Nine for the Devil jte-9

by Mary Reed

  He hoped the wetness was water.

  The scene that met him as he stepped into the cell was much as expected. Vesta lay on the floor weeping raggedly, her clothes torn. A broad-shouldered man bent over her, boot poised to deliver another kick to the girl’s side.

  “Stop!” John commanded as he crossed the threshold.

  The man looked up, his thick lips curling. “Just softening the captive up a little. You can’t expect results immediately with some of these women, Lord Chamberlain.”

  “You haven’t begun questioning the girl?”

  “No, you’re just in time. I’ve been showing her the hot irons, the knives, and my other pretty toys.” The torturer leered in the direction of a brazier and a cluttered table occupying one wall. “So I haven’t got around to business. I was waiting for my assistants to arrive so the fun can begin.”

  Vesta had taken advantage of the conversation to crawl to John and cling to his boots.

  “She’s not that much of a pretty young thing,” the torturer observed, “but men will be men, and I find that afterwards, criminals don’t care much any more what they reveal. If you’d care to join-or-uh-watch-”

  “Silence! Justinian’s orders are she’s to be released.”

  The other looked both surprised and disappointed. “But the irons are just starting to glow! We haven’t got started yet!”

  “No matter. I am taking charge of her.”

  The man cursed. “Well, since you are Lord Chamberlain and I am not, I suppose I must agree to it,” he sneered. “Perhaps you wouldn’t get any pleasure from watching anyhow.”

  John fixed him with a level stare. He could have the impertinent man subjected to his own toys if he wished it. John said nothing but perhaps the would-be torturer suddenly realized the possibility, because his features turned to stone and he looked away quickly.

  John pulled Vesta to her feet and helped her into the corridor.

  She was trembling convulsively and clung to him as a child would.

  They laboriously climbed the stairs and crossed the palace grounds.

  ***

  Hypatia and Joannina greeted them anxiously at John’s house.

  John let the women take the girl away to an unused bedroom while he got himself a cup of wine. He gulped it down and refilled his cup.

  By the time he rejoined the three women, Vesta was wearing one of Hypatia’s garments, which fitted the slim young woman almost perfectly.

  As she thanked him profusely and incoherently his gaze fell on the purpling finger marks on her arms.

  “She’s only bruised, master,” Hypatia said. “You were in time.”

  John nodded. He hoped the girl’s mental bruises were no deeper than her physical marks. He remembered only too well the feeling of horrific helplessness she had experienced, that he himself had experienced so long ago.

  He asked the other two women to leave him alone with Vesta.

  When they had he said, “I am sorry to have to ask you questions, Vesta, but the sooner I have answers the better. What are these herbs that were found in your room?”

  “I know nothing about them,” Vesta’s voice quavered. “I am learning how to make salves, perfumes, and cosmetic preparations for my mistress and the ladies of the court. As I told you before, Lady Antonina is instructing me in the work. Please, I’m telling the truth. Don’t send me back.”

  John had an urge to pat the girl’s arm comfortingly, but refrained. “I won’t,” he assured her instead.

  He had been informed the herbs were of the sort used in poisons. Was it possible she had been betrayed by someone at court? No one except those on the palace grounds could have had access to her room or even know where it was located.

  The simplest explanation was that she was lying.

  “You were denounced anonymously, Vesta. I gather the prefect was informed incriminating items could be found in your room. Do you have any idea who might have done that?”

  Vesta narrowed her reddened eyes as she pondered the question. “No. No, Lord Chamberlain. Who could hate me so? And why would anyone suspect me?”

  “You attended Theodora during her last days,” John pointed out.

  “Oh, but it was Kuria who was her personal attendant. I was simply helping her. Kuria was with her so much more than I.”

  “Are you accusing Kuria of poisoning the empress?”

  Vesta’s eyes widened. “No. But it just occurred to me…”

  “What occurred to you?”

  “Oh…I…what I said. That Kuria spent more time with her. Please, Lord Chamberlain. Don’t question me any further. Who am I? Barely more than a servant. I can’t afford to have enemies in high places.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  The girl seemed to panic. Her eyes widened and she started to leap up but toppled backwards. John caught her before she fell to the floor and eased the unconscious girl onto the bed.

  At least she appeared to be unconscious and after her recent experience it would be understandable.

  John didn’t want to suspect Vesta, but he knew he had no choice.

  Chapter Forty-five

  Night pressed its dark veil against the windows of John’s study.

  By this time the house was usually quiet but tonight he could hear footfalls upstairs as Hypatia bustled about caring for Peter.

  John had looked in on the servant and listened respectfully to the old man’s encomiums to his Christian god and the miracle he had wrought. John could see the attraction of believing the most dire of problems could be solved with a dab of Egyptian lamp oil, that the world was overseen by a loving omnipotent being who was willing to assist His followers if correctly petitioned.

  His own god, Mithra, was a general who sent his men into a battle against the the forces of darkness, a battle in which they depended entirely on themselves.

  Or so John believed.

  He stared at the little girl in the mosaic on his study wall. “Well, Zoe, are you going to help me at least begin to untangle this Gordian knot?”

  He swallowed another sip of his bitter wine. “I know your name is not truly Zoe, but you’ve always answered to it before. At least you don’t change. You never grow old. Not like people. Flesh is not glass. Look at Antonina, who is entangled in this whole business. She hides the years cunningly but they are beginning to catch up. Yes, Antonina offers a good starting point. Consider what we have discovered.”

  He put his wine cup down and began to tick off points on his fingers. “First, Antonina purports to suspect both Germanus and the Cappadocian. Let us bear in mind casting suspicion elsewhere diverts it from yourself.”

  He got up and paced around the room as he continued. “Very well, then. As far as Antonina is concerned, it would be in her interests for Theodora to remain alive, thereby thwarting Germanus’ ambitions for the throne and in the process protecting Belisarius’ current role as Justinian’s foremost general. Not to mention she hoped to use Theodora to get more supplies and troops from Justinian for Belisarius in Italy. Joannina has the impression that the latter is her mother’s main interest at the moment.”

  Zoe’s eyes seemed to twinkle in the trembling lamp light as John looked up at her on his second circle around the room.

  “We agree so far, I see. But consider. Antonina is trying to stop the marriage between Joannina and Anastasius, whereas Theodora is adamant that it would take place. Was adamant, I should say. Thus her death means doubt is cast upon the eventuality, which would suit Antonina.”

  He paused at his desk and took another sip of wine, then resumed his pacing. “However, arguments over a marriage are not a very good reason to risk your life by poisoning an empress. After all, Antonina and Theodora were good friends. Or appeared to be.

  “Yet even good friends fall out,” he continued, remembering his recent hot words with Anatolius and the surly behavior of Felix. The latter made him think of two other military men: the bitter and intoxicated Artabanes, and Germanus, the rising gene
ral.

  “Artabanes is frank about his hatred of the empress. Why wouldn’t he hate her, forced to live with a wife he does not love and seeing the woman he does love married to another man at Theodora’s instigation? And Germanus has every reason to resent Theodora’s efforts in checking his career. Would either of them resort to poison? Neither had direct access to Theodora. Then there’s the Cappadocian who worked in the kitchens. The imperial couple’s personal cooks have always been held responsible with their lives. Let us suppose Theodora was poisoned with food from the kitchen. Who could have poisoned the meals her cook delivered?”

  John shook his head. “Too many guards in the kitchens. Too dangerous. The Cappadocian is too shrewd to take such a risk. Besides, a man used to power would not be likely to perform such a task with his own hands. That trio can be put in the second rank of suspects for now, don’t you agree, Zoe?”

  The mosaic girl did not disagree.

  “Let us examine means and motives next. Was Antonina the culprit? She admits she sent Theodora gifts. Joannina said Antonina had, as in the past, supplied Theodora with potions and cosmetics. She could have sent something poisoned. Equally Gaius could have been responsible by accident by making a mistake in what he prescribed.”

  He sat down again and thought for a while. “Anyone on the palace grounds could make a potion if they had the knowledge. Anyone could steal the ingredients from the gardens. I could have been responsible, given Hypatia is knowledgeable about herbs.”

  A thought struck him. Cornelia! She has a hasty temper, and she knew how much Theodora hated him. Surely not. She had left the city shortly after Theodora’s death. Where was she? Why hadn’t John heard from her?

  These thoughts he kept to himself, unwilling to share them even with Zoe.

  Obviously he had drunk too much.

  He took another large gulp of wine and forced his thoughts away from Cornelia.

  “Poison might be introduced by bribing a servant,” he continued, aware now of the slight slurring in his words. “So let us consider matters from that angle. Take Vesta. Devoted to her mistress and determined to see her marry that feckless boy Anastasius. Furthermore, she is being taught to make various preparations by Antonina. Has she learnt to make those that are harmful? She lives on the palace grounds and can easily obtain the necessary ingredients. Then too Theodora’s lady-in-waiting Kuria said Vesta always brought a gift of fruit for the empress.”

  John frowned. “I suppose it would be possible to poison fruit even if Gaius thinks it unlikely, but then Kuria said she and Vesta ate it. She could be lying.”

  But why would Vesta wish to poison the empress when her mistress’ marriage depended on Theodora’s continued existence?

  “A good question, Zoe,” John remarked. “But let us leave it for now and proceed to examine Kuria, also constantly in attendance on Theodora in those final days. Kuria seems unlikely, don’t you think? The only protection between her and a life on the streets was retaining her post as a lady-in-waiting to Theodora. And why is Felix behaving in such an odd fashion? What is he hiding? Anatolius has already lied to me. Is there anyone I can trust?”

  He laughed softly. “Why, I am even suspecting Cornelia when it is clear Theodora was not murdered in the first place. That is merely Justinian’s fancy. Why not suspect everyone of the crime that didn’t happen? Is there anyone in the city that didn’t want the empress dead? No crime and endless suspects!”

  He looked over at Zoe. Her sad expression seemed to say he ought to talk to Felix again. Soon and at length. Even though he is your brother in Mithra and a close friend, he appears to be avoiding you.

  “I must speak with Felix,” John agreed, draining his wine cup. “It’s almost the middle of the night so I should be able to catch him at home. And tomorrow I will question Vesta further. And Kuria too. Vesta said she was with the empress more than anyone. Yes, Kuria might have valuable information. First, though, I will go to see Felix.”

  ***

  Kuria woke screaming, lying on her back in darkness. She smelled blood and ashes.

  Where was she? Was she blind?

  The nightmares that had driven her from the refuge of unconsciousness bled into the nightmare that had preceded what she had been certain would be her death.

  She gasped at the searing pain as she rolled onto her side. Her body might have been filled with hot coals. It felt as if a spike had been driven into her temple.

  Her groping hands stirred ashes. She choked, coughed, spit out a piece of tooth.

  Maybe she had died. This was the underworld. Hell. A fitting final destination for a whore.

  Why had the beggar insisted on beating her?

  She had accommodated enough men she didn’t want. That was nothing, really, if only he had not been so brutal. Had not been like a demon.

  Well, at least she had stabbed him with her brooch more than once before she passed out. She hoped the pin had hit him in the eye.

  Had she? Had he blinded her in return?

  She could feel her fine green stola was in shreds and almost ripped off. Oddly, as far as she could tell in her sightless state, her assailant had not taken any of her necklaces, bracelets, or rings.

  She rolled onto her stomach with agonizingly slowness, whimpering in pain, hearing the rustle of ash beneath her.

  Her bones did not seem broken. She pulled herself around until, suddenly, she was facing a glimmer of light.

  She could still see.

  She lowered her face and sobbed. “Thank God. Thank God.”

  Never had she been so devout while at Madam Isis’ refuge.

  She began to crawl toward the light.

  A doorway, she realized, opening into the night. Opening onto the Mese, she remembered.

  So she was not blind, not in hell.

  “Thank God, thank God,” she muttered again.

  She crawled straight into the arms of the waiting demon.

  Chapter Forty-six

  Felix lived close to the Chalke Gate, not far from the main barracks where most of the Great Palace’s excubitors and silentiaries were billeted. John was well-known at the house, so though he came calling in the small hours of the night he was immediately admitted.

  Felix appeared from the darkness of a hallway, resembling a shade in his rumpled white tunic, running his hands through disordered hair and tugging at his wild beard, as disheveled as if he’d been fighting battles in his sleep.

  “Trouble?” he growled.

  “That’s what I wanted to ask you.”

  Felix made a grunt of displeasure. “You could have asked me at a civilized hour.”

  “Except lately you always seem to be hurrying off somewhere,” John replied. “And when you aren’t rushing away you’re hard to find. Your absence from the mithraeum has been noted.”

  “I’ve been kept busy. Ever since Theodora’s illness worsened Justinian has been nervous. With good reason, if you ask me. When change is in the wind traitors are most likely to take their chance and strike.”

  The men’s voices sounded hollow, lost in the dimly lit marble atrium. Felix did not invite John into a more hospitable part of the house but walked over to the impluvium and sat on the basin’s wide rim. The water caught a faint reflection from the single wall torch and cast it up onto the excubitor captain’s haggard face. John remained standing.

  “I’m sorry, John. I need to be up early tomorrow, and I’m exhausted. I can’t spare much time now unless it’s urgent.”

  “You don’t consider finding Theodora’s murderer urgent?”

  “In my opinion Justinian has you chasing a phantom of his own disordered mind.”

  “And are your excubitors chasing the phantom also?”

  “No. We have enough to do without-”

  “You haven’t been investigating the supposed murder behind my back?”

  “No. Why would I?”

  “You keep asking the questions I want to ask, Felix.”

  “What makes you think
I’ve been wasting my time on your investigation?”

  “Your excubitors searched the room of Joannina’s lady-in-waiting and found supposedly incriminating evidence. I’ve just rescued the unfortunate child from the hands of the torturers.”

  “Oh, that. I heard something about it.”

  John forced himself not to burst out with angry words. He took a step closer to Felix, who showed no inclination to rise or look him in the eye.

  “Oh, that, you say. What were your men doing rummaging through her room if you aren’t nosing around looking into Theodora’s death?”

  “A scrap of parchment naming the girl was delivered to the City Prefect, and he notified me as head of the palace guard,” Felix replied.

  “Is that true?”

  “Of course it’s true. Why would I lie to you?”

  “What exactly did this note say?”

  “Exactly? I couldn’t tell you, but I gather it was to the effect someone might like to search Vesta’s room since they might find something of interest there in connection with Theodora’s murder.”

  “How was this note delivered?”

  “By a grubby little street urchin. He handed it over and ran away. As well he might.”

  “Untraceable then, and surely not written by the boy himself. Do you know any other details?”

  “None. Except the note turned out to be accurate.”

  “You didn’t inform me poisonous herbs were found in the room, even though you know I’m responsible for tracking down Theodora’s murder.”

  “I would have as soon as I could, John.”

  “I’m glad to hear it, my friend. Since you know Justinian has a noose around my neck while I’m engaged on this mad mission of his, I’m grateful you intended to get around to telling me sooner or later, perhaps even before the emperor decided to open the trapdoor under my feet.”

  John’s words were grating, loud. Even as they emerged, he realized they were not the way he would normally have expressed himself, but the tension during the days he had been on this fool’s errand was emerging. And then there were worries about Peter’s illness and what was happening with Cornelia and Europa.