenues of Constantinople. The rain had given way to sun, although it was still somewhat chilly. Still, the sunny day had brought everyone to the streets. Their progress was slowed by the crowds, but neither one minded.

As they headed to the Great Palace, Justin still felt the same thrill that he felt every day in Constantinople since coming to the city at the age of 18. With nothing but high