She astounded him, and the happiness filling him would only allow him to say, “You love me? You love me!” He caught her up in his arms and swung her about happily. “Cailin loves me!”
“Put me down!” she said, laughing. “You will have the servants thinking that you have lost your wits entirely, my lord.”
“Just my heart, my love, and that you will keep safe for me, I know it!” He placed her gently upon her feet.
“Go to Constantinople now, my lord, and convince those you must to rid you of that harpy you wed for expediency’s sake,” Cailin told him. “I will eagerly await your return.”
“I will legalize any children you bear me,” he promised her.
“I know you will do the just thing,” she replied. “Now go!”
He did not even have to give orders. Zeno appeared to inform his master that his horse was saddled and awaiting him in the courtyard. Aspar laughed aloud. It was a conspiracy, he thought to himself. His servants adored Cailin and would do whatever they must to ensure both her happiness and his. He rode off down the road to the city, eventually catching up with Flacilla’s litter. Together they traveled the rest of the distance to the patriarch’s palace, where they were admitted immediately and announced to Constantinople’s religious leader.
The patriarch looked warily at the couple before him. “And to what do I owe the pleasure of seeing you both?” he murmured nervously.
“We want a divorce,” Flacilla said bluntly. “Both Aspar and I are agreed upon it. You cannot refuse us. We have no marriage, and never have, my lord. We have not even cohabited once, and I have constantly betrayed my husband with men of low degree,” she finished.
“Constantly?” Aspar said, one dark eyebrow arching quizzically.
“You rarely knew,” Flacilla said smugly, and then she laughed almost ruefully. “They do not all end as scandalously as did the little episode of the gladiator and the actor, my lord.”
The patriarch paled. “You knew of that unfortunate incident?” he asked Aspar.
“I knew,” the general replied. “My sources are even better than yours are, my lord patriarch. I chose to overlook it.”
“Because of your little mistress?” the patriarch countered, his black robes swirling about as he paced the room edgily. “You will never be permitted to marry her. Your prestige is too valuable to Byzantium, Flavius Aspar. Your behavior is tolerated because you have been discreet, but only for that reason. Go home, both of you.”
“I have twice married for the good of my family,” Flacilla said, taking up the argument. “I was content to remain a widow when my husband Constans died, but the Strabos would make me this man’s wife. Well, I have served my purpose for them, and for you. Now I want to be happy with a man of my own choosing.”
Her blue eyes glared fiercely at the patriarch. “Cousin, I wish to marry Justin Gabras, and he wishes to marry me. He is the first lover with whom I have been involved who is my equal. The Gabras family is, as you well know, the first family of Trebizond. The emperor is in your pocket now, and Aspar is the most loyal citizen in this land. You need fear neither of them. I would be far more useful as Justin Gabras’s wife, as this should give you an important toehold in Trebizond. Refuse us, and we will cause such a scandal that neither you nor this emperor will survive it! I mean it, cousin, and you know that I am capable of such destruction,” Flacilla finished threateningly.
“You are content to allow this marriage?” the patriarch said feebly to Aspar, but even as he spoke he knew that Aspar undoubtedly considered this situation a pure stroke of luck.
“I have no quarrel with Flacilla,” Aspar replied smoothly. “If this marriage can make her happy, why should we refuse her, my lord? To what purpose? She is correct about the Gabras family, and they would, I suspect, even be grateful to Flacilla. Her lover has never before married, and a marriage may settle his rather erratic personality. That would certainly reflect well on the Strabos, and upon you. And if marriage does not settle him, we are, none of us, any the worse off.” He shrugged. “As for my situation, I will continue to remain discreet. Little can be said about an unmarried man who keeps a mistress and is faithful to her, my lord. It is small reward I ask for all my services to the empire.”
“She must be baptized,” the patriarch said. “We can tolerate a Christian mistress, Flavius Aspar, but never a pagan. I will choose a priest myself for her instruction, and when he tells me she is ready to receive the sacrament, I will baptize her myself into the true Orthodox faith of Byzantium. Will you accept my decision in this matter?”
“I will,” Aspar said, wondering just how he was going to explain it to Cailin. She would find it very irrational, but in the end he knew she would do it to please him, and because it was the only way that their relationship would be tolerated by the powers that be.
The patriarch turned to Flacilla. “You will have your divorce, cousin, and before your Strabo family relations even know it. I do not intend to argue with them over this matter. Choose a wedding date, and I will personally marry you to Justin Gabras. It is to be done, however, privately and with a little decorum, Flacilla. I will not allow either of you to make a circus of this matter. And afterward you will hostess a family party to properly celebrate this new union. There will be no orgy. Do you understand? Will Justin Gabras understand?”
“It will be as you desire, my lord patriarch,” Flacilla said meekly.
The cleric laughed humorlessly. “If it is,” he said, “then it will be the first time you ever really obeyed me, cousin.”
Chapter 11
Spring always came sooner to Byzantium than it did to Britain, Cailin noted, not displeased by the early display of flowering trees in Aspar’s orchards. The general was a good master, as each peasant she met was quick to assure her. While many on neighboring estates were worn down by the incredible taxation placed on the farmers by the imperial government, Aspar paid the taxes imposed on his people so that they would not have to leave their own small bits of land. Taxes unfortunately could not be paid in kind. They had to be paid in gold, yet the price of all produce and farm animals was strictly regulated by the government, making it nearly impossible for freedmen to meet their obligations. The government kept these prices artificially low to satisfy the populace. Many small farmers attached to other estates had practically sold themselves into serfdom to their overlords so that they and their families might just survive.
“If you had no farmers,” Cailin said to her lover, “where would we get our foodstuffs? Does the government not consider that? Why are the merchants taxed so little, and the farmers so much?”
“For the same reason ships docking in the Golden Horn are only charged two solidi on their arrival, but fifteen solidi on their departure. The government wants luxury goods and staples brought into the city, but not traded away out of it. That is why the merchants are charged such low taxes. Someone has to make up the deficit. Since the farmers have no choice but to farm the land, and are so scattered throughout the country they cannot unite and complain, the heaviest burden of taxation falls upon them,” Aspar told her. “Governments have always acted thusly, for there is always someone willing to farm the land.”