“Gentlemen,” he said to the three people within. “I trust you have something of importance to say to me. It is late, and I am tired.”

Gregorius Auricus nodded, standing to bow. At his side were two others; another of equal age, who Maxian realized with a start was the woman once known as Queen Theo-delinda of the short-lived Lombard state. The Emperor Ti-berianus had perished trying to drive her out of northern Italy. The other he did not know.

Gregorius gestured to his two companions, “the lady Theodelinda, an old friend of mine, and Nomeric, a fellow merchant, though he lives in Aquilea on the Mare Adria-ticum.”

Maxian nodded in greeting at each in turn. Theodelinda bowed and Nomeric nodded. The Prince put up his cloak and hat on pegs by the door and went into the small kitchen off of the sitting room. The palace servants had delivered a tray of cold sliced meats, flat bread, cheese, and some little dried fish. A stoppered bottle of wine completed the dinner. Maxian picked up the tray and returned to the main room. Once he had seated himself and taken a draft of the wine, he picked up one of the fish and began chewing it. He gestured to Gregorious Magnus to have his say.

“Well, my lord Caesar, I apologize for intruding on your solitude here, but some things had occurred to me since our discussion at the baths and I thought that I should share them with you. We shall not take a great deal of your time. Theode‘ and Nomeric I brought so that you would know the extent of the trouble that is brewing. I account them both good friends, though as you see, neither is a citizen. Theode’ was spared in the destruction of the Lombard state, accepting an amnesty and taking up residence in the hill-town of Florentia. I made her acquaintance through letters.

Nomeric at one time was the chancellor of the feodoratica of Magna Gothica in upper Pannonia.“

Maxian raised an eyebrow at this, for it was generally ill advised for members of the Imperial Household to be meeting at night in their chambers with high-ranking members of subject states, particularly Gothic ones. Gregorius, however, seemed to think that it was perfectly acceptable.

“Nomeric, of course,” the old magnate continued, “no longer serves the Gothic king, having retired from that duty. He is a, well, how to put it… an ambassador without credentials to the Empire.” Nomeric, who had been carefully saying nothing, his face placid, cracked a tiny smile at this.

Gregorius leaned forward on his walking stick. “I cannot expect that you will not pursue the matter of which we spoke earlier. In the course of such an investigation, you may find that you have need of monies that do not come from the Imperial purse. You may find that you need assistance, or help, or even protection. I have spoken with the lady, and with the gentleman, and they-and I-are willing to offer your our assistance, help, protection, and funds, if you will accept them.”

Maxian finished the last of the cheese, putting down in the little paring knife. He wiped his lips on the sleeve of his tunic and cocked his head, saying “And in return, you expect that I will do what? Show you favors? Influence the law? Be the voice of your business concerns, your peoples, in the court? My brothers and I do not look favorably on those who attempt to bribe the officials of the state. Why, in fact, do you think that I will need help beyond that of the state?”

Gregorius stood up, hobbling a little on his ancient legs, and walked quickly to the door. For a long time he stood next to it, listening. Then suddenly he opened it and stepped out into the corridor. He looked both ways, then returned to his seat, shutting the door. Tiny beads of sweat dotted his brow. “My apologies, my lord Caesar, but I am overly cautious. Theode‘, tell him what you think is afoot.”

Theodelinda glanced at Gregorius in concern, then turned back to Maxian. She had deep-blue eyes, almost the color of peat. Maxian struggled to focus his attention on her words father than the thought of what she had looked like when young.

“My lord,” she said, “after the death of my husband Agi-lulph at the battle of Padua, I was among the captives taken by the Emperor. We all expected to be slain out of hand or sold into slavery, but Martius Galen Augustus came among us and made an offer of amnesty to each man and woman that would forswear arms and reprisal against the state. Our gratitude was great, for we had come to your land as invaders and had hoped nothing less than to conquer Italy and make it our own. That the Emperor should show us some mercy made a great effect on me, even with the blood of my husband soaking my dresses. I took myself, along with those of my household who would follow me, and settled, as the venerable Gregorius has said, in the town of Florentia.

“It may surprise you, lord, but Florentia, while small, is a center of trade and manufacture. In particular we are very proud of our textiles and weaving. My people are clever with their hands and I was able to start anew, as the matron of a business rather than the ruler of a people. We have prospered. We are not citizens, but we believe deeply in the just law of the Empire. Our fathers were barbarians, living in wood and forest, but that is not what we want for our children.

“A strange thing has come to my attention, however. When we came to Florentia the textile fabricae there was not overly large, but it was doing well. The town bustled with business. Our settlement there, and our new business, only added to that. In the last years, however, we have attempted to better ourselves again, by adopting new practices suggested by my sons and daughters. All of these efforts have failed. Of my eleven sons and daughters, only two remain alive, and one is crippled by the fall of stones from the construction of the temple of Hephaestus.

“For a long time I was sure that these ‘accidents’ were the work of our rivals in the dyeing and weaving trades. But then I learned that the same kind of accidents had befallen the other families as well. At last, driven to extremes by the calamities, I went into the hills and sought out a wise woman who tends a shrine at Duricum. I spoke to her of our plight and she laughed, saying that I should go home and worship the gods in the manner of the fathers of the city. When I pressed her to explain, she pointed to my garments and said that if I dressed in the manner of the founders of the city, the accidents would stop.”

Theodelinda halted for a moment and reached into a carrying bag that lay at her feet. From it she withdrew a length of cloth and passed it over to Maxian, who took it with interest. It was amazingly supple, with the finest weave that he had ever seen. A delicate pattern of images was worked into it. Unlike the moderately rough woolen gown and robe that the Lombard lady now wore, this was almost like silk.

“What is it?” Maxian asked, laying the cloth out over his knees. The feel of the fabric drew his fingers irresistibly.

“We call it sericanum, it is a weave and a fabric that my daughters devised after I managed to procure, with the help of Gregorius here, several bolts of finished silk. It is mar-velously smooth, is it not? Almost like silk, but not quite. Of course, it is made from wool and flax rather than the dew caught in the leaves of the mulberry tree.”

Maxian glanced up at the jest but saw that Theodelinda’s eyes were filled with pain rather than humor.

“Your daughters are dead, then,” the Prince said. The elderly lady nodded. “If I understand the thrust of this conversation, all of those who participated in the manufacture of this cloth are dead. Leaving you with almost nothing of what you started.”

A great pairi washed over Theodelina’s face, but she said,

“Only gold remains. I am still rich, though my house is empty.”

“Is this all that remains of the cloth?” the Prince asked.