“Let us have all three of the Northmen, then, Flacilla. You shall play the girl’s part for me, and we shall have Casia as well,” he said, kissing her quickly. “It will be a celebration of our engagement.”
Flacilla sat up. “My family would never allow me to divorce Aspar and marry you,” she said. “They value Aspar’s influence too much. Though they forced him to wed me in order to gain their support for Leo, they have gotten much through his influence, Justin. They will not easily give all that up.”
“Do not ask your family, Flacilla. Ask your husband for a divorce. I suspect he wants to ask you for one, and removing his child from your care is his first step along the road to ridding himself of you. Once again Aspar will embarrass you and hold you up to ridicule. Strike first, my pet! I doubt he cares as long as he is rid of you.”
“What if he refuses me?” she said. “You never know with Aspar.”
“Then you can go to your family,” Justin replied. “Your husband is not a god, Flacilla. There must be some weakness of his you can play upon. Have you learned nothing in the time you were married to him?”
“Actually,” she admitted, “I know little of him. We have never lived together, nor slept together. He is an enigma to me.”
“Then you must spy upon him to learn what we need to know, my pet, for I will have you, or no one will!” He kissed her hard.
After a night of particularly wild debauchery, Flacilla awoke clear-headed and determined. “Send a messenger to my husband’s palace,” she told her majordomo, “and say that I wish to visit him this morning. I shall arrive before the noon hour.”
“The general is not at his palace, my lady,” the majordomo said. “He closed his palace up some months ago, and lives at Villa Mare now. Shall I send a messenger to the country to inform him you are coming, my lady? The villa is just five miles beyond the gates.”
“No,” Flacilla said. “Do not bother. I will simply go. By the time a messenger went and returned, I could be there myself. Have my litter made ready.” She dismissed the majordomo and called her maids.
Wanting to make a good impression, Flacilla chose her garments carefully. Her stola was blue-green in color, and matched her eyes. It was shot through with gold threads, and the fabric was very rich. The sleeves were long and tight, and the garment was belted at the waist with a wide gold belt that was most flattering. Her gold slippers were beautifully bejeweled, and her hair was a mass of golden braids, fastened high and decorated with jewels. A matching cloak lined in fur completed her outfit. Flacilla stared hard at herself in the polished silver mirror. Then she smiled, well-pleased. Aspar would be impressed.
Her bearers hurried along the Mese and through the Golden Gate. The day was pleasant, and she could see through the bit of drapery she left open the cattle grazing in the fallow fields. Here and there peasants were pruning trees in the orchards that occasionally lined the road. It was a soothing and most pastoral scene, Flacilla thought, if not just perhaps a bit boring. Why was Aspar living in the country? The litter turned into the gates of the Villa Mare, and entering the courtyard, came to a stop. The vehicle was set down and the curtains drawn back. A hand was extended to help her out.
“Who are you?” Flacilla demanded of the elderly servant.
“I am Zeno, General Aspar’s majordomo,” was the polite reply.
“I am the lady Flacilla, the general’s wife. Please tell him that I have arrived,” she said grandly, “and you may show me into the atrium now, Zeno, and bring me some wine.”
Zeno was horrified, but his face did not show his consternation. “If my lady will follow me,” he said calmly.
It was a charming little villa, Flacilla thought. She had never been here before. A bit too rustic for her taste, but peaceful. She could not, however, understand why Aspar would prefer it to his palace in the city. Making herself comfortable upon a marble bench, she sat down to wait for her wine and for her husband to make an appearance.
Aspar arrived before her refreshment. His greeting was less than cordial. “What are you doing here, Flacilla? What could have possibly brought you into the country on a winter’s morning at so early an hour?” He looked distinctly uncomfortable, and she wondered why. Then it dawned upon Flacilla that her husband, the morally upright Aspar, had taken a mistress. He was living with her and wanted no one to know of it. Why, the old fox! Flacilla almost laughed aloud. “I have come on a matter of some importance,” she began, swallowing to conceal her amusement.
“Yes?” he said, shifting on his feet.
“I want a divorce, Aspar!” Flacilla burst out. This was no time to be coy. She didn’t give a damn if he had one or a hundred mistresses tucked away here in the country. She had been twice wed to please her family. Now she wanted to marry for her own sake.
“You want a divorce?” His look was almost incredulously comical.
“Ohh, Aspar,” she said with utmost candor, her words tumbling out quickly, “our marriage was one of politics. You got what you wanted—the support of the patriarch and the Strabo family in Leo’s behalf. I got what I thought I could live with, being the wife of the most powerful man in Byzantium. But ours has been no true marriage. We detested each other on sight! We have never spent a single night, including our wedding night, in the same bed, or under the same roof. You do not really want me. You have even taken Patricius from my care.
“Well, I am no longer a girl, and for the first time in my life I am in love. I want to marry Justin Gabras, and he wants to marry me. Let me have a divorce, and in exchange I will be your eyes and ears in Verina’s court. Verina is very ambitious for both herself and Leo. She would dispose of you if she thought she could, and one day she may think to do so. If I am there for you, you will have no unpleasant surprises to contend with from that quarter. It is a fair offer!”
He was astounded. If they both wanted the divorce, then the patriarch could hardly contest them, and the Strabos could not be offended. “Yes,” he said slowly. “It is a fair offer, Flacilla. Why did you not speak to me about this yesterday when I came for Patricius?”
“Justin asked me the same thing,” Flacilla lied, “but as I told him, I was so distraught by Patricius’s departure that I was not thinking clearly; and then you were gone with the child. I promised him, however, that I would come to you this very day and settle the matter.”
“I have brought wine, my lord.” Zeno had reappeared. He set the goblets and the carafe on a small inlaid table.
“You need not bother to pour,” Aspar said. “I will. Return to your duties,” he finished meaningfully, hoping Zeno understood.
“At once, my lord,” was the emphasized reply, but at that moment disaster descended as Cailin entered the atrium.
“I have been told we have guests, my lord,” she said.
Flacilla Strabo’s mouth dropped open. She stared hard at the girl, and then managed to gasp, “You! It is you!”
Cailin looked confused. “Lady, do I know you?” she replied.
“You are the girl from Villa Maxima! Do not bother to deny it! I recognize you!” Flacilla shrieked, and then she began to laugh. “Ohh, Aspar,” she chortled, “you were faithful to Anna, and then waited years past the time when most men take a mistress. Now, in the twilight of your years, you choose one, and she is the most notorious girl in all of Byzantium! You will give me my divorce, and we will call the matter even. If you do not, I shall tell the world of your whore, and then you will be the laughingstock of the empire. Your usefulness will be over, and where will your power be? You will be helpless! I can scarcely believe my good fortune! The girl from Villa Maxima!”