“Go on, what other news?”
“Resupply of the ships continues apace, though it seems backward that we should come here to bring on supplies when all of the supplies in the city are already brought in by boat.” Aetius paused, but Galen did not respond to the implied question. Gamely the youth continued, “The word from the chamberlain of the palace is that the Khazar embassy has still not shown up, delaying that meeting and a letter came by messenger from the Duchess de’Orelio.”
Galen raised an eyebrow at this last and put down the tablet. “Where is the letter?”
“In the hands of the messenger, Augustus. She informed me that she had been directed to deliver it in person.” The boy, if anything, became stiffer. Galen shook his head-he was afraid that the boy’s reaction would only be a small reflection of the trouble to come with the Easterners.
“She is here, then?”
Aetius nodded.
“Show her in then, lad, and stop looking like you’d swallowed a prune pit.”
“Ave, Augustus!”
Aetius turned on his heel and marched to the door. A moment later the messenger entered and Galen raised an eyebrow in surprise. Rumor had held for some months that the notorious and “oriental” Duchess had finally decided to bring her mysterious ward out into the open. Though An-astasia had been the Imperial spymaster for three Emperors and had never given Galen any indication that she was anything but utterly loyal to the state, he was pleased to see some indication that she was mortal.
An Emperor required many spies and informers to serve his will and be his eyes throughout his domain. Over the last eleven years, the de’Orelio faction had gathered nearly all of those resources to themselves-first when the old Duke had been the spider, now that his widow was. Galen had taken pains in the last year to establish his own sources of information, ones that were not beholden to Orelio, but it was slow work. Most damnably, he had not found any man who could execute the covert strategies of the state as well as the Duchess. It galled him, though he felt no ill will toward de’Orelio, that she was so obviously his superior in this area.
The messenger planted her feet and stood at parade rest before the writing desk. Galen noted with interest that she was both as young as had been reported and as beautiful. Too, she wore simple garb, most reminiscent of a Legion scout. Tall worn leather boots, light-green cotton breeches in the Gothic style, a loose tunic of weathered brown with piping at the collar and cuffs. A dark-gray cloak was pulled back a little off of broad shojjjders. Her hair, a rich gold-red, was braided back from her head. Gray-green eyes surveyed him calmly, even as he looked upon her.
“Ave, Augustus Caesar. Thyatis Julia Clodia, centurion, Legio Second Italia, at your service,” she said, handing him a scroll tube. “Greetings from my mistress, the Duchess Anastasia de’Orelio. She hopes that you are well and that your venture is blessed with success. I am to tell you that if there are any questions, I am to answer them.”
Galen nodded at the politeness, breaking the thick wax seal at the end of the tube. Within were thick sheaves of finely rolled papyrus sheets. They were covered with the spidery writing, in dark ink, that de’Orelio favored. He be gan readirtg but put the report aside after the first page. Much of it was routine business and the other he would go over in private. The messenger interested him more than the message. He gestured that she should sit on one of the stools facing the desk. With only a minute hesitation, she did so.
“Aetius, could you go and get something for me to eat. Something light. And wine, but not the Greek, something we brought with us.”
The boy bowed and hurried out, closing the door behind him. Galen smiled again and scratched his ear, looking sidelong at the young woman sitting across from him. How to approach this? He realized with a rueful chagrin that he had never had a “business” conversation with a woman save the Duchess. De’Orelio had always made him nervous, though she did not give him heart palpitations as she did the Senate. Galen realized that the foremost reason he trusted the Duchess was the effect she had on the senatorial class.
He shook his head slightly, then decided to dispense with the usual politeness that obtained between women and men in his social circles. This was one of his officers, for all that she was a woman, and he had work for her to do. Being polite and following convention would not speed things up or make them more efficient
“Clodia, you are a bit of a puzzle for me, given that you are, to my knowledge, the only woman officer that I have on this expedition, indeed, the only woman soldier that I have in my army. I have discussed you and your situation, and your talents, with the Duchess on more than one occasion and I will be blunt. I did not think that you could do the work that she set you to. In fact, I was entirely opposed to the concept of this… ‘special’… contubernia when she proposed it to me.”
Thyatis was very still, not even blinking. Galen paused a moment, seeing if he could gauge her reaction. She waited patiently, so he continued.
“I did not interfere, however, when she pressed ahead with your team on her own initiative, and I understand from her reports that you have been successful. She took great pleasure in relating to me the events of your pursuit in the Subura. I am, I was, pleased by your success. You have proved your ability enough to win you and your men a place here, on this expedition.”
Now the girl cracked the smallest of smiles. Galen did not smile back; he was not finished.
“Our situation here is different. I have noted in my admittedly limited time here in the city that the Eastern officers are even more traditionally minded, more constrained in their thinking than mine. I do not believe that you are going to be useful here in an… open way.”
Galen held up a hand to still the young woman’s incipient protest.
“In the rolls of the expedition, you are listed as one of my couriers, a member of my staff. I am uneasy at bringing you to the general meeting tonight, but I do not want you to be unfamiliar with the other officers. I put this question to you. Can your optio, Nikos, go in your stead?”
Storm clouds gathered in Thyatis’ gray eyes. Only the ceaselessly drummed lessons of Krista and Anastasia kept her from launching into a stream of invective suitable to a sailor. Instead, she breathed deeply and seriously considered the Emperor’s request. “Augustus Caesar, Nikos is a steady man with many useful skills, but he is not the leader of my team, I am. The men follow me because I have won their respect and fear. If he goes in my stead, then my authority will be challenged and I will lose that respect. I urge you to reconsider your decision.”
Galen frowned. The girl, no-the centurion, was all too right. He would not undermine the authority of any of his other officers in such a way. Though it would cause trouble with the Eastern officers, he could see no way to avoid taking* the minotaur by the horns.
“I don’t suppose you can be unobtrusive?” he asked, re signed to an even longer and more contentious staff meeting than usual. If she proves too much trouble, he thought, I’ll send her back to Italia.
Thyatis suddenly smiled and the room, to Galen’s surprise, seemed suddenly brighter.
“Imperator,” she said, “you won’t even notice that I’m there.”
True to Thyatis’ suspicion, the quarters that she and her men were assigned were in no way “royal.” Beneath the Palace of Justinian were a series of great vaulted cisterns, now long dry and replaced in function by the cistern of Philoxenus, beyond the Hippodrome. Now they were crowded with engineers, servants, great heaps of equipment, wicker baskets of grain, and other goods. At the back of the far chamber, in stuffy darkness, she found Nikos and the rest of her detachment. The rest of the interview had gone well, the Emperor finally becoming just a harried and overburdened army commander to her rather than a suspicious near enemy. Unlike some who had gone before, this Emperor was irritated by the practices of the court and seemed more of a provincial landowner like one of her uncles than a living god.