"Chelsea Quinn Yarbro - Olivia 1 - A Flame in Byzantium" - читать интересную книгу автора (Yarbro Chelsea Quinn)

of the villa.
It was not long before Kosmos appeared in the door, his manner as humble as his body was
formidable. He lowered his head and kept his eyes averted. "Niklos sent me, great lady," he said softly.
"He said he would," Olivia agreed.
"And the General Belisarius has returned. His horse has just been taken to the stables." For Kosmos
this was a long speech, and as he concluded it, he appeared to be slightly out of breath.
Olivia gave Kosmos her full attention at this. "General Belisarius. Only he?"
"There are officers with him," said Kosmos.
"I will see them shortly, in the main reception chamber. Have flowers brought there, and send Hogni
andтАж oh, I guess it had better be Hogni and Beltzin, to wait on them. They will want to have wine and
meat as well as washing basins." To Olivia, this seemed woefully inadequate, for when she was young,
nothing less than a full bathтАФcalidarium, tepidarium, frigidariumтАФand a massage with costly oils followed
by a nine-course banquet would be considered a proper welcome for so august a man as Belisarius.
"Very good, great lady. But you will be left alone, and that is what Niklos required I not allow to
happen." Again he was sounding breathless.
"I give you my word that I will manage, and that I will be able to fend for myself. Besides, I must do
something about my clothes or I will be more improper than they are." She went briskly toward the side
door. "I am going now to my private quarters, and if you will see that Fisera joins me there, that will
ensure I am not alone and you will be able to complete the commission I have given you." As she
watched him go, she wondered if she had made a mistake in freeing him. Kosmos was not used to living
on his own, and in these troubled times, she feared he would become prey to the first scoundrel who
came across him.
She stopped these ponderings as she reached the door of her private suite of rooms. Always when
she stepped through the door, she felt herself on the brink of the past. It pleased her to indulge in a sense
of nostalgia; this afternoon she had to admit that there was a pang of something more. She stared at the
frescoes on the wall, at the furniture and the ornaments she had gathered together here, and knew that as
many of them as she took with her to Constantinople, it would not be the same, and that she would not
find them as appropriate, as comforting as they were here, where they belonged. They were Roman; so
was she. Here she was on her native earth and there she would be a stranger. Nothing would alter that,
and she knew she would have to reconcile herself to it.
There was a gentle rap on the door on the far side of the room and this brought Olivia out of her
reverie. "Yes?"
"It is Fisera, mistress," said the slave.
"Enter, Fisera," she said, speaking more briskly and moving with renewed vitality. This was not the
time to be distracted, she reminded herself as she admitted the slave. There was too much to do.
Fisera had brought two long pallia with her, one of a rich deep-rose color embroidered all over with
golden medallions, the other a strange shade that was almost not any colorтАФa shadow tone between
gray and tan and greenтАФornamented with dark brown silken embroidery and with accents picked out in
seed pearls. She stopped, staring at Olivia. "Oh, mistress," she said in a faltering way.
"Tomorrow I am no longer your mistress, Fisera, and you do not need to call me your mistress any
longer." She gave her a heartening smile. "Come, Fisera, don't be troubled. There is no reason for me to
doubt your devotion, whether you wear a collar or not."
"You have been most kind to me, mistress," said Fisera with genuine feeling.
 An expression that was not quite a frown passed fleetingly over Olivia's face. "Have I? I hope so. It
was my intention, but that often counts for little."
Alarmed by this sudden change in Olivia's manner, Fisera reached out and touched her arm. "Have I
offended you, mistress?"
"No," said Olivia, her demeanor changing again. "No, of course not. I was remembering the past. I've
been doing a lot of that recently. I must beтАж getting old."
"You are young forever, mistress," Fisera said, more in wariness than flattery.