Four for a Boy

by Mary Reed

  “I used to scramble up there myself to do the same job when I was younger. Hard to believe, isn’t it?” Palamos tapped his large belly. “Too much study.”

  “Theology can be as treacherous as a narrow ledge,” John remarked.

  Felix glanced back at the controversial sculpture, looming in the vestibule and just visible from where they stood. “His was a very pretty death, despite it being brought about by the betrayal of a man he thought his follower,” he mused. Palamos asked him what he meant.

  “Where’s the blood? Where’s the pain? If you or I were being crucified we wouldn’t have the strength to lift our chins off our chests, let alone look up and, well, almost smile.”

  “There are those who call the sculpture blasphemous,” the archdeacon observed.

  Felix looked at him questioningly.

  “The gossips have it that the sculptor is an ardent, albeit secret, monophysite. Thus, he chiseled a Christ who is wholly divine and would not know pain.”

  Palamos placed his fingertips together almost as if he were about to pray. “It is even rumored, although it is ridiculous in my opinion, that this sculptor was personally recommended to Hypatius by Theodora, whose deviation from orthodoxy is only too well known.”

  Felix shook his head. It amazed him that people could become inflamed over such subtle theological concepts. “Yet Justinian still wishes to marry her.”

  “True enough. I find myself worrying that when Justinian rules he will be far less tolerant of those holding unorthodox religious views than his uncle has been. It’s been said the only heretic Justinian will tolerate is the one in his bed.” A smile quirked Palamos’ lips. “What most of my flock seem to object to is Theodora’s lurid past.”

  John broke in. “And what is your opinion of this proposed marriage?”

  Palamos pushed his fingertips more tightly together. “Legally speaking, a man in Justinian’s position cannot marry an actress. Not even a former actress. It has been proposed that Justin change that law. But why should law be bent to the will of a single person? And in the service of nothing more than carnal appetites.”

  “It appears Theodora is as widely disliked as Justinian is liked,” John noted.

  “It’s her influence on him that’s feared. And rightly so. Women often turn good men into beasts.”

  Felix changed the subject. “Did you know Hypatius well, archdeacon?”

  “Yes, indeed. He was a very pious man and extremely generous to the church. That remarkable sculpture is only one example of his philanthropy. There are other sculptures and mosaics he donated all over the city. He spent half his time attending dedications of buildings he’d helped finance. A new wing to a monastery here, a chapel there.”

  “He seems to have been famous for public good works.”

  “He was not one to hide his light under a basket, unlike the sculpture’s other sponsors. To be fair, he also spent many hours helping at Samsun’s Hospice.”

  “So he was willing to give of his time?”

  “Yes, and indeed I observed him there myself now and then. He’d always make the same jest to patients. ‘Now you can tell your friends you’ve been attended by a man who owns horses worth more than your entire family,’ he’d say. On the other hand, he did have a reputation as a ruthless businessman. Furthermore, if you ask me, he was far too fond of women for a man of his age.”

  Movement drew John’s attention away from the conversation.

  On the narrow ledge running around the base of the dome overhead, Arion ignited the lamp and shadows dissipated, revealing the bearded, emaciated portrait of a sheepskin-clad John the Baptist.

  “Good boy!” Palamos shouted, clasping his pudgy hands together. “They are so helpful at that age, you know. Alas, when they get older they tend to fall prey to the baser urges. Not a few of them are even attracted to pagan practices, especially those connected with the flesh.”

  “Pagans in Constantinople?” John was sure Felix was concealing a smile.

  “Alas, yes. There is no doubt there are respectable aristocrats who worship in this very church and then go straight home and disembowel a chicken in front of some obscene ivory goddess of fertility.”

  To this remark Felix made no reply, but when he and John again stood outside in the suddenly dazzling sunlight he grinned widely. “Well, it seems that many in this city have a dual nature, not just the Christian’s god.”

  “At least Palamos hasn’t set us barking on the trail of some enemy of his. Now presumably we will visit this other man Aurelius mentioned? Tryphon?”

  “First I think it’s time we looked in on the deceased. He’ll probably be as forthcoming as everyone else we’ve spoken to so far. At least he won’t lie to us.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  Hypatius’ palatial residence sat at the top of a wide thoroughfare. Its neighbors were a jumble of imposing edifices that appeared to John to be nailed to the steep hillside by the crosses protruding from their roofs. Perhaps, however, that was merely a fancy brought on by the long climb up a seemingly perpendicular street.

  “He may have been a great philanthropist, but he certainly never took a vow of poverty.” Felix was breathing hard. As they drew nearer they saw that the row of shops the mansion appeared to sit behind were in fact part of the building itself. “I call that good strategy. Hypatius didn’t have to send his servants very far to buy more glassware or a new lamp. On top of such a wonderful convenience, think of the income from the sort of rents he must have charged.”

  Despite the crisp air, several second-floor windows stood open. Joyful singing floated down into the street.

  “A strange sound to be coming from a house of bereavement,” John remarked as he applied the brass door knocker.

  A servant with a face the color of a walnut cracked the door open and peered out suspiciously. The cloying scent of heavily perfumed air swept out over them.

  “Your business, good sirs?”

  “We are here on orders of the City Prefect.”

  The man ushered them from the entrance hall into an atrium whose watery light was augmented by a number of blazing torches set in brackets garlanded with ivy. Between these and the perfumed air, the house had the aura of being about to host a celebration rather than being in mourning for a recently deceased master.

  The servant led them up a stairway, at the top of which a mosaic cross was set in the wall. Smaller examples decorated the tiles of the second floor corridor.

  “There is much excitement today, sirs, as you hear. The master’s will is to be read this afternoon.” A wide smile revealed the servant’s fiery red gums and scanty teeth. Now John understood the reason for the joyful singing. The man’s anticipation of manumission was obvious.

  The decorative crosses ended at the plain whitewashed room at the end of the corridor. It was as if Hypatius had not wished to be distracted by religion while engaged in business affairs.

  A man with close-cropped hair stood at a cluttered desk, directing several servants who were crating furniture as he sorted business papers. There were deep creases in his forehead and at the corners of his eyes. He looked troubled in contrast to the servants around him.

  “I am Konstantinos, estate manager for Hypatius. If I may assist…?” His gaze darted nervously back and forth between Felix and John.

  The men packing vases and plates into straw-lined crates set under the open window stole curious sidelong looks at the two strangers.

  “Perhaps we should step into the corridor?” Konstantinos suggested.

  As soon as they had done so, the estate manager scanned their introductory letter from the City Prefect, whose lead seal hung from it by a thin cord.

  “I see that this instructs all who see it to give every cooperation to the bearers. You’re not from the quaestor’s office, are you? Is there a problem with the will? It was properly drawn up by a man of law and appropriately witnessed.”

  “I’m certain th
at it was. We have no interest in wills,” Felix reassured him.

  “I see.” The man’s relief was so obvious that John found himself wondering why.

  Laughter sounded in the room they had just left. “Please forgive the impropriety,” Konstantinos said quickly. “They anticipate their freedom. Unfortunately, by sunset they will be shedding tears. I’ve only just learned that they’re not to be manumitted. They’ve all been left to one of the master’s business associates.”

  Felix said he was surprised to hear it.

  “The master did not succeed in business by being too kind hearted. For my part, I believe my years of service will ensure I will be allowed to keep my post. Or so I hope. I am of course a free man.”

  “Given how much we’ve heard about the good works and charitable character of your late master…”

  “He certainly deserves praise on both counts! But if he wasn’t a shrewd business man first there would have been no money for the good works he did. You don’t give away assets, and that includes slaves, unless for a good price or to settle a debt.”

  Felix grunted noncommittally.

  “Yes, the master was indeed a shrewd man,” Konstantinos repeated. “Most of his wealth was in land holdings, which rarely fail to appreciate in value.”

  “Had Hypatius acquired much land recently?” John put in.

  “Yes. I suppose there’s no harm in telling you since it’s fairly common knowledge. Of late there have been many cases of land owners who were very careless in making arrangements for the disposition of their estates. Thus there were bargains to be had. My master took advantage of a number of them and reaped the benefits. All perfectly legal.”

  “It’s often to the advantage of people other than the heir if such mistakes are found,” John noted, ignoring Felix’s frown. “Sometimes those with an interest don’t have to look far to find the sort of mistakes that invalidate wills. Not enough witnesses, improperly notarized, that sort of thing.”

  “Exactly so, and it makes one worry about such mistakes, sir. Hence my initial apprehension when you arrived. The fact is that invalid wills generally allow land to revert to the empire. And to be honest, I am somewhat worried…well…”

  “You don’t have to fear saying it,” John assured him. “Were it to happen to your master’s estates, you are also naturally worried that they would eventually find their way into the hands of highly placed parties at court?”

  “There you have it.”

  “And let us suppose that if someone high at court indeed gained ownership of Hypatius’ estates, you are naturally worried that their managers would be immediately replaced.”

  The furrows in Konstantinos’ forehead deepened even further. “They are always the first to go. Beyond that, many are anxious about how much worse the situation could be once Justinian becomes emperor.”

  “Justin is not the man he was,” Felix said, “but it will still be some time before Justinian rules. Justin was an excubitor, a military man. As strong as a bull in his youth. Then too sometimes old men surprise us by their tenacity in clinging to life.”

  “That’s exactly what the master said to me only last week! He didn’t seem concerned at what might happen once Justin died. Now he doesn’t have to worry about it at all since he is dead while Justin is still alive.”

  Felix asked him if he had any notion why Hypatius had been so confident in his optimism.

  “I know exactly why it was. He always confided in me more than many men of wealth and power do in their servants. He told me that he relied upon Senator Opimius.”

  “Relied upon him? What did he mean by that?” John asked.

  Konstantinos started as if struck. He had obviously suddenly realized the implications of what he had been saying to these two strangers.

  “My master did not reveal details,” he began, panic welling in his eyes. “Senators have great influence. And isn’t Senator Opimius a close friend of Senator Aurelius, one of Justinian’s greatest champions? I have personally ushered those worthy senators together into the very office we just left. Their friendship vouches for the integrity of my master’s affairs and because of that, I suppose, he felt there was no need to fear any difficulties arising.”

  Felix frowned. “I suppose that’s true. What sort of interests did Hypatius have aside from land?”

  “My work concerns only the estates.”

  “What about his charitable work, his donations?” asked John. “Do you know anything about this sculpture, for example?”

  Konstantinos shook his head. “No. It’s a great irony, isn’t it? If he had not been such a pious and generous man, he wouldn’t have been visiting the church to see his gift. He would still be alive today.”

  “And his family?” Felix asked.

  “He had none. There was often talk in the kitchen of a possible marriage to this high-born lady or that, but it never came to anything.”

  “When possible candidates were mentioned I daresay one was Senator Opimius’ daughter?” John suggested.

  “Yes. How did you guess? But she would be a natural candidate because as I mentioned Senator Opimius was a friend of the master’s and his daughter is unmarried.”

  The servant who had admitted John and Felix reappeared in the company of a wizened man whom he announced as the master’s man of law.

  The sight of the new arrival appeared to send Konstantinos into a new panic. “If you will excuse me, sirs,” he stammered, “it is time for the reading of the will. If you have no more questions…? Very well, show these visitors out.”

  Hardly had the estate manager and the man of law entered Hypatius’ office when the servant turned angrily toward Felix and John.

  “So, my deceitful pair, you may have convinced Konstantinos but you haven’t misled me!”

  Felix stared at him. “And what do you mean by that?” His tone was menacing.

  “You’re no more from the palace than I am!” the servant jeered.

  He turned to John and prodded his chest with a grubby forefinger. “You’re thieves! After a death, all sorts of strangers must go in and out of a household. Why not take advantage? One of you distracts the steward while the other slips the silver under his cloak.”

  The servant gave an onion-scented sneer and went on. “You must think yourselves clever, with the forged letter and that military disguise. Unfortunately I knew I had seen you somewhere before. Just now I remembered where. I’ve escorted the master to Opimius’ house. You’re the eunuch that’s teaching the homely daughter some foreign language or other. A miserable slave!”

  “As are you!” John snapped back.

  “But not for much longer! And I can assure you that tonight I shall be celebrating my new freedom in a place you’ll never be. Between the legs of a whore!”

  John took a quick step forward.

  Felix’s hand clamped painfully down on his arm. “No! We still have a job to do. Don’t pay attention to his insults.”

  The servant opened the house door and saw them out with an ostentatious bow.

  John and Felix started back down the steep street. “Thank you,” John finally said. “I almost allowed my personal feelings to interfere with our investigation. That would have been unforgivable.”

  His gaze met Felix’s. The excubitor looked away.

  Chapter Fifteen

  “What do you make of it, uncle?” Justinian laboriously turned his head toward Justin. Slumped in a wooden chair at Justinian’s bedside, the emperor was propped up on each side by his attendants. Quaestor Proclus stood nearby.

  “Make of it? I make nothing of it! It was just a dream!” The emperor spat on the floor to emphasize his opinion.

  “But it was so vivid! I was walking through the city, alone and unattended, a strange thing in itself. Then I came to Constantine’s column. It was as real as this very room!”

  “If you were me, nephew,” Justin broke in impatiently, “you could tell easily the dif
ference between dreams and reality. When I dream I can’t feel this damned gnawing agony in my leg.”

  “Well, this dream was so real I could actually smell the sea,” Justinian pressed on.

  “That was just the stink in here. You ought to order the window opened, and get rid of most of these lamps. At least have your servants trim the wicks more often so they don’t smoke so much.”

  It was true that a marshy odor, heavy with decay, suffused the dim room. Only the merest trace of the temporarily banished Theodora’s musky perfume lingered.

  Justinian ignored his uncle’s remark. “I could hear the sound of something dripping,” he continued. “Then I noticed streams of a viscous green substance running down the column. So I turned my gaze upward and, as I said before, the statue of Constantine had vanished. Squatting there instead, gazing out over the rooftops, was a monstrous toad, oozing poison.”

  “If you must make such a fuss about it, what do you make of this ridiculous dream yourself? That’s the important thing.”

  “But isn’t it clear? Doesn’t the City Prefect Theodotus resemble a toad?”

  “No. His head looks like a gourd, just as everyone says. They also say he’s about as intelligent as a gourd. I think they’re wrong as far as that goes. Even so, how can a gourd possibly look like a toad?”

  Throughout the exchange, the emperor’s attendants remained as silent, expressionless and still as a pair of ugly caryatids. Proclus was a discreet presence behind the emperor’s hunched shoulders.

  Justinian coughed. A servant materialized from the shadows to wipe away sweat from his forehead and then vanished again.

  “How can you not see its meaning?” Justinian said. “The Gourd is poisoning me. And why? Because he plans to set himself above the city, or in other words to declare himself emperor.”

  “But I am the emperor, not you!” Justin snapped. “So why isn’t he poisoning me? Am I dead? Perhaps that’s what I smell. I’m putrefying. Is that it, Proclus? Is your emperor dead and rotting?”