Two for Joy jte-2

by Mary Reed

  “But that shape, Isis!” exclaimed Lucretia. She bent down to study it more closely and then straightened. “That strange arrangement of dark lines…it almost reminds me of what I saw on Michael’s ankle, half obscured by his terrible sores.”

  “Perhaps deliberately obscured,” John put in. His thoughts leapt like the flames in the brazier.

  Isis shook her head in disgust, an expression that rarely crossed that worldly madam’s face.

  “I have been away from Alexandria a long time,” she declared, “but surely my penitent sisters have not sunk to such depths as to permit men to enter the order? To think they would stoop to defile it for the sake of a few more coins from clients whose filthy tastes cannot otherwise be satisfied. It is enough to make me ashamed of my profession!”

  Felix was propped up on his pallet, staring dolefully at the plaster wall, when John entered the small room next to Peter’s. Felix looked, John thought, like a caged bear, too large for the cramped space in which he was confined.

  “John! Thank Mithra! The emperor has come to his senses and pardoned you?”

  “No, he hasn’t.” There being no chair, John hunkered down on the floor beside the bed.

  A look of horror crossed Felix’ bearded face. “If you are not pardoned, then even being here puts you under sentence of death, you know that well enough.”

  “We are all under sentence of death. Some of us have a better idea of when it might be carried out. Right now I need your assistance.”

  “Anything, of course,” Felix growled. His mouth tightened in pain. “Although I fear my offer does not amount to much in my present state.”

  John replied that it was not Felix’s skill at arms that he needed just then. “What I am going to do is catch a very subtle murderer,” he continued.

  “Do you mean whoever murdered Aurelius or Philo?”

  “Yes, not to mention a few other people. The stylites, for example. There was nothing supernatural about their deaths, Felix. They were murdered and fire was the weapon used.”

  Felix’s expression turned thunderous. “And fire was used against my men at the shrine. Some kind of incendiary device, do you think? I didn’t actually see what happened. I was inside the building by then, bleeding half to death on the floor. But my men swore there was fire from the sky.”

  “That’s what they would have half expected, since people have been talking about nothing else for days,” John pointed out.

  Felix muttered he should have guessed the truth of it even in his wounded state, since he had heard tales of the empire’s enemies using such weapons on eastern battlefields. Yet he had hesitated to believe those stories. How could fire be harnessed?

  John smiled thinly. “Well, Felix, consider. What if you took a divided clay pot and filled one half of it with an inflammable concoction of elements that burns when wet, and the other half with water? Then having sealed it well, when that pot is thrown…”

  “…it smashes,” Felix said triumphantly, “and the elements mix and burst into flame!” He frowned. “But clay pots sink, John. What about this fire on the water Hypatia keeps chattering on about?”

  John admitted he did not know how that particular conflagration had been accomplished. However, since it had roared out from the mouth of the Bosporos and the shrine stood beside that very waterway he could certainly hazard a guess as to who was responsible.

  “I suspect,” he went on, “this or perhaps another inflammable mixture that water cannot extinguish was involved. Imagine a large amount of this substance, something that floats on water, poured into the Bosporos so that its current carries the inferno down to the city. A rare and terrible weapon indeed. Michael is most certainly involved, Felix. There’s no doubt in my mind about that.”

  Felix winced as he shifted uneasily. “Strangely, when you think about it, Michael’s trumpeted his guilt in the matter all along, hasn’t he? But since he hasn’t set foot in Constantinople since he arrived, who’s his accomplice?”

  “I believe I know,” John replied, “and I intend to prove it and certain other related matters to Justinian, thus freeing Anatolius and ensuring that justice is served.”

  Felix twisted around on the pallet, an effort that drained the color from his face. “This is all very well, John, but surely no one knows better than you that justice is seldom on speaking terms with the truth. And as far as Anatolius goes, I fear that the emperor is more concerned right now in dealing with Michael and defusing the threat posed by him and his rabble, inside and outside the city. What’s worse, by the noise I can hear even up here, your exile did little to calm the mood in the streets.”

  John smiled. “I am not so certain that Justinian did not send me away in part for my own safety. Theodora has, as you know, long harbored a deep hatred toward me and during such unsettled times… well, let’s just say that certain very useful opportunities might have very well have presented themselves to her.”

  “You think the emperor cannot control the actions of his own wife?”

  It was a question John did not have to answer.

  “So you are willing to wager that Justinian is not so badly disposed toward you as it would seem on the face of it?” Felix went on. “Well, John, I’ve done more than my fair share of gaming but I’ve never yet gambled with my life.”

  “Of course you have, Felix, every time you went into battle! But more than that, I’ve discovered something that will immediately discredit Michael in the eyes of his followers and render him powerless to further threaten the emperor.”

  Felix raised his bushy eyebrows in inquiry.

  “Michael is not what he appears to be, Felix. Philo hinted at that and he was correct. That’s all I’ll say for now. Now, about that assistance you can render me. Darius has agreed to accompany me but he’s only one man, however powerful. I know there are certain of your excubitors who serve Mithra above even the emperor.”

  “That’s true enough. At the barracks near the Chalke you will find a friend of mine, Cassius. He, and whichever men he chooses, can be trusted completely. I’ll write a note for him. He’ll destroy it immediately he’s read it, so don’t worry about that. But what will you accomplish by confronting Michael? That shrine he’s taken over is not a court of law. He could have you killed on the spot.”

  “Your excubitors’ presence will prevent that, Felix, and there will also be an impartial witness, one who can vouch for what he observes and whose sworn word will be accepted by both the emperor and the populace in general.”

  Felix doubted John could find such a person.

  But John had already resolved the dilemma. “It will be quite simple,” he replied, “for his wife is under my roof. I mean to take along Senator Balbinus.”

  Chapter Twenty-nine

  Had he not been exhausted from his journey Peter might have recognized the furious pounding as announcing not only visitors but also grave trouble.

  As soon as the elderly servant slid back the bolt, the house door was kicked wide open, sending him staggering. An elbow to the chest knocked him down. Excubitors flooded in. The hall was suddenly filled with the slap of boots on tile, the smell of leather and oiled iron.

  Half-dazed on the floor, Peter grabbed reflexively for the nearest ankle. There was a hoarse yell and a man fell heavily beside him. His victim’s sword clattered and slid away across the floor. Then Peter was being dragged to his feet, his arms twisted up behind his back. He was groggily aware of a blade moving toward his throat.

  “Stop at once!”

  The blade paused. Helmeted heads turned toward the unexpected sight of a stout middle-aged woman, standing at the base of the stairs, shaking the errant sword she’d just retrieved from the floor.

  “Are these the orders Justinian is giving his excubitors now,” Isis continued in a withering tone, “to slaughter old men in their homes?”

  A tall man with the feral look of a hawk stepped out of the ranks to face Isis. “The servant will be spared this time, lady. However, if
there is any further interference you will have to seek compensation for his loss in the courts.”

  Peter was shoved aside.

  “And what does this unseemly invasion of a private house signify, captain?” Isis demanded.

  “We are here to arrest John, former Lord Chamberlain to the Emperor Justinian.”

  “Have you not heard? He is gone. Exiled.”

  “We have information that he has come back to the city in direct defiance of the emperor’s orders,” the captain replied curtly. “Now, stand aside or…”

  A hoarse roar interrupted the order. “You will leave this house immediately!”

  “Captain?” The man looked away from Isis to Felix, who stood, swaying, at the top of the stairs. For an instant the excubitor looked as confused as he had been upon seeing the armed madam. But only for an instant.

  “My apologies, captain,” he said quickly, “but these men are under my command and like you I am under the command of the Master of the Offices. Our orders are to arrest the Lord Chamberlain, believed to be in this house.”

  “Some of you won’t live to see him arrested,” Isis promised grimly, raising the sword she was clutching in both hands. Its weight caused her arms to tremble with the effort.

  “Don’t be foolish, Isis,” Felix admonished her. “You couldn’t manage to inflict a scratch on any of these men, even by accident.” He turned his attention back to the matter at hand. “Carry out your orders, then. But be certain you do so without damage to the house.”

  The search was swiftly concluded, despite the size of the building. The servants’ quarters on the third floor, the second floor’s bedrooms, kitchen and study and the first floor storerooms, unused dining room and offices, even the garden they surrounded, yielded no-one else apart from an irate Hypatia.

  “It seems your informant was incorrect,” Felix remarked sharply at the conclusion of the search. He had remained leaning on the wall at the top of the stairs, unable to step down any further. Peter had sat down on the bottom step, temporarily as incapable of climbing up as Felix was of walking down. The two of them were, Felix thought with grim amusement, pitiful excuses for fighting men.

  “It seems the Lord Chamberlain has escaped this time, but the authorities are aware of his return and the streets are being searched,” the younger captain remarked before he and his men left. “He will not get very far.”

  Some distance away, another armed detachment had almost reached its destination, although not swiftly enough for Hektor.

  “Hurry up,” he urged them shrilly, “or he’ll escape. You hobble along like old women!”

  Varus, who commanded this group of excubitors, glanced down at the boy loping along beside him, taking two quick steps for every stride taken by the marching soldiers. The man’s eyes narrowed. “You may be a favorite of the Master of the Offices, child, but you do not give me orders!”

  “And who was it told the Master of the Offices that the Lord Chamberlain would be found at the senate house?” the boy sneered back.

  Passersby stopped to gape, perhaps wondering what poor unfortunate was about to be struck down by the emperor’s lightning. Clearly these were men intent on extremely urgent imperial business, notwithstanding the garishly clothed creature flapping along beside them like some strange, exotic bird.

  “What makes you think the Lord Chamberlain would be foolish enough to allow himself to be seen there?” Varus asked in return, intrigued despite himself.

  “I caught him there once, plotting with that treacherous Senator Balbinus.” Hektor’s red-painted lips formed a knowing smile. “Who else can the eunuch go to for help now that he’s a hunted man? I watch and I listen. I know things. He’ll be there.”

  They emerged into the Forum Constantine. The throng already gathered there drifted out of their path. The power of the emperor was something the general populace preferred to appreciate from a distance.

  Despite his protestations at their slow pace, Hektor was beginning to grow breathless keeping up. His flushed face prickled uncomfortably under its layer of chalk. A few men stood by the door to the senate house, but he did not recognize John or Balbinus. Perhaps that was just as well, he thought. Yes, they could be confronted inside and then arrested in full view of all the senators. How humiliating that would be! And as for what would befall the pair once they were imprisoned…

  Hektor was so engrossed contemplating this pleasing prospect that he almost overlooked the figure emerging from the senate house.

  Lucretia? Senator Balbinus’ wife?

  He had no time to speculate on why the woman would have come here. He’d spotted John.

  Hektor yanked at Varus’ arm. “There he is, skulking by the colonnade, look, will you? The one next to the senate house!”

  Varus ordered his company to halt and his hard gaze raked the spot Hektor indicated.

  “Are you blind?” the boy shrieked. “He’s slouched down behind that group of Blues, trying to hide! You fool, now you’ve let him see you! He’s getting away!”

  Varus pulled his arm roughly from Hektor’s grasp and shouted an order. The excubitors broke into a run. Slow or not, they crossed the expanse of the forum faster than Hektor. By the time the boy ducked into the columned arcade they were already half way down it, gaining rapidly on the fugitive.

  Many of the merchants whose shops lined the back wall stepped outside to stare after the chase. Hektor had to fight his way through them. Even as he fell further behind he could see that the excubitors had nearly caught up with their quarry. But as that jubilant thought crossed Hektor’s mind, the prey suddenly darted to one side, as if to seek refuge in one of the shops. Instead, an amphora smashed on the colonnade’s marble floor, closely followed by the leading excubitor who crashed down, cursing, sliding in a pool of olive oil that was almost instantly suffused with a light rose tint. His bared sword had slashed open his leg.

  And the Lord Chamberlain had vanished.

  Hektor was first to understand.

  A second row of shops sat directly above the first.

  Hektor turned and ran back. Reaching the foot of the steep, wide stairway that allowed access to the upper row of businesses, he raced up, panting, his lungs burning. Echoing shouts from below announced that the excubitors had also discerned their quarry’s intent to escape by taking one of the staircases to the second story and doubling back above them.

  As Hektor reached the top of the stairway, the hunted figure burst into view and turned, as if to run down the steps. Hektor leapt forward, unbalancing his prey and dragging it down to its knees.

  He would kill the eunuch himself!

  The sharp pain of wrenched muscles exploded in his shoulder as his intended victim jerked away from his grasp.

  Hektor tore a bejeweled dagger from his belt and swung it wildly, shrieking curses. The blade met brief resistance and then penetrated deeply, sinking into yielding flesh as sweetly as cutting open an aromatic melon on a warm summer night.

  Hands fastened about the boy’s throat. He tried to roll away from their grasp, dimly aware of fast approaching footsteps and shouting. Suddenly, shockingly, he was staring into a face.

  A demon’s face!

  A dead, milky orb glared at him from a pool of melted flesh.

  Terror gave Hektor enough strength to break the grasp of the hands on his throat.

  Then he was cowering against the stairway wall as an excubitor helped the demon to its feet.

  It wasn’t a demon, Hektor realized, just some miserable beggar woman with one side of her face burnt away. He wished desperately that he had managed to kill her, but although she was weeping and clutching her bleeding shoulder she did not seem to be too badly hurt.

  Before Varus could say anything, Hektor scrambled up and demanded of the woman what she was doing wearing the Lord Chamberlain’s cloak.

  “Good sirs, I came by it honestly,” the woman protested, pulling her head covering back over the disfigured half of her face. “It was lent to me b
y a friend. He found it lying in the street.”

  “Lying might indeed be the right word,” Varus replied curtly, “but I don’t care if it was stolen or not, since we’re not here to do the Prefect’s job. Go and get a poultice put on that wound.”

  The woman wordlessly vanished down the steps.

  Varus picked up Hektor’s dagger. The decorative weapon looked absurdly small in his big callused hand. He held it out to the boy, laughing.

  “I suggest you get yourself a man’s weapon, child! And a new pair of eyes at the same time. That poor woman was nowhere near the Lord Chamberlain’s height.”

  Hektor was realizing that Varus did not seem too perturbed at having caught a beggar rather than the fugitive eunuch. Further, it belatedly occurred to him that excubitor captains did not usually heed court pages’ advice. And when had Varus realized that the person wearing John’s cloak was too short? In his excitement, Hektor had missed that particular entirely. It would all require further rumination, but first he must guard against personally suffering repercussions from their lack of success in catching the man the excubitors had been ordered to apprehend.

  “And I suggest you continue to seek the fugitive you were sent to arrest,” the boy snapped, snatching back his dagger and wiping it clean on his tunic, “for I promise you that if the eunuch escapes I will make certain that the Master of the Offices knows exactly who was responsible for letting him go free.”

  John thanked Mithra that the company of excubitors had been directed with uncharacteristic confusion, for otherwise he would have departed from the senate house straight into captivity. Instead, taking advantage of the situation, he and his party had been able to slip unnoticed out of the forum through its nearest archway.

  The journey to Saint Michael’s shrine had been less eventful but still hardly pleasant. John had apprised Lucretia of the necessity of speed and discretion in carrying out his plan and having agreed to assist, she did her part by going to the senate house to summon Balbinus out to join them. However, the couple had exchanged only the coldest and briefest of words upon meeting again, and during their ride had contrived to keep several mounted excubitors between them at all times-excubitors that did not arrest anyone but rather escorted them to the shrine, fully aware that following their captain exposed them to the severest punishments that Justinian could devise.