by Mary Reed
“Thank you,” Victor replied. “We tried to leave immediately after your visit, you see. We intended to sail on one of the ships father employed to transport marble, but as we made our way along the docks, a demon swooped down on us.”
A dark wave passed in front of John’s eyes. He blinked, but the dark mist remained. “A demon?”
“Oh, not a real demon, but it’s a good description. It was a black shape that struck out of nowhere. We were taken by surprise. The beast got in a telling blow and father fell into the water.”
Victor bowed his partially shaven head in sorrow, suddenly looking much younger. “I didn’t know what to do. Needless to say, nobody came to our aid. I should have grabbed the miserable creature. Instead I dived into the sea to try to save father, but he was gone. You wouldn’t think that such a big man could disappear like that. The water was so cold and dark. I couldn’t find him. It was as if Hades had swallowed him up the instant he hit the water. If I could just have found him…”
The thought of the greedy, dark water made John shudder. The importer of marble had indeed been swallowed up by Hades or at least by John’s idea of its antechamber.
“I saw your father when he was taken to the hospice, Victor, and he would have died whether you had rescued him or not. You acted bravely.”
Victor raised his head. His eyes were full of tears. “So he has been recovered? Then I must trust to others to bury him and honor him when I can. In the meantime, we are both hunted men.”
“The Gourd’s men must know that the labyrinth we fled through leads eventually to the docks. Before long there will be dozens of them here, searching every ship and warehouse for us.”
“We can leave by one of many exits.”
John made a sudden decision. “Help me to my feet.” His voice was fading.
Victor complied. “You’re very pale. You need medical attention, and soon. But where can we go?”
John managed to move his lips and whispered the only sanctuary that came to mind.
“The house of Senator Opimius.”
Chapter Thirty
“Why did you bring me here?” John demanded.
“You told me to,” Victor replied. “I pretended I’d come to work on the bath house and asked for Lady Anna. Just as you instructed. Don’t you remember?”
“No.” John struggled to sit up and failed.
He lay at the bottom of Senator Opimius’ private bath. The sunken room, usually filled waist deep with warm water, had been drained for repair. What little light seeped in wavered as a slight breeze stirred the vegetation half blocking the slitted windows. The rippling effect mimicked the missing water. John saw that not only was Victor present, but Felix and Gaius as well.
The physician, who had examined John, climbed to his feet with a grunt. “That’s likely the result of smacking your head on the ground. It’s made you groggy. Yes, there’s a nasty bruise there. Despite all the blood, that new cut is nothing. But I see you have some more serious wounds just starting to heal. You should not exert yourself for a day or so. No violent exercise. I’ll send achillea in case you start bleeding again. That’s what you have to watch for. The stuff is wonderful for stanching blood. In fact, what I always say is, if it was good enough for Achilles, it will certainly suit my patients.”
“That’s all very well, Gaius,” John said weakly, “but I have tasks to carry out. They can’t wait. Besides, staying here puts the senator and his daughter in danger.” Again John attempted to sit. This time he succeeded. He leaned back and shivered. The disused bath house was cold as a mausoleum. “I’d be surprised if everyone in the house doesn’t know we’re here by now.”
“Everybody’s in danger all the time in this city,” Gaius replied. “I’ve given you my medical opinion. Make sure you heed it. Next time we meet, you can buy me a cup or two of wine. We’ll consider that my professional fee.”
“I’ll take care of your fee, Gaius,” Felix said. “Lady Anna’s gone to get clothes for you, John. When you leave you’d draw attention in those bloody things and that’s the last thing we need. You were lucky you had a place to hide. Even luckier to be alive. When Victor arrived at the barracks, the first thing I thought was you’d been killed.”
“The second was that I intended to kill you next,” Victor said. “You practically had your sword in me before I could hand over that letter from the Gourd.”
“The Gourd’s signature is certainly a potent charm. It got you into the palace and as far as the barracks.”
“It didn’t convince you that you didn’t need to keep the point of your blade between my shoulder blades all the way here, though.”
“How could I be certain you hadn’t stolen the letter? You might have been leading me into a trap.”
“I should return to the hospice,” Gaius interrupted. “I’ll wager there’s been more than one unfortunate arrived since I left who really has been run through with someone’s blade.”
Felix agreed. “Victor, you’d better leave with Gaius. You’ll be safer if you go back into hiding for the time being. As far as I’m concerned, you’ve cleared yourself of suspicion by assisting John. But the Gourd’s men don’t know that. Now if we just knew who set them on John…”
“They certainly had an excellent description of me from the little I overheard in Dio’s studio.”
“So it seems. We’ll have to be careful, with eyes everywhere, but I think we can make it to Madam Isis’ house. She’ll hide us while we decide what to do next.” Felix looked around the stark, echoing space. “Speaking of which, this place must have seen some trysts in its time, although those other goings-on would have been a lot more enjoyable than our little illicit gathering.”
“You’re probably right,” came the reply in a woman’s voice.
Anna stood in the doorway, neatly folded clothing in her arms.
“Lady Anna, I apologize for my crudeness,” Felix said hastily.
“Do you suppose I don’t know what the servants get up to? Lack of privacy is the bane of their existence.”
As Gaius and Victor departed, Anna turned toward Felix. “If I could have a private word with John?”
Felix stepped outside and Anna descended the four steps into the dry bath. She sat on the lowest, facing John. She looked at him in thoughtful silence. It was the appraising look one might give a work of art, or a stranger.
“You appear more alive than when Victor brought you to the door,” she finally said. “I feared you were mortally wounded when I first saw you.”
“Lady Anna, I apologize, I wasn’t thinking clearly when I asked Victor to bring me here. However, it does give me an opportunity to warn you. I will be blunt since there is no time to waste. Despite what you might think, your father is one of those who opposes Justinian’s ascension. Worse, Justinian suspects.”
Anna’s only reaction was an almost imperceptible widening of her eyes. Her features remained frozen for several heartbeats. “How can you possibly believe such a slander?” she blurted out at last.
“I would not say it if I did not know it to be the truth. I observed your father at the baths with Trenico and Tryphon.” John quickly explained Tryphon’s lie and what he had heard from Fortunatus. Perhaps he was still not thinking clearly, not expressing himself well, because Anna merely shook her head.
“No, John. The very notion is impossible.”
“Lady Anna…” John began desperately.
Anna put her face in her hands and her shoulders shook with sobs.
“Don’t worry. Your father is a clever man. All you have to do is warn him. He will find a way to extricate himself.”
“It isn’t that,” came the choked reply.
When Anna raised her face the aqueous light filtering into the bath house glistened on the tears streaking her cheeks. “It’s because I can’t see you again, John.”
“Your father has banned me from the house. You must obey him.”
An
na looked away. “I came in while you were still unconscious, when Gaius was examining you…”
“I understand.”
“John, it isn’t your condition. Not really. But actually seeing…it made me realize…and accept the truth. I have been deluding myself. About many things.”
Anna slid off the step and knelt beside John. He was enveloped by the fragrance of the roses with which she seemed always surrounded. “I would like to ask a question. You mentioned there was once a woman.”
John hesitated before speaking. “Yes. Cornelia.” Emotion warmed his voice.
Anna smiled sadly. “I can tell you love her, by the way your lips shape her name.”
“Can you? We met in Crete. I had been a mercenary, but she persuaded me there was much to be said for the domestic life. We lived together for some time, traveling around with a company of bull-leapers. We came to Constantinople. It was before I was captured and mutilated.”
He paused for a while. When he managed to continue the raw pain in his voice lent it a rasp. “I was eventually brought back here in chains. The troupe had long since gone and with it my Cornelia. I have heard no word of her since.”
Anna wiped her eyes. “What a tragic story. No wonder a dark look dwells in your eyes.”
John laid his hand on hers, wondering at his own daring. Anna’s warm fingers clasped his hand tightly.
“There is no need to grieve for me, Lady Anna,” he said gently. “The man capable of loving a woman died long ago, and he died loving her. As he still does.”
“No, John. He isn’t dead.” Anna pressed her lips against his forehead and then ascended to the door without further hesitation.
“Goodbye…Anna.”
She did not respond and John was not certain she had heard. He was left only with a faint memory of roses.
Felix returned. “Let’s get you on your feet,” he said gruffly. “Can you do that?”
John nodded. The fog in his head was beginning to clear.
Felix took hold of an arm, unnecessarily it turned out, since John managed to stand without assistance. “Excellent!” Felix paused. “Now must ask you something, my friend. When Gaius was examining you—”
“How pleasing to hear yet again that while I was unable to protest I was stripped and put on display like an old Greek statue!”
“Yes, well…but…you claimed your captors had…”
“I was castrated, Felix. You have seen. Is that not sufficient? Can you imagine how many times I have been questioned about this matter? The very thing I most wish to avoid ever discussing with anyone, let alone the drunken louts who are always the most obscenely curious? So I long since decided to give the prying bastards an answer that would make them wish they hadn’t asked.” A brief smile crossed John’s face. “Yes, they always regret hearing the details. I will not be giving Madam Isis any business. Now we had best be on our way to her house while I’m still able to walk.”
Chapter Thirty-One
John and Felix took a circuitous route to their destination. They dodged in and out of narrow passages and cut across noisome and noisy courtyards to avoid better traveled thoroughfares. Once they were on their way, the chilly air revived John further and they were able to make steady progress.
Before long they entered a crooked finger of an alley pointed toward the Mese. Halfway down its dim and debris-strewn length they were startled by the sound of running feet.
Felix’s hand went to his sword, but the noise was nothing more than a pair of filthy boys. The two urchins raced around the bend in the alley, straight toward John and Felix. Behind them limped a beggar, yelling promises of obscene punishments for some unspecified misdeed. From the way he hobbled, it was obvious he had no chance of catching the culprits.
In fact, the boys had time to stop and spit in the direction of John and Felix before disappearing from sight.
Felix reddened with rage, but allowed them to escape.
John, however, took several swift strides and grabbed the beggar’s shoulder as he turned to limp back the way he had come. “You!” he shouted, viciously shaking the ragged man. “You’re the one who bet his boots on our deaths! The cart driver came to our aid, but you were placing wagers we would die!” “Not so, good sir!” Alarmed, the beggar took a couple of steps backward until the rough masonry wall of a tenement overlooking the alley brought his retreat to a halt.
Felix trotted over and looked the beggar up and down. “You do appear to have lost your footwear. Unless you consider rag wrappings to be adequate. I’m not surprised you couldn’t catch those two. My advice would be to never wager what you can’t afford to lose.”
“No, no, you don’t understand. It was those…er…children. They stole my boots while I was asleep.” The beggar’s voice was feeble. He held up a deformed hand as if to ward off a blow.
John shook the man even harder. “No!” he shouted. “It was you! Do you think I wouldn’t remember your voice, making a wager like that? Furthermore,” he looked at the grubby man more closely, “when was your miraculous cure?”
Felix gaped at John for an instant. Then understanding dawned. “It’s the mute beggar we tried to question a few days ago!”
“Mute?” croaked the beggar. “Of course I’m not mute. As you can hear. There’s the proof! You must be thinking of the…uh…the mute beggar who hangs about in the Mese. An easy enough mistake to make. He’s my brother. People confuse us all the time.”
John grabbed the man’s dirty wrist and slammed his hand against the wall.
“I see you’re also missing two fingers, just like this mute brother who so closely resembles you. What a remarkable coincidence.”
Felix gripped the hilt of his sword. “You lying bastard! What are you hiding?”
“Nothing, nothing at all, good sirs,” the man replied in a wheedling tone. “I admit it was me you spoke to. It was just that I didn’t want to get involved with people in authority. Especially when they come around asking about someone dying. Can you blame me?”
Felix looked thunderous. “You’re telling us you know something about the murder we’re investigating and deliberately concealed it?”
The beggar’s expression crumpled at the words and the threat they carried. John thought if the man could have turned around he would have begun leaping up the tenement wall like a trapped mouse in a futile attempt to escape.
“No,” the beggar gasped. “I don’t know anything about any murder. It was an accident!”
“A man gets a blade in the ribs and you call it an accident?” Felix growled. “How could anyone be careless enough to accidentally fall on someone’s blade?”
“Stabbed? But I thought—”
“We were questioning you about the death of the man who was murdered in the Great Church,” said John. “What did you think we were asking about?”
The beggar opened his mouth, but whatever lie might have been forming died on his tongue when he saw the fury in John’s eyes. “When you said death, I thought you meant the death of the grocer’s boy. Timothy’s son. He was run over by a cart just the other day.”
Mithra’s light flared in John’s mental darkness.
The bits of information he’d accumulated, like fragments of colored glass, until now glistening and tantalizing, but meaningless, had finally converged into an image.
“Such accidents are common enough,” he replied. “Why didn’t you want to talk about it? Were you involved?”
“It wasn’t my fault, sir,” the man whined. “It was those accursed boys. The ones who spat at you. They were friends of the grocer’s son. The three of them were always tormenting me. My own personal Furies, they were. Then when I went after them that particular day, they ran away across the Mese. Right into the path of a cart. It ran the boy over and crashed into the column in front of his father’s shop. They’re still trying to repair it. But I had no part in his death! It was the carter’s fault anyhow. It was a small cart. Far too
small for that huge marble it was hauling.”
“The sculpture of Christ, you mean? The very one Hypatius died in front of?”
“Why, indeed sir. That is true. You know everything.”
“Yes, I think I do.”
“His father’s shop.” Felix’s tone was thoughtful. “That means the shopkeeper has a reminder of his son’s death every time he looks out.” John did not reply. His thoughts were on the intricate mosaic that had formed in his mind’s eye. He barely heard the beggar.
“And the boy was his only child,” the ragged man was saying. “Thank the Lord Timothy does not know how it came about. I would fear for my safety if he did. Yet,” he concluded sadly, “I would not blame him if his grief unhinged him. I had a son myself once, but I don’t know where he is now, or even if he is still alive. At least until I know otherwise, I can believe he is living somewhere in the city and that I may see him again one day. Timothy does not have that comfort. Not in this life.”
John was not listening. He had already begun to walk away in the direction of the Mese. Felix followed.
“John, what is it?”
“Fortuna has smiled on us, Felix, by bringing us here. She has allowed us to complete our interrupted investigation. We’ve found the final fact I’d hoped to find. Not that I had guessed exactly what it would be.”
“I don’t understand.”
“Timothy the grocer’s son is the final piece. Now the picture makes sense. We knew all the deaths were connected to the sculpture, but not why.”
“Well, so the boy’s death was connected to the sculpture too. The cart ran him over. You mean… the cart driver? He killed the boy and also…but Dio, wasn’t he killed after—”
“The boy died first, Felix, as the marble was being delivered. It was his death that started it all. One might blame the cart driver, certainly. But then, if one were grief stricken, one might also blame the Christ figure itself.”
“And everyone associated with it,” murmured Felix. “We had better get to the grocer’s shop at once.”
