Imperial Purple by Gillian Bradshaw

Author:Gillian Bradshaw [Bradshaw, Gillian]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: History - Byzantine, Byzantine Empire, Theodosius II, 408-450, History, Fiction
Published: 1988-11-01T05:00:00+00:00

Demetrias slept late next morning, and woke at about ten o’clock, muzzy-headed, dry-mouthed, and unrested. She lay still for a few moments, staring at the edge of her pillow. A gray light bathed the fine linen and there was a sound of rain. She sat up, disoriented. She was in a small, neat room under the eaves of the palace, a fine room with a woolen carpet and a tall window of good-quality glass. She vaguely remembered being shown to it the night before, after climbing endless steps and opening the door to see the red-and-purple bedspread glowing in the lamplight. She had been very tired. The emperor had not said much to her after bringing her into the palace; he had commended her to one of the senior eunuch chamberlains, who had commended her to a junior one, who had introduced her to the keeper of the palace looms, a very junior eunuch not yet twenty years old, who had shown her the whole Magnaura and the looms first and last. The palace had seemed oppressively magnificent, and she had not been able to follow the eunuch’s instructions about the complex protocols and rules of precedence that governed the lives of its staff, though she’d tried to be attentive. By the end of the day, the small bedroom, privacy, and silence had come as a profound relief.

She got out of bed and went to the window, opening it to look out. A curtain of rain hung before it like glass beads; beyond this she could see trees, bent in the wind, and the gray water of the Bosphorus, lashed with rain. She closed the window again and dressed, slowly.

The emperor had rescued her from Chrysaphios — for the time being. But she had gathered enough from the keeper of the looms’ lectures to be aware that the emperor’s chamberlain was the head of all the palace staff and, while she remained in the palace, her own superior. Her escape was no escape unless she could get out of the palace as well. And even if she somehow succeeded in that, if Nomos were caught she might well be recaptured and punished.

The emperor seems kind, she thought, belting her tunic. Perhaps if I have a chance to speak to him I can persuade him to send me home. After all, I was his slave before, and now I’m his slave again: he wouldn’t lose anything by it, and I can serve him as well in Tyre as in Constantinople. Better — from what I saw yesterday they don’t do much tapestry here in the palace. I will ask him as soon as I have a chance. Oh God, I will beg shamelessly: weep over my poor little boy left motherless, crawl on the floor like a third-rate actress, if it helps. Please God, Mother Mary, let him listen and send me back to Tyre! Even if it all comes out and I have to die, let me at least die

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