Nine for the Devil by Mary Reed, Eric Mayer Page A

late. She will never see it now.”
    John wondered if a reproduction of the companion Ravenna mosaic of Justinian and his courtiers graced another room and whether Belisarius would approve of these new decorations. Equally, they would serve as a reminder of his taking Ravenna from the Goths, as well as flattering the imperial couple.
    As if reading his mind, Antonina said, “No doubt you have heard I was hoping to persuade the empress to intercede with Justinian in the matter of sending more troops and supplies to my husband. It is quite true. Unfortunately, by the time I arrived in Constantinople earlier this month, Theodora was so ill she refused to receive me. As an old friend, it was hurtful even though I believe she was trying to spare me the pain of seeing her as she had become.”
    Or sparing herself being seen, John thought. “Very few were admitted to her room once she began her final decline,” he replied.
    “Let us be frank, Lord Chamberlain. I am well aware you suspect me, given I have made it plain I wish to stop the proposed marriage between my daughter and Anastasius. However, since I was not able to visit Theodora, obviously I had no opportunity to do her harm. Then too, even you must agree preventing a marriage is hardly a good reason to arrange for an empress to be poisoned. Particularly since the empress was my closest friend.”
    “You are of the opinion Theodora was murdered?”
    Antonina pursed her lips. “That is Justinian’s opinion. Do any of us dare to entertain another?”
    “Although you did not visit Theodora you must have sent her gifts. Cosmetics or perhaps something to ease her pain?”
    Antonina gave John a frigid smile. “It is customary to send gifts to one’s friends. It is hardly a matter of official concern or anything I care to talk about in detail. I am sure my modest offerings were thoroughly examined, as gifts to the imperial couple always are. Since you are looking for the culprit have you considered the Cappadocian?”
    “He is imprisoned in Egypt. As he has been for years, since you conspired with Theodora to have him removed from office.”
    She glared at him. “He can still have eyes and ears and hands here in the capital.”
    “They would require payment and Justinian was eventually persuaded to strip him of his wealth.”
    Antonina gave a dismissive wave of her hand. “The Cappadocian’s wealth is like the root of a noxious weed. It goes too deep to be pulled up entirely. What I hear is he is free to return and resume his rape of the populace now that the empress is no longer here to protect us.”
    “I doubt the Cappadocian will have his way with you, Antonina.”
    She looked as if she was about to spit at him. As John knew, she hated the former Praetorian Prefect, usually derisively referred to as the Cappadocian or more simply as the tax collector.
    “I would think you and General Belisarius would welcome the Cappadocian’s efficiency in raising revenues,” he went on. “Justinian would then have more funds to pursue the war in Italy.”
    Antonina’s eyes sparkled with cold fire. “Let me educate you about how the Cappadocian assisted my husband’s soldiers. Bread for an army must be carefully twice baked so it does not spoil for a long time, during shipping, in storage in camp, during marches.”
    “I am aware of that.”
    “I forgot. You are from a humble background too.” Her expression softened momentarily. “At any rate,” she continued, “the method of baking requires extra firewood and extra wages for the bakers, money which otherwise could have been spent by the Cappadocian on luxuries and debauchery. This extravagance, as he saw it, offended him so he had uncooked dough delivered to the basement of the Baths of Achilles where fires continually burn to heat the water. He had the dough placed near this free source of heat until it appeared more or less cooked, then thrown into bags and shipped to Italy. Needless to say, the loaves started