“I am only softhearted where Cailin is concerned,” the general told his friend. “She makes me happy, and is more a wife to me than Flacilla has ever been. Anna would have liked her, too.”
“You are in love,” Basilicus accused, almost enviously.
Aspar said nothing, but neither did he deny the charge.
“What will you do, my old friend?” Basilicus asked. “You will not be content to live in the shadows with your Cailin for very long, I know.”
“Perhaps I will seek a divorce from Flacilla,” Aspar said. “The patriarch cannot deny me, particularly given this recent scandal she has caused. It is past time she was shut up in a convent. She is a constant embarrassment to her family. Eventually she will do something so mad that they will not be able to cover up her behavior.”
They walked across the portico facing the sea, and into the interior garden of the villa, where chilled wine and honey cakes awaited them. Cailin was nowhere to be seen, and they were served by a silent slave who, at a sign from his master, withdrew to allow them privacy.
“Even if you were allowed to divorce Flacilla Strabo,” Basilicus observed, “you would never be allowed to marry a woman who had begun her life in Constantinople as performer in the city’s most notorious brothel. Surely you realize that, Aspar. You must realize it!”
“Cailin is a patrician, born into one of Rome’s oldest and most distinguished families,” Aspar argued. “Her tenure at Villa Maxima was not of her own making. She was not used as a common whore, and she only performed in that obscene playlet less than a dozen times. My God, Basilicus, there were women in the audience the night I first saw her who were coupling with slave boys, and all were of good family.”
The prince sighed. “I cannot argue with your logic, but neither can you argue with the plain facts. Yes, there were women of distinguished families seeking illicit entertainment, but they were not performing for the delectation of several hundred people twice weekly. Even my sister could be moved by Cailin’s story, but she would still not approve a marriage between you. Besides, the girl is a pagan.”
“She could be baptized, Basilicus, by the patriarch himself, ensuring that I would have an Orthodox wife and children,” Aspar said.
“You are living in a fool’s paradise, my old friend,” the prince told him. “You are too important to Byzantium to be allowed this romantic folly, and you will not be, I assure you. Keep the girl as your mistress, and continue to be discreet. It is all you will be allowed, but at least you will be together, Aspar. I will not tell my sister of your other desires. They would frighten her, for they are so unlike you.”
“I am the most powerful man in Byzantium, the kingmaker, they say, and yet I cannot have my own happiness,” Aspar said bitterly. He swallowed several gulps of wine. “I must remain married to a highborn bitch who whores among the lower classes, but I must not marry my highborn mistress because for a short time she was forced into carnal slavery.”
“Have you freed her?” Basilicus asked.
“Of course,” Aspar answered. “I told Cailin she would be freed legally upon my death, but actually she is free now. I feared she might leave me if she knew the truth, although she is really quite helpless. She wants to return to her native Britain to avenge herself upon the woman who sent her into slavery, but how could she do it without help? And who would help her? Only those seeking to take advantage of her.”
“And besides,” Basilicus said gently, “you love her. Do not regret what you cannot have, Aspar. Take what you can have. You have Cailin, and she is yours for as long as you desire her. No one will deny you your mistress, even if Flacilla protests to the heavens over it. The court knows your wife for what she really is, and no one would seek to see you unhappy. Do you understand what I am saying to you, Aspar?”
The general nodded bleakly. “I understand. What will you tell your sister, Basilicus? It must be enough to keep her content.”
He laughed. “Yes, Verina is more curious than a cat. Well, I shall tell her that you have taken a charming, beautiful mistress to your bed, and are living quite contentedly with her at Villa Mare in order to avoid any scandal, or public argument with Flacilla. She will think you justified despite her friendship with your wife, and that will be the end of it, I suspect. Verina thinks I do not lie to her, although I find I must sometimes in order to protect her, or to protect myself.” The prince chuckled. “Besides, I shall not be lying. I shall simply not be telling her the entire truth. But then she really does not need to know the whole story, does she?” He grinned at Aspar.
“I do not know why Leo does not use you in the diplomatic service,” Aspar said, his gray eyes twinkling.
“My brother-in-law does not trust me,” Basilicus replied. “He also does not like me, I fear. His high office has turned him from a dull little man into a dull little man who grows more righteous and more pious as each day passes. The priests adore him, Aspar. You had best watch that quarter lest they convince Leo of his own infallibility, and that generals are unnecessary to God’s grand design for Byzantium.”
“You may not like Leo, or he you,” Aspar said, “but he is the perfect man to be emperor, and he possesses more common sense than you would suspect. For now he lacks ego, although eventually, as with all men in power, the ego will rear its ugly head to cause him difficulties. He loves Byzantium, Basilicus, and is a good administrator. I chose the right man, and the priests know I did. Although they forced me into that little bargain to gain their most vocal support, they are content with Leo, and so are the people. Marcian gave us prosperity, and more peace than we had had in many years. Leo is his most worthy heir.”
“I would think you would not care much for peace,” the prince said.
Aspar laughed. “Twenty, thirty years ago I could not get enough of war, but now I have had my fill. I am in the twilight of my life. I wish nothing more than to live in peace here with Cailin.”
“May God grant you that wish, Aspar, my friend. It seems a very little wish to me,” Basilicus told the general. “Now, am I to be introduced to that exquisite girl, or must I return to my sister’s with the news I neither saw nor spoke with this divine creature who has made you depart your palace in Constantinople?”
Chapter 10
“Is she beautiful?” the empress demanded of her brother.
“Outrageously so,” Basilicus replied, smiling. He had left Villa Mare in early afternoon of the same day he had arrived, hurrying back to the city to report to his eagerly waiting sister.
“Fair of skin?” Verina asked.
“Her skin is as white and as smooth as a marble statue, my dear.”
“What color are her eyes?”
“It depends upon the light,” Basilicus told his sister. “Sometimes they are like twin amethysts, and at other times they appear like early spring violets,” he reported poetically.
“And her hair?” Verina was growing more intrigued as her brother spoke. Basilicus was not a man to lavish praise easily.
“Her hair is auburn, a mass of little ringlets that fall to just below her hips. She wears it loose, and it is most charming.”
“Do not tell me,” the empress said. “Her curls are natural, I am certain. How fortunate she is, but who is she, Basilicus?”