by Mary Reed
Or so John believed.
He stared at the little girl in the mosaic on his study wall. “Well, Zoe, are you going to help me at least begin to untangle this Gordian knot?”
He swallowed another sip of his bitter wine. “I know your name is not truly Zoe, but you’ve always answered to it before. At least you don’t change. You never grow old. Not like people. Flesh is not glass. Look at Antonina, who is entangled in this whole business. She hides the years cunningly but they are beginning to catch up. Yes, Antonina offers a good starting point. Consider what we have discovered.”
He put his wine cup down and began to tick off points on his fingers. “First, Antonina purports to suspect both Germanus and the Cappadocian. Let us bear in mind casting suspicion elsewhere diverts it from yourself.”
He got up and paced around the room as he continued. “Very well, then. As far as Antonina is concerned, it would be in her interests for Theodora to remain alive, thereby thwarting Germanus’ ambitions for the throne and in the process protecting Belisarius’ current role as Justinian’s foremost general. Not to mention she hoped to use Theodora to get more supplies and troops from Justinian for Belisarius in Italy. Joannina has the impression that the latter is her mother’s main interest at the moment.”
Zoe’s eyes seemed to twinkle in the trembling lamp light as John looked up at her on his second circle around the room.
“We agree so far, I see. But consider. Antonina is trying to stop the marriage between Joannina and Anastasius, whereas Theodora is adamant that it would take place. Was adamant, I should say. Thus her death means doubt is cast upon the eventuality, which would suit Antonina.”
He paused at his desk and took another sip of wine, then resumed his pacing. “However, arguments over a marriage are not a very good reason to risk your life by poisoning an empress. After all, Antonina and Theodora were good friends. Or appeared to be.
“Yet even good friends fall out,” he continued, remembering his recent hot words with Anatolius and the surly behavior of Felix. The latter made him think of two other military men: the bitter and intoxicated Artabanes, and Germanus, the rising general.
“Artabanes is frank about his hatred of the empress. Why wouldn’t he hate her, forced to live with a wife he does not love and seeing the woman he does love married to another man at Theodora’s instigation? And Germanus has every reason to resent Theodora’s efforts in checking his career. Would either of them resort to poison? Neither had direct access to Theodora. Then there’s the Cappadocian who worked in the kitchens. The imperial couple’s personal cooks have always been held responsible with their lives. Let us suppose Theodora was poisoned with food from the kitchen. Who could have poisoned the meals her cook delivered?”
John shook his head. “Too many guards in the kitchens. Too dangerous. The Cappadocian is too shrewd to take such a risk. Besides, a man used to power would not be likely to perform such a task with his own hands. That trio can be put in the second rank of suspects for now, don’t you agree, Zoe?”
The mosaic girl did not disagree.
“Let us examine means and motives next. Was Antonina the culprit? She admits she sent Theodora gifts. Joannina said Antonina had, as in the past, supplied Theodora with potions and cosmetics. She could have sent something poisoned. Equally Gaius could have been responsible by accident by making a mistake in what he prescribed.”
He sat down again and thought for a while. “Anyone on the palace grounds could make a potion if they had the knowledge. Anyone could steal the ingredients from the gardens. I could have been responsible, given Hypatia is knowledgeable about herbs.”
A thought struck him. Cornelia! She has a hasty temper, and she knew how much Theodora hated him. Surely not. She had left the city shortly after Theodora’s death. Where was she? Why hadn’t John heard from her?
These thoughts he kept to himself, unwilling to share them even with Zoe.
Obviously he had drunk too much.
He took another large gulp of wine and forced his thoughts away from Cornelia.
“Poison might be introduced by bribing a servant,” he continued, aware now of the slight slurring in his words. “So let us consider matters from that angle. Take Vesta. Devoted to her mistress and determined to see her marry that feckless boy Anastasius. Furthermore, she is being taught to make various preparations by Antonina. Has she learnt to make those that are harmful? She lives on the palace grounds and can easily obtain the necessary ingredients. Then too Theodora’s lady-in-waiting Kuria said Vesta always brought a gift of fruit for the empress.”
John frowned. “I suppose it would be possible to poison fruit even if Gaius thinks it unlikely, but then Kuria said she and Vesta ate it. She could be lying.”
But why would Vesta wish to poison the empress when her mistress’ marriage depended on Theodora’s continued existence?
“A good question, Zoe,” John remarked. “But let us leave it for now and proceed to examine Kuria, also constantly in attendance on Theodora in those final days. Kuria seems unlikely, don’t you think? The only protection between her and a life on the streets was retaining her post as a lady-in-waiting to Theodora. And why is Felix behaving in such an odd fashion? What is he hiding? Anatolius has already lied to me. Is there anyone I can trust?”
He laughed softly. “Why, I am even suspecting Cornelia when it is clear Theodora was not murdered in the first place. That is merely Justinian’s fancy. Why not suspect everyone of the crime that didn’t happen? Is there anyone in the city that didn’t want the empress dead? No crime and endless suspects!”
He looked over at Zoe. Her sad expression seemed to say he ought to talk to Felix again. Soon and at length. Even though he is your brother in Mithra and a close friend, he appears to be avoiding you.
“I must speak with Felix,” John agreed, draining his wine cup. “It’s almost the middle of the night so I should be able to catch him at home. And tomorrow I will question Vesta further. And Kuria too. Vesta said she was with the empress more than anyone. Yes, Kuria might have valuable information. First, though, I will go to see Felix.”
***
Kuria woke screaming, lying on her back in darkness. She smelled blood and ashes.
Where was she? Was she blind?
The nightmares that had driven her from the refuge of unconsciousness bled into the nightmare that had preceded what she had been certain would be her death.
She gasped at the searing pain as she rolled onto her side. Her body might have been filled with hot coals. It felt as if a spike had been driven into her temple.
Her groping hands stirred ashes. She choked, coughed, spit out a piece of tooth.
Maybe she had died. This was the underworld. Hell. A fitting final destination for a whore.
Why had the beggar insisted on beating her?
She had accommodated enough men she didn’t want. That was nothing, really, if only he had not been so brutal. Had not been like a demon.
Well, at least she had stabbed him with her brooch more than once before she passed out. She hoped the pin had hit him in the eye.
Had she? Had he blinded her in return?
She could feel her fine green stola was in shreds and almost ripped off. Oddly, as far as she could tell in her sightless state, her assailant had not taken any of her necklaces, bracelets, or rings.
She rolled onto her stomach with agonizingly slowness, whimpering in pain, hearing the rustle of ash beneath her.
Her bones did not seem broken. She pulled herself around until, suddenly, she was facing a glimmer of light.
She could still see.
She lowered her face and sobbed. “Thank God. Thank God.”
Never had she been so devout while at Madam Isis’ refuge.
She began to crawl toward the light.
A doorway, she realized, opening into the n
ight. Opening onto the Mese, she remembered.
So she was not blind, not in hell.
“Thank God, thank God,” she muttered again.
She crawled straight into the arms of the waiting demon.
Chapter Forty-six
Felix lived close to the Chalke Gate, not far from the main barracks where most of the Great Palace’s excubitors and silentiaries were billeted. John was well-known at the house, so though he came calling in the small hours of the night he was immediately admitted.
Felix appeared from the darkness of a hallway, resembling a shade in his rumpled white tunic, running his hands through disordered hair and tugging at his wild beard, as disheveled as if he’d been fighting battles in his sleep.
“Trouble?” he growled.
“That’s what I wanted to ask you.”
Felix made a grunt of displeasure. “You could have asked me at a civilized hour.”
“Except lately you always seem to be hurrying off somewhere,” John replied. “And when you aren’t rushing away you’re hard to find. Your absence from the mithraeum has been noted.”
“I’ve been kept busy. Ever since Theodora’s illness worsened Justinian has been nervous. With good reason, if you ask me. When change is in the wind traitors are most likely to take their chance and strike.”
The men’s voices sounded hollow, lost in the dimly lit marble atrium. Felix did not invite John into a more hospitable part of the house but walked over to the impluvium and sat on the basin’s wide rim. The water caught a faint reflection from the single wall torch and cast it up onto the excubitor captain’s haggard face. John remained standing.
“I’m sorry, John. I need to be up early tomorrow, and I’m exhausted. I can’t spare much time now unless it’s urgent.”
“You don’t consider finding Theodora’s murderer urgent?”
“In my opinion Justinian has you chasing a phantom of his own disordered mind.”
“And are your excubitors chasing the phantom also?”
“No. We have enough to do without—”
“You haven’t been investigating the supposed murder behind my back?”
“No. Why would I?”
“You keep asking the questions I want to ask, Felix.”
“What makes you think I’ve been wasting my time on your investigation?”
“Your excubitors searched the room of Joannina’s lady-in-waiting and found supposedly incriminating evidence. I’ve just rescued the unfortunate child from the hands of the torturers.”
“Oh, that. I heard something about it.”
John forced himself not to burst out with angry words. He took a step closer to Felix, who showed no inclination to rise or look him in the eye.
“Oh, that, you say. What were your men doing rummaging through her room if you aren’t nosing around looking into Theodora’s death?”
“A scrap of parchment naming the girl was delivered to the City Prefect, and he notified me as head of the palace guard,” Felix replied.
“Is that true?”
“Of course it’s true. Why would I lie to you?”
“What exactly did this note say?”
“Exactly? I couldn’t tell you, but I gather it was to the effect someone might like to search Vesta’s room since they might find something of interest there in connection with Theodora’s murder.”
“How was this note delivered?”
“By a grubby little street urchin. He handed it over and ran away. As well he might.”
“Untraceable then, and surely not written by the boy himself. Do you know any other details?”
“None. Except the note turned out to be accurate.”
“You didn’t inform me poisonous herbs were found in the room, even though you know I’m responsible for tracking down Theodora’s murder.”
“I would have as soon as I could, John.”
“I’m glad to hear it, my friend. Since you know Justinian has a noose around my neck while I’m engaged on this mad mission of his, I’m grateful you intended to get around to telling me sooner or later, perhaps even before the emperor decided to open the trapdoor under my feet.”
John’s words were grating, loud. Even as they emerged, he realized they were not the way he would normally have expressed himself, but the tension during the days he had been on this fool’s errand was emerging. And then there were worries about Peter’s illness and what was happening with Cornelia and Europa.
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.
