Five for Silver

by Mary Reed

  John confirmed his suspicions, without elaboration.

  Paraskeve’s shoulders slumped. “I may as well throw those sketches away then. His wife won’t commission anything like that, you can be certain of it. On the other hand, there are other customs officials who might be interested, aren’t there? Yes. I shall save them, then. Now you, excellency. Have you made suitable arrangements, if I may be so bold?”

  “I don’t intend to have a tomb built.”

  “It’s natural enough to be afraid of death, but it’s no use pretending—”

  John cut him off abruptly. “I don’t fear death. What happens to my remains doesn’t concern me in the least.”

  ***

  John rapped again at Gregory’s door.

  There was no reply.

  He stepped back and looked up at the second story window. There was no movement behind the tiny panes.

  While to passersby the house displayed only a plain brick facade, doubtless it was well appointed inside. At four stories, it looked out over the roofs of the surrounding buildings. From the top floor, Gregory would have had a magnificent view of the Sea of Marmara.

  For years the customs official had met Peter, often not far from here. The pair might have walked right past this very house. What would Peter have thought if he knew his old army friend lived here, rather than in some dingy tenement? What if he were to find out?

  John debated questioning Paraskeve further, but decided he had heard enough tales of the tomb builder’s trade and started back. Better to go home to his evening meal and further thought on the knotty problem with which he was grappling.

  As he drew level with the Church of the Holy Apostles the noise of a sudden uproar broke out, sounding somewhere between a fully fledged riot and a flock of angry seagulls. The church doors burst open and white-robed figures rushed into the street, shrieking in terror. Most were children.

  Several boys raced frantically past John, their garments flapping around spindly legs. They were followed, at an increasing distance, by two lumbering middle-aged men, obviously unaccustomed to running. The men stopped, looking relieved, when John accosted them. Both had the soft, immaculate look of clerics.

  “Thief,” gasped one. “Did you see him?”

  “Some crazed old man,” added his companion, panting. “Yet spry on his feet all right!”

  The other man took a few deep breaths and wiped his perspiring brow on his sleeve. “It was this holy fool everyone is talking about, sir. He tried to tie himself to the Column of Flagellation. Blasphemy of the highest order.” His tone conveyed his horror at the recollection.

  “Trying to steal it, you mean,” his companion corrected him. “He was trying to tie it to his back to make off with it. The very instrument of our Lord’s torture meant nothing to him but a few gold coins.”

  “Anyway, we chased the fool away. It’s only a fragment of the column that we have, but even so, it’s too heavy to carry, or so I’d have thought. The boys will follow him and find out where he’s gone, then we’ll alert the authorities and they can take care of the matter.”

  The clerics continued on after their vanished charges, limping rather than running.

  John set his course for home. No matter the disaster, there was always someone ready to take advantage, he thought. The Christian church seemed to attract more frauds than might be expected. Perhaps it was because their god seemed less inclined to interfere with the mortal world, less likely to let loose thunderbolts than Zeus would have been.

  He passed a street he’d visited earlier. Movement caught his eye as a thin shape slunk into an alley. The starving cat from the bakery, carrying something in its mouth.

  John sighed. “I’m glad the day has brought someone good fortune, my feline friend.”

  ***

  Gaius perched his bulk uncomfortably on a stool in John’s kitchen. Hypatia shifted a bronze pot to the back of the brazier, added water, and stirred the mixture in an attempt to tame the wildly bubbling concoction. Nose-stinging smoke hung in the air. Evidently some of the pot’s contents had boiled over when Hypatia went downstairs to admit Gaius to the house.

  “I’m sorry to have made you wait, sir. Peter’s usually prompt to answer the door. He isn’t himself right now.”

  “Of course. He will be mourning his friend. And what are you preparing, Hypatia?”

  “This is a mixture to fortify the body against afflictions. It is commonly used in Egypt.”

  “What I could actually use to fortify myself is a cup of wine.”

  Hypatia set jug and cup on the table. Gaius emptied the cup at one gulp and poured himself a second libation.

  Hypatia gave the pot another stir and pushed a strand of black hair away from her tawny forehead. She had very striking eyes, Gaius thought. He shifted and the stool creaked alarmingly under his weight. He needed to visit the gymnasium more often, he told himself, lifting the wine jug to pour again.

  “Are there any potions I could prepare for you to use at the hospice, sir? If there was only some cure…”

  Gaius shook his head. “The only cure seems to be good fortune. Do you happen to have a recipe for that?”

  “No, but I’ve made a number of charms to protect us all.” Hypatia waved her ladle toward the baked clay scorpion crouched on the table. “You can take that one with you if you wish, sir. The house is well guarded by others.”

  “What I need is more something with hands. Hands is what we’re short of. To bathe the sick, calm the humors, administer pain-killing mixtures, that sort of thing.”

  “That’s all you can do for your patients?”

  “I’ve tried lancing the swellings. When they burst spontaneously the patients tend to live, but in those cases I’ve attempted it, I generally find carbuncles inside and they die anyway.”

  Hypatia wrinkled her nose. “Peter says it’s judgment from heaven to punish the sinful.”

  “I couldn’t tell you which among them are sinners. Sin doesn’t seem to have symptoms. I do know most die with the name of their god on their lips.” Gaius drained his cup for the third time. One would expect a Lord Chamberlain to own decent sized goblets, he thought irritably.

  “You mentioned Peter’s friend?”

  Gaius stared thoughtfully into his cup. At least he hadn’t been presented with that cracked specimen John insisted on using, a cup not fit for a beggar in his opinion.

  “Yes,” he finally said, “Gregory. I cannot stay too long, so I wish you to convey to your master that it occurred to me to do a complete examination of his body. There hadn’t been any reason hitherto since the cause of his death was obvious enough. But seeing John’s great interest in the man…well, anyway, tell your master my advice is not to waste any more time looking for his murderer. Gregory had swellings in the groin so it is more than likely he would’ve been dead in a few days anyway. Whatever scoundrel slid a blade between his ribs did him a favor.”

  Chapter Five

  “If you ask me, Gaius was right. There must be hundreds in this city praying right now for the quick end Gregory had.” Felix swirled the last of his wine, peering down into its dregs as if he were seeking information on his future. “You’ve had to put a mortally wounded comrade out of his misery on the battlefield more than once, I’ll wager.”

  John scowled at the burly, bearded excubitor captain seated by the study window. “Once, yes. He begged me to do so. It was a merciful act. However, I must find the culprit for Peter’s sake, not for Gregory’s.”

  “These things happen all the time, John, like cart accidents or being struck by lightning, except a lot more frequently. From what you’ve told me I see no reason to think his death was anything more than the result of robbery.”

  “No, there’s no logical reason to suppose otherwise,” John admitted. “Only Peter’s vision.”

  “The angel? Well, if his god went to the trouble of sending a heavenly messenger, why not reveal the name of the culp
rit as well? Why push the job on to you, an unbeliever?”

  “You remind me of Anatolius in his wittier mode.”

  Felix tugged at his beard. “Yes, well…I suppose I shouldn’t be so flippant. I’m about to depart the city for a while, which is what I came to tell you. I’ve been ordered to take some of my men and escort Justinian and Theodora to their Blachernae estate.”

  “I hadn’t heard they were leaving the palace. Then again, it’s been some days since Justinian summoned me and, thankfully, even longer since I was ordered to attend an audience with Theodora.”

  “A thousand people are dying every day and the bodies can’t be cleared from the streets fast enough for the carts to get through. It’s best for our emperor and his wife to be away from the contagion, if only a short distance. It suits me, too. I don’t think Fortuna cares much for excubitors. We’ve been particularly hard hit, and for every guard who’s fallen ill another has decided to flee the city. I have so few men left, we’re keeping entrances locked rather than guarding them. I don’t think the palace has ever been less secure.”

  Felix fell silent for a moment. “Still,” he finally said, “the imperial couple being absent from the palace at a time of great crisis and Peter missing from his kitchen…Perhaps the end is truly at hand.”

  “Peter would agree with you on that. Still, I imagine the rest of the court will hasten to their own estates now Justinian and Theodora are leaving. As long as they remained at the palace nobody dared to suggest the possibility.” John refilled his cup and passed the wine jug to Felix. “Before you ask, I’m staying here.”

  “I wasn’t going to bother inquiring.” Felix looked into the jug and frowned fiercely at its lowered level. “You know, John, I’m beginning to develop a taste for this foul Egyptian wine you persist in offering your guests.”

  A thin smile quirked John’s lips. “You and Gaius both, according to what Hypatia tells me.”

  “Seeking treatment from the physician Bacchus again, is he? Not that I can blame him.” Felix paused. “It’s not just courtiers being freed from the confines of the palace, by the way. I’ve also received personal orders from Theodora to arrange transport for that bear she keeps in the imperial menagerie. She’s taking it with her. I gather she’s suddenly got the notion to set it free in a forest.”

  “Better than setting it free on the streets, which is more the sort of thing you’d expect from Theodora.” John’s tone was mild.

  “True enough. Perhaps that explains my surprise. An act of kindness by her is more shocking than any villainy she might concoct.”

  “Possibly she still has a soft spot for bears, having been born a bearkeeper’s daughter?”

  Felix guffawed. “I don’t think Theodora has any soft spots and I’m never going near enough to find out if I can help it. I was rather glad to get the task, to be honest. I don’t worship the bear goddess as many in Germania still do, yet I will admit Theodora’s is a magnificent specimen. And that reminds me, the last time I saw the bear a rather curious thing happened. Hektor was there.”

  “The court page? What was he doing?”

  “Tormenting the poor beast, of course, and I suspect not for the first time. I’ve patrolled past the menagerie numerous times and noticed the bear had a bloody muzzle more than once. Anyhow, there was Hektor in his usual finery. Green robes this time, no less, and fine blue boots, although he seemed to have lost that ridiculous hat with the peacock feather. He was pitchforking dirty straw out of the bear’s cage, but not being too careful where the tines went while he was doing it.”

  Felix’s broad features darkened as he continued with his story. “When he saw me, Hektor gave that unpleasant laugh of his. His breath absolutely reeked of wine. He gave a low bow that was an insult in itself and then informed me that he called the bear Felix.”

  John inquired if Hektor had revealed his reason.

  “Indeed he did. ‘Because it’s fat, hairy, and smelly, just like you!’ was what the insolent fellow said. Naturally, I laid him flat on the straw before he’d finished smirking at his own joke. Didn’t look so cocky then, especially as the filth positively ruined his finery. Not to mention I rubbed his face in the dung.”

  Felix roared with laughter, good humor restored, at the memory. “You’d think he would have found some old rags to wear for a job like that. Perhaps he thought one of the ladies of the court would stroll along to visit while he worked. Now I find myself wondering why he was ordered to perform such labor in the first place.”

  “Knowing that young man, it was doubtless punishment for some misdeed or other. Whoever ordered it would have plenty to choose from. It’s only a couple of months since he was caught stealing from the Master of the Offices, and he’s been picked up from the gutter intoxicated to a state of unconsciousness several times as well. That’s dangerous behavior for a man at court.”

  “Even more dangerous for someone like Hektor. He’s at a perilous age for a court page, being now more use to the ladies than to the lecherous old aristocrats his livelihood depends upon. Perhaps he was attempting to blot out the shame of his misdeeds by blistering those dainty hands with some hard work. What with the hand of God descending on sinners, as I’ve heard many warn, people are starting to watch their behavior. You don’t think that’s why Theodora’s decided to release the bear, do you? At any rate, Hektor’s been avoiding me ever since. I haven’t had a glimpse of him for days.”

  Felix stood. “Speaking of beasts,” he continued, “I have an appointment with the Master of the Offices. He’s arranging transportation for the bear. Carts are hard to find right now, so he’s lending me an old imperial carriage.”

  ***

  John did not accompany Felix to the door. He didn’t care for good-byes at any time. At the moment any departure might tempt Fortuna.

  When he judged his friend had gone, John decided to go out to walk. To his annoyance, he had barely left his doorway when Anatolius intercepted him.

  “John! Thank Mithra I caught you! I’ve just had a terrible shock.”

  The younger man’s smooth features, those of a classical Greek statue, were flushed. Black ringlets of hair clung damply to his forehead, as if he’d been running.

  “Why is that?”

  “Senator Balbinus is ill!”

  “The plague?”

  Anatolius nodded grimly. “I heard talk of it, so I went to his house to see if I could do anything to help.”

  “You saw Balbinus?”

  “No. He’s taken to his bed. Lucretia told me.”

  “She received you?”

  “Certainly. Well, after I made it clear I wouldn’t leave until we had spoken.”

  John sighed and invited Anatolius to accompany him on his walk, although he would have preferred to be solitary. His long stride forcing the younger man to labor to keep pace, they began traversing the palace gardens.

  They soon passed under a vine-covered archway and down a flight of flagstone steps to a grassy terrace planted with exotic shrubs and flowers. Squat administrative buildings were barely visible on the slope above them, all but concealed by poplar trees whose leaves fluttered like so many tiny hands waving goodbye. Dark groves of cedars lined retaining walls from which an occasional artificial waterfall gurgled down into a marble basin on the next level. Below them, more green terraces dotted with buildings, flower beds, and trees descended toward the sparkling Marmara. The peaceful view was marred by the sight of a burning ship sitting beneath a column of greasy black smoke some way offshore, one of Justinian’s waterborne crematoriums.

  “You are well aware you should not be visiting Lucretia under any circumstances.”

  Anatolius licked his lips nervously. “I know. I know. But that’s all past, John. How many years has it been since she and Balbinus were married? Mithra! I haven’t even set eyes on her except from a distance for almost a year.”

  “Your memory fails you. You mentioned you saw her coming out of the
Great Church several days ago. A week or so before that you noticed her purchasing perfume from—”

  His companion smiled ruefully. “Well, that’s true. Despite the time that’s passed since we, well, she looks just the same as she did…”

  “That shows she must be very happy with Senator Balbinus.”

  A cloud passed over Anatolius’ face, as dark as the smoke rising from the blazing vessel. “I suppose you’re right. She’ll always be beautiful to me, however careworn she looks. She only just stepped into the atrium for a brief word. I think she was afraid to talk to me in case it should bring back memories.”

  “Or perhaps she did not wish to speak to you? It was foolish to go there, my friend. When Balbinus recovers, you’ll certainly hear about it.”

  Anatolius stopped walking and stared out to sea. It was impossible to say whether he was contemplating the ship, the soaring gulls, the far shore half hidden by a blue heat haze, or something not of this world. His eyes held a feverish gleam. “What are the chances, do you think? Some recover. Many die. The knucklebones have been thrown. How long before they rattle to a stop?”

  “I hope you haven’t made a wager you can ill afford on the outcome.”

  “What do you mean? I’m concerned about Lucretia. That doddering old blowhard is her husband, after all.”

  “You believe she would be better off without him,” John corrected him sharply. “Are you only thinking of yourself?”

  “John, I—”

  “The plague has turned everything upside down, but eventually it will depart. For those of us who remain, the world will right itself again. Remember that. Don’t do or say anything you will have cause to regret when things return to normal.”

  “You’re right. I won’t.”

  They resumed walking. Sunlight played brightly across an ornamental pond like liquid fire. A fragrant stand of pines offered cool shadow.