Nine for the Devil (24 page)
“I am going to my study. I don’t want to be disturbed,” John told Hypatia as they stood in the atrium. The messenger had left. He had no information to offer except that Cornelia had never arrived at Zeno’s estate.
“Is Gaius on the way, master?”
“Gaius is dead, Hypatia. It appears the fool poisoned himself. I’ve instructed a silentiary to send another physician for Peter.”
He turned and went upstairs to his study, dropped into a chair, and stared blindly at the wall mosaic. He poured a cup of wine, drank it in one gulp, and poured another.
Cornelia should have reached Zeno’s estate.
Now he knew why he hadn’t heard from her.
No, he corrected himself, he didn’t know, because he didn’t know why she hadn’t reached the estate.
Where was she?
What had happened to her?
His first thought was court intrigue. Had someone abducted her, to protect themselves, to discourage his investigations?
If so, why hadn’t he heard from them? Were they waiting to see if John suspected them? If they saw he was ready to level an accusation, then they would offer Cornelia in return for his cooperation.
Germanus had already subtly threatened him. However, the general had not mentioned Cornelia during their conversation about which part John wished to play in the proposed new regime.
Had John’s answers been satisfactory?
There was no way around it. John would have to go to Zeno’s estate.
But what could he do there? Mostly likely the answer was right here in the palace.
“Lord Chamberlain.”
He swiveled around to see Hypatia in the doorway.
“I ordered you not to disturb me, Hypatia,” he snapped.
A rail-thin silentiary dressed in a dark green tunic moved past her. John recognized the man as one of Justinian’s personal staff.
“It is not the servant who disturbs you, Lord Chamberlain, but the emperor. Justinian demands your presence in the imperial audience chamber.” The silentiary sounded regretful, as if apologizing for the curtness of his message, bowed, and departed.
John rubbed his face wearily.
If he took a horse from the imperial stables immediately and rode south, he would be able to beat any pursuers to Zeno’s estate. But what assistance would he be to Cornelia if he was eluding arrest? And if he were thrown into the dungeons for disobeying Justinian he’d be of even less use.
He had no choice.
***
Night was falling as John left the house. Striding across the palace grounds, he felt an ever-lengthening shadow of useless investigation stretching behind him as another fruitless day began to die.
The declining sun gilded the grounds golden-red, added fleeting beauty to palace buildings and flower beds, colored the water in ornamental ponds and fountains, limned the edges of bushes and trees, tinted the high windows of the audience chamber golden, now slowly deepening into orange-red.
Was it significant Justinian had chosen to summon him to the lavishly decorated chamber where emissaries and statesmen were granted brief speech with the emperor, emerging overwhelmed by the sight of beaten gold wall panels interspersed by mosaics depicting the triumphs of Justinian’s generals, the sculpted green marble pillars supporting the roof, and Justinian’s canopied throne flanked by armed excubitors?
John turned a corner and saw Narses lying in wait, a dwarfish spider dressed in bright blue, waiting by a web represented by the polished oak door of the chamber.
“I see we have both been summoned to the emperor’s presence, Lord Chamberlain,” Narses observed. “I suspect Justinian is becoming impatient. My advice is to accuse one of Theodora’s attendants of murdering her. They all had ready access. Consider. They are open to bribery, being but stupid girls, and not at all important. Easily replaced, and nobody will miss them. More importantly, since I hear your investigation does not go smoothly, it will save your head being parted from your body.”
“I will accuse no one without proof,” John replied.
“Very well. Adhere to your principles. Bleached bones have no principles. I will be enjoying a fine meal long after you are gone. Shall we go in together or would you care to follow me?”
John shrugged. “If the honor of being first appeals, take it.”
Narses smiled. “Together, I think. Silentiary, announce us!”
The two men entered the chamber and began to prostrate themselves as Theodora had always required, but Justinian waved them to desist. He was pacing, red-faced with rage, at the foot of the steps leading up to his throne. John did not think he had ever seen the usually taciturn emperor so visibly angry.
“What have you been doing, Lord Chamberlain?” Justinian shouted. “I ordered you to investigate my wife’s death and you have discovered nothing. In the meantime, while you muddle about the city, the identity of the murderer is delivered to me by a mere palace guard.”
“Excellency?” John said.
“An hour ago I was handed clear evidence of who was responsible for our dear empress’ death. It is my former secretary, Anatolius.”
“Surely not the same man known to be a very close friend of the Lord Chamberlain?” Narses put in.
“The same man, as you well know, Narses,” Justinian said in a cold voice. “Is this what you have been doing, Lord Chamberlain, trying to hide the guilt of your friend?”
“I cannot believe Anatolius is guilty,” John replied. His tone was firmer than his conviction. Given the events of the past few days and Anatolius’ devious behavior, could he really be certain?
“Personal beliefs are all very well,” Narses pointed out, “but perhaps we should base our opinions on the evidence.”
A pleased smile crossed Justinian’s face. “Exactly, Narses. The evidence is very strong.”
“Allow me to talk to Anatolius, excellency,” John said.
“There will be no need for you to interview him,” Justinian replied. “Your investigation is ended. He is about to be arrested and will confess to my torturers before he dies. If he refuses to reveal everyone concerned in my wife’s death, he will be questioned with increasingly harsh methods until justice is served.”
“May we respectfully ask the nature of this evidence?” Narses gave a sly sidelong glance at John.
“It was found in the room formerly allotted to the empress’ lady-in-waiting Kuria. It is a copy of a scurrilous poem about my beautiful Theodora, signed by Anatolius and dedicated to his vile mistress. Narses, you told me this disgusting screed has been in circulation for years. It is definitely Anatolius’ handwriting. Is Narses’ claim true, Lord Chamberlain?”
“It is true that in his youth Anatolius penned some foolish lines. We all do foolish things when we are young,” John replied.
Justinian’s voice verged on a snarl. “To think his filth has been sniggered over for years while my dear Theodora did so much for so many. Such foul sentiments…I read the entire poem…it revealed his hatred of the empress as surely as if he had announced it at her door. Yes, it is obvious to me his was the hand that was responsible for her poisoning.”
“The evidence is most convincing, excellency,” Narses agreed.
John had never heard Justinian speak with such anger. It might have been a different man than the outwardly imperturbable emperor with whom he was accustomed to dealing. Was Justinian’s uncontrolled fury a measure of his love for Theodora? “What of the lady-in-waiting who possessed the poem?”
“Unfortunately she was dismissed from the palace following her mistress’ death. However, she will be quickly found to pay for her part in the monstrous crime.”
“She is accused of conspiracy with Anatolius?” John asked.
“Isn’t it obvious?” Narses said. “It’s plain from her possession of this handwritten poem that she knows Anatolius. Given the man’s well-known proclivities, it seems certain they were having an affair. It is obvious he must have given her the poison, knowing she had access to the empress.”
Justinian lowered his voice to an icy hiss. “Theodora took that vile creature, a former prostitute, and elevated her to a position of trust as one of her own ladies-in-waiting. And see how she was repaid for her kindness, for her faith in humanity.”
“Shall I seek the girl out?”
“Do nothing further in this matter, Lord Chamberlain,” Justinian’s voice was cold as death. “I set you the task of finding a murderer. Was it so difficult to find that the culprit was Theodora’s lady-in-waiting, the one person who saw Theodora most often while she was ill? Leave me, Lord Chamberlain. If I require your services, I will summon you.”
John was hardly aware of leaving the reception hall. His feet carried him out to the dark palace grounds while his thoughts leapt this way and that.
Dismissed by the emperor, surely he was free to go after Cornelia?
He could gallop off to Zeno’s estate.
And yet why should she disappear? The only reason he could think of was because of something transpiring in the city.
Something connected with Theodora’s death and John’s futile investigations.
Besides which, by the time John reached the estate, Anatolius would have become another victim of Justinian’s unfocused rage, as dead as Theodora’s cook, the guards outside the room where Theodora had died, her physician Gaius…
Before he realized it John had strode through the Chalke Gate and was on his way to Anatolius’ house.
He fixed his mind on his friend’s peril. A disinterested magistrate might indeed find Anatolius guilty of arranging Theodora’s death. Judging from the poem found in Kuria’s room, he had been secretly involved with one of those nearest to the empress, a trusted lady-in-waiting who could have easily administered poison. He had also advised the Cappadocian, who gave every indication of plotting with General Germanus. What reward might a lawyer expect upon Germanus’ accession to power, now or later? He might well be appointed Quaestor—the emperor’s legal advisor—or be elevated to some other position in the consistory.
Lord Chamberlain, perhaps.
Wasn’t this the very sort of connection John had been seeking? A person with much to gain who could reach Theodora through one of those close to her?
Yet facts and logic could not instantly overcome years of close friendship.
Bits of colored glass could be put together one way to form a picture of a demon, whereas in a different combination they might show an angel instead.
Excubitors stood guard at the narrow way leading to Anatolius’ house and at its gate. The few passers-by who hurried through the torch-lit darkness took little notice of the situation and in many cases quickened their steps, anxious to leave the area before they became unwillingly involved in the trouble obviously roosting on the house roof.
John was admitted to the courtyard. A group of frightened servants huddled together outside the house. As John arrived, Felix stepped from the doorway. His fierce scowl deepened on seeing John.
With a slight warning nod toward the guards he drew John through the gate out their earshot and growled, “You’re too late to warn him, my friend. He’s gone.”
“Thank Mithra for that! He wasn’t at home when you arrived?”
“He was, but unfortunately my men were not exactly discreet as they approached.” Felix gave a brief smile. “He must have heard us coming and managed to escape from the back.”
It occurred to John that Felix was equally involved with Germanus and the Cappadocian, so he had every reason to allow Anatolius—possibly a co-conspirator—to slip away, quite apart from their friendship.
“No guards were posted at the back of the house?”
“An oversight, I am afraid, Lord Chamberlain,” Felix replied with a wink. “We’ll find him before too long.”
“Do you know where he is?”
“I’ll arrange search parties, but first I must question the servants.”
“Your procrastination will cause you trouble later on, Felix.”
Felix shrugged. “Personally, I don’t believe Anatolius has anything to do with your investigation. Any more than I do. In fact, I—”
He bit off his words as a man dressed in clothing announcing his trade to be that of a laborer approached them.
“Yes?” Felix barked at the new arrival.
“I saw a man running away from here, sirs. I work in the Copper Quarter and I was passing behind the back of the house on my way to—”
“Never mind your life story! What about this man you say you saw?” Felix interrupted.
“He was in such a hurry I thought perhaps he had been caught thieving. Then I realized he was well-dressed and the well-dressed never run about, do they, sirs? They always have servants to do that for them. Anyhow, it looked so strange I followed him to see where he was going, so I could come back to tell the owner of the house. But seeing the guards I thought it best to report to you first.”
“Well?” Felix demanded.
“He ran into the Great Church. Is there a reward for telling you where he is, sirs?”
Entering the light-filled building, John stood under a many-pillared gallery and glanced around the huge space under the soaring, many-windowed dome. Light from lamps suspended from the ceiling, set in wall niches, and on tripods, touched the silver seats used by priests and the gold and gem encrusted altar set with richly-decorated sacred vessels. Columns of polished green and white and purple marble pointed colorful fingers to glowing mosaics overhead.
John did not see Anatolius.
Those who sought sanctuary—which surely was Anatolius’ intention—often placed themselves beside the baptismal font.
He returned to the narthex and strode quickly along a wide corridor, his boots slapping noisily on the floor’s enormous polished marble slabs. At the end of the corridor he passed through the Vestibule of the Warriors, where guards were stationed when the emperor was in attendance inside the church. Felix had positioned a number of his excubitors there to prevent Anatolius from slipping away into the night.
The baptistery sat just beyond the vestibule’s exit.
John stepped into the high-domed octagonal room. Lamplight sparkled on jeweled crosses adorning the outer sides of the font. Waist high and the length of two men, it had been carved from a solid block of marble.
John spotted Anatolius sitting halfway down the steps descending into the basin. He hunkered down at the top of the steps. “Is this what we’ve come to, Anatolius? A Mithran seeking Christian sanctuary?”
“What could I do, rush to the palace and hide in the mithraeum? I doubt I’ll be safe here for long.”
“Felix has the church surrounded but he won’t drag you out. He takes his orders from Justinian, and the emperor respects the sanctity of churches.” He didn’t add Felix was even more likely to respect Anatolius’ taking refuge at the font, since the excubitor captain might himself be baptized in it before long.
The thought reminded John of Peter’s plea that he accept the Christian god. He could not imagine immersing himself in the enormous font, as if he were stepping into a bath at the Zeuxippos. What a pathetic way to acknowledge allegiance to a god.
Fortunately for Anatolius, the font was currently dry.
“I am not sure how long Justinian will recognize my right of asylum,” Anatolius said. “The laws specifically bar homicides, adulterers, and ravishers of virgins from enjoying the right, but treason is also a heinous crime.”
“Why did you run, Anatolius?”
“I had no choice. When Felix arrived with excubitors I realized he wasn’t visiting to arrest my cook, even if he does habitually burn the fish.” He forced a bleak smile.
“Flight always gives the appearance of guilt.”
“The excubitors were slow in approaching the house and made too much noise. Felix was intentionally warning me, giving me time to get away.”
“You don’t know why he was ordered to arrest you?”
“What does it matter? If Felix considered it prudent for me to escape, I wasn’t going to question his judgment. Every day someone vanishes. If I’d lingered to ask what the charges were I’d be dead by now.”
John couldn’t argue with that.
Anatolius was leaning back against the font’s inner wall. Light hit the top of his head, accentuating his gray hair. The shadows falling across his face deeply sculpted each incipient wrinkle in his tired, sagging features. John suspected he was seeing what Anatolius would look like as an old man.
Provided he reached old age.
John was not certain he could offer any useful counsel. He recounted what Justinian had told him about the poem found in Kuria’s room.
Anatolius’ grim laugh reverberated in the dry basin. “The follies of our youth come back to haunt us! That cursed poem! Written so long ago and now come to collect payment!”
“It was more than foolish of you to give it to Theodora’s lady-in-waiting.”
“Kuria wasn’t a lady-in-waiting when I first met her, John. Far from it. She was one of Isis’ girls. It’s touching she kept that little scribble so long.”
For a few heartbeats John could say nothing. He remembered what Isis had told him about Kuria’s frequent visitor. Had Isis got it wrong? Had it been Anatolius, not Felix, who had sought Kuria out years earlier?
In response to John’s query Anatolius hung his head. “Yes, for a time I was obsessed with the girl.”
If Anatolius had not been seeing Kuria recently—as Justinian and everyone involved had inferred from her possession of the poem—then he could not have convinced her to poison Theodora to further his ambitions. Ambitions that had also merely been inferred from his involvement with the Cappadocian, and through him, Germanus.
The entire complicated edifice of his friend’s guilt collapsed.
“When did you last see Kuria?”
“I don’t remember, exactly. It was a long time ago.”
“Not within the past few weeks?”
“Not for years. I never had reason to venture into Theodora’s part of the palace. I didn’t even know Kuria was living there.”
“Are you being truthful with me this time?”
“You know I’m always…yes. Yes. This time I am telling you the truth. Ask Kuria.”
“I wish I could. She’s been banished from the palace. Justinian has ordered her found.” John got to his feet. “I’ll escort you to him. We’ll explain the situation.”
“Why would he believe what I say if he’s convinced I conspired to murder his wife? I think not, John. I’d rather stay here.”
“You’ll only be safe here until Justinian loses patience.”
“That’s probably longer than I would have if I were in his clutches.”
“You’re probably right. I’ll try to find Kuria. Justinian might take her word if he comes to his senses sufficiently to remember how much Theodora trusted the girl.”