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By Root 1255 0

Mare was very much like her home in Britain had been, a simple but very comfortable country villa. The atrium had a dear little square fish pond, and she enjoyed sitting there in the heat of the day when the outdoors was not particularly comfortable. Her bedchamber was large and airy. There were no more than half a dozen servants, all older. It was obvious to Cailin that General Aspar sent those slaves he wished to semiretire to the Villa Mare, where they would have a simpler and easier time of it. It seemed a kind act, and she grew more curious about the man who had rescued her from Villa Maxima, but he was not, it seemed, expected by his household at any time soon. It was as if he were deliberately leaving her in peace to recover from the ordeal she had suffered these last months. If this was indeed fact, Cailin appreciated it.

Zeno was fascinated by her stories of Britain. He had never, it seemed, been anywhere in his entire life but Constantinople and the surrounding countryside. Cailin was surprised to find he was a very cultured man despite his status. He could both read and write Latin and Greek as well as keep accounts. He had, he explained, been raised with the son of a noble of the court of Theodosius II, and had come into General Aspar’s household when his master had died deeply in debt; then he, along with the other slaves of the household, were sold.

“You were not born a slave, my lady Cailin,” Zeno said.

“No,” she told him. “I was betrayed by a woman I believed a friend. A year ago at this time I was in Britain, a wife, an expectant mother. If I had been told that this would be my fate, I should have never believed it, Zeno.” She smiled softly, almost to herself. “I will go home one day, and I will revenge myself on that woman. I swear it!”

It was obvious to him that she was of the upper class, but because Zeno had been born a slave, the son and grandson of slaves, he did not inquire further. It would have been a presumption on his part, and he could not, despite his curiosity, change the habits of a lifetime. It did not matter that she was also a slave. She was a slave who had been born a patrician. She was his better, no matter her youth.

“Tell me of your master?” Cailin asked him.

“You do not know him?” Zeno said. This was interesting.

“I do not even know what he looks like,” Cailin admitted candidly. “The master of the house in which I served came to me one morning and told me that I had been seen and admired by General Aspar, who had bought me from him. I was then sent here. I find it all quite strange.”

Zeno smiled. “No,” he said, “it is the kind of thing he would do, my lady. We who have been with him for so long know his kind heart, although it is not his public reputation. He would be, should be, emperor of Byzantium, my lady, but instead he has placed Leo on the throne.”

“Why?” she asked, curious. She motioned Zeno to sit with her by the atrium pond, encouraging him to continue.

“He descends from the Alans, my lady. They were once a pastoral, nomadic clan living beyond the Black Sea. The Alans were driven from their homeland by the Huns, a fierce, warlike tribe who until recently were ruled by an animal called Attila. Although the general is a Christian, he is an Arian Christian. Whereas the Orthodox Christians believe that their Holy Trinity, consisting of God the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit are one in three, and three in one, the Arians believe that the Son is a different being from the God Father, and subordinate to him.

“They argue back and forth over doctrine. Although some of our emperors are intrigued by the Arians, the Orthodox church holds sway in Byzantium. They will not allow an openly Arian Christian to be crowned emperor. The bishops respect General Aspar, and they know there is no finer military man alive; but they would not allow him to be emperor. I honestly do not think he wants to be emperor, my lady. The emperor is never a free man. Much of the general’s heritage remains in him, I believe. He would rather be a free man than a king.”

“Does he have a wife, Zeno?