“That is totally illogical,” Cailin responded. “It is the luxury goods that should be taxed, and not the poor souls who supply the necessities of everyday life! Who makes such foolish laws?”
“The senate,” he said, smiling at her outrage. “You see, my love, the bulk of the luxury goods are sold to the ruling class, and the very rich have a strong aversion to heavy taxation. The government keeps the majority of the populace content by regulating the price of everything that is sold. The poor farmers, a minority, can cry out all they want. Their voices will not be heard in either the senate or in the palace. Only when the majority of the people threaten rebellion do those in power listen, and then not particularly closely, but just enough to save their own skins,” Aspar finished cynically.
“If they tax the farmers out of existence,” Cailin persisted, “who will grow the food? Has the government considered that?”
“The powerful will grow the food, using slave labor,” he said.
“That is why you pay your tenants’ taxes, isn’t it?”
“Free men are happier men,” Aspar said, “and happier men produce far more than those who are not happy, or free.”
“There is so much beauty here,” Cailin said slowly, “and yet so much wickedness and decay. I miss my homeland. Life in Britain was simpler, and the boundaries of our survival were more clearly defined, even if we had not the luxuries of Byzantium, my dear lord.”
“Your thoughts are complex even for a wise man,” he replied, taking her hand and kissing the inside of her wrist. “Your heart is great, Cailin Drusus, but you must accept the fact you are only a woman. There is little you can do to right the world’s ills, my love.”
“Yet Father Michael tells me that I am my brother’s keeper,” she answered him cleverly, and he smiled at her tenacity. “This Christianity of yours is interesting, Aspar, but its adherents do not always do what they preach a good Christian should do, my lord. I like your Jesus, but I think he would not like some of the ways in which his teachings are interpreted by those who claim to speak in his name. I have been taught that one of the commandments handed down says that we shall not kill our fellow man, and yet we do, Aspar. We kill for foolish reasons, which is worse. A man does not worship as we think he should worship, and so we kill him. A man is of a different race or tribe than we are, so we kill him! This is not, I think, what Jesus meant. Here in Byzantium there is so much evil amid so much piety. Yet that evil is ignored by even those in the highest places who proudly worship in the Hagia Sophia, and then run off to commit adultery, or cheat their business associates. It is all very confusing.”
“Do you tell Father Michael of your thoughts and concerns?” he asked her, not knowing if he should be truly amused or fearful for her.
“No,” she said. “He is too intense in his religious fervor, and very bound up with the correctness of his worship. He says that I am far from ready for baptism, which is, I think, a good thing, Aspar. A good Christian woman, it is said, must either be a wife or go to live in a convent. I am told I cannot be your wife, and I certainly have no desire to live a cloistered existence. Therefore, once I accept the rite of baptism, I must either leave you or be forever damned. It is not a particularly broad choice, my lord, that is offered me.” Cailin’s violet eyes twinkled with amusement. Then she slipped her arms about his neck and kissed him slowly. “I am going to avoid baptism as long as I can, my lord.”
“Good!” he answered her. “It will give me time to overcome this ridiculous notion that we cannot be married. Flacilla whored all over Byzantium, and was allowed to wed Justin Gabras, but you, my love, who in your innocence was cruelly abused, are denied the right to marry. It is not a situation that is to be tolerated, and I will not tolerate it!”
“We are together, and that is enough for me, Aspar,” Cailin told him. “I want nothing more than to be by your side for eternity.”
“How would you like to go to the games with me in May?” he asked her. “Special games are held each May eleventh to commemorate the founding of the city of Constantinople. My box is right next to the imperial box. Have you ever seen chariot races, Cailin? The Hippodrome has the finest course in all Byzantium.”
“If you are seen in public with me, will that not cause a scandal?” she asked him. “I do not think it wise, my lord.”
“There is nothing unusual about a man bringing his mistress to the games, particularly a bachelor such as myself,” Aspar answered. “Casia, the girl you knew at Villa Maxima, is now Basilicus’s lover. He has given her her own home in the city, and visits her regularly. We will ask her to join us, as well as some of the city’s more famous artisans and actors. I am known to keep such company, to the despair of the court, but frankly, those who create are far more interesting to me than those who govern and intrigue.” He chuckled. “We will fill the box with interesting people, and few will know just who is who.”
“Perhaps it would be nice to see other people,” Cailin observed. “When you are away on your official duties, I grow lonely sometimes.”
Her admission startled him, for she had never complained about her solitude before. Aspar had never considered that she might be weary of being companionless.
Several days later Zeno was sent to the city, and when he returned, he brought with him a young girl with large, frightened blue eyes, and flaxen braids.
“The master thought you would like a young maidservant to keep you company,” Zeno said, smiling. “We are all so old here, but you, lady, are like springtime, and need a fair flower to serve and amuse you. She speaks no language I can understand, lady, but she seems pleasant and biddable.”
Cailin smiled at the girl and then asked, “From where does she come, Zeno? If I knew, perhaps I might find a language in which we could communicate. If I cannot speak with her, then all my lord’s good intentions are for naught.”
“The slave merchant said she comes from Britain!” Zeno said triumphantly. “Surely you can communicate with her, my lady.”
“Yet she speaks no Latin,” Cailin mused to herself. She turned to the young girl. “What is your name?” she asked in her own native Celtic tongue. If the girl didn’t speak Latin, she must speak Celtic.
“Nellwyn, lady,” the girl said slowly.
“Are you Celt?” Cailin said.
The girl shook her head. “Saxon, lady, but I understand the tongue you speak. I come from the Saxon shore, and there are many Celts there.”
“How came you to Byzantium?” Cailin continued.
“Byzantium?” Nellwyn looked confused. “What is Byzantium, lady?”
“This place, this land. It is called Byzantium. The city that you were in is its capital, Constantinople by name,” Cailin explained.
“Northmen raided our village,” Nellwyn told her. “My parents and my brothers were slaughtered. My sisters and I and the other women who could not escape were carried off. They took us to Gaul first, and then we traveled by sea again to come here. Many died on the way. The sea was horrible!”
“Yes, I know,” Cailin said. “I came to Byzantium almost two years ago from Britain in a similar fashion. My home was near Corinium.”