Nine for the Devil by Mary Reed, Eric Mayer

waiting for Justinian to send swords and spears.
    John guessed when races were in progress the cheers of the crowds must shake the house like thunder. Did the sound remind Antonina that despite her wealth and high position she had come from a family of charioteers? Theodora had accomplished a similar rise to greater power from even lower antecedents, being the daughter of a bear trainer. Perhaps this was the main strand in the bonds of friendship between the two women.
    As he climbed the flight of white marble steps, John reflected that even when races were not in progress, Antonina would be reminded of her past by the pervasive smell emanating from the vast stables beneath the track, the same atmosphere in which she had grown up.
    He had no desire to speak to Antonina or any reason to suspect her of harming her imperial friend, but her name was on everyone’s lips and therefore he considered it prudent to be able to tell Justinian he had questioned the woman. More than that, Gaius had wanted him to speak to her and he could hardly ignore his friend’s request even though he didn’t expect to discover anything that would make the physician less fearful for his own safety.
    At the thud of a knocker shaped like a horse’s head the door opened and John was ushered in by a lugubrious servant who escorted him to a room on the far side of an atrium decorated with frescoes of heroic battles from mythology. It was a fitting flourish for the house of a successful general, even if its owner didn’t have much opportunity to admire it.
    John stepped into the room to which he had been directed and found Theodora staring at him.
    A chill prickled the back of his neck, then, in a heartbeat, he realized it was only a painted representation of the empress. She was flanked by attendants in garments almost as rich as her own, though none wore jewelry to rival hers and only she wore a crown. The fresco covered the entire back wall. The room was filled with fragrant lilies and roses in pots and vases.
    Antonina reclined on a scarlet upholstered couch beneath a window opened to a garden. “It is a good likeness, is it not, Lord Chamberlain?”
    “Indeed.”
    Antonina’s eyes were as blue as a clear morning sky and her hair as pale as the moon in that sky. There were those who claimed she practiced magick and by that means not only controlled her husband but also the hand prints of time. John ascribed her youthful appearance to the lotions and other cosmetic preparations she prepared for herself and other ladies of the court.
    If you approached closely enough her age would show, but once you got that close it would be too late.
    John sat in an ornately carved but uncomfortable chair facing her, separated from her couch by a low table, acutely aware of Theodora’s menacing stare. “A few questions, Antonina,” he began. He suddenly realized the window behind her providing a glimpse of an exotic garden, was, like Antonina’s complexion, nothing more than cleverly applied paint.
    “I know why you are here and will be happy to assist,” Antonina replied. “In fact, I can give you information you will find useful.” She remained in her reclining position, as if prepared to dine in the old Roman style. Her light blue silk robe were slightly rumpled, showing a trim ankle and smooth muscular calf. She smiled. “I do not have to tell you there are several persons with grievances who might not be amiss to helping our dear empress leave the world.”
    She glanced at the fresco. “A faithful rendering of the beautiful mosaic in Ravenna, Lord Chamberlain. I was able to obtain the artist’s designs. They were costly but well worth the price. The imperial couple could hardly go to Ravenna so their portraits went instead and the mosaicists copied them. Unfortunately the empress looks ill, not that we can wonder at that.”
    She sighed, theatrically John thought. “I intended it as a gesture of friendship to Theodora but it was completed too