“I’m to bed,” he announced. “Tomorrow I’ve got to rebuild that damned workshop. Again.”
As he left, he and Antonina exchanged smiles. There was nothing in that exchange, noted Hermogenes, beyond a comfortable friendship. He thought back on the bizarre, leering expression which had crossed Antonina’s face earlier in the evening, in the presence of Procopius.
Deep currents. Coming from a hidden well called Belisarius, if I’m not mistaken. I do believe my favorite general is up to his tricks again. So. Only one question remains. How do I get in on this?
Maurice arose. “Me, too.” The hecatontarch glanced at Hermogenes.
“I believe I’ll stay a bit,” said Hermogenes. He extended his cup to Irene. “If you would?”
Maurice left the room. Antonina yawned and stretched.
“I’d better look in on Photius. He wasn’t feeling well today.” She rose, patted Irene on the shoulder, and looked at Hermogenes.
“How long will you be staying?”
“Just for the night,” replied Hermogenes. “I’m leaving early in the morning. I really can’t be absent from the army for long. Sittas seems to have finally gotten lance charges out of his system, and he’s beginning to make noises about general maneuvers.”
“Come again, when you can.”
“I shall. Most certainly.”
Moments later, he and Irene were alone in the room. Hermogenes and she stared at each other in silence, for some time.
He understood the meaning in her gaze. A question, really. Is this man staying at the table to seduce me? Or—
He smiled, then.
I’ve done some foolish things in my life. But I’m not dumb enough to try to seduce her. As my Uncle Theodosius always said: never chase women who are a lot smarter than you. You won’t catch them, or, what’s worse, you might.
“So, Irene. Tell me about it. As much as you can.”
The next morning, Antonina arose early, to give her regards to Hermogenes before he left. As she walked out of the villa, the sun was just coming up. She found the young merarch already in the courtyard, holding his saddled horse. He was talking quietly with Irene.
Antonina was surprised to see the spymaster. As a rule, Irene viewed sunrise as a natural disaster to be avoided at all costs.
When she came up, Hermogenes smiled and bowed politely. Antonina and the merarch exchanged pleasantries, before he mounted his horse and rode off.
Antonina glanced at Irene. The spymaster yawned mightily.
“You’re up early,” she commented.
Irene grimaced. “No, I’m just up later than usual. I haven’t slept.”
She nodded toward the diminishing figure of Hermogenes, who was now passing through the gate. “He’s quite a bright fellow, you know. He figured out much more than I would have expected, just from watching the people around him.”
“Is that why he stayed at the table? I assumed it was because he had intentions toward you.”
Irene shook her head, smiling. “Oh, no. His conduct was absolutely impeccable. Propriety incarnate. No, he wanted to join the conspiracy. Whatever it is. He doesn’t care, really, as long as Belisarius is involved. A bad case of hero worship, he’s got.”
“What did you tell him?”
“Enough. Not too much. But enough to make him happy, and win his allegiance. I think quite highly of that young man, Antonina. He’s everything Belisarius said, and more.”
Antonina put her arm around her friend’s waist and began to guide her back into the villa.
“Fill me in on the details later. You look absolutely exhausted, Irene. You need to get to bed.”
Irene chuckled. “Back to bed, actually.” Feeling Antonina’s little start of surprise, Irene grinned wearily.
“I said I hadn’t slept, Antonina. We didn’t talk about conspiracies the whole damned night.”
“But—”
Irene’s grin widened. “I find handsome young men who are smart enough not to try to seduce me to be quite irresistible.”
Chapter 21
GWALIOR
Autumn, 529 ad
“I believe I owe Venandakatra an apology,” remarked Belisarius.
Garmat frowned. “Why in the world would you owe that swine an apology?” he demanded crossly.
“Oh, I have no intention of giving it to him. That’s an obligation which wears very lightly on my shoulders. But I owe it to him nonetheless.”