Year Of The Osprey: A Justin And Sophie Mystery

By Jeff Southard

Year of the Osprey is the fourth volume in the continuing saga of Justin and Sophie Cataphlates, a very unlikely husband-and-wife crime-fighting team. Set in the year 1000, here we learn how the newlywed couple began their careers. When the novel begins, Justin is a very junior-level bureaucrat while his wife is a junior lady-in-waiting to Princess Zoe, the oldest daughter of Emperor Constantine, one of two reigning emperors of the Roman Empire.

While carrying out their duties, the couple is called upon to solve the murder of an empire official and the suspicious reasons behind it, the theft of Princess Zoe's jewels, the disappearance of a precious icon, and multiple murders of disabled veterans. They accomplish all of this with their usual aplomb, not knowing that their real enemy is the Fatimid caliph of Egypt, who anticipates the coming struggle!

• Language: English
• Publisher: Page Publishing, Inc.
• Release date: Nov 23, 2023
• ISBN: 9798889605522

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Year Of The Osprey

A Justin And Sophie Mystery

Jeff Southard

Copyright © 2023 Jeff Southard

All rights reserved

First Edition

PAGE PUBLISHING

Conneaut Lake, PA

First originally published by Page Publishing 2023

ISBN 979-8-88960-542-3 (pbk)

ISBN 979-8-88960-587-4 (hc)

ISBN 979-8-88960-552-2 (digital)

Printed in the United States of America

Table of Contents

Author's Note:

PROLOGUE

CHAPTER 1

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

EPILOGUE

HISTORICAL NOTES

About the Author

Also by Jeff Southard

Year of the Dolphin

Year of the Hoopoe

Year of the Fox

In Memory of Paul Zumwalt

A Good Guy, Gone Too Soon

Author's Note:

This is a work of fiction set in the year 1000 A.D. 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. This term was first used in the 1500's, well after the time period of the book.

Instead, 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 the city of Rome for centuries, ‘Roman' they were, and they remain so here.

J.S.

PROLOGUE

The air was clear that June morning, as cool winds from the Balkans blew away the rain clouds that had hung over Constantinople for several days. Soon the heat of summer would build, and the rains would come fitfully until October. For now, the winds provided welcome help for both birds and humans.

An old male osprey who made his nest in one of the abandoned towers of the Great Palace was making his daily run for breakfast. He was an expert in using the winds to ride in a great spiral so that all of the Bosphorus Strait and the harbors on both sides of the city lay under his wings. From that height, he could see all of Constantinople laid out below him, from the Great Palace on the shore to the land walls several miles to the west. Although the bird's attention was focused on the glints of silver which signified schools of fish close to the surface, there was more going on that morning.

Away to the southwest stretched the Sea of Marmara, which connected the Black Sea with the Mediterranean. Soon the bird's keen eyes detected many small dots which grew larger until they resolved themselves into ships. Unlike other ships which moved here and there by themselves, these ships seemed to move as a unified whole. Each was propelled by the combined force of wind and oars, which stretched out to the side of each craft like the legs of a water bug. Thus propelled, they came on quickly, until even those manning the city walls could see them. Trumpets and bells raised the welcome for the Roman fleet, returning from an expedition to Bulgaria. The osprey had seen this happen before, and concluded that no breakfast was likely to be found here today. So, he wheeled off to the east, the better to try fishing on the Asian shore.

This took him over a vast expanse of buildings, palaces, churches and offices that made up the Great Palace of the Roman Empire. Although located in Constantinople and peopled by Christians who spoke Greek, the occupants still considered themselves the rightful heirs of Augustus, Trajan and Constantine. The palace was home to the current emperors of the realm, two brothers named Basil and Constantine, along with Constantine's two daughters, Zoe and Theodora.

When the osprey flew over, one of the women who served as ladies-in-waiting for Zoe happened to be outside, taking a break from a long and stressful day. Newly married, Sophie Cataphlates was 21 years old, with dark hair and ivory skin, and yet had knowledge beyond her years due to her unique upbringing. Her father, Lukas Laskaris, was the pre-eminent physician in the empire, and Sophie, as his only child, had had the chance from an early age to observe his treatments and patient care. As lady-in-waiting, she had also shown a keen ability to deduce things that were not obvious to others. This endeared her to Zoe, the senior princess, who was only two years older than Sophie. Yet, due to court protocol, Zoe could not name Sophie as her chief lady-in-waiting, and so had to work to find time to be alone with the one real friend she had in the world. Today was such a day, as she sat with her friend on the balcony.

What is that? An owl? she said as she looked up where Sophie was pointing.

No, Highness, it's an osprey – a kind of fish hawk, Sophie replied.

No, no, you don't have to call me that when we're alone! Just Zoe is fine!

Well, ‘Just Zoe,' it's still an osprey! Now, we had better go back in – we'll be missed!

Whatever you say, Sophie, you are so clever! the princess replied as they returned.

The osprey continued flying along the shoreline on the south side of the city. While there were two main harbors there, the osprey knew that the harbor water was likely to be too churned up to provide any good fishing. Still, there was another, larger one which lay on the other side of the city. Called by men the Golden Horn, it made Contantinople stick like a thumb into the ocean. A vast system of land walls lay across the west side of the ‘thumb' and it was across this that the osprey flew, his hunger growing by the minute.

So it was that the bird also was seen by the husband of the young lady-in-waiting, who was engaged in what he considered a meaningless exercise. At 21, Justin Cataphlates was a slender, dark-haired man with thinning hair, who was a very junior official in the office of Prefect Romanus Phocas, the senior civil official in the administration of their imperial majesties, Emperors Basil II and his younger brother Constantine VIII. Having come to seek his fortune in Constantinople from Thessalonica, Justin had been on the imperial payroll for only a few months, and yet in that time he had shown an extraordinary capacity for reasoning and deduction, as well as a proficiency for numbers that made him stand out in the junior clerk room. While he had his detractors and nay-sayers, the prefect had noted his qualities, and made it a point to give him more challenging tasks as time went on.

While Justin had a sense of this, he wondered just how challenging today's task was supposed to be, as it took him out to the boundaries of the city. Centuries before, one of the prefect's distant predecessors named Anthemius had ordered the construction of the walls that protected Constantinople from invasion from the west of the city. They still ran in an unbroken line: from the Mediterranean end on one side, the walls stretched from the Golden Gate to the Blachernae Palace complex on the other, with nearly one hundred towers and several gates sprinkled between a high inside wall. On the outside beyond another, lower wall, was a moat.

Centuries of relative peace had permitted the various governments to ignore the walls, and in many places they were in obvious need of repair. Further evidence of benign neglect was shown by the many businesses and residences that had been established by squatters in the towers themselves. While the gates were still manned by imperial officials, there were many towers in-between, and they housed a variety of enterprises, including a poultry business, a pharmacy, several butchers and even a dressmaker! While Justin was met with hostility by some of the occupants, once people realized he was not a revenue agent they were much more open. He was even offered a chicken, but had to turn it down as it would have been difficult to explain back at the office.

By mid-afternoon, Justin realized that completing the survey was going to take at least two, and likely three, more days. Taking a break, he treated himself to a view of the city and the countryside from the top of Tower 41, and it was here that he saw the osprey fly overhead. Justin's father used to take him fishing, and they considered seeing an osprey, or fish hawk as his father would say, a sign of good luck. Since his parents had both perished in the plague of '89, Justin had not been fishing again, and the sight of the bird brought back happy memories. He waved to the bird, and then headed back down to his duties.

The osprey noticed Justin's wave, but since it was not productive of anything to eat, the bird kept on flying. Soon the waters of the Golden Horn appeared, and it was time to focus on breakfast. Fishing boats came up the harbor from the Bosporus to unload their catch, and mistakes in unloading were frequently made. After making two circles around the boats, the osprey noticed a plump fish on the deck and swooped in for the grab. A clean snatch and he was gone, although he quickly realized that the fish weighed almost as much as he did. With effort, the bird labored to gain altitude on the journey back to his home in the tower.

Wheeling to its right, the osprey passed over the vast dome of the church called the Hagia Sophia, and then crossed over the plaza between the church and the entrance to the Grand Palace. As he tried to gain the needed height to clear the Chalke Gate, the fish slipped loose and fell away. Deciding not to exert himself any more for a lost cause, he swung back around to the Golden Horn and was gone.

As a result, the osprey did not see the result of the dropped fish. Far below, the senior emperor of the Roman Empire, Basil II, was returning from another victorious campaign against Bulgaria, the empire's hereditary enemy. As tradition dictated, his procession had stopped before the Hagia Sophia to receive the blessing of the patriarch. However, since the previous patriarch, Sisinnius II, had died two years before and the emperor had not gotten around to selecting anyone else, the position remained vacant. As a result, Basil was met by the senior priest at the church, an elderly man with an immense white beard who seemingly could speak only in a mumble.

Basil, while a believer, was a man of action who tolerated the elaborate rituals of the church because he had to. As such, he listened to the priest's prayer of thanksgiving drone on for what seemed an interminable time as the cleric gave thanks for the sun, the moon, the rain, the wind, and everything which came out of the sky. Then, out of the blue, a fish fell on the priest's head and knocked him unconscious. The emperor, who was stoic to the point of being grim, then did something his aides had seldom heard – he laughed and said, Amen! as the priest's aides rushed to his side.

CHAPTER 1

It had been over 1,200 years since the first Roman legions had come down the road from Adrianople to the city that lay by the harbor called the Golden Horn, but the travelers who used it that July day were ignorant of that fact. For the most part, they thought very little about the past, and so were no different than people had ever been, whether there or anywhere else. This year was different, however. While the legions of Sulla, Caesar, Trajan and Constantine had long since passed away, a baby's birth in Bethlehem was the cause for intense excitement. As the wagons, carriages and pedestrians moved on toward the towering walls in the distance, the talk was of little else.

One thousand years had passed, more or less, since the birth of Jesus Christ, and Christians everywhere looked with a mixture of fear and hope to the passing days. Would the millennium herald His return, with the attendant tribulations, leading up to the Apocalypse? Or would things go on as they always had, with the rich getting richer and the poor – well, that much was obvious. Still, people wondered.

The people of Constantinople, which lay behind the walls that were visible a few miles down the road, were no different. Though they still called themselves Romans, they were all now Christians and not pagans, and spoke Greek and not Latin. Religious fervor, normally high anyhow, was at a fever pitch in that year 1000 A.D., with itinerant preachers forecasting the coming of the End Times on every street corner from London to Alexandria. The dozens of churches in the city were more crowded than usual, both with townspeople and the influx of pilgrims from across the empire, and the innkeepers of the city were happy to profit as a result. While high-ranking churchmen, who possessed at least a veneer of classical education, doubted that the end was in fact near, an undercurrent of anxiety was felt by nearly everyone else.

The Millennium aside, the people of the empire had multiple reasons for their unease. The position of patriarch was vacant, and the senior emperor, Basil II, showed no real sense of urgency in filling the position. His wars against Bulgaria seemed to be interminable although, unlike many of his predecessors, he was enjoying a string of unbroken, if incremental, victories. Basil remained unmarried, while his brother Constantine was a widower with three unmarried daughters. In an empire where the issue of the succession was never certain, people were starting to wonder, although both emperors were still in their early forties. On top of everything else, the harvest the prior year had not been good, and bread prices were rising, causing considerable discontent in the average household.

Some of the travelers moving down the dusty road on that warm July day would have been gratified to know about the prevailing sense of discontent, for they intended to profit by it. They were theatrical players from the west who travelled from town to town and village to village, putting on simple shows for the common people. Though their stock in trade normally ran more to broad farce than to drama, for this season they concentrated on shows with religious themes, playing on the Millennium hype.

Since their religious plays used dialogue taken straight from the Bible, a knowledge of a little Latin or a little Greek was enough to get the cast through most countries, east or west. It helped that their audiences were familiar with the plots, ranging from the temptation of Adam and Eve to the final defeat of Satan and the Last Judgment of sinners. On those occasions, when dialogue in the vernacular was needed, there were always one or more members of the company who were familiar with the local speech. Their costumes were simple and the sets were almost as crude as the plots, but business had never been better. Fresh from triumphs at Milan, Rome, Venice, Budapest and Belgrade, they now sought to present their shows in Constantinople, the greatest city in the Christian world.

However, while the potential reward was great, it did not come without risks. Contact between West and East was only a trickle of what it once had been. Differences in language and religious tradition had caused the two halves of what was once one empire to drift steadily apart. The language barrier was a real one, and some of the cast feared the unknown world that lay behind the massive walls that dwarfed anything they had ever seen.

Fortunately, they had a leader to whom fear was unknown. A large, dark-haired man, his name was Theodulph of Orleans, and he had been a part of touring companies for all of his 40-odd years, having been born outside of Marseilles to parents who were in the trade. For one who had performed from Paris to Rome, Venice to Athens, the thought of failure in this cosmopolitan place seemed ludicrous. Theodulph had learned long ago that money is the universal lubricant, and that there was no such thing as a local official who could not be induced to look the other way if the price was right. He currently possessed documents which gave him official permission to perform, a location to set up his stage, and several weeks of good weather to look forward to. He was sure that if the public was as credulous here as they had been everywhere else, he and his company could look forward to prosperous months spent in comfort off the road before they ventured forth again.

Still, as the troupe drew near the gate in the great walls, even Theodulph was impressed. The line of towers stretching out of sight in either direction had the same effect on him as it had had on the Persians, Avars, Arabs, Bulgars and Russians over the centuries – he felt small and powerless in comparison. The effect was particularly emphasized now, for the towers were decorated with huge millennium banners of many colors, all emblazoned with the sign of the cross.

A sense of humanity only returned after Theodulph and the rest of his company passed through the gates, for then he was back in his element.

Hey, you there! he called out to a guard. There's no need to search all of our wagons – we have permission to be here by somebody called the Master of the Notaries! Let us through – we need to get camp set up before it gets dark! Whether it was his cajoling or the silver coins the guard was slipped that made the difference, they soon were on their way again.

Once they moved further along the road, they began to see signs of the city all around them. The farms and vineyards were more numerous, there were shops lining the road, and in the distance they could see the domes of churches rising above the surrounding buildings. Two weeks ago, Theodulph had sent one of his native Greek speakers, an older man named Matthew, ahead of the troupe to act as his advance agent in Constantinople. Matthew had rejoined them a day before when they were still on the road, and let Theodulph know that he had made arrangements for the troupe to set up camp in a field owned by a nearby monastery. They also had permission to perform their plays there, for the monks had been easy to work with. All it took was a promise that the plays would all have religious themes and the monks could get free admission to all performances. Theodulph smiled to himself when he heard this, reflecting that some things are the same the world over.

As they drew near the designated site, Theodulph found his wife Genevieve talking with Matthew. Genevieve was the love of his life, and was everything he was not – petite, blond and calm. She was the artist of the company, and had designed and painted all of their backdrops. She also excelled in making posters announcing the presence of the company. Armed with 20 or so of these, Matthew had made the rounds in the city, plastering them up in the marketplaces where public announcements were permitted. Written in good Greek, they listed some of the themes of the plays, with the Last Judgment and the Second Coming prominently featured. The location of the plays, along with the days and admission fees, were also set forth for discerning members of the public.

Ah, there you are, husband, Genevieve said with a smile. Thank heavens we are off that dusty road! Do we have some time to relax before the shows begin?

Indeed we do, dear. It's now Tuesday, at least I think it is, and your posters don't have us opening until Friday. So, we have some time to get to know the lay of the land here, you know, the usual groundwork.

Still smiling, Genevieve gave him a kiss and added, Yes, although ‘the usual groundwork' in your case means finding the best taverns. For me, I could do with a bath! Do you think the monks would mind if we used their facilities?

That would probably confirm for them that the Second Coming was on its way! Good luck with that – in my experience monks aren't the cleanest of God's creatures, but maybe the Greeks here are different.

Matthew, who had been listening in on this conversation with amusement, now broke in. Oh, no, don't say that! the older man said with emphasis. The people here insist they are Romans, and not Greeks. They take offense if you call them that!

Theodulph gave a rare look of surprise at this news. Well, all right, Romans it is, even though they've never been to Rome, don't rule over Rome now and have nothing in common with the people who live in Rome, apart from being Christian, and even that's different. Let's just hope that some of these ‘Romans' will see your posters and come to our shows!

Soon after that exchange, Theodulph was supervising the erection of the stage, along with the poles behind it that would hold up the various backdrops that his wife had so lovingly prepared. While his presence was not really needed, since everyone in the 25 person troupe knew his or her job well as veterans of many tours and countless shows, he liked to feel involved. Things were going well until Nathan, his stage manager, approached him and said, Excuse me, boss, but there is a man here from some city office. He says we owe him a performance tax or something.

Doing his best to control his temper, Theodulph replied, Show him to me – I know we already have paid everything they asked for.

The man who then came over was a small, thin individual who looked remarkably like a weasel. Deciding that pleasantries would be wasted, Theodulph went straight to the point. What the hell do you want? he growled in fairly good Greek.

The man reacted like someone who was used to being abused, for he calmly responded, My name is Simon. I'm from the office of the Master of the Notaries. He says you owe one gold solidus for every week you intend to perform in the city, payable in advance.

Thinking ‘Well, here goes the old shakedown routine – the Greeks just get to it a little quicker than most!' Theodulph drew himself up to his full height. Glaring at the little man, he snapped, How about this, Simon? You can tell the Master of Whatever, whoever he is, that we've already paid, and I have a receipt to prove it. Oh, you want me to give it to you? No thanks – I won't fall for that trick. See, here it is, he said, holding out an official-looking paper with a red seal. It's signed by somebody named ‘Nicholas Metochites,' whoever that is.

Without so much as a blink, Simon replied, Nicholas Metochites is the Master of the Notaries of the Roman Empire. He has told me to tell you that the amount you've paid only covers the application.

Mastering himself after a long day of travel, Theodulph lowered his voice as he replied, Look, friend, I have much work to do now, and while I would like to argue legalities with you, I really don't have the time. You can either leave by yourself, or we'll escort you off. Pointing to the two largest members of the troupe, he went on, It's your choice!

Showing hesitancy for the first time, the weasel man stammered, All right, but we'll be back!

Great! replied Theodulph. Shows start on Friday. Now beat it! Turning to his wife, the leader of the troupe sighed and said, Sorry about that, dear! Now, let's see about getting more playbills posted – we need the Greeks – sorry --we need the Romans to see them!

One such Roman did just that later the same day. Justin was making his way back from the palace to his in-laws' mansion, where he and Sophie occupied a guest house on the rear of the grounds. Prior to their wedding, Justin had expressed remorse about having to ‘settle' for such accommodations. A few choice words on Sophie's part had taken care of his concerns on that subject, but he was mindful of the need to establish their identity as a couple. Having been only recently married, he still counted the weeks and months since that date. Soon, it would be six months since the love of his life had said I do and he wanted to commemorate that date appropriately.

Given his lack of monetary resources, he was considering that problem in his mind when his eyes caught the playbill which had very recently been posted by Theodulph's troupe. He had come to a dead-end with ideas to celebrate, at least those that did not take much money. This annoyed him, for he had made his way so far in the world by the power of his brain, and to have it fail him now was a new sensation. The playbill gave him an idea – why not go to the play? While it would not be particularly romantic, that part could happen later, and he had never had any complaints on that score.

Still, it somehow seemed a little insufficient, and he was still undecided when he sat down to dinner with Sophie's mother, Anna Laskaris. Sophie had drawn the evening duty with Zoe. For her part, Zoe was very sensitive to the marital status of her best friend, the only lady-in-waiting who was in such a position. Still, everyone had to take her turn, and Sophie had successfully urged the princess not to make an excuse for her.

Likewise absent was her father, Lukas Laskaris. As the leading physician in the city, he had a very prosperous practice, seeing the wealthy and poor citizens of Constantinople alike. The location of their mansion was a reflection of this, for it was on the grounds of St. Sampson Hospital, an enormous facility located between the Hagia Sophia and its sister church, the Hagia Irene. Open to all residents of Constantinople without charge, it was staffed by the doctors of the city, each of whom agreed to work there for a certain number of weeks a year. While they were compensated, it was usually less than they could have made in private practice.

In the case of Lucas Laskaris, this was always the case. He did not mind, for to him it was part of his duty as physician to share the knowledge and skills that God had given him. He was always accompanied by junior doctors who were eager to learn, and sometimes by Sophie, his only child. While Anna initially had doubts about what her daughter would be exposed to, she was faithful to her convictions that Sophie should make her own path in life. As a result, Sophie was undoubtedly the only lady-in-waiting in the history of the empire who knew how to apply a tourniquet for a femoral artery bleed!

While in the days and weeks after his marriage Justin had felt intimidated by spending dinner alone with Anna, such feelings had long been dismissed by his mother-in-law's gracious manner. Just over twice Sophie's age, Anna could have easily passed for her older sister, for the two women were very alike in their builds, their faces, their voices and their laughter. Unlike most upper-class women in the city, Anna had a significant level of education, having received training from nuns in one of Constantinople's many monasteries. She had parlayed that into a position as a lady-in-waiting for Helena, the late wife of Emperor Constantine, during the time that Zoe was a small child. Indeed, Zoe's fond memories of her had led the princess to select Sophie as a lady of her own over other women from much more noble and distinguished families.

So, Justin, how was your work – another day of saving the Empire? Anna asked as the first course was served.

Yes, certainly! Justin answered with a smile. If of course you mean doing a survey of the land walls – you remember them, don't you? They are those large stone things on the west side of the city that haven't been used for centuries! Surveying them I've made many new friends – some legal, some not. Still, they all are happy to see me once they know I'm not there to collect any taxes!

Smiling a million-solidus smile, Anna replied, So Justin, why are you there?

Well, officially, it's to see if any of the towers need immediate repairs – after all, they are over 500 years old. Between you and me, it's another little test the Prefect is putting me through. I think he wants to make sure I am up to whatever really serious tasks he may have, involving any number of different departments in the empire.

Sounds tedious, if you ask me, replied Anna.

Yes, I suppose it is, but I did get one good thing out of today! Justin then went on to tell his mother-in-law about the playbill he saw and his plans to take Sophie out for their six month anniversary. Anna was enthusiastic about the idea, and offered to let them have the dining room to themselves.

But what about you and the doctor? Justin asked.

Oh, we'll be all right! You wouldn't believe the number of dinner invitations we get that we don't accept because he's so busy. Maybe it's time to accept one – leave it to me!

Leave what to you? said a voice from the hall belonging to Doctor Lukas Laskaris, a tall, clean-shaven man with dark hair just beginning to grey at the temples. He gave his wife a kiss, smiled to Justin, and sat down. Oh, what a day, he sighed. A wagon driver had his foot crushed – I had to take it off at the ankle. I'm sorry Sophie missed it! That first glass of wine will be most welcome!

And the second one? his wife purred.

The doctor smiled. If the first one is big enough, no need for a second! Now, what are you planning for my benefit?

As he always did, Justin then enjoyed listening to the genial give-and-take between the older couple. Doctor Laskaris at first pretended to be adamantly opposed to dining out, then grudgingly gave in to his wife's entreaties. Finally, winking at Justin, he said to Anna, Very well, dear, you win! We'll let the young people have their dinner here! Turning to Justin, he asked, So, where did you hear about this play? Part of your duties with the Prefect's office?

Taking his father-in-law seriously, Justin replied, No, sir, I don't think we license plays. That must be someone else. Then, seeing the joke, he laughed and said, Oh, I get it! No, I think both Sophie and I can take at least one night off!

CHAPTER 2

Sophie, what do you think of this tiara? Does it clash with this gown? asked princess Zoe to Sophie Cataphlates, her youngest lady-in-waiting. Since the two women were alone in the princess' inner chamber, this let Zoe, whose formal name was Zoe Porphyrogenita (Born in the purple), address Sophie informally. Sophie had served as one of Zoe's ladies-in-waiting since she was 18. Now 21, she had recently been married, yet it was a sign of her mistress' esteem that she had been able to continue in her duties to a woman, who though only 23, was second in line to the throne of the Roman empire behind her father Constantine.

Well, maybe a little, replied Sophie, who was never afraid to say what was on her mind. This trait, along with her quick wit, intelligence and, rare among women of her status, education, endeared her to Zoe, although they also made the princess a little in awe of her. Most of all, Sophie did not take advantage of her proximity to power, and had never asked Zoe for anything. This created a sense of trust in Zoe, and allowed her to count Sophie as her one true friend in the world.

Smoothly continuing, Sophie went on, "But,