Seven for a Secret (26 page)

“It was a stroke of good fortune for you,” Troilus told Felix. “And for me also. You saw your chance for glory and joined us. When all this is over, we will find your—”

Felix’s knuckles whitened as he gripped his weapon tighter. “You’re a liar, Troilus, as well as a murderer,” he said in a cold, flat voice. “She’s dead. Vigilia’s dead, and you killed her.”

“That’s true, Felix,” John said. “And then Troilus left her in the cistern, in order to draw me into a situation which could be presented as a plot to overthrow the emperor, doubtless expecting me to join it to protect myself and my family.”

Felix glanced from Troilus to John and back to Troilus. “Do you deny killing her?” Felix took another step toward Troilus, lifting his sword slightly.

John moved between the two men and addressed Felix. “Now we have heard these confessions, the time has come to reveal a certain secret to Troilus and his misguided followers. You are here not to assist these miscreants, but rather to arrest them all, are you not?”

The look of bewilderment that flickered across Felix’s broad, bearded face was replaced almost instantly by a ferocious scowl.

“Indeed! That has always been my plan, Lord Chamberlain. I was simply allowing these two to condemn themselves by their own words as well as gathering up their followers in one swoop.”

“And just as well,” John told him. “When I guessed what was happening, before I returned to warn Cornelia I sent Anatolius to Justinian with an urgent message. Soldiers from the palace are already on their way.”

He paused. “You would have had to dispatch me on the spot if you were really involved in this matter, Felix.”

Before Felix could give orders to his men, a murmur filled the cistern and smoke coiled and swirled like fog in a sudden stiff breeze.

The emperor’s men had arrived. Dark figures poured through the door leading from the corridor.

Agnes grabbed Troilus’ arm and looked at him in alarm.

He remained expressionless, as motionless as the sculpted satyr behind him, staring fixedly at the world he had built in his imagination.

“This cannot be,” he said. “The will of the gods shall be done. These men have come to join us! General Felix, kill the Lord Chamberlain immediately!”

Agnes glanced rapidly around. She tugged at Troilus’ arm. “Hurry!”

John expected her to bolt back into the labyrinth through which he had followed her. It would not be difficult to escape in the maze beneath the city.

But Troilus refused to move, even as Felix strode forward to grasp him.

Now he was as good as in the hands of Justinian’s torturers.

Agnes looked around again.

John saw her tense.

Flee, Zoe!

Where had the unworthy thought come from?

Had John spoken it aloud?

No. Or if he had, the girl had not heard.

Agnes did not move. She squared her shoulders. She had chosen to stay with Troilus.

John moved to her side. “Agnes, if—”

Her hand shot out and her fingernails raked down John’s face.

“Filthy eunuch bastard!” she screamed and spat at him.

As the first of the emperor’s men reached the group and formally placed the treasonous pair under arrest, John felt blood welling up and running down his cheek.

Agnes’ eyes remained dark and cold as she was escorted away with Troilus.

Epilogue

“There are some points on which I am not clear,” Anatolius said, taking another honey cake as gusts of wind rattled the dark panes of the window in John’s study.

John poured more wine. He noticed Anatolius kept his eyes averted from the wall mosaic as he munched on the cake, dropping crumbs on his lap. Was he trying to avoid looking at the lewd deities revealed by the flickering lamplight or at the mosaic girl, the innocent cause of so much trouble?

“What is it that puzzles you?”

“For a start, your foolhardy behavior in following that girl back into an underground maze. Suppose Justinian had refused the request I took to him, to send a contingent of armed men, or they had taken too long to arrive? I would’ve put your apparent stupidity down to that knock on the head except, and as an old friend I say this without rancor, you were behaving as if you had been knocked over the head even before you were actually attacked.”

“From time to time it occurred to me it was possible I was being deliberately herded in certain directions,” John replied. “I had obviously been led, in the first place, to the body that was supposed to be Agnes. Had it been meant as a warning to me? Yet the tattoo could have so easily been removed with a sharp knife. Why dye the corpse in an attempt to hide it? It seemed an overly dramatic touch. Then again, there is no guarantee criminals will necessarily follow the most logical course of action.”

“Particularly a callow pair acting out a mime put together from their own delusions.”

“More a tragedy than a mime, Anatolius. At any rate, I decided if I allowed myself to be hooked and pulled in, eventually I could grasp the line and use it to haul out those responsible for the death of Zoe, as I thought of her.”

Anatolius stared at his friend. “The fish capturing the fishers! I never saw you as a fish before!”

John chuckled.

“But wasn’t it a strange coincidence that the man who was chasing poor Vigilia turned out to be Felix?” Anatolius demanded.

“Not at all. It was the two of them arriving at the theater at different times that suggested the plan to the conspirators. Felix tells me he is tormented by the thought had Vigilia not had that remarkable tattoo she would not have died so her corpse could be presented as that of Zoe. Agnes’ tattoo of course was merely a copy drawn on her flesh, probably with henna.”

“Is he also tormented by the thought that if it weren’t for you he would have lost his head, thanks to his treasonable actions?”

“He insists his intent was always to keep an eye on the plotters by staying close to them, in order to make arrests at the appropriate time.”

“And you believe him?”

“Felix has said very little about his role in the matter. It may be right up to the last he wavered between treason and his duty. After all, he’s indicated more than once he considers his work at the palace an insult to a military man and that he would prefer to be fighting for the empire.”

“From what you were telling me earlier,” Anatolius said, “Felix seems to have spent a lot of time following you around at the behest of the conspirators. I suppose that he must have been protecting you as well. I would advise him to curb his restlessness in future, John.”

“Felix may harbor ambitions, but he is not a fool. Even so, I do wonder if his discontent will eventually be his downfall.”

“Affairs of the heart coupled with over-indulgence in wine, as is often the case, can turn anyone into a fool, and Felix has a weakness for both. Luckily he tipped the scales of justice the right way when he learned of Vigilia’s murder.”

“I had deduced the identity of the murdered girl by then, although I didn’t know her name, and I realized Felix must have been unaware of her fate. In connection with this substitution of one woman for another, as I reminded you, Dedi’s trick with the vanishing skull worked because it wasn’t really a skull. Then there was the stylite who was made of metal.”

Anatolius frowned. “But why didn’t this Stephen, the acolyte you mentioned, realize something was wrong when the stylite he served didn’t appear in public for a few days?”

John explained he had learnt from Stephen that the stylite was in the habit of withdrawing into the rough shelter on his platform for lengthy periods of time, and since the food offerings sent up were eaten, by Troilus as it turned out, there was no reason to think further about the matter.

“Thus,” he continued, “this allowed the boy to remain hidden until the men left on guard in the square finally returned to the palace, at which point Menander was able to investigate the supposed miracle and having heard his remarkable story rescue Troilus. At the same time, he substituted one of his automatons for the dead stylite, who in a grisly jest against the official religion became part of the centaur in his shop. Presumably the rest of the body is hidden somewhere in the subterranean warren.”

Anatolius said this seemed to fit the circumstances.

“And once I deduced how Troilus had been saved from discovery, it made me see how easily everything fit together, provided the dyed corpse in the cistern and the prostitute who fled from Theodora’s convent were indeed the same person—but not Agnes.”

“You might call it fitting everything together easily, John. Others might regard it as more of a leap in logic. And what about the dye?”

“Purchased or stolen from Jabesh, whose shop is close to the theater. It was probably its proximity that suggested that part of the plan. When Agnes was leading me back to Troilus’ shop we ran past what I thought was a fountain basin filled with rust-coloured water, but in fact it must have been the red dye used when they were busy preparing the unfortunate Vigilia’s body for its appearance in the cistern.”

“And then there’s Menander,” Anatolius mused. “Now, I do have a notion how that was worked. With artisans repairing your bath mosaic coming and going and only Peter to keep an eye on them, Menander’s body must have been smuggled into your house in a barrel. Doubtless it would be taken to be full of tesserae or plaster like the others, if indeed anyone had seen it brought in. That would be toward evening, like as not, so Menander could be tipped into the bath just after Figulus and his workers had left for the day.”

“Indeed. Figulus wasn’t a party to the plot. As a matter of fact he only agreed to finish work on the bath after I convinced him he would not be stumbling upon any bodies in it.”

“I can see Figulus wasn’t necessarily involved, but what about Petronia? Could she really have known as little as she claimed? She was once a member of court, after all, or so she said.”

“That’s a puzzle I haven’t solved, nor do I intend to pursue it further. It makes no difference now.”

John stared at the dark window, seeing only reflections of the lamplight. He took a sip of wine and continued his explanation.

“As for the matter of Helias, the sundial maker reported there was a body in the sack he saw Troilus dragging past, although not the corpse we suspected. Of course, when I saw the sack later its contents had been replaced by that enormous leather phallus. I suspect he chose that particular artifact to taunt both myself and Helias.”

Anatolius inquired about the chamberlain Kyrillos.

“He’s still in Theodora’s service,” John replied. “I promised Kyrillos a reward in return for his cooperation, by the way, and I’ve just sent him a small satyr for his collection.”

Anatolius observed Kyrillos probably assumed John was offering his protection should Theodora hear of what he had revealed.

“Nobody can offer safety from the wrath of the empress. Not even the emperor,” John replied. “I doubt Kyrillos will remain very long in Theodora’s service, or for that matter in this world, if the aid he provided for my investigation becomes known.”

A shadow passed over Anatolius’ face. “Perhaps I shouldn’t have mentioned…”

“We are both aware such information tends to be easily extracted by Justinian’s torturers.”

“Yes, I don’t like to think about that. And speaking of information, how is Justinian reacting to the revelation that Theodora has an illegitimate child?”

“You mean a self-styled illegitimate child? How many of them do you suppose the imperial couple has encountered over the years? I gather the emperor was as chagrined as Theodora that this particular imposter hadn’t been disposed of properly in the first place.”

Anatolius nodded. “Of course, now that I think about it there wouldn’t have been any reason for her not to tell Justinian about the boy after he first showed up. Only Theodora knows whether his story is true and Troilus had no real proof to offer. Is that malignant dwarf who failed in his duty still among the living?”

“He is still alive. He is after all one of Theodora’s playthings and the emperor indulges her whims.”

Anatolius stood. “I should be off home. It’s very late.” The wailing of the gusty wind rose into a shriek. “It sounds as if numerous shades are trying to force their way into your study.”

“They are already here,” John replied.

Anatolius hesitated in the doorway. Finally he asked “Is there any word about the fate of Troilus or Agnes?”

“Troilus was executed within an hour of arriving at the palace. As for Agnes, I suggested to Justinian he should spare the girl, exile her, or send her to a convent. She was, after all, more or less an innocent, if a deluded innocent.”

“You surely did not mean it?”

John replied he did.

“And did he take your rash advice?”

“I understand Theodora interceded. When Agnes revealed she was pregnant with Troilus’ child, she ordered the girl be cared for until the birth, which will take place without opiates or assistance of any kind. Should it survive, the baby will be murdered in Agnes’ presence as soon as born. At that point Agnes is to be blinded, and then sent to the Repentance convent for the rest of her life, the better to reflect upon her sins, not to mention Theodora’s charity in persuading Justinian to allow her to live.”

Anatolius shuddered. “Theodora’s charity is far worse than Justinian’s rage! I wager it won’t be long before Agnes finds her way to a window and throws herself out of it.” With that, Anatolius took his leave.

Once alone John turned his attention, as so often in the past, to the mosaic girl Zoe.

Or was she Agnes now?

Would the mosaic girl’s almond-shaped eyes change when Agnes’ terrible punishment was carried out several months hence?

Would Zoe be aware?

Of course not.

The notion was absurd.

John lifted his wine cup to his lips.

Zoe stared back at him with familiar dark, haunted eyes.

Was her gaze colder than before?

Perhaps that was only John’s imagination.

“Why, Zoe?” he asked.

But only silence was his answer.