"Where's the sign I told you to hang there?" he demanded.
Eusebius looked sheepish. "Forgot," he mumbled.
John took a deep breath, blew it out, and began stumping about in the courtyard. His hands were firmly planted on his hips, arms akimbo.
Antonina knew the signs. She was in no mood for one of the naval officer's tirades.
"Never mind, John!" she exclaimed. "There's no harm done, other than to my dignity."
"That's not the point!" snarled John. "This stuff is dangerous enough without some—fool boy!—forgetting—again!—to take simple precautions like hanging—"
"What dangerous stuff?" demanded Antonina, smiling brightly. "Oh—that sounds exciting!"
John broke off his stumping. He waved his arms.
"We've got it, Antonina!" he cried excitedly. "We've got it! Gunpowder! Come on—I'll show you!"
He charged back inside. Eusebius, moving out of the way, gave Antonina a thankful glance.
For the second time, Antonina entered the workshop.
Bang! Whizzzzz! Thump. Clatterclatterclatter.
She scrambled back outside, ducking.
Behind her, John's bellow:
"Eusebius—you idiot! Didn't I tell you to put out the slowmatch?"
"Forgot," came the mutter.
"Outside of having the memory of an olive, he's really been a great help," said John later. He took a thoughtful sip of wine. "Chemistry isn't really my strong point. Eusebius has a knack for it like nobody I've ever seen."
"Better hire someone to keep track of what he's supposed to remember, then," said Antonina, smiling.
John set his cup down on the table firmly. Planted his hands on the table, firmly. Squared his shoulders, firmly.
"We can't afford it, Antonina," he said. Firmly. "There's no point dancing about the matter." Scowl. "Procopius has been rubbing his hands with glee for a week, now. Ever since he got here ahead of you and went over the books." Fierce scowl. "He can't wait to tell you, the swine. I've gone through the money. All of it. Not a solidus left. Not one." Very fierce scowl. "And Sittas—fat cheapskate!—won't cough up anything more. He denounced me for a spendthrift the last time I asked."
Antonina's smile didn't fade.
"How many times have you hit him up?"
Sullenly: "Eight. Well—seven. Successfully."
"Congratulations!" she laughed. "That's a record. No one else has ever squeezed money out of him more than twice in a row, so far as I know."
John's smile was very thin.
"It's not really a joke, Antonina. We can't go any further without money, and I don't know where it's going to come from. I can't get anything from Cassian, either. The Bishop's got his own problems. Patriarch Ephraim's been on a rampage lately, howling about church funds being misspent. His deacons have been crawling all over Anthony like fleas on a dog. They even counted his personal silverware."
"What's the matter?" sneered Antonina. "Are Ephraim's silk robes wearing out?"
There was a bit more humor in John's smile, now. Just a bit.
"Not that I've noticed. Hard to keep track, of course, all the robes he's got. No, I think maybe he's peeved because he doesn't have as many pounds of gold on the rings of his left hand as he does on the right. Makes him list when he promenades through the streets of Antioch, blessing the poor."
The naval officer snorted, sighed. He cast a glance around the room. They were sitting in the main salon of the villa, at a table in the corner. "I'd suggest selling one of your marvelous tapestries," he muttered, "except—"
"We don't have any."
"Precisely."
Antonina's smile turned into a very cheerful grin. She shook her head.
"I should stop teasing you. I'm ashamed of myself. The fact is, my dear John, that money is no longer a problem. I have acquired a new financial backer for our project."
She reached down and hauled up a sack. Hauled. The table clumped when she set it down.
John's eyes widened. Antonina, still grinning, seized the bottom of the sack and upended it. A small torrent of gold coins spilled across the table.
"Freshly minted, I hope you notice," she said gaily.
John ogled the pile. It was not the coins themselves which held his gaze, however. It was his knowledge of what lay behind them.
Power. Raw power.
Since the reign of the emperors Valentinian and Valens, gold coin—the solidus, inaugurated by Constantine the Great, which had been Rome's stable currency for two centuries—were minted very exclusively.