His Shadowy Hand

It is August, six months after Emperor Constantine's death, in 337 AD. Today, a funeral procession moves along the road to the gravesites just outside the city limits...

The road leading out of Constantinople was dusty, the stones thirsty after a long, dry summer. The woman riding in a chariot was dressed in garments of pearly grey, her hair unbound and disheveled, brown ringlets framing her face. Beside her sat a child with a pale, pinched mouth and bright eyes, who clung to the rim of the chariot they rode in as it lurched and creaked forward.

Before them went a procession: mourners wearing masks representing the respected dead of the family, musicians and dancers making a fantastic racket. It was a funeral procession fitting the station of the man whose silent body rode on a bier beneath a dark cloth. Usually, the face of the deceased was uncovered, but the manner of his death had left little to see except ravaged flesh. A hot breeze blew, and swear trickled down the back of the neck of the woman in the chariot, whose eyes returned again and again to the covered bier and the shape beneath the cloth. The mourners cried out, "Sextus Nerius Pavo has died, let all come and see! Come and see!"

Sextus Nerius Pavo, senator, advisor to one of the three regents of the Empire. Sextus the Peacock, of the family of Nerius. Sextus, who left behind a widow named Livia, who rode silently in the funeral procession beside their only living child, Optata.

She felt as dry as the stones, an aching void within her. She shifted, trying to keep her mind as blank as her face. She had woken last night to the sound of something in the chamber she shared with her husband that did not belong there.

The thing--a creature of shadow and muscle, put together wrong, a demon--was sitting on her husband's chest, gazing down at him with eyes that burned blue. She had seen that Sextus was awake and staring up at the creature, unmoving. She screamed as the demon reached forward with its muzzle full of sharp teeth and, almost delicately, tore her husband's throat out.

She remembered no more. She had woken up from her faint unscathed, profoundly surprised to be alive. The room stank of blood and death, she remembered, and there was no sight as horrible as Sextus lying too still. The creature had torn him to pieces.

Livia could not stop screaming. The servants and the guards had come but it was too late, much too late, and she had not slept since because every time she closed her eyes all she could see was the blood and the horrifyingly recognizable pieces of her husband's body.

The terrible reality had not quite set in yet. Livia was braced against the moment that it would. She could not believe that her husband, with his laughing eyes and his even, affable personality could possibly be dead. It was impossible. Impossible that the man who she had at first respected and then come to love was about to be reduced to ash and then sealed in stone for all eternity.

Impossible too that she was now a widow, without even a son to carry the name forward. She glanced over at Optata, at the five-year-old's disheveled curls and pale face, and wondered what would happen to them. Because there were no sons and because Sextus' brothers were all dead, she would get the lion's share of his property. In name, she was now a wealthy woman, even if she could do very little with that wealth except perhaps attract a new husband.

"You are my heart, my life," he had told her. "Never has a man been so lucky as to have such a woman to wife." Even if she had produced only one living child, he said, he would never put her aside. They had become more than husband and wife--they had become confidantes, equal partners in life. He discussed everything with her: politics, power plays, and the needs of the regent for whom he was an advisor. He had married her in large part because her family had bothered to educate her; nothing was so wasteful as stupid woman, Sextus thought, and told her so whenever he could.

He had been her Pavo, and her last memories of him were mixed with the terrified, paralyzed look in his eyes as death sat on his chest and opened its jaws. There had been many attempts on the life of their regent lately, and now advisors were being attacked. But surely they were safe, Livia had thought. They had guards, they had servants, surely if anyone was safe they were. But demons went where they willed, at the behest of the mage who summoned them.

The procession arrived at the columbarium, and the still-shrouded corpse was placed on the pyre. Speeches were made, the pyre lit, and through the long afternoon and into the evening Livia struggled to maintain some composure. She was a Roman woman, a citizen, and citizens did not weep like children when their husbands died.

Her heartbeat pounded in her ears, drowning out the speeches that she was grateful that she would not have to contribute to. She did not shame herself and her family by shedding tears.

"My dear," said Constantius, "is there anything I can do for you?"

The Emperor was a man of military bearing, probably three or four years younger than Livia, with the long nose that Constantine had gifted all three of his sons with. The Nerius family was close to the late emperor Constantine, and Sextus had become friends with Constantius in his youth. They had shared the same mindset about many things, shared a deep faith in Christos the carpenter's son, shared an easy athleticism and a love of good wine. Sextus and Constantius had married about the same time, though Sextus was almost ten years older than Constantius.

Fausta, Constantius' wife, was a mild woman with an arch sense of humor that took some time before it appeared. Livia quite liked her, and had gotten to know her as the four of them shared late nights together, talking about anything and everything, playing good-natured games of chance.

In her mourning dress, Livia felt very plain indeed next to the regent, but it could not be helped. "No, there isn't. I have my property, and I and Optata will make our way. We could not take advantage of Sextus' friendship with you in any way."

"Nonsense." They were sitting in one of the airy outer rooms of the house. When Constantius had unexpectedly come to call, highly unusual during the nine days after the funeral when family members immured themselves in their homes, she'd at least had the presence of mind to order the servants to bring refreshments. "I promised Sextus that I would care for you if he died, Livia. If there is anything I can do for you--I can find a new husband for you, if you desire, someone wealthy and manageable, or if you want protection for yourself or your daughter..."

"Revenge," said Livia. She raised her hand to her mouth, a startled gasp escaping her. "Oh, no, I'm sorry. I didn't mean--"

He was looking at her, a glint in his eye. "Ah, Livia. She speaks of vengeance as if she were a man. But who would you take vengeance on?"

At least he had not taken offense at her words. She relaxed a bit. She had thought that with Sextus dead, she would find a new gulf opening between herself and Constantius; they had always had an easy friendship, as easy as friendships got between men and women, anyway. It seemed that her husband's death had not changed that--or at least the regent did not desire that it change. She set her mouth. "I would have vengeance on the mage who sent the demon."

"Mages aren't common, but they can be bought. Who told the mage to set the demon on Sextus?"

"Do you know?" Livia's eyes were on his face, watching him carefully.

"I do not. But if you could find out, would you?"

She considered this, and then slowly nodded. "What, exactly, are you saying?"

"I know you and Sextus discussed everything. I occasionally heard your words coming out of his mouth. He made a wise choice when he married a woman with an educated mind. I need someone I can trust as my advisor. I know you're not Sextus, but I think you could fill his place."

Livia stared at Constantius with an open mouth. Her? Be an advisor? He had to be joking with her, but his eyes were intent and there was no trace of humor on his face. She shut her mouth, and carefully considered. "Sextus likely died because he was your advisor. I could not leave Optata without parents."

"If you want, I will adopt her. She will have every advantage in life, she will be educated as I know Sextus intended her to be. I know Fausta loves her, and she has been pining for a daughter."

Livia's throat closed. Give away Optata? Lose her daughter? But the offer was generous beyond compare. It would give her daughter advantages that even she could not give her...and it would mean that she would not need to acquire another husband so quickly. She could have the luxury of time, of choice.

"She will be as protected as I can manage. As well protected as my sons," Constantius said, his tone still quietly cajoling. "I will not allow her to come to any harm. Murder has been done once in this house already. It may be attempted again."

"She is a child," Livia insisted.

"And so she is deserving of protection from those who would use her against you--and through you, me. Do you not see, Livia? I would be protecting myself as much as I am protecting her."

It was this argument that swayed Livia, oddly enough. To protect the regent...she bowed her head. "Then it will be done, Constantius. When?"

"I should take her back with me--her and her nurse, if it can be managed. We will hold a quiet ceremony, and the thing will be done, and she will be safe."

Livia felt as if her whole self were blurred with grief. Two days ago, she'd had a husband who loved her, and a daughter who she adored with her whole being. Tonight, she would have neither. The gods truly have abandoned me, she thought, and then shook her head sharply. Now was not the time for those thoughts.

She called a servant, and said, "Bring Optata. Tell Hedea to pack a bag with some of her favorite things, and one for herself." The servant nodded and returned in a few minutes with the five-year-old, her face showing signs of having been hastily washed and her curls combed.

"Greetings, Uncle Regent Constantius," the child said in the stiltedly formal tones that she had been taught. "How passes the day?"

"Well, thank you." The regent smiled indulgently. "Optata, your mother has something to tell you."

Livia patted her lap, and with a grateful sigh Optata climbed into it. The grey of her mourning clothes matched Livia's exactly. Livia said, in a low voice, "Love, you know that your Papa has died."

She nodded gravely. "He went to Dis."

"To Heaven," corrected Livia a bit too quickly. "He went to Heaven, because he was a good Christian. But he is no longer here to protect you and me. Constantius will adopt you, Optata. You will have a new mama, and a new papa, and you will have two brothers all your own. You will be safe."

Optata seemed to be considering this, her childish mouth pursing. "But I don't want a new mama and papa."

"You have no choice." Livia had not thought her heart could break any more than it already had. "You will still see me."

Optata's blue eyes, so like her father's, filled with tears. "Don't want a new MAMA!" Her thin voice was rising into a shriek. "Don't WANT!"

Livia's voice was a whip cracking. "Optata. Is that any way to behave in front of the regent?"

Optata stopped mid-shriek, and her eyes were round. She seemed to abruptly collapse, putting her arms around Livia's neck, sobbing. "Ssssh, sssh," she crooned to her child, rocking her gently. "It's all right, lovey, it's all right. Everything will be all right."

The child hiccupped, "Who will protect you, Mama? Will the regent protect you?"

She nodded. "In a different way, Optata, he will. I will stay here. But you must go with Constantius, and you must mind him and Fausta as you mind your father and I. You must be the good girl I know you are for him and your teachers, and you must grow up safe and strong. I will be all right."

Optata nodded and closed her eyes, clinging to her mother. Constantius said, "She has her father's eyes, but she as almost as beautiful as her mother."

Startled, Livia looked up at the regent. But he held his face in a bland expression, and she wondered if she had imagined the note in his voice, one almost of possession, of desire. Her sudden thought was interrupted by the arrival of Optata's nurse, Hedea. "You will return with the regent to the palace. He is your master now." The older woman nodded briefly and held out her arms, and Livia rose to transfer her child into her nurse's arms.

As Hedea left, holding Optata, Constantius said, "You must come see her as often as you can."

"I will, rest assured."

Apparently satisfied, Constantius nodded. "I have sent for mages to unseal the room in which Sextus died. They will investigate and share their findings with you tomorrow. There is no time to lose, the trail will soon go cold. Good luck. Know you go where I would like to and cannot." Livia bowed her head in acknowledgement. "I will arrange for an advisor's chain for you, and tell the palace staff to allow you to come and go as you will. I will not expect you to take up any of your duties until you are done with the mourning period, however."

Livia drew in a long breath. "Thank you, sire."

He inclined his head, and then he was up and gone and Livia was alone.

That night, as if in refutation of her last forlorn hope, her courses began, ending any hope that she might have conceived a child in the final weeks of Sextus' life. She curled up in the unfamiliar bed of one of the guest rooms and stared into the darkness, a shirt of Sextus' with his fading scent on it in her hands, eyes too wide and aching for either tears or sleep.