Chapter Eleven: The Puppet and His Master
Alone in the imperial bedchamber that first night, Lupicina and Justin roamed the room, touching everything. They’d never been housed in anything remotely as grand. The walls were like a meadow of wild flowers with swirling designs of inlaid marble. The Persian carpets were a miracle of plush. Everywhere: carved alabaster, ivory, and mosaics so intricate, they looked like paintings.
“So much silver and gold!” Lupicina’s mouth muscles felt sore from smiling. “Look! Even the chamberpots are silver!” She kicked off her sandals. “Ooh, the floor is cold!” She scuttled quickly off the marble to the soft carpet. A cool breeze and briny smell from the sea stirred her curls. “Look: glass windows that open!”
She spun around, as if she were twenty instead of sixty. Happy, happy day. It was almost as joyous as when Justin had bought her from that bad man who’d hauled her away from her village.
Life with Justin had been good. Hunger makes even beans taste sweet, and Justin had done far more than feed her. He freed her from slavery. He didn’t have to do it, but he wanted to make her respectable. Their union was solid, based on years of her sponging his wounds with vinegar in the tent after battle. During many a campaign, she’d warmed his cot and made his meals. After living with her as his concubine, he’d even married her in the eyes of the Church. He was a good man, and he’d be a good Christian ruler. But herself; Empress?
She couldn’t speak Greek. And she couldn’t read or write. But Lupicina had nothing to be ashamed of. An Empress followed her husband. She had always done that.
Her great sorrow was that she and Justin were childless. But he had sent for his sisters’ boys from the country. And they were good as sons.
Justinian came to live with them when he was eight, Germanus a few years later. Justinian was smarter than a tree full of monkeys; Germanus, a brilliant horseman. The cousins weren’t very close. Their interests were so different, with Germanus athletic and Justinian bookish, but family is family.
And now they were all royalty! Who could predict the path fate would take? With her habitual piety, Lupicina made a sign of the cross.
Her mind wandered as she recited her “Hail Mary”. Perhaps, it had been so long; his joints were so stiff, but maybe Justin would make love to her tonight? She felt her blood quicken and she smiled at him girlishly.
What had that eunuch said, the one they called Lisander the Grand Chamberlain? An unlikable fellow, all that bowing and chanting “So be it, so be it”. She didn’t like the way he looked at her, as if her tunic were covered in grease and her hair filled with burrs. She smelled as good as the next person, she’d have him know. And, of course, she would get new clothes now.
Lupicina could be wrong, but the eunuch seemed to be saying that the Empress should stay in the women’s quarters, the gynaeceum, or something like that.
She and Justin separated? Never! With his memory fading in and out, she had to stay close. You never knew when he’d drift off in a brown study, lost to the world. The sound of a drum could set him off. Once he had drawn his sword in the bazaar and charged a Persian merchant.
Justin was giving her a distinctly randy look as they retired to the Emperor’s golden bed. Their shadows were elongated, cast on the white marble walls by flickering oil lamps. Smoke stung her eyes. It smelled so sweet in the room. Incense - what a luxury. She was more used to the sweat of the barracks.
She snuggled next to her husband. “Augustus,” she whispered. “Is that what I call you now?”
She dissolved in giggles, suddenly shy. “Did you ever think you’d be Emperor when you came to Constantinople, walking for weeks with only a pouch of hardtack and the clothes on your back?”
