Lord of Slaughter (27 page)

‘Have you searched for this man?’

‘Of course, but he’s gone into the lower tunnels. There are so many and the men are too scared to go down there. The chamberlain sent four down but they never came back.’

‘And no one’s mentioned this?’

‘They told us to keep quiet.’ The man’s eyes widened. ‘But you knew all this. I mean, you’re the chamberlain’s man. I’m not revealing secrets here. It was your office that gave the order.’

Loys said nothing again. He wanted Meletios to feel uncomfortable.

‘What happened to the men?’

‘I don’t know. Those tunnels are winding and full of ghosts. They got lost; the wolfman got them; they’re still down there. Who knows? Not my men. Not my problem.’

‘It’s your problem that you lost the wolfman.’

‘Yes.’

‘So you can do me a favour.’

‘What?’

‘You can help me look for him.’

‘I haven’t got any men who would be willing to do that.’

‘Why not?’

‘People have seen things in the tunnels.’

‘What?’

‘Ghosts.’

‘Men’s fears can conjure phantoms from the dark where there are none. You will search the tunnels and bring the wolfman to me within the week.’

‘I cannot do that. The chamberlain himself could not make my men do that. He rules according to the law and has no power to command it. The Hetaereian generals wouldn’t allow it. That’s why we used mercenaries.’

‘I will visit tomorrow and you will escort me. Either that or I will have you imprisoned in your own dungeon. Am I clear?’

The man said nothing, just stared.

‘Am I clear?’

‘You are clear. But you will find it hard to get men to go with you. You could get lost and never be heard of again.’

‘It’s possible to get lost and never be heard of again just walking out of the palace. Losing a prisoner of the emperor is treason. And you know the penalty for that.’

Meletios swallowed, opened his mouth and let out a loud pant like an exhausted dog.

‘If you insist on coming, then I will have no choice but to escort you,’ he said.

‘Fine, then tomorrow.’

‘Yes.’

‘And one thing. It is not politic the world knows about this. Do you have the name of a prisoner I could pretend to interview?’

‘I’ve got a thousand of ’em,’ said Meletios.

‘Good, then put the word about that I’m coming to interview some unfortunate of your prison,’ said Loys.

‘Yes, lord,’ said Meletios, which Loys thought was overdoing it.

Loys moved the fan to dismiss the man. When he had gone, the scholar put his head into his hands.

Beatrice came out from behind the screen. ‘You put yourself in great danger.’

He smiled. ‘A noble man disdains to show fear. Isn’t that what you told me? I have the option to go – I don’t have to. It was just the way the questioning went. Do you think it’s wise?’

‘I think it sounds dangerous. But to do nothing is dangerous too. You must be seen to be making progress so it’s necessary and it’s politic to look for the truth. Only when you glimpse it can you assess if you need to walk towards it or away. Styliane implied …’

Her voice trailed away. She didn’t have to finish her sentence and it might have been dangerous to do so.

The lady had hinted her brother had something to do with the curse that attended the emperor and the town, even unwillingly. And she had suggested Loys might be vulnerable. So if Loys gained possession of the truth he would at least have either a weapon against the chamberlain or he would know how to construct a convincing lie to please the great man. The figure on the hillside – if that was the chamberlain – had mentioned the wolfman and had clearly been puzzled by him. If Loys could offer an explanation that might raise the chamberlain’s respect for him. Did he want the favour of a magician? Well, Loys had killed, hadn’t he? Kissing a pagan’s sandals was a small sin when held against that.

There were good reasons for a visit to the Numera: it would show he needed to be taken seriously, that things could not be hidden from him. And if he came near the truth …

‘I hope a hunt for the wolfman might see me removed from the investigation,’ said Loys. ‘The chamberlain doesn’t want me to know about him or he would have told me. If it looks as though I might turn up something embarrassing then perhaps he will release me from this task.’

‘And then what? Back to the lighthouse quarter?’

Loys shook his head. ‘The chamberlain cannot have me fail. That becomes his failure. No, I think that if Styliane …’ He didn’t finish, letting a shrug convey what he meant – if Styliane had spoken the truth and the chamberlain was implicated then … ‘He will find a way to have me succeed that causes the least damage to those he values.’

‘Or he will have you killed.’

‘That would show he couldn’t protect me. No. I am beginning to understand these great men. The point is not to succeed but to please the competing interests around us. A visit to the Numera does all those things. If we find nothing then it will at least signal we are looking in the right area. If we find the wolfman then the chamberlain can only be pleased – he was seeking him himself.’

‘Four men are missing.’

‘The point is to make a show of visiting. It’s better to look and not discover anything. Then we offer a threat but not so strong that anyone must move against us.’

‘You’re becoming quite the courtier.’

‘God gave me brains. I have neglected to use them up until now,’ said Loys. ‘It’s time I put that right.’

‘Be careful.’ She kissed him.

‘You’re always telling me to be bold.’

‘Be careful while being bold.’

‘Very like a woman,’ he said.

‘And very like a man to seem to be bold while being careful.’

He smiled and kissed her back.

‘You have my plan in a nutshell,’ he said.

27
Hidden by Darkness

Loys walked over to the Numera. It was dusk, or the time that should have been dusk, but the sky was black, and the only light was from the lamp carried by the two guards who accompanied him and from those of the citizens who moved around the streets.

The fog was almost choking and he could see very little. The prison was invisible from the palace, not eighty paces away. Loys followed the palace wall and then took off at the diagonal across the square. A few steps into the filthy air and the prison loomed like a menacing rock seen from a ship.

As he walked, he kept one hand on the short knife stuffed into his belt. Loys came to the gate of the prison. A group of four women strained at the bars of the gate, shoving through loaves and wine, money and even clothing to the guards. The only way of surviving the Numera was to have friends or relatives on the outside working for you, agitating for your release, bringing in supplies and offering bribes to the guards to take them in. Loys wondered how much of what was intended for the prisoners ever made its way to them.

The gate guarded the front of a small compound leading to the entrance to the prison itself, a black doorway no wider than two men. He went to the gate and leaned through the bars. A guard was relaying news of prisoners to those outside He caught the man’s attention with a quick ‘Hey,’ and he came strolling over.

‘Meletios,’ said Loys, ‘get him here now.’

‘Your manners aren’t up to much, are they?’

Loys withdrew his cloak to expose the blue silk beneath. The man gave a little whistle of surprise and went back into the prison. Loys stood tapping at the gate with his shoe. Then the fat form of Meletios came out of the dark doorway with two guards, their swords drawn.

Meletios gestured to the gate with his eyes and one of the guards unlocked it.

‘Quick!’ said Meletios as the gate opened.

His own guards went to come through, along with an old woman who tried to shove in front of them. One of the guards brought her a smart whack with the flat of his sword and she stepped back for a second, allowing him to close the gate.

‘We need to come with the quaestor,’ said one of Loys’ guards.

‘No one but Numeri in here, chief, you know the rules,’ said Meletios.

Loys’ guards protested uselessly. Already Meletios was guiding Loys towards the entrance of the prison. Loys smiled to himself. He’d anticipated having to jolly his guards along in the Numera. Now he wouldn’t face that problem.

‘If we left that open we’d be overrun,’ said Meletios.

‘Don’t people normally try to get out of prison?’ said Loys.

‘Plebian idiots,’ said Meletios. ‘They think they can just walk in here and take their friends out with them. I don’t know what they think we’re running here.’

‘What are you running here? Looks more like an extortion operation than a prison to me,’ said Loys.

Meletios bowed his head. ‘I have everything ready for you to descend,’ he said. ‘Mark that I have exerted myself for you.’

Loys swallowed down a ‘thank you’. The chamberlain’s men expected such indulgences as a right.

He followed Meletios to the dark doorway. Heat and a terrible stench breathed from it. Loys was reminded of a rotten mouth in an ugly face.

They entered through a short corridor. Ahead of him Loys heard music, a high nasal pipe and a drum. Meletios opened an inner door.

It opened into a large vaulted room lit by reed torches, ropes of incense smoke curling in the stale air. A band of musicians played in one corner and a girl danced across the floor. She was very beautiful, dark-haired and dark-eyed, and she wore long scarves of bright silks tied about her body. A man lay in chains on a rich couch of green velvet watching her. She bent backwards and writhed in front of him, casting herself to the floor, rising again and discarding a scarf.

‘Can you believe this?’ said Meletios. ‘Even in here some people need to demonstrate their wealth. This is supposed to be some sort of ceremony.’

‘It’s the dance of the seven veils, or a version of it,’ said Loys.

‘What’s that?’

‘A pagan myth. The goddess Ishtar goes to the underworld to seek wisdom. As she passes through each of the seven gates that lead there she is forced by the gatekeeper to discard an item of clothing until she is naked. She bargains to escape the underworld, taking up her clothes as she goes. When she emerges she is free but must find someone to replace her. She chooses her brother, who has been drunk since she has been gone.’

‘Well, she wouldn’t be emerging from here if it wasn’t for those two,’ said Meletios. He nodded to two men who sat in the corner. Loys recognised them as Normans. Her guards, doubtless. He didn’t know them, so chances were they wouldn’t recognise him.

‘You allow prisoners to have private armed guards in here?’

Meletios shrugged. ‘We allow anything for the right price.’

‘Even to walk free?’

‘Depending on the quality of your enemies,’ said Meletios.

‘So this merchant must have high-quality enemies indeed.’

‘Very high.’

Four men came to join them – prison guards.

‘Do we need so many?’ said Loys.

‘Word gets around,’ said Meletios, ‘I don’t like it any more than you do but they were sent over from the palace under imperial seal. Someone doesn’t want anything unpleasant happening to you.’

Loys had felt clever losing his guards. He felt less clever now he realised that whoever was watching him was one step ahead.

‘Who sent them?’

‘Don’t know, emperor’s seal. Could have been anyone.’

Loys appraised the men. No uniform to speak of.

‘Who sent you?’

‘Army chief of staff, sir,’ said a man at the front, ‘we’re here for your protection.’

‘With four of you we should be all right if I’m attacked by a small nation in here. Let’s get it over with, shall we?’

They passed through two more sets of doors, down another tight corridor and out into a wider, darker, danker area, where the roof was supported by tall pillars. Here there was no dancing, just songs from the men who sat chained, calls to Christ and for loved ones.

Someone sang a kontakion in a high, clear voice: ‘Though thou didst descend into the grave, O immortal one, yet didst thou destroy the power of Hades, and didst arise as victory.’

‘The wolfman’s hiding in here?’ Loys spoke quietly to Meletios.

‘No, in the tunnels below.’

Loys swallowed. This was clearly not the worst horror the prison had to offer. Another door, steps and a smell like a fist in the face.

Melietos took a torch off the wall, seemingly unbothered by the fetid air.

‘Down.’

‘Here?’

‘Still further.’

They descended the steps to a vision from a doom painting – the mouth of hell made real on earth – men lying wasting and dying in irons, too weak to call out, stewing in their own filth.

He was powerless to help these people and that made him angry. He could use his authority to get one released, maybe two, but he couldn’t order them all freed. Besides, they were there for a reason. The state would collapse if crimes went unpunished.