The Belt of Gold by Cecelia Holland Read Free Book Online Page B

suffused with the glory of God!”
    Irene stared at him a moment, her face expressionless. The office of the Parakoimomenos was reserved for eunuchs, the earthly angels; he was splendid to look upon, taller than any other, with a brow like a marble statue.
    â€œWith the letter to Rome send someone who is capable of good judgment in such matters. I would know more about this collusion between the Bishop of Rome and the Franks.”
    â€œYes, Basileus, Chosen of God.”
    They dipped and swayed, their brocaded coats glittering. Irene paced back up the room.
    â€œYou may go.”
    One by one they came and knelt down and kissed the floor at her feet—Nicephoros was the last, her treasurer—and went out. As the door shut behind them, the chief lady-in-waiting got up from her chair in the corner and came forward.
    â€œYou must sit down.”
    â€œHelena,” said the Empress, “I will see Theophano now.”
    â€œThat stupid child,” Helena said, between her teeth. “Sit down, I beg you, mistress, I beg you.”
    â€œDo I look ill?” Irene said swiftly.
    â€œNo, no—but—”
    â€œThen send me Theophano.”
    Helena sighed. She had been in Irene’s company for thirty years, since the day they sat together in the Hall of Chimes, with the other beauties of the bride-show, and waited for the Emperor’s son to make his choice among them who should be his wife. Helena’s black hair was striped with grey and her face was formed in the soft folds and wrinkles of age; looking into her face, Irene knew herself still young by contrast. The lady bowed and backed away, and at a nod from her head a page leapt to a little door in the back of the room and opened it.
    Through it came Theophano. She had arrived at the Palace late the night before, considerably disheveled, but now she came forward suitably dressed to face her Basileus, her hair wound in sleek black coils on her head, her mouth painted to a delicious curve, her cheeks highlighted with Egyptian rouge. She knelt down at the feet of the Empress and pressed her forehead to the floor.
    â€œAugustus, Protected One of God, I have failed you.”
    â€œSo I am told,” Irene said. Helena, who disliked Theophano, had brought her the whole sordid story, along with a potion, at three in the morning.
    â€œI have no excuses,” Theophano said, into the carpet. Probably she was crying; she had a lamentable tendency to excess emotion. “I am foolish and weak and I erred.”
    â€œYou should never have involved barbarians in this, Theophano.”
    â€œAugustus, I had no choice—John Cerulis’s men were about to take me prisoner, and I had the list. The Franks saved me and the list from them.”
    â€œYes,” Irene said, between her teeth. Helena was hovering nearby, solicitious as a nurse, and she waved her away. “But now you don’t even have the list, do you.”
    â€œAugustus, have me put to death. I cannot bear the agony of failure.”
    â€œWhere is the list?”
    â€œI gave it to one of the knights for safe-keeping, and when John Cerulis’s men burst in on us, I could not recover it. I had to run for my life. Oh, I should have died.” Theophano moaned. “I have failed you. Oh, Augustus, have me blinded for my crimes, cast me out entirely—”
    â€œFoolish you certainly are.” The Empress went closer to the window. In the garden below, laid out in a series of concentric squares of roses and gravel paths, the exact center was a sundial. Several hours remained before she had to appear in the Hippodrome and declare the race for the Golden Belt. “But you meant well, and I forgive you, Theophano. You may rise.”
    Theophano stood up, her hands on her thighs. “Augustus, Beloved of God, your kindness is a blessing from Heaven. I swear to you, I shall be worthy of your generosity—”
    â€œYes, yes, my girl. You will