Nine for the Devil (25 page)
John was used to being out in the city at night. It held no fears for him. This night felt different. There was a sinister aspect to the shadows. He had the feeling if the sun were to suddenly rise dark forms would be revealed as something other than the familiar buildings and colonnades and monuments he knew during the daytime.
Where in this strange place could Kuria have gone?
When she spoke to John in the palace gardens she was terrified of being thrown out into the streets. Clearly she did not have a plan. If she finally had decided on a destination, who at court would know? What friends would she have had at the palace?
Vesta, John thought. The young women had served Theodora together. Perhaps Kuria had confided in Vesta.
John’s house was all but on his way to the womens’ quarters. He couldn’t pass nearby without checking on Peter, although there was nothing he could do for him, nor, he remembered with a pang, was there anything he could do about finding Cornelia at present.
As he came around the side of the barracks opposite the house he passed a portly, youngish man dressed in the elaborate robes of the clergy.
Why would he be out at this hour unless…
A haggard-looking Hypatia greeted John at the door. “The physician said there was nothing to do but send for a clergyman,” she said. Her voice sounded strained but calm. Resigned. Her shoulders were slumped, her normally lively eyes dull.
“Peter is still alive?”
“He woke before the physician got here. It seems it is only a matter of time. He’s asleep now. The physician said when he slept again, he would not wake up.”
John made no effort to step inside. “I am likely to be away all night, Hypatia. Anatolius is under suspicion. He’s taken sanctuary in the Great Church.”
“No,” Hypatia said “Oh, no.” Her words came out in a choked whisper, as if she had found her ability to express grief exhausted.
“You understand, I would stay with Peter but Anatolius needs my help.”
“If you want to save Anatolius, why don’t you accuse Antonina of the murder? She’s an evil woman. How many poisonings has she got away with? Or you could accuse someone else who has escaped justice.”
“I could not lie,” John said stiffly. “Especially with a person’s life at stake.”
“But what about Anatolius? Isn’t his life at stake?”
Her vehemence surprised John. Did she harbor some affection for Anatolius so long after he had been trying to attract her without apparent success?
“I will see that Anatolius comes to no harm without making a liar of myself, Hypatia.”
Her eyes suddenly came alive. “Better that Anatolius die than you should say something that isn’t true. For that matter, you would see an old man go to his grave agonizing over your soul—berating himself that he could not save you from the fires of hell—rather than uttering a few comforting words that would make you a liar.”
“You were eavesdropping on our conversation!”
“Not intentionally. I simply waited outside Peter’s door. I couldn’t help hearing what he said. You could have pretended to agree to his final request. After his lifetime of loyalty, what would it have cost you? But, no. You have to adhere to your principles. You always have to be superior, better than other men. And why is that, because you know you aren’t really—”
“That’s enough! I know you are distraught, Hypatia, but you have forgotten your position. I regret I will not be able to employ you after this outburst.”
Hypatia drew herself up and looked John in the face. A smile trembled on her lips. “Would you have me depart immediately then and leave my dying husband unattended?”
“Husband?”
“Yes. The clergyman who visited Peter married us.”
A marriage between Hypatia and the gravely ill Peter was absurd. Even if he were not dying, Peter was twice Hypatia’s age, but John had no time to dwell on the news.
He brushed by the guards at the entrance to Joannina’s quarters. Recognizing the Lord Chamberlain, they stood aside.
Anastasius did not.
The tall, skinny young man appeared from an inner chamber, straightening his tunic, black hair rumpled. “What do you think you’re doing harassing us in the middle of the night?” he shouted. “We’ve had enough of this!”
“I am here on the emperor’s business.”
The young man clenched his fists.
“Anastasius! Stop!” Joannina, emerging from their room, placed a restraining hand on his arm. “What do you want at this hour, Lord Chamberlain?”
“Direct me to Vesta’s room. I wish to speak to her.”
Before Joannina could answer, her lady-in-waiting emerged groggily from another room
“I heard raised voices,” she said. “What…” Seeing John she fell silent.
John noted Vesta wore the same kind of light blue tunica her mistress was wearing. “Why are you here, Vesta? I thought you lived with the other attendants?”
“The excubitors turned her room into a shambles,” Joannina said. “Besides, she’s too uneasy to stay there, since they’ve violated the place. I gave her one of our spare rooms.”
“Only until we find her a more suitable place,” Anastasius said, sounding petulant. “She won’t be staying here long.”
John wasn’t surprised Vesta was upset, considering what she had been through. “Do you have any idea where Kuria might have gone?” he asked her.
“Kuria? She was ordered to leave the palace after—”
“Did she tell you where she intended to stay?”
Vesta shook her head.
“Did she ever speculate about what she might do if she had to leave? Did she mention friends in the city?”
“I…I don’t remember, excellency.”
“Are you satisfied?” snapped Anastasius. “If so, we’ll return to our beds. If you want to pursue this, come back tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow will be too late. The emperor seeks to arrest Anatolius. Your lawyer.”
Vesta let out a small cry of distress.
“What do mean our lawyer?” barked Anastasius. “Who is this Anatolius?”
Vesta drew her clasped hands up to her face in a gesture of prayer.
John addr
essed Joannina. “Please take Anastasius back to your room. I must speak to Vesta alone.”
Anastasius’ took an angry step forward but Joannina’s hand tightened on his arm and she gave it a tug. “Come, Anastasius. The Lord Chamberlain is working for Justinian. We don’t need to anger the emperor.”
Anastasius glared at John long enough to preserve his dignity, then relented and followed Joannina away, grumbling and throwing venomous looks back over his narrow shoulder.
Vesta began to blubber. “Where is Anatolius? What will happen to him? Is he safe?”
“For now. He’s taken sanctuary in the Great Church. But I must find Kuria. Justinian believes she poisoned Theodora on Anatolius’ orders.”
Vesta shook her head wildly. “Oh, no. He would never do that, never! He had nothing to do with Kuria! Not for years and years.”
“He was telling me the truth? He hadn’t been seeing her recently?”
“No. And I would know. Kuria and I were friends.”
John detected coldness in her tone. “You weren’t going to Anatolius’ house for legal advice on behalf of your mistress, were you, Vesta? You were trying to gain Anatolius’ attentions.”
She caught her lower lip under her oversize front teeth and nodded morosely.
What he had already guessed had become certain to John when he saw Vesta wore the same sort of blue tunica to bed as Joannina. Vesta had come to the palace from a relatively modest background and being a naive girl, idolized her mistress. She considered the relationship between Joannina and Anastasius the height of romance. She wanted to emulate Joannina in every way, not just in dress. Anatolius had somehow drawn her attention. He was a romantic figure—not the grandson of an empress perhaps, but the son of a senator and a handsome man whose poems still circulated at court. That he was too old for Vesta simply added a spice of impropriety to the sought-after affair, giving it the same illicit savor as her mistress’ romance.
“Anatolius did not return your attentions?”
She said nothing, but the tears that welled up in her eyes answered for her.
As John crossed the Augustaion and approached the Great Church he saw light pouring from the baptistery. He pushed through the excubitors in the Warriors’ Vestibule, sensing tension among the men. Muttered conversations were too loud, lances and swords were grasped too tightly.
All the lamps in the octagonal chamber where Anatolius had sought refuge were lit. It was as bright as midday. A variety of churchmen had congregated and stood in a double ring around the font.
The diminutive figure of Narses emerged from a knot of excubitors near the doorway and moved in John’s direction, a shadowy demon sliding along the floor amidst the coruscating mosaics and glittering jeweled crosses adorning the baptistery. One might have thought such a creature would be banished by the blazing radiance.
“Lord Chamberlain, I am glad to see you. Please advise your friend Felix of the consequences of disobeying a direct order from the emperor.”
“Explain yourself, Narses.”
The eunuch treasurer simpered up at John. “Justinian has sent me to take over here. I am ordered to seize the murderer.” His dark, serpent’s eyes glanced over the assembled churchmen. “I don’t think they will offer much resistance, do you?”
Felix strode over. “I won’t have the blood of any clergy on my hands. My men take orders from me, and I don’t intend to relinquish my command.”
“Justinian was right to suppose you cannot be trusted,” Narses sneered. “In fact, you and that miscreant cowering in here are probably both involved in a plot against him.”
Now John understood the reason for the tension he had sensed. The guards by and large were Christian. They would be torn between their loyalty to the empire and their religion and fear of Justinian’s wrath. It was ironic their captain Felix, who ordered them to honor their sacred place, was himself a pagan.
Or at least had been hitherto.
“Anatolius is not going anywhere,” John told Narses. “So there is no need to be in a hurry. Can you imagine what the reaction will be if you have the priests protecting him slaughtered in the church? Perhaps it is you who has an eye on the throne and might like to see the city set on fire?”
Narses brushed the insinuation aside without raising his reedy voice. “Do you think I am a fool, Lord Chamberlain? I cautioned Justinian a rash act might cause riots. In the end, however, I can only advise and then must carry out his orders. You are Anatolius’ friend, which means you are in the best position to prevent bloodshed. Convince him to surrender.”
John looked toward the font but could not see Anatolius, hidden behind the massed clergy. Some stared defiantly in their direction, others prayed.
None were armed.
“Why are you hesitating, Lord Chamberlain? Is your allegiance to your murderous friend stronger than your allegiance to the emperor?” Narses said.
“Don’t interfere, John,” Felix growled. “Anatolius has made his choice. I have made mine.”
“And your men?” Narses’ asked mildly, “What choice will they make when I directly order them to seize the criminal?”
“I will speak to Anatolius,” John said.
Those surrounding the font allowed him to pass. Anatolius was still sprawled uncomfortably on the steps leading down into the dry basin.
“Do you think I should just ask them to bring in the holy water?” Anatolius asked. “They could baptize me and then administer their death rituals. I’d be all set then to fly straight up into that heaven of theirs, where Justinian is sure to send me as soon as I leave here.”
It would not be an immediate journey, John thought. Justinian’s torturers would ensure it was a seeming eternity before Anatolius was released from his sufferings. “Narses wants you to surrender, to avoid bloodshed.”
“Except for my blood being shed. Are you supposed to persuade me to leave sanctuary?”
“Anatolius, swear to me you have not seen Kuria for years, that you are not involved in some plot against the emperor.”
“I swear it, John. How many times do I need to tell you? How long have we known each other?”
“A long time, but recently you lied to me.”
“We all have duties to honor and—”
“There isn’t time to argue. You have no idea where Kuria has gone?”
“No.”
“Very well,” John said. Then I’ll have to find her.”
Anatolius let his head drop back against the marble rim of the font, his gaze directed up into the glowing dome filled with stars and angels. “Tell the churchmen to leave, John. There’s no reason they should die to protect a pagan like myself.”
“They aren’t here to protect you, Anatolius. They are protecting their holy space.”
Anatolius said nothing and did not move his gaze away from the dome.
When John returned to Narses unaccompanied, the treasurer merely smiled. “You did not convince him, then? I did not expect that you would.”
As he spoke there was a commotion and raised voices outside. Narses turned toward the sounds. “Ah, my men have arrived.”
Felix cursed.
There was no need to explain. If Narses could not depend on the excubitors there were other forces he could call upon—silentiaries, the scholarae, the City Prefect’s urban watch. No matter how defiant Felix might be, it was inconceivable he would order his excubitors to battle other imperial guards.
Unless he were in fact intent on deposing the emperor they all served.
A few of the new arrivals began to filter through the excubitors, moving in Narses’ direction. Armed men scowled apprehensively at the weaponless men surrounding the font.
Before Narses had a chance to issue orders, Patriarch Menas entered the chamber. His narrow face, accentuated by the long beard, looked more drawn than ever. He moved as slowly as if his clerical robes were woven of pure gold, rather than decorated with gold thread. He walked past John, Narses, and Felix without a word and interposed himself between the priests and those from the palace.
“I have just spoken with the emperor,” he announced. In response to a withering look flung at him by Narses, he added, “You have been overruled, Narses. I order you, in the emperor’s name, to refrain from exercising your military skills here for the time being.”
“I knew Justinian would never allow his church to be violated,” Felix muttered.
Menas looked around and then continued. “The emperor is hoping that the miscreant will recognize his duty toward the Lord and submit himself to justice.”
John thought it was unlikely Anatolius would oblige. “What if Anatolius refuses to give himself up?” he asked. “I have reason to believe he is innocent, yet he has already been judged guilty. How long will he survive if he leaves the church?”
“Justinian did not offer me any guarantees on that point,” Menas replied. “I intend to pray with this unfortunate man. Perhaps he will recognize his duty.”
“And if he continues to claim sanctuary?” Felix interrupted.
The patriarch’s face, gaunt as it was, displayed a remarkable lack of emotion under the circumstances. It might have been a saint’s face painted on a piece of wood. “The emperor has prayed for guidance. The murderer must surrender himself. That is the Lord’s will, and the Lord’s will shall be done by sunrise. By whatever means is necessary.”
