Six for Gold (8 page)

Chapter Sixteen

“Please sit down, Batzas.”

Anatolius remained standing in front of the window of John’s study. His visitor, a younger man with the broad, unmarked face of an overgrown boy, placed himself on the nearest stool. “Did you bring the documents I requested?”

Batzas’ hands tightened on his bundle of papers. “Yes, sir, but—”

“I hear you’re doing well with your temporary new responsibilities. Justinian has not yet named my successor?”

“The emperor is hoping you will reconsider and return.”

“I don’t think I shall. I’ll put in a good word for you. The work you’ve done for me has always been excellent.”

“Thank you, sir.”

“Now to business. You composed the letter of introduction given to the Lord Chamberlain, I believe?”

Batzas confirmed this had been the case. Like every first-time visitor to John’s study, Batzas kept glancing uneasily to the girl in the wall mosaic. Anatolius was surprised John did not bring people there to be interrogated, considering the assistance Zoe’s discomfiting gaze would give him.

“Sir, I have those old drafts you were working on, but Justinian ordered the one for the Lord Chamberlain’s introduction be destroyed.”

“That is the usual procedure.”

“I was thinking, on the way over, pardon me, sir, but I can’t reveal anything—”

“I wouldn’t expect it, Batzas. As secretary to the emperor you must cultivate discretion as diligently as a gardener tends her herbs. If anyone had approached me with suspicious inquiries about imperial correspondence, I would have reported the fact to Justinian immediately.”

“That’s exactly what I would do in the same circumstances.”

“You are an astute young man. However, you are also aware that the emperor intensely dislikes being disturbed with trivial matters?”

“Understandably.”

“You’ll appreciate then why I asked you to bring me all the documents I left in my office. As I mentioned then, although I am no longer his official secretary, Justinian has ordered me to draft further correspondence regarding the Lord Chamberlain. There is a detail that has unfortunately escaped me. Naturally, I don’t want to impose on the emperor.”

He took the bundle Batzas had brought and rifled through it. “What miserable luck! I was certain I’d made a note of it.”

“Of what, sir?”

“The Lord Chamberlain’s destination.”

Batzas stiffened. “Sir, I am not permitted—”

“It’s just that I can’t recall how the place was spelled. Those Egyptian names are always so difficult, and I was hoping you could recall the spelling.”

“Oh. Well, if that’s all it is. I can probably remember it.” Batzas looked at the ceiling for a brief time, resembling a schoolboy who was being quizzed. “It’s M-e-h-e-n-o-p-o-l-i-s.”

Anatolius accompanied the young clerk to the door. It irked him to serve as a doorkeeper, but it was quicker than calling for Hypatia, who for once was spending the day there rather than in the hospice. He wondered if she was still at work in the garden.

How could a Lord Chamberlain employ only two servants? There were clerks at the palace who employed more.

As he saw Batzas out, a small brown bird flew into the atrium. They were always getting into his own house too, probably because they nested under the peristyle. He’d even seen them come straight down through the compluvium to bathe in the atrium’s impluvium.

He didn’t want the avian intruder to get upstairs, where there would be no escape and its panic would foul the floors. It was already perched halfway up the stairway, so Anatolius trotted forward, waving his hands. The bird took flight in a small explosion of pinfeathers, but fortunately fled into the garden.

Anatolius followed. Looking up, he saw the bird dwindle and vanish into the deep blue rectangle of sky framed by the roof of the peristyle.

Hypatia was working in one of the herb beds. Her hands were black with dirt and her tawny face, sheened with perspiration, glittered like polished marble.

At his greeting, she brushed a strand of hair away from her forehead, carefully using the back of her hand. Nevertheless, the gesture left a streak of grime. “I’m almost finished here, sir, and as soon as I get cleaned up I’ll see what I can find for the evening meal.”

“Don’t worry. You’re overworked, Hypatia. What have you been pruning?”

“It’s fennel and dill, sir. The fennel’s got into the dill and if it’s left there it will weaken the stock. Dill needs the light in the center of the garden, so I’ve been digging up the fennel plants to move them further away.”

“That sounds like an excellent solution.” He was trying to think of something else to say when she gathered her tools and went into the house.

Anatolius strolled around the garden for a time and then returned upstairs.

He decided to put away the will he’d been working on and go to see Thomas again.

When he entered the study he saw someone bent over the desk, studying the documents scattered there.

The figure straightened and turned, revealing a scarred ruin of a face whose skin resembled that of a fowl left on the spit too long.

“Hektor!”

“What are you doing, Anatolius, creeping around the Lord Chamberlain’s former residence? You startled me!”

“I’m staying here in his absence.”

“Indeed? And so it’s true this is your new line of business?” Hektor plucked a document up by a corner as if it were something distasteful. It was the will.

Hektor let it drop. “You’ve gone from being Justinian’s secretary to sweating in the employ of bakers. Such a pity.”

The former court page was dressed in spotless white garments decorated with embroidered squares depicting Christ on the cross and the risen Christ.

Unfortunately there was no finery in the empire that would draw attention away from the disfigured face.

“You have no right to be here, Hektor,” Anatolius snapped.

“I expected the house to be abandoned after the Lord Chamberlain’s enforced departure, and the carelessly unlocked house door gave me no reason to think otherwise.”

“It’s still occupied, as you see.”

“You’re not doing a very good job, are you? What if I were a common criminal?”

“Instead of an uncommon one? Well, if you haven’t come to scavenge whatever you can steal like some carrion-eater then why are you here?”

“I intend to take possession immediately.” Hektor glanced around the room. His gaze lingered on the wall mosaic. “It’s a most desirable property and could be furnished attractively. The Lord Chamberlain’s notion of comfort is not mine.”

Anatolius observed that John was a man of simple tastes.

“Then he’ll be much happier in a hovel in Egypt.”

Anatolius heard a step in the hallway and glimpsed Hypatia, who vanished in the direction of the kitchen.

Had she been listening?

“Leave, Hektor. You’re not welcome here.”

“What’s the hurry? John won’t be coming back. Our dear empress was correct all along. He was a cunning villain and now he’s been unmasked. Yet who would have guessed he’d go so far as to murder a senator? Whatever could he have been trying to conceal?” Hektor made the Christian sign. “I shall pray for his soul, sinner that he is.”

“Do I have to throw you out?” Anatolius grabbed Hektor’s arm.

Hektor jerked away. “Beware, Anatolius. If I appeal to the emperor—”

“You don’t appeal to anyone now, I’m afraid. Since I was the emperor’s secretary until recently, he knows me well, and I doubt he’d take much notice of whining complaints about me from a prancing fool like you.”

“You mistake me for the person I once was, Anatolius. The terrible accident I suffered was a gift from heaven. The veils of sin were lifted from my eyes and I saw the vanity of earthly things. However, we must also be practical. Even those who serve the Lord must have a place to live.”

“Why don’t you find a vacant pillar to crawl up and take up being a stylite instead of causing trouble for everyone?”

Hektor glared. “Your friend John will not be needing this house again.”

“He’ll be back before too long. How can you possibly doubt it?”

“Being in the confidence of those who are highly placed, I’ve been entrusted with more than a few secrets,” the other replied.

“You mean you’re a keyhole specialist.”

Hektor raised his gaze to the ceiling. “Lord,” he muttered, “please help this deluded paga—”

With a quick movement Anatolius struck Hektor square on the chest, sending him sprawling to the floor.

“I’m impressed! Your prayer’s been answered already! I’ve neglected the gymnasium lately and needed help getting exercise. Shall we continue?”

Hektor scrambled to his feet, fists clenched. “I’ll be back to take possession of this house when your protector is dead, Anatolius!”

His voice was a low snarl. “Until then, I wouldn’t make myself too comfortable here if I were you,” he went on. “It won’t be long until the Lord Chamberlain is on his way to whatever part of hell is reserved for pagans. Indeed, he may be writhing in the flames right now if the assassin has already caught up to him!”

Chapter Seventeen

Melios barely looked at John’s introduction. He broke the seal, unrolled the scroll, glanced down, and then up again. “You are John, Lord Chamberlain to Emperor Justinian? I am honored, excellency, deeply honored.”

John’s host had the leathery skin of a desert ascetic stretched over the plump body of one born to privilege. A helmet-like wig of traditional cut framed the headman’s face and thin lines of kohl drew attention to brown eyes, one clouded by that affliction Egyptians called a rising of water. However, the spotless white linen he wore might have been stolen from the back of an ancient Greek sculpture.

To John, Melios appeared to be a man with his feet planted, unsteadily, in two cultures.

“As you see, the emperor has sent me here to look into the matter of your sheep,” John said.

“Why would the emperor be interested in my flock? It was declared and taxed accordingly last year. Is there an accounting problem, some difficulty of that kind?”

“Nothing of that nature.” John wished the knot he had to untie was as mundane as correcting tax rolls. “What interests Justinian is the strange way they’ve died. It should be explained in my introduction.”

Melios unrolled the scroll again and peered at it. “The writing is minuscule. I fear I do not see so well in this light. To think that my poor beasts, scratching out an existence almost beyond the very border of the empire, would be discussed in the Great Palace. They are such humble animals compared to the tigers and peacocks gracing the beautiful mosaics lining imperial corridors! I suppose I should not be surprised. There must be little that escapes Justinian’s attention.”

“Where did these deaths occur?”

“There was only one, excellency, but that was quite enough for me. Furthermore, it cut its own throat rather than decapitating itself, but these reports do gain in the telling and retelling, don’t they? In any event, the unfortunate animal killed itself in its pen.”

“I wish to examine where it happened.”

“Certainly. I’ll show you the gardens on the way.”

John followed Melios outside and around the back of the house. Moonlight silvered the path.

“My servants must labor ceaselessly to maintain these gardens,” Melios said. “As Horace put it, you may force out nature, yet she’ll insist on running back.”

He indicated a curved planting of cornflowers. “I realize this garden is as dust compared to the palace grounds, but I flatter myself that here I have created an inferior mirror of the lush greenery which our exalted and blessed rulers traverse in the coolness of evening, despite the constant problems we face here in maintaining sufficient irrigation.”

The identification of plants was a skill which eluded John, although he could see the array was well tended. “In Egypt water is wealth, and here it is obvious you have spent it wisely.”

Melios smiled. The palms bordering their path gave way to shaggy trees with thick, gnarled trunks.

“Sycamore figs,” explained Melios. “And those bushes with the big red blossoms are Paion’s flowers, named after the physician who used them to cure the gods of their wounds. You will know that, being a man of learning. I had them imported to protect my livestock, having heard they have that power. I regret to report the blooms do not glow in the dark as common gossip has it, although if they did we could set tubs of them indoors and save a great deal of the money spent on lamp oil.” He chuckled. “But then I am a Christian, so perhaps the plants refuse to work their pagan magick for me.”

“I suspect you would enjoy talking to my gardener, Hypatia. She has a vast knowledge of herbs.”

“Is that so? My head gardener is just the same. For example, see that bed of squill over there? He concocted a mixture from them for a persistent cough one of my house staff had last winter, and it cleared it up right away. He’s currently treating my rheumatic knees with the same useful plant, although so far all it’s done is make patches of my skin raw. Still, I shall persist. If it should become too painful, he can make poppy potions to alleviate my misery.”

They came to an open area graced with a small pond, around which were scattered an assortment of outbuildings. A hobbled donkey lay near a stack of straw, not far from a long, low barn built of mud bricks. John noted light wavering from the building’s narrow windows, which were hardly a hand wide and set high in the walls.

The barn was guarded by a man who wore no armor and was protected only by a loincloth. However, the spear he carried announced both his authority and intent.

“That’s where the sheep are penned at night,” Melios said. “I keep all my livestock in this part of the estate.”

He motioned the guard to slide back the barn door’s iron bolt. “The building is secured after nightfall and watched over until dawn.”

Melios’ voice trailed off as he stepped into the barn and picked up the clay lamp sitting on a shelf beside the door.

“I see you have taken every precaution to prevent unauthorized persons entering,” John said.

Melios swung the lamp around. Its diffused light flowed across lines of low-walled pens filled with sheep. There were a few bleats of protest.

He walked to the far end of the barn and tapped the wooden gate of a small enclosure. “This is where we found the animal that died, excellency.”

John noted the pen was empty.

“We don’t use it any longer,” Melios explained. “There is talk among the servants it is accursed. I have no opinion either way.”

“I will need to examine this barn in daylight.”

“Of course you are welcome to search any part of my estate or any of its buildings at any time you choose, excellency.”

They returned to Melios’ house, a building whose walls featured foundations of red sandstone with the rest of the structure constructed of the omnipresent mud bricks.

Melios showed John into the reception room. “I realize you will want to join your family in my guest house, but first, if you would not mind remaining a little longer…”

He indicated a well-cushioned chair crouching low to the floor on carved lion paws. John accepted the seat and a cup of wine.

“I regret the liquid essence of our dusty vines cannot match the wine you are accustomed to imbibe, excellency.” Melios poured himself a generous libation.

“The wines of Egypt are my favorites, although I regret few appear to believe it,” John replied with a smile.

Melios beamed, took a few hasty gulps, and adjusted his heavy wig with a pudgy hand.

John glanced around. The room was sparsely furnished with a few stools and unpadded chairs. His was the only cushioned seating. Other than that, the room contained an alabaster chest and another with polished wooden panels. An unlit bronze, three-legged brazier stood in the corner, reminding him Egyptian nights could be surprisingly cold.

The walls, by contrast, were crowded with frescoes depicting scenes in Alexandria and Constantinople.

Melios saw the direction of his gaze. “You must go past the Great Church every day, excellency. You may be surprised to hear I have seen it myself. I once visited Constantinople, like my father before me. It is a wonderful city.”

“When was this journey?”

“A year or so ago, before the accursed plague struck. I had to travel there on business. Such a huge place! The noise! And the crowds! I’ve never seen so many people in one place at once. No, not even in Alexandria! It seemed to me there were enough people in the Hippodrome alone to fill all of Egypt.”

Melios looked with obvious fondness at a misshapen representation of the Hippodrome, whose fresher appearance suggested it had been more recently painted than the rest of the fresco of Constantinople. “I’ll wager the sight of the Hippodrome in such an unexpected place must have brought back pleasant memories?”

“Vivid memories at least,” John admitted.

“I was even fortunate enough to see the imperial couple in a procession,” Melios went on. “What a marvelous sight! All those silks and jewels and the emperor so handsome and the empress exceedingly beautiful, although I must admit it was difficult to see them very well with the excubitors surrounding them, and all those palace officials and courtiers hovering about like butterflies. I have penned many verses about that glorious day.”

He leaned forward. “And even more surprising than that, I have met Justinian. Yes! Few can say that, eh, Lord Chamberlain? I was ushered into his august presence!”

John nodded. “The emperor mentioned that meeting to me when I last had an audience with him.”

Melios was thunderstruck. “He mentioned me?” He chuckled with delight. Then his expression became serious. “That explains how he knows about my misfortune. He has had his eye on this humble settlement ever since our meeting.”

“That I cannot say, Melios. I know he is interested in learning how a sheep might kill itself while locked in a barn. You have no explanation?”

“I think…” Melios began to speak, but stopped.

For a heartbeat John was convinced he would be offered a hint or an indication of a way to a solution, but his host instead concluded: “…If I may say so, Lord Chamberlain, the animal cannot be brought back to life and so I believe the event is best forgotten as soon as possible.”