In the Heart of Darkness by Eric Flint & David Drake

Theodora scowled. “I never liked that greasy bastard. God, my husband has the worst taste in generals!”

An apologetic nod to Antonina: “Belisarius aside, of course. And Sittas.”

Again, the Empress ran her fingers through her hair, disheveling it even further. Her sensual pleasure in the act was obvious, but it did not distract her from her thoughts.

“Doesn’t that seem odd to you, Irene? That lack of attention to the army? Every other treasonous plot I can remember has put the military on center stage. For obvious reasons.”

“Actually, it’s a cunning move on their part. They know that Justinian’s suspicions will always be centered on the army. So they stay away from it, by and large, and spread their poison in darker corners.”

“I still don’t understand it.” Theodora’s voice was dark with frustration. “I take your point, but—so what? What good does it do to plot treason if you can’t carry it out when the time comes? And for that you need military force. A lot more force than the Bythinian army provides. What is that army—ten thousand strong? At the most?”

“Eight,” replied Irene. “Not enough to take power, but enough to neutralize loyal units. Especially if many of those units decide to stay on the sidelines until the dust settles. Which, unfortunately, many military units do during a coup.” The spymaster began to add something, but fell silent. She glanced quickly at Antonina.

Theodora did not miss it.

“The two of you know something,” she announced.

Silence.

“Tell.” The voice of the Empress, that, not Theodora.

Irene’s eyes appealed to Antonina. Antonina sighed.

“I will tell you everything, Theodora. Tonight. But you’re not going to believe me.”

“Tell.”

When Theodora left the villa, Irene and Antonina escorted the Empress to the palanquin drawn up in the courtyard. After she climbed into the palanquin, Theodora leaned forward and whispered:

“You were right, Antonina. I don’t believe it. It’s absurd! Belisarius has a talisman from God? A messenger from the future?”

Antonina shrugged. “You didn’t believe Irene, either, when she told you about Narses. But still you came here, to see for yourself.”

The two old friends stared at each other. The ­Empress was the first to look away.

“No, I didn’t. And, yes, I did.”

She leaned back into the plush cushions. Antonina could barely make out Theodora’s face in the dark interior of the enclosed vehicle, but she couldn’t miss the grimace.

“I hate to travel,” growled the Empress.

A sigh.

“Yes, Antonina, I will. I will come to Daras and see for myself. This summer.”

Another sigh.

“I hate Syria in the summer.”

A great, imperial sigh.

“Now that I think about it, I hate Syria any time of the year.”

After the gate closed behind the departing palanquin, Antonina and Irene stood for a moment in the courtyard, admiring the clear night sky.

“I’m curious about something, Antonina,” said Irene.

“Yes?”

“I don’t really understand. Well, let’s just say that I was surprised how hard Theodora took it, to find out that Narses is a traitor. I knew he was one of her closest advisers, but—”

“He was a lot more than that, Irene,” replied Antonina, shaking her head sadly. “Much, much more.”

The short Egyptian woman looked up at her tall Greek friend.

“You’ve heard, I’m sure, all the stories about Theodora’s past?”

Irene shrugged. “Of course. I can’t say I paid much attention to them. People are always quick—”

Antonina shook her head. “The fact is, they’re mostly true. At least, insofar as the tales report what she did.”

She looked away, her jaws tight, before adding: “Where they lie is in the heart of the thing. Theodora, as a girl, was as great a whore as you’ll ever find. What she never was, was a wanton slut.” A little laugh, barely more than a chuckle. “It’s ironic, actually. Fair-minded, respectable, proper people, when they compare she and I, are prone to give me the benefit of their doubt. True, before I met Belisarius I gave my favors for money. But only to the most carefully selected men, and not many of those. Whereas Theodora—”

Harshly: “If there’s to be a comparison, by rights it should go the other way. I did what I did through choice. Not much of a choice, mind you, for a dirt-poor girl on the streets of Alexandria, with a whore for a mother and charioteer for a father. But—I can’t honestly claim that anyone forced me into it.”

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