by Mary Reed
‘There is little light in that part of the gardens but my eyes had grown accustomed to the dark. I made my way along the bottom of the wall. There was no body to be seen.
‘I became aware of someone looking at me. I peered through the darkness, and saw a pair of horns and a bestial face. For a heartbeat I thought Satan himself had arrived, no doubt to visit Theodora. Then I saw it was a statue of Pan, presiding over an ornamental pool.
‘Or perhaps it was Satan in the guise of the pagan god for this pool was newly built and its deep water had saved the boy who claimed to be Theodora’s son.
‘As you can imagine I began to scour the surrounding gardens. I was not unknown at the palace, even then, and so was able to enlist the aid of several of the night guards.
‘It was nearly dawn when we spotted him. He had managed to find his way to the Chalke and was about to escape into the city. One of the fools assisting me raised the alarm. The soldiers who stand watch at the great gate are on the alert for miscreants seeking access to the palace grounds. The boy was past them before they knew what was happening.
‘I sent the guards after the boy and was told later they pursued him into the Copper Market where he vanished into thin air. They swore to me that he was running ahead of them and then suddenly he was gone. He was a demon, they said, as if that excused their failure.
‘I returned to the empress and reported that the boy had escaped. I was relieved when she had my tongue removed. I had expected to be killed, but I am valuable to her.’
John finished reading. “If you thought you would be killed why did you report to Theodora at all?”
‘Where does a person like me hide from the empress?’ Theodoulos wrote. ‘Besides, as I described the circumstances, the fault lay mostly with the guards. Naturally they were all executed. I particularly enjoyed that little task.’
John studied the face across the table from him. It displayed no remorse or any other emotion. How long must it have taken him to learn to write? And for what purpose? To tell the story he had just told? “Are you certain you did not loosen your grip on the boy’s arm on purpose, Theodoulos? Did you intend to show the boy some pity?”
Theodoulos did not nod, neither did he shake his head in the negative.
John turned to Felix. “I’m surprised you don’t remember guards being executed by order of the empress.”
Felix grunted. “If they’d been my excubitors, I would remember. The Master of the Offices is in charge of guarding the gardens. A fine job he does of it too!”
John nodded. “Now, Theodoulos, has Theodora ever mentioned this boy since then? Has she had him searched for over the years?”
Theodoulus shook his head to indicate she had not.
“What makes you think that?”
The kalamos moved again. ‘If the empress had searched she would have found him and if she had found him she would have ordered me to finish my work.’
“I don’t imagine she expected him to show his face again, considering what he knew would be in store for him,” Felix said. “And conducting a serious inquiry would only have lent credance to his dubious claim.”
John addressed Theodoulos again. “Do you know anything about a woman murdered and left in a cistern a little more than a week ago?”
“Or a former silentiary named Menander?” Felix added.
Theodoulos raised the reed pen, snapped it in half, and dropped the pieces onto the table.
Felix leapt to his feet. “I can order done what Theodora didn’t unless you tell us all you know!”
“I don’t think he knows anything else,” John said. “Let him go. He won’t mention this interview to Theodora. To do so he would have to reveal he can still communicate her secrets.”
***
When Theodoulos had been escorted out Felix paced over to the window and stared out. His expression was as bleak as the windswept courtyard outside. “He could’ve choked the life out of the girl and Menander easily, John. Did you see the size of his arms? It’s not just that his job is killing people for Theodora. He’s safe so long as she protects him, and he’s made it plain he enjoys the filthy work. We should let the torturers persuade him to tell us more.”
“We know what’s most important already. Theodora’s son—if he is her son—is almost certainly still alive.”
“From what you told me, you went all over the Copper Market searching for information about the dead girl. Now you propose to go back and search for the boy?”
“It would seem the logical course. There are more disgraced courtiers there than anywhere else in the city except the cemeteries. They are the only ones who might know more.”
“Might be harboring him, you mean? I can assign some of my excubitors to scour the area.”
“Have you been following me, Felix?”
The excubitor captain stared at John in amazement. “Following you? Why would you think that?”
“Was it merely a coincidence you happened to run into Theodoulos as he was about to jump into the sea?”
Felix growled unintelligibly and pulled at his beard. “You did ask me to help you investigate this matter of the missing son.”
“And you thought to do so by having me followed? Or were you interested in what I might be looking into? Or perhaps for other reasons?”
“Mithra! How can you say that, John? I knew you when I was just a pup in the excubitors and you were—”
“A slave. I am no longer a slave, and you are no longer a young excubitor, Felix. I know how much you admired Justinian’s uncle Justin. After all Justin was captain of the excubitors before he was emperor.”
“It’s not an uncommon path to power. Everyone knows that. Everyone also knows that I am loyal to Justinian. As you are.”
“Yes, it’s a most uncommon occurrence, for an emperor to boast both an excubitor captain and a Lord Chamberlain, neither of whom are seeking to put a blade into his back. Or haven’t been until now. Are you sure you haven’t become bored, Felix? As a military man you can’t be satisfied with guarding doors and making out requests for supplies.” John tapped the parchment on the table in front of him.
“You talk to me as if I’m a stranger.” Felix regarded John with an expression of puzzlement.
John leaned back in his seat. “Friends can become strangers. You brought me home after I was attacked in the street. That’s what you told Cornelia. I don’t remember what happened.”
Felix flushed with rage. “You think I had something to do with that attack? The blow on your head’s affected your reasoning powers, my friend.”
“I merely wondered if you had been following me at that time also. Should I now suspect you of having a hand in the attack as well?”
Felix started to speak, stopped, and remained silent for a while. It took a visible effort. “You need to go home and get some rest,” he finally said. “Your humors are upset. You are making up tales even the cleverest spinners of words would envy.”
“Consider the situation, Felix! We have the illegitimate son of an empress—a former actress—who should never have been permitted to marry Justinian in the first place. The city harbors a virtual army of malcontents—former high officials and courtiers who have lost their positions, senators who have had their lands confiscated. In many cases those who fell into disfavor were executed but the emperor is not in the habit of executing entire families. Those who remain behind, condemned to scratch out a living on the streets, are naturally bitter. It’s a golden opportunity for an ambitious man.”
“Then you’d better explain it to me.”
John was aware of an increase in the throbbing in his head. A wave of dizziness hit him. Two Felixes were standing by the window, tugging at a pair of beards.
John squeezed his eyes shut and when he opened them again only one Felix remained. “Rumors have killed more than one innocent man, as we both know. I am telling you to be extremely careful in what you say in public or indeed private,
” he said. “I would not care to see a close friend condemned to death.”
Chapter Thirty-Nine
“Do you know how many girls are in my charge?” said the abbess. “And considering their earlier lives, how many do you suppose might have a tattoo of one sort or another?”
Anatolius had taken a boat across the Marmara only to run aground on the rock of the abbess.
The head of Theodora’s convent for reformed prostitutes rose ponderously from the cushioned chair behind her desk. She was dressed in shapeless black robes. The veil covering her head fastened beneath her chin, and revealed a weathered granite face.
“Now, sir, I have duties awaiting me,” she went on. “I serve one far more exalted than yourself, whatever your position at the palace.”
Although John had discovered the identity of the dead woman and was now directing his investigations toward the whereabouts of Theodora’s supposed son, Anatolius could not let go of the idea that the tattoo was somehow important. Agnes’ history was, after all, mostly gaps. It was entirely possible that a clue to her murder might be found in her past.
It seemed to Anatolius that he had visited every brothel in the vicinity of the Copper Market. He knew, however, that some had been shut down by Theodora, their residents sent to the convent.
What if the tattoo had not been a scarab overlain by an ankh? What if Agnes had reformed and sought to renounce her past by having a cross drawn over the pagan symbol? She might very well have spent time in Theodora’s convent. Someone there might know her.
It was worth the short journey to investigate. Or so he had thought until he came up against the abbess.
“This is a matter of considerable importance,” Anatolius persisted.
“What goes on in the sinful world outside is of no consequence inside these walls. It is my job to ensure that my girls do not concern themselves with such things. I cannot have them reminded of their former ways.”
Rising from cliffs overlooking the water, the convent had the appearance of a fortress protecting those within from all invaders, particularly those of the male gender who were not permitted to venture far into the building. Anatolius had penetrated no further than the administrative office, escorted there by an elderly gatekeeper.
He wondered about the abbess’ own background. Had she been in charge of a brothel or plied her trade in the alleys of the city? “Do you by any chance know Madam Isis,” he asked. “Or rather did you know her?”
“You’re referring to a brothel keeper?”
“Well, she’s well known in the city and I thought perhaps…”
The nostrils in the stony face flared. “You are acquainted with her, it would seem. I suggest you avail yourself of our visitors’ chapel on your way out, sir.”
The abbess summoned the gatekeeper and instructed him to show Anatolius to the chapel for a cleansing prayer and then escort him from the building.
Anatolius went out into the hall, feeling sheepish. He could hardly wrestle the abbess to the floor and make a run for the living quarters.
The gatekeeper could not provide any information either—or would not—as he led Anatolius down a side corridor and indicated the chapel door.
“I’ll wait for you here,” he wheezed, sitting on a bench under a window opposite the door.
Anatolius hesitated. Perhaps if he spent a little time in the chapel the abbess would be more inclined to cooperate with further inquiries?
It seemed unlikely, but it was worth consideration. Perhaps the elderly gatekeeper would go to sleep—or expire—allowing him to reenter the premises.
He entered a small domed room with a raised platform at one end. A cool sea breeze carried the cries of gulls through slitted windows. Looking up he saw that the dome was adorned by frescoes of two haloed women who might have been twins.
“Theodora’s the one with the chalice. Mary’s got the baby, see?” The speaker rose from scrubbing the flagstones. She was dressed in black clothing like the abbess but the pale oval face was decades younger.
“I thought none of you were allowed to talk to men?” Anatolius whispered, conscious of the gatekeeper sitting outside.
The penitent smiled. “Don’t worry about Simon, he’s half deaf. You’re from the palace, aren’t you?”
Anatolius admitted it was so.
“I knew it! I learned to tell what part of society men came from in my former employment!”
“According to the abbess, you should’ve forgotten all that,” Anatolius replied.
“I wish I could. I wish I’d never been hauled away from the city. If they aren’t preaching at us, they’re making us pray. I pray they’ll release me, but you might as well talk to the wall.” She went over to one of the narrow windows. “Some girls have thrown themselves into the sea from sheer boredom. The authorities keep that from public knowledge.”
“You’re not considering killing yourself?”
“No, not usually, but when I see one such as you, it reminds me of the real world. They named this place Repentance. What I repent is having to live here.” She leaned forward and light reflected off the waves below flickered across her face.
Anatolius tried to imagine the youthful features highlighted by cosmetics. Isis would doubtless consider her an ornament. “Don’t be foolish,” he said. “One day perhaps you will return to the world.”
The girl stepped back. “But when my broken body is embraced by rocks and waves, my immortal soul will soar up to heaven, or so I’m told. My name’s Agnella, by the way.”
“And mine’s Anatolius. Why such gloomy thoughts, Agnella? Didn’t you come here of your own accord? To be…um…reformed. It must be less of a hard life than working, better than a hand to mouth existence?”
“I’d rather live hand to mouth in the city, sir, sinful as that might sound. What is the point of locking yourself up? As long as you’re in your flesh you’re in the real world, no matter how many locked doors surround you.”
The girl gave a harsh laugh. “But how could I refuse Theodora’s imperial invitation to live here?” she went on. “One backed up by a company of excubitors, who pulled me right out of the arms of a rustic boy on his first visit to the capital. I hadn’t even showed him the glories of Constantinople. The empress sent enough armed men to put down a riot. When we all realized what was going to happen to us, they did have to put down a riot. The abbess had arranged for them to swoop down on us while we were, well, distracted, see? At her age she was ready to wear black. Miserable old crow. At least she got to enjoy her life.”
Anatolius asked how long Agnella had been pursuing her profession.
“Nearly three whole weeks, sir,” she replied.
“A few months longer and you might have been happier to retire here.”
Agnella pursed her unpainted but full lips into a pout. “I’m so bored I can’t bear it. Now if you’re bored too, sir, there’s a room where we store buckets and such. Perfectly private. The abbess would as soon pick up a snake as scrub a floor.”
“I must decline, Agnella,” Anatolius replied, not certain if she was jesting or not.
“But, sir, if we got caught, they’d throw me out of this wretched place.”
“And if we weren’t?”
“If I was to, er, well, be discovered as being with child, they’d banish me just the same.”
“No, I…I really can’t, Agnella…”
“You can’t?”
Anatolius shook his head. “No.”
“You don’t mean you’re one of them—”
“Yes. I’m a eunuch.”
He wasn’t sure why the excuse had suddenly popped into his head and he immediately regretted his words. They had the intended effect though. Perhaps even too strong an effect. He saw her jaw clench and her eyes narrow. He could almost sense her shrink away from him. Nothing pained him more than the disapproval of a pretty woman. He realized he didn’t much like being a eunuch.
“
I didn’t mean to offend you, sir.” Agnella’s voice shook.
“Don’t worry, I won’t report you to the abbess, if that’s what you’re afraid of. We’re not all treacherous and deceitful beings, you know.”
“I was so hoping…”
“Never mind, doubtless another man will arrive to carry you off in good time.”
“Yes, a man to take me away from here, that’s what I’m praying for.”
Anatolius had a sudden thought. “Doesn’t anyone ever leave this place except in disgrace or out a window? I’ve been told about a woman who arrived here of her own accord and renounced her profession, but then left. Agnes was her name.”
“It’s not one I’ve heard,” the girl replied. “If she was here, she managed to get away. Who was she?”
“She was the daughter of a tax collector. Her father ran afoul of the emperor. He lost his head and the family was thrown into the street, which was where Agnes found work. She had herself tattooed with a pagan symbol. When she decided to change her ways she declared her intent by having a cross overlaid upon it. She must have been bored here also, to wish to leave such sanctuary.” This history was mostly conjecture and invention, but Anatolius did not reveal that.
Agnella knelt down again and made a few desultory swipes at the stones, as if deciding to resume her cleaning. “I’ve never heard tell of a woman like that. It must be even harder to come here once you’ve lived at the palace. There was a girl who arrived a while ago fleeing someone from the palace. Imagine that! I don’t know what her name was. I heard about it, never talked to her myself.”
“What was said about this woman?”
“The story I heard was while she was working, a regular customer of hers—a high official—took more than the usual sort of liking to her. He insisted he wanted to marry her. Some day, not right away, and yet talk that any girl would hope to hear, I should think.”
“High officials are not usually free to marry prostitutes, whatever they might say.”