Eight for Eternity (25 page)

A hoarse cry drew John’s attention back to the tattered messenger. “His will is done,” the creature shouted.

He scuttled to the parapet at the edge of the terrace. “Now I may fly back whence I came.”

He spread his arms wide and flung himself into space.

***

Rusticus lifted his head to look up from the crumpled body half buried in the thorn bush at the base of the terrace wall. “He’s dead,” he announced, remarking to John in an undertone “but then that’s obvious, isn’t it?”

Justinian had ordered John to send for Rusticus. Was it simply one of the emperor’s strange humors? Did he expect the dead man to rise again? Or was it more a case of wanting reassurance he would not?

Now Justinian’s face was as unreadable as his image stamped into the gold face of a coin. Was he reconsidering his decision to remain in the city, John wondered?

“Apparently our sooty angel was deluded,” Theodora remarked. “He didn’t have wings after all.”

Rusticus turned his attention back to the corpse and pointed out two grooves in the neck. “It looks as if he was half strangled, doesn’t it? In a way he was as I happen to know he was hung.”

“It’s Hippolytus, isn’t it?” John asked.

Rusticus got to his feet with a grunt. “Yes. The Green I saw who was supposed to be executed. He’s finished the job himself.”

“Caesar,” John addressed the emperor. “The fact that this man was alive all the time we considered him dead solves the mystery. Hippolytus was the murderer. He strangled the other condemned man from the rival faction, while they were imprisoned at Saint Laurentius. There was never any plot to kill those two. The opposition is not as organized as—”

Justinian interrupted. “Yes. I see that. Explain later. There isn’t time now. We will return to the palace at once.”

Chapter Forty-One

The noise from the Hippodrome was different this time. Before, heard from the palace grounds, it had been a roar, the voice of the city, inarticulate and monstrous. Now it was a wail, the death cry of some incredible beast.

When John reached his house Felix was standing outside and it was clear from his grim expression that he also was listening to the dreadful sound.

“I’ve just come from Justinian,” John said. “He’s ordered Belisarius and Mundus to the Hippodrome to confront the mob.”

“I wish I were out in that battle. They were fools to assemble in one place. So much easier to kill the lot.”

“It isn’t a battle. That’s the sound of a slaughter,” John said. “Have you seen Julianna? She was supposed to come here for her belongings.”

“She isn’t here.” Felix did not have to add what he feared, that she had gone out into the city again and been caught in the bloodshed.

“It occurred to me that Julianna might be able to talk her father into ordering the rioters to make peace with Justinian. Perhaps she had the same thought.”

“It’s as good a guess as any, John.”

They set off without further discussion. John explained how he had been detained, described Hippolytus’ interview with Justinian on the terrace and his own conclusions about the murder of the Blue. The murder no longer seemed important.

“At least Justinian can’t accuse you of having failed in your investigation, even if it turned out to be of little consequence,” Felix remarked. “We’re fortunate he finally allowed Belisarius and Mundus to fight. But for such a strange reason. Only a Christian would ignore generals and heed a madman.”

They picked their way around the huge boulders of masonry where the Chalke had stood. Ribbons of smoke rose from the rubble. A scrawny dog worried what might have been an arm protruding from a pile of scorched bricks.

By the time they reached the Mese the terrible wailing had begun to die away and up and down the thoroughfare individual voices could be made out. The loud words of a dispute. Laughter.

Knots of people clustered under part of a colonnade that had survived the fires. The Hunnish hair-styles many sported marked them as Blues. A man with a long braid wandered in circles in the middle of the street. Seeing him, John could feel the wet rope of the braid by which he had pulled the drowned man from the cistern. A chill ran down his back.

“Dancing with Bacchus,” Felix muttered.

A burst of raucous merriment drifted from a nearby tavern which was apparently still in business, if somewhat smoke stained. A figure lurched out, staggered over to them, and put a hand on John’s shoulder to steady himself. Felix drew his sword.

John removed the hand from his shoulder. “Don’t worry, Felix. I know this man. What is it, Junius?”

The young charioteer swayed but managed to remain upright. “Good thing I saw you. Need to warn you. Stay away from the Hippodrome. Too dangerous.”

He exhaled a fog of wine along with his slurred words.

“You are telling us this because…?”

“So you’ll put in a good word for me with Porphyrius, for saving your life,” the other replied with what probably struck him as impeccable logic in his inebriated state. “Just been celebrating the triumph of Justinian, thanks to a benefactor of the Blues.”

Felix grabbed Junius by the arm and yanked him around so he could glare into the charioteer’s suddenly panic-stricken face. “Better to ask what all these Blues are doing out here drinking themselves into the gutter when people are being killed in the Hippodrome.”

“All of us were ordered to get out,” Junius stammered. “By Porphyrius. And I heard Narses was making money available out in the street, or at any rate the taverns would be serving free wine. I had to leave. All the Blues were leaving.”

Felix pushed Junius away. “So the Blues were paid to leave the Greens to their fate.”

He and John finished their journey to the Hippodrome at a run. The clatter of hooves greeted them on the concourse. A bleeding man stumbled across the open space. His mounted pursuer overtook him, ran a spear through his neck, yanked it free in a gout of blood, and rode back into the stadium. From its depths echoed isolated shouts, screams, and hoof beats.

“It’s over,” John said. “They’re hunting down survivors.”

He and Felix continued on toward the racetrack.

Bodies filled the stalls behind the starting gates—those who had tried to flee. John stepped over and around the dead until he emerged onto the track.

“Mithra!” he heard Felix mutter. Was it a curse or an invocation?

Both men had seen battlefields, but nothing like this. The Hippodrome was a well-filled abattoir. The dead covered the entire length of the track. They were heaped along the spina like debris drifted against the sea walls. John walked forward a few paces. It was difficult to find footing and where there was a space to place a boot, the sand was slippery. It had absorbed blood until it became saturated.

He accidentally stepped on a hand, cursed, and moved backwards, reflexively. The lifeless fingers appeared to have been clawing at the ground when they stopped moving for the last time.

The scene should have been still but the carrion birds lent to it a horrible animation. The birds hopped from corpse to corpse, stabbed with their beaks, and flapped away. The far end of the track might have been a refuse heap crawling with flies. The birds cawed and squawked as they fought over their banquet. Amidst the harsh screeching John could make out scattered moans. A single shrill, thin scream emanated from a distant point he could not locate. It went on and on. Already, he saw, several beggars had arrived to pick over the bodies.

A suffocating stench of blood and death hung in the vast enclosure.

“It was nothing more than a slaughter,” John said. “A crowd this size, packed in here. No need for strategy. They could scarcely move let alone fight. And there was nowhere to take shelter, even if they could have run. No proper weapons to speak of, either.”

He kicked at a sharpened stick in his path. “To think that I have been searching for the murderer of two men, and now this. Half the city dead and no doubt at all who killed them.”

“What choice was there, John?”

“There’s never any choice, is there?”

He was having trouble breathing. His chest suddenly felt constricted. The shock of seeing the carnage had driven everything else from his mind, but now he recalled why they had come here. To find Julianna.

Suddenly he did not want to continue the search.

Not here, where there was nothing left alive.

He walked amidst the dead, hardly seeing them. Afraid that his gaze would be caught by a lithe, familiar figure.

For some inexplicable reason he kept seeing Cornelia in his mind. But it wasn’t Cornelia he was looking for. She had been lost to him long ago, vanished into the countless masses of humanity, alive and dead, of whom John would know nothing until the day he died.

For the dead were all knowing.

No, he was searching for Julianna, a young girl who meant nothing to him at all.

Felix caught at John’s sleeve. “We can’t look everywhere. If she were here….” He let his voice trail off.

They were halfway down the track, approaching the huge box of the kathisma. There was no emperor to gesture imperiously at his audience of two far below. A hawk rose up from inside the enclosure, bearing away whatever dangled from its talons.

John narrowed his eyes as he scanned the tiers of seating “There,” he finally said. “Up there.”

It took an eternity to climb the tiers.

Julianna lay at the base of the kathisma wall. She wore the iridescent green robes she had worn in John’s garden. The wall was high, designed to keep the masses safely away from the emperor. An athletic young woman might have been able to climb it, using the ornate carvings for hand-holds—or she might have thought she could.

There was no blood. Her head rested on her hands as if she had laid down to go to sleep, except that her eyes were still open and staring.

“She fell, trying to get up to where her father was crowned.” John spoke quietly, though there was no one to overhear their conversation.

“Better that than her being trapped down there,” Felix said, “or sent to the gallows with the rest of her family.”

John bent down and pulled a wisp of green silk over the still face.

Epilogue

January 22, 532

John’s house was empty. All the furniture had been carted away. There remained only whispers and shadows.

John and Felix passed through the atrium, conducting a final inspection.

“If I were you I would miss this place,” said Felix. “Usually when people are promoted they request a larger house, not a smaller one.”

“It will be more convenient. I will only need a couple of servants, and neither of them will be slaves either.”

“It’s fortunate you were able to give the emperor an explanation of the matter of the missing Blue and Green, otherwise you would be residing in a very small house indeed.”

“A tomb, you mean?”

“Indeed. As for myself, I’m happy just to be back in the excubitors’ barracks. Though I am sorry Gallio was relieved of his head as well as his command. He was nothing worse than a coward, in my opinion.”

“Most of the court is grumbling Justinian didn’t carry out more executions alongside those of Hypatius and Pompeius.” John’s gaze was caught by a shaft of light falling from the compluvium, past the marble Aphrodite in the atrium’s fountain. The light sparkled on the water in the basin. “It’s rumored their bodies were thrown into the sea. The first time I saw Pompeius he was sitting in the basin there, soaking wet, and now….”

He broke off, scanned the atrium a last time, and turned away. It made him shudder to think of the dead men who had been his guests floating in the lightless depths.

Felix followed him into the corridor. “I hear Narses took great delight in pointing out how much time you had spent investigating the death of your friend Haik instead of carrying out Justinian’s orders. I suppose he was angry enough to spit lamp oil when you were elevated to Lord Chamberlain.”

“Narses had a right to be angry. His efforts bribing the factions probably influenced events more than anything I did.”

“The emperor is as unpredictable as Fortuna. But at least the city is returning to normal. It wasn’t just poor Hippolytus who went mad. The whole capital did. A colleague was telling me about the strange sights he saw during the riots. There was one fellow who was gathering up tesserae. Scrabbling around in the street after bits of glass with all the gold and silver there was for the taking!”

“Bits of glass can be turned into mosaics depicting stories more precious than any silver goblet. The bits and pieces gathered during an investigation may not seem valuable, but when assembled into a solution, that’s a different matter.”

“Your mind is still on your investigations, isn’t it?”

John peered through the open door of a deserted room as they passed. It was as bare as the rest of the house. “When you mentioned Haik I couldn’t help thinking that although I was obligated to look into his murder since he was an old comrade in arms and brother in Mithra, as it turned out he posed the most serious threat to the emperor.”

“Because of the document he brought with him, by which Justin was to adopt Chosroes?”

“Exactly.”

“Do you suppose he was entrusted with the document to help overthrow Justinian? If so, by whom? Was he working with the Persian emissary, Bozorgmehr? Or did he come by it some other way?”

“I’d like to think that Haik came by it quite by accident and decided it might be sold for a good sum in the capital. When he told me he was here on business, he was telling me the truth.”

“But even if that’s the case, why would anyone buy it, except for political reasons? He must have seen the implications.”

“Again, I am pleading on behalf of a friend, but it may be he thought he could sell it to someone who would buy the document to make sure it was destroyed. We’ll never know that or establish where it’s gone. My belief is someone had a good reason to destroy it and did. But before that, talk of the document, by its very existence, probably helped set off the riots.”

“That’s a startling assertion.”

“And like almost everything else about this whole affair, one that can’t be proved now that most of those involved are dead. But my speculation is Hippolytus started the trouble for which he was hung after he overheard Haik talking to Porphyrius about the attempted adoption. He might have decided the time was ripe to depose Justinian, having realized that Julianna’s father would be the most likely successor to the throne.”

“Being married to the emperor’s daughter would be a good job and Julianna was certainly interested in him,” Felix said.

“Haik and Porphyrius gave me conflicting accounts of why Haik went to the Hippodrome to see him, but Haik said they were interrupted by a visitor whom Porphyrius identified as Hippolytus. I am guessing Hippolytus lingered outside Porphyrius’ office long enough to learn what was going on before making his presence known.”

“Then do you think the hangings were deliberately botched?”

“No. The preparations were rushed, the executioner was nervous because of the mood of the spectators.”

“You told me Hippolytus killed the Blue after they were taken to Saint Laurentius, and then escaped. Was that, at least, part of a plot?”

“Not one against the emperor. Hippolytus was deranged from having been nearly strangled to death during his hanging. I imagine he hardly knew what he was doing. He wasn’t capable of reasoning. He saw a Blue. An enemy. So he killed him.”

“But if he was so impaired how did he escape?”

“Julianna freed him.”

They had come to the dining room where Hypatius and Pompeius had spent most of their time. Sunlight poured in from the garden through the gap left by the half opened screen.

Felix shook his head. “You amaze me, John. I can’t see how it’s possible.”

“Sebastian couldn’t see either. When I arrived at the church, he ran his fingers over the seal on my orders instead of actually reading them. He told me of a young man who had arrived earlier with orders the prisoners were to be taken to the palace. He too had an imperial seal.”

John paused to collect his thoughts. “Now what if this young man was Julianna? Let us suppose it was. Then it seems likely the alleged order she brought with her was in fact a piece of parchment carrying one of Anastasius’ seals. Being relatives of his, the family doubtless have seals on a number of such documents, one of which would seem genuine enough.”

Felix looked dubious. “That’s a big leap, John.”

“Not when you consider I myself saw Hippolytus possessed one of Anastasius’ seals when he died. Julianna is the only person who could have given it to him. He was in a dangerous predicament. Perhaps she thought it might be of use.”

“Even so, I can’t see how you connect Julianna with this mysterious young man,” Felix replied.

“Hypatius told me he suspected that she left the house in secret to visit Hippolytus or to see the races at the Hippodrome.” John stepped into the garden and gestured toward the opposite side. “I caught her coming in across the roof over there. Probably she had been out searching for Hippolytus. Porphyrius mentioned Hippolytus showing one of the faction’s horses to a callow-faced fellow, whom Hippolytus claimed was his younger brother. Yet despite an invitation from the great Porphyrius to meet him and his evident interest in racing, the boy did not reappear. Then one of the other charioteers remarked women were known to see the races disguised in male clothing, and some would visit the Hippodrome’s substructure to see charioteers they admired.”

“So you think Julianna was both the alleged younger brother and the young man with the seal? I suppose it’s possible.” Felix frowned. “But it’s a distinct possibility Sebastian will be in complete darkness now after the torturers’ needles have done their work, and that’s assuming he’s still breathing.”

“Sebastian’s been released.”

“Released?”

“The emperor told me he was demonstrating Christian mercy. Besides, he reasoned that it was Prefect Eudaemon who was at fault for giving a practically blind commander such an important task. What’s more startling is that Sebastian’s got his eyesight back. According to that loose-tongued physician Rusticus, the old commander suffered from cataracts. Purely by accident Justinian’s torturers treated them to the traditional cure when they inserted needles into his eyes.”

“Remarkable! That will give Rusticus another story with which to entertain his patients. But when I said I was puzzled I wasn’t thinking about the seal, but about Julianna’s involvement. The escape took place not long after the hanging. How could she possibly have known she would find Hippolytus at Saint Laurentius?”

“After Rusticus examined Haik he told me he’d called on her uncle Pompeius immediately after serving in his official capacity at the executions. He mentioned Julianna was at the house, tending her uncle. Naturally Rusticus regaled them with an account of the executions. He had recognized Hippolytus as one of two men who were saved, having treated him as a patient not long before, meaning Julianna realized he was still alive.”

“She had a quick intelligence. When she got to Hippolytus only to discover he’d killed his fellow prisoner, it must have been a shock.”

John nodded. “And the two guards posted at the door to keep the prisoners safe were even more shocked, I’ll wager. It wouldn’t have taken a very large bribe to convince them to carry off the evidence of their utter failure and flee the city to find work elsewhere. I am sure Julianna came prepared to offer bribes if necessary.”

“Plenty of people decide to find work elsewhere whenever riots threaten to break out,” Felix observed.

“When panic broke out in the church, it wasn’t hard for them to get out without being seen,” John continued. “There was doubtless more than one exit from the vault. The blind beggar who heard something being carted past was perfectly willing to have heard as many men go by as I wished, and when I dragged the Blue with the marks of strangulation and rope tied round his wrist out of the cistern I leapt to the conclusion that whoever had killed one of the prisoners had killed both.”

“You were thinking in terms of them being disposed of by those involved in a plot so Justinian could not produce them.”

“Yes. But it’s no excuse. I erred badly.”

“Then after Julianna had to return home Hippolytus was free in the city although I don’t suppose he fully understood what was happening. Yet he did retain enough cunning to kill Haik. Obviously he could get onto the palace grounds, since he confronted Justinian. But as to remembering the significance of the document…and surely that is why Haik was murdered?”

“I don’t doubt it.”

Felix scowled in perplexity. The two men had walked out into the garden. John stopped beside the stone horse Julianna had found half hidden by brambles. On the day he had first seen the horse a cold breeze was rattling dead leaves. Today thin, bright sunlight illuminated the small statue, making the lichens partly covering it look more gray than blue. Then Julianna had been alive. Today she was dead.

“Most people would kill to be emperor,” John said. “Some might kill to avoid the throne. Hypatius was not ambitious.” He ran a hand lightly across the back of the horse. “Julianna told me her father didn’t want to be emperor. She was afraid the mob would crown him and both she and her father realized what the outcome was likely to be, even if Hippolytus did not.”

Felix pointed out that except for Fortuna intervening Hippolytus would have died before the population took to the streets.

“The Hippolytus Julianna knew did die before that happened. She was right, though, in thinking she could have saved him, had he not been so badly hurt by the failed hanging,” John replied. “Justinian had ordered the execution of several troublesome faction members as an example. He can be surprisingly forgiving, if Theodora does not interfere. If he had found out one of the condemned was, say, to marry into an aristocratic family—for Julianna surely hoped it would be so, despite her father’s opposition to her friendship with Hippolytus—a family which had remained loyal during the riots, he almost certainly would have pardoned the man.”

“That’s true, John. I strongly suspect Theodora must have persuaded Justinian to have Hypatius and Pompeius executed immediately, before he had a chance to change his mind.”

John was silent for a time, looking reflectively at Julianna’s horse. Should he remove it to his new house? No, perhaps not. It would remind him of Julianna, and she had reminded him of someone else.

“We mourn people and places time has stolen from us,” he said. “But sometimes it is better that past things remain lost. I wish I had never seen my old friend Haik again, for it was that cursed document that caused all the trouble, as I’ve said. It isn’t surprising that Julianna knew about the document. She was meeting Hippolytus all the time. He would surely have told her about overhearing Haik and Porphyrius. Or maybe he told her when she arrived at the church.

“He was deranged but not to the point of having lost all his senses. And when she heard about it, Julianna certainly would have known how dangerous the document was. It would have fueled the mob’s anger. And whether by enticing Porphyrius or some other prominent person to enter the fray or simply by providing another rallying point for the rioters, it increased the likelihood that her father would not be able to retain any appearance of loyalty, but would instead be dragged to his doom. Or even go to it willingly. What if Haik, who was staying in the same house, had decided to forget about Porphyrius and present the adoption document directly to Hypatius?”

Felix tugged his beard. “You just said you thought Hippolytus wanted Hypatius to become emperor.” He paused, then his face brightened. “Wait. Now I see. Hippolytus was unhinged. He didn’t know what he was doing. He intended to steal the document to ensure it was given to Hypatius, but in his terrible state he forgot what he was doing and murdered Haik instead. Why else should Haik have been killed? The document was the important thing.”

“But what if Haik had possessed other documents, or was prepared to reveal that something of value had been stolen and demand its return? The murderer waited for the chance, slipped into Haik’s room and stole the document. Why take more risk than necessary? Why not insure Haik couldn’t meddle any further by slipping poison into his wine?”