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Catania.”
       This made sense. Catania was a desolate, rocky stretch of dried lava, near the base of Mount Etna. He had landed there before on the way to North Africa.
       “What then?” I asked, drawing my blanket closer around me. My guts gave a sudden heave, and Procopius’ answer was delayed while I retched feebly into the bucket.
       “We march on Palermo,” he said when I was done, “once the principal city falls, the rest of Sicily will follow. An easy conquest.”
       Too easy, was my initial thought. Even a dotard like Theodatus would surely not have left the island undefended. My suspicious mind spun all kinds of alternatives. Perhaps the Goths were waiting in force at Palermo, to attack our much smaller army as we marched inland. Perhaps their fleet was hidden, somewhere among Sicily’s northern coastline, and would emerge to fall upon ours at Catania.
       “What of Antonina?” I asked, dragging my mind away from these dreadful scenarios, “does she I know I am aboard?”
       “Oh yes. I was with Belisarius when he mentioned your presence to her, two days ago. Our tame Briton, he called you.”
       I swallowed hard, and rested my head against the hull. “How did she react?”
       Procopius shrugged. “She didn’t. As far as her husband is aware, you mean nothing to her. She must have known you were aboard anyway.”
       He squatted down on his haunches. “ Attend to me, Coel,” he said severely, “for your life is most certainly in danger. Antonina has brought her son, Photius, the fruit of one of her previous marriages.”
       I blinked at him. The name was vaguely familiar to me, but I had never seen Photius, and knew nothing of him.
       “He is very young, barely grown to manhood,” Procopius added, “and has inherited his mother’s courage and fair looks. There, unless he is a better actor than I judge him to be, the resemblance ends. There is no deceit in him. Rather, he is impulsive, and constantly at Belisarius’ elbow, begging him for a command. Eager to win glory at the point of a sword.”
       “Is he a threat to me?” I asked, who cared nothing for Photius or his ambitions.
       “Possibly. He adores his mother, though she appears to care nothing for him. There is little he would not do to win her approval.”
       “Including murder?”
       “I don’t know. Perhaps. Antonina would not hesitate to use him as a weapon against you. The question is whether he would agree to it.”
       Procopius thought for a moment, tapping his finger-tips together. “I think,” he said eventually, “that Belisarius should give this valiant young man a chance to prove himself.”
       His eyes bored into mine. “Yes. Photius should be among the first to be sent ashore. Perhaps he can be dispatched on a scouting mission inland, with just a few men for company. Picked men.”
       I knew what Procopius was implying. It filled me with revulsion, but I was too old and battle-hardened to be entirely scrupulous.
       “You would go to such lengths, for me?” I asked quietly, “why?”
       “Belisarius values you, as an officer and a friend,” he replied, rising, “ he asked me to see you safe. He commands, and I obey. Not that I have any objection to seeing Antonina thwarted. She hates me, as she hates anyone with influence over her husband. She wants Belisarius all to herself.”
       “Does she love him?”
       Procopius gave a dry chuckle, the nearest he ever got to laughter. “Like an epicure loves his dinner. Antonina will eat him alive and then toss away the bones.”
       I remained below deck until the fleet made landfall at Catania, which lies on the east coast of Sicily, facing the Ionian Sea. Despite the harsh and rugged landscape, there was a city here, much reduced from its former wealth and status after being sacked by the Vandals. The garrison offered no resistance, and opened the city gates to our soldiers after Belisarius promised not