Nine for the Devil jte-9

by Mary Reed

  He would have expected Felix to leap combatively to his feet, but the burly captain continued to sit wearily on the edge of the basin. John wondered if he had been drinking, but his speech gave no sign of it. He, like John, seemed disordered by inner anxiety.

  “John, I’m fully aware of your impossible assignment. I fear Justinian may have imposed a lingering death sentence on you.”

  “Because I will not be able to find someone who doesn’t exist? Yet, evidence against Vesta has been found in her room. The emperor seemed ready to believe she was the culprit.”

  “Why not allow him to continue to think it?”

  “You know I couldn’t do that, Felix. Let a young girl be tortured, most likely to death?”

  “Is her life more valuable than yours?” Felix ran his fingers through his beard, tugged nervously at the neck of his tunic. “You are a man of principle, John. Do you owe your loyalty to a man who has betrayed it?”

  “I don’t know Justinian means to betray my loyalty. From your behavior I would be more inclined to doubt your loyalty to me.”

  “You’ve expressed your own concerns about this impossible investigation,” Felix pointed out.

  “Perhaps I am being unfair to Justinian. Why would he turn against me?”

  Felix continued to stare past John, into the shadows on the far side of the atrium. “Because you’re a pagan,” he said quietly.

  “Because I am a Mithran? Like yourself, like many others at court? You know the emperor winks at pagans and heretics so long as they are useful to him.”

  “He’s had pagans executed.” Felix’s thick fingers fumbled at the rumpled neck of his tunic, as if he were trying to extricate something tangled in the loose fabric. Perhaps that was what he intended John to think, to make it seem as if the fine gold chain was dislodged accidentally, falling into view against his white garment, and revealing the cross attached to it.

  “Is that why you haven’t been seen in the mithraeum lately?” John asked.

  Felix stuffed the chain back inside his clothing. “It was given to me for a talisman.”

  “It is the symbol of the Christians’ god.”

  “Yes, and it’s a very useful talisman. The world is changing, John. We know demons are everywhere, whether we see them or not.”

  “You have become a Christian, haven’t you?”

  Felix shook his head. “No. No. But I’ve thought about it.”

  “Because the world is changing? Do you think the gods come and go with the ages like mortals do?”

  “It isn’t that…”

  “You still aspire to a generalship. In today’s empire Christians fare better. Is that it? General Belisarius would never have allowed you to get anywhere after that dalliance with Antonina, so-”

  “There was no dalliance. She led me on. That was years ago.”

  “Nevertheless Belisarius hated you, and since you were my friend, Theodora had no use for you either. But now Theodora is gone, she cannot thwart you or Germanus. You think Germanus will supplant Belisarius, and Germanus will be more likely to listen to your entreaties if he thinks you are a Christian. That’s it, isn’t it?”

  “It is a Christian empire, John.”

  “But as captain of the excubitors you enjoy a higher prestige than most generals.”

  “You know I have always wanted to command an army on the field of battle.”

  “Still, at your age…are you certain you do not seek higher honors yet?”

  “Now you are speaking like a fool, my friend. Yes, I have been thinking about converting. I have been encouraged to think about it. For now, though, the cross is a good luck charm given to me by a friend.”

  John suddenly remembered his conversation with Isis who now, just as incongruously as Felix was contemplating, claimed to have converted to Christianity. Could she have given Felix the cross? Or had it been a favorite whore turned penitent turned lady-in-waiting?

  “Kuria,” John muttered. In the shadowy room he could not make out the reaction, if any, on Felix’s lowered face. “Isis thought it was you who kept visiting the girl before she became Theodora’s lady-in-waiting. Have you been seeing her again? Isis’ girls were required to adopt religious practices when the establishment became a refuge. Theodora wouldn’t have taken Kuria into the palace unless the girl at least made a pretense of being devout. Did you get that cross from Kuria?”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about, John. I’m not privy to all the ins and outs of your investigations. You’re thinking out loud.”

  “You may be right, Felix. But you haven’t answered my question. When I first spoke to her, Isis told me you had often sought out Kuria. Then we decided she must have been mistaken, that she must have been thinking of Berta, the girl you visited there long ago. Perhaps Isis was right, after all. Perhaps it had been you seeing Kuria, just as she recalled. And if so, you might have been seeing her while she was a lady-in-waiting, with access to the empress. A young woman who could have poisoned Theodora at your behest.”

  Felix raised his gaze to meet John’s. The dark circles around his eyes were so pronounced they might have been purple bruises. “No, John. I swear it. This cross is from a friend. A woman, yes. You are right there. Someone you don’t know. It didn’t work out, anyway. Surely you believe me?”

  Chapter Forty-seven

  John’s sleep was brief and troubled. He was repeatedly awakened by confused nightmares that drained away like cloudy wine from a cracked cup before he could recall what they had been about. For all he knew they might contain the solution to Theodora’s murder. Most likely they were a meaningless jumble. It was commonly said dreams were messages from the gods. If so, the gods must all be insane.

  When it began to get light outside, John was happy to flee his bed, despite feeling more tired than when he lay down. As he went along the hall it came to him that Cornelia had appeared in some of the nightmares.

  Surely today she would send word? If not, he would have to…what? If it were not for his investigation he would have ridden immediately to Zeno’s estate, but Justinian would not take kindly to his Lord Chamberlain deserting his duties.

  “How is Peter?” John asked Hypatia as she served him his usual boiled eggs.

  “Almost his old self, master. He’s still asleep this morning.”

  “I told you he was a tough old boot,” John said. His nightmares had left a black film over his thoughts, like residue from smoke. Perhaps that explained why he couldn’t help thinking how the ill and aged so often rallied a day or so before they died. It was almost as if they knew the end was near and summoned up their final resources to take one last clear look at the world from which they were about to depart.

  He chided himself for entertaining such gloomy ideas. Might the thought give rise to the reality? Then he chided himself even more harshly for entertaining a superstition.

  John took a bite from a boiled egg. It wasn’t cooked enough. He preferred his eggs what most would consider overcooked. Peter knew that. He wondered, had Theodora rallied, given Justinian a glimmer of false hope before the end? There was no knowing, not that it mattered.

  Poison, unlike illness, would never grant the dying person one final day to say farewell.

  He took a gulp of water to wash down the egg. “Hypatia, you said Vesta picked foxglove leaves and took them to Antonina. Would they have some use other than in making poison? In love potions, for example?”

  “Recipes for potions tend to contain a little bit of everything you can imagine,” she said, refilling his water cup from an earthenware jug. “I don’t know how they work, or whether they would still be effective if you leave anything out.”

  “You knew Vesta by sight. Did you ever speak with her?”

  “A few times. Once, while I was working in an herb bed, she stopped and asked what could be used as a painkiller for a woman’s complaint. Everybody at court asks me questions. I must be interrupted six times a day. I sometimes think I supply more medical advice t
han Gaius.”

  John realized he did not know what herbs had been discovered in Vesta’s room. He had never taken a great interest in plants. They were stalks with leaves. “There are many herb beds in the palace grounds and all are available to anyone with access to the gardens,” he mused.

  “Yes, master. Also Gaius has a garden of medicinal plants for his own use but someone could easily steal from it. There are herbs in the garden inside Theodora’s quarters too, but you can only get into it from the imperial quarters.”

  “Is there anything unusual growing there?”

  “I don’t think so. I wasn’t called on to tend it very often.”

  John hadn’t expected Hypatia to know much of use although he had hoped she would.

  The last few days had worn him out. He would have been pleased to learn what he needed to know by staying at home.

  Unfortunately that was not possible.

  Chapter Forty-eight

  As John walked to Joannina’s rooms his breakfast sat at the bottom of his stomach like a stone thrown into the Marmara.

  The young woman greeted him grimly. “Please try not to upset Vesta further, Lord Chamberlain. She’s devastated at being accused of murder.”

  “Is her room in your quarters?”

  “Anastasius’ and mine, you mean. No, she lives in the wing with the other ladies-in-waiting. They aren’t simply servants. Their accommodations are appropriate to their status.” Her bright blue eyes widened in alarm. “Why, if Vesta did live here someone would have had to creep secretly through my rooms to hide those herbs they found in hers. I don’t like to think about that.”

  “Would it have been easier to enter a particular room in the wing the ladies-in-waiting occupy?”

  “Relatively. One would still need access to the empress’ section of the palace.” She paused. “Excubitors would be able to march straight in and place incriminating evidence there.”

  John asked her why she had suggested such a possibility.

  Joannina shook her head and a strand of pale hair fell across her eyes. She brushed it aside. “To find a scapegoat to satisfy the emperor. Then too, it might suit you, Lord Chamberlain, if there was a murderer you could point out.”

  “If I were responsible for those herbs, Vesta would have been left with the torturers.”

  “Then perhaps it was someone who wished to distress me. I am fonder of Vesta than I should be.”

  “I understand that Vesta idolizes you. She considers you and Anastasius the ideal romantic couple.”

  Joannina’s eyes flashed. “Let me assure you she would not commit murder for me. Besides, Theodora’s death was the last thing I wanted. The empress championed my marriage to Anastasius. Now my mother will have free rein to put a halt to it. Vesta knows that.”

  John wondered if Vesta might perhaps fantasize that she might take Joannina’s place in the handsome Anastasius’ affections if his marriage to Joannina was foiled.

  Young people were prone to foolish ideas, John thought, as Joannina led him to the interior garden. It was as if by a certain age people were physically adults but had not managed to free themselves entirely from the phantasmal world of childhood. Outrageous actions might appear perfectly sensible. Then again, it was just as well young people did not yet see reality clearly. If they saw the world as it was they would never dare venture out into it but rather stay in bed with the covers pulled over their heads.

  Vesta, looking very much like a child cowering beneath the covers, sat on the bench shaded by the awning beneath which he’d first spoken with her. She had twisted her thin legs around each other and wrapped her arms around herself.

  She managed to untangle her limbs, none too gracefully, as John sat down.

  “I–I want to thank you, Lord Chamberlain.” She gave him a fleeting smile. revealing a chip missing from the corner of one of her prominent front teeth. John did not inquire whether the injury had been deliberately inflicted or occurred by accident during her rough handling. Aside from that, and a few bruises on her face, she looked well enough.

  “I don’t know anything about the herbs they claim to have found in my room,” she told John, in response to his next query. “I don’t even know what they were, excellency.”

  “You sometimes delivered herbs to Antonina. You were not storing any in your room to take to her on your next visit?”

  “No, Lord Chamberlain.”

  “Antonina did not ask you to keep certain herbs in your room?”

  Vesta shook her head. Her prominent chin might have been characterized as strong, but at present it was trembling. “No, no, I never saw those herbs, excellency. I was working here all day and when I returned to my room I was arrested. They never even showed me the herbs. I don’t believe there were any!”

  John did not mention that despite her being released she was still considered the main suspect by the City Prefect.

  “Herbs can be found in shops and homes all over the city. A bunch of stalks and leaves is not the same as a bottle of poison,” Vesta said. “Do you think they will leave me alone now, Lord Chamberlain? I could hardly sleep last night. I kept expecting footsteps outside my door. It’s a terrible feeling to enter your home and find strangers lying in wait for you.”

  John gazed out into the brilliant sunlight illuminating the garden beyond the soft, light shade beneath the awning. “You told me you visited Antonina with your mistress’ knowledge, that Joannina hoped to reconcile with her mother and thought your assisting Antonina might help.”

  Vesta nodded.

  “Did your mistress ever send you with a message for her mother?”

  “She did. She asked Lady Antonina to make a healing potion for the empress. Lady Antonina replied that since Theodora was a close friend, she was already doing so. And she was. Theodora was sending me to see Lady Antonina for that very reason, as I must have told you already.”

  In fact, John recalled her telling him that Theodora had given her notes, that she had not known what they said, or what the packages she had brought back for Theodora contained. Had she been lying to protect herself or simply confused? If Theodora had been trusting enough to take Antonina’s potions, Antonina could have easily poisoned her to save Joannina from marriage, if thwarting the marriage was indeed her overriding desire.

  “Did you notice if any potions Antonina sent had any effect on Theodora?”

  The girl’s eyes flashed with anger and for an instant she truly resembled her mistress. “They made her worse, excellency. She would sleep for a short while. When she woke the pain was greater than ever.”

  “Is that why you pretended to be unsure about whether Antonina had sent potions? Why you told me you didn’t know what was in the packages you delivered? Were you afraid the potions had been poisoned? That you had had an unwitting hand in it?”

  “No! Not at all! When I said the pain was greater, I meant it seemed greater. The empress expected relief and none came. Nothing she took seemed to give her any real relief. The only thing that helped was when she prayed with the clergyman who visited late in the evenings. She looked more at peace after the visits.”

  “Who was this clergyman?”

  Vesta bit her lip, looked away, then looked back. “Oh please, Lord Chamberlain. I don’t think I am allowed to say. I believe the visits were supposed to be secret, and I don’t like to tell the secrets of the dead.”

  “Why do you think they were supposed to be a secret?”

  “Because he…the clergyman…wore a baggy robe with a hood pulled forward so you could hardly see his face.”

  “It wasn’t Patriarch Menas?”

  “No, from what I could see, his build, his height, I could tell it wasn’t the patriarch.”

  “Did you recognize who it was?”

  The girl looked at him pleadingly.

  “Vesta, I am certain the empress would approve of you telling me if it helps me find her murderer.”

  The girl looked worried. “Excellency, it won’t help you
find her murderer.”

  John asked her why.

  “Because…because…the pope would hardly have murdered Theodora.”

  John did his best to betray no sign of emotion. He prided himself on being unflappable, but this was a surprise. “Why do you say the visitor was Vigilius if you couldn’t see his face?”

  Vesta nodded almost imperceptibly. “Once, when the empress was speaking, when I happened to go past the door…I wasn’t eavesdropping…she…she said something to him like ‘as head of the church’ and it shocked me, because I knew it wasn’t Menas so who else could she have addressed that way, except for the pope?”

  Chapter Forty-nine

  “You couldn’t seriously suspect me of murdering the empress.” Vigilius’ prim mouth tightened. John was not certain if the short, white-bearded man was frowning or trying to suppress amusement. “I occupy the throne of Saint Peter. I am God’s representative on earth. What did you imagine, that I’d presented Theodora a copy of the scriptures with poisoned pages?”

  The two men were walking through the inner courtyard of the Hormisdas Palace, the refuge for Theodora’s collection of religious heretics.

  When John arrived at the Hormisdas, a scarred flagellant had pointed his bloody lash in the direction of Vigilius’ rooms. On his way, John had encountered Vigilius in a corridor.

  They went into the courtyard to talk. The air there was slightly less malodorous than that inside the building. The stench created by hundreds of holy men, many intent on humiliating the flesh, in many cases by not washing it, was almost enough to choke John. It reminded him of the smell of a battlefield two days after the fighting ended.

  “I do not believe you gave the empress poison,” John told Vigilius, not adding that in his experience the rich and powerful did not dirty their own hands.

  “As I have explained, I did not visit Theodora. Why would she want to see me? She is responsible for having me detained in the city. She is the one who ordered me to stay in the Hormisdas Palace, this wretched tenement. The empress thought I betrayed her. I had more to fear from Theodora than she had to fear from me.”