by Mary Reed
The creature scuttled part way down the stairs. “Business? You call the blackest of sins business? Woe unto you, I say! The beast walks among us! You will have no time to repent!”
Several of the charioteers drew their knives.
The hunched creature laughed, spread its arms wide and thrust its chest forward. “Strike! Strike if you dare. My father will send a bolt from heaven.”
The ringleader sneered. “You claim your father’s Zeus?”
“Greater than Zeus. Far greater! Strike me. In three days I will rise and dance on your graves.”
“I’ve seen this fellow,” one of the others put in. “He preaches from the roof tops. People say he’s a holy man. A prophet. I’m not sure we should….”
“I saw him yesterday,” said another. “Leaping from building to building as if he was flying. He’s not natural. Not a prophet. A demon!”
“A madman more likely,” said the ringleader.
“They say a madman has the strength of ten.”
The creature on the stairs danced from side to side. “The strength of twelve,” it cackled. “The strength of twelve Apostles.” He brandished his cross threateningly. “Which do you want to have your brains dashed out by? Matthew, Mark, Luke?”
“He’s mad,” someone muttered. “I don’t want any part of a madman. You can’t tell what they’ll do.”
“What if he really is a holy man though?”
The ringleader sheathed his knife. “Madman, holy man, demon…It’s not worth it.” He spit at Julianna. “We can do better than this one. She looks more like a boy than a woman, anyway.”
The charioteers sauntered off slowly, glancing back over their shoulders but trying not to reveal their wish to be gone.
Julianna got to her feet, pushing her tunic back down.
The creature came down off the stairs, straightened up, and wiped ashes from his face.
Julianna snuffled and dabbed at the blood running down past her mouth and onto her chin. She looked up at her tall rescuer. “I suppose I must thank you, chamberlain.”
“You should thank whatever deity made sure I happened to be here just now,” John replied. “You’re not supposed to leave the palace. What were you doing out here?”
“I needed to take a walk. I don’t like being cooped up.”
They turned back toward the palace. John stayed a pace behind, in case she decided to run. “It seemed to me you were looking for something, the way you were peering into the ruins of the church.”
“I thought I saw something moving in there. I was curious. Is that why you were there? Looking for someone? Or was it you I saw?”
“As I was crossing the square I thought I glimpsed that strange creature who’s been seen here and there since the riots began.”
They were approaching an obscure entrance to the palace which had remained untouched by the riots. Realizing that they would not encounter any of Gallio’s guards until they had reached the interior side of the short corridor into the grounds, John was startled to be accosted. “Excellency! Please, excellency! Take mercy on a poor soul who is living in hell though not dead.”
A ragged man sat just inside the arched entrance, his skeletal hand extended. John started to reach for his coin pouch, then remembered he was still holding the cross he’d found in the ruins of the Great Church. He thrust it into the hands of the astonished beggar.
From behind them came a high-pitched titter. He swung around to see Narses.
“John. How good to see you. And your pretty young charge.” He made a slight bow to Julianna then looked at the beggar who was staring at the cross with amazement and sniffed disdainfully. “There are more effective ways to spend gold, believe me.” He jiggled the pouch at his belt. It made no sound. “You really do have some things to learn, young man. But considering how you have failed the emperor so far I fear you’re not going to have enough time.”
He passed under the archway. John waited before following. He didn’t want the eunuch’s company.
When they reached John’s house, John asked “How is it you know Porphyrius?”
“I don’t.”
“I heard you telling your attackers otherwise.”
“I saw they were charioteers and I thought of saying it.”
“You think quickly.”
“Like you.” She gave him a faint smile and went inside.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
“It appears you’ve had an eventful time,” John observed as Felix peered into his office from the doorway to the atrium. “Come in. Sit down. Never mind the blood!”
Felix noticed that the long cut running across the knuckles of his right hand still bled.
“You’re going to have quite a scar there,” John said. “Don’t worry about the furniture. I can get more.”
“You could use more than two chairs and a desk in here,” Felix grunted. “I looked for you first in that private chapel of yours.”
“I’ve had enough religion for the day. I decided to sit here instead.”
“We’re not likely to be interrupted now that your servants have gone.”
“It suits me. I can find a bit of bread and cheese to eat without assistance.”
Felix passed a weary hand over his face and sank onto the uncushioned wooden seat. “Things are very bad out there. Very bad. Pass the wine. I’m parched. Not to mention it feels as if I’ve got a demon inside my head trying to chew its way out.” He took a long drink directly from the jug and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “Not surprising. Half the city seems to have turned into demons!”
“I can agree with you there, my friend.”
Felix took another gulp of wine. “It’s obvious we’re losing control of the city. After I helped Belisarius—”
“You helped Belisarius?”
Felix related what had happened. “It was poor strategy, getting caught in a spot like that,” he concluded. “But then he’s a stranger to the city. He couldn’t have known about that particular alley.”
“All the more reason not to have ventured blindly down it.”
“He’s a warrior, John. He’s been criticized for being too cautious, always on the defensive, unwilling to spill blood. A bit of recklessness is good in a fighting man.”
“Up until it gets him killed.”
“He took time afterwards to speak to me!”
“Most flattering, and doubtless well-deserved.”
Felix gave a proud smile which turned quickly to a frown. “Yes, he said he would mention me to Justinian. From what I’ve seen Justinian might not have much time left to bestow favors. The city has gone mad. I’ve seen a naked woman with her hair on fire running, screaming, falling to the ground. A baby left crying in an alley. Two women fighting over a pile of clothes as a crippled beggar stole the lot while they spat and cursed and struck each other. It’s not the sort of fighting I trained for, not real warfare, it’s…it’s…I’m not sure….”
John pushed the wine jug toward him. “It’s mob rule. Once the mob finds a leader it will be worse.”
“And Gallio refuses to order the excubitors into the streets. I don’t know whether he’s had a direct order from Justinian or not. If so he won’t obey.”
“Justinian and Theodora have a ship ready to sail. I’m surprised they haven’t already left.” A sudden rising crescendo of noise interrupted him. It vibrated through the screen between the office and the garden, loud as a distant rumble of thunder.
John got up, pulled the screen open a crack to listen, shut it. Rather than sitting down again he paced back and forth. The baying of the multitude waxed and waned as the wind shifted. “They must be close to the walls for us to hear that clearly.”
“They’re working up to storming the palace. Then the excubitors will have to fight!”
“Perhaps. Perhaps not. Are you still an excubitor?”
Felix frowned. “Probably not, if Gallio discovers I left the palace
to fight with Belisarius’ men against orders. I certainly won’t be one when this is over.”
“Sign on with the general. That would be your safest course.”
“What’s your safest course, John? I’d rather have Gallio for an enemy than Narses. He thinks you’re ambitious, that you want to take his post at court.”
“It’s understandable. After all, are we not both those most untrustworthy creatures, imperial eunuchs? Why, we’d kill our own parents if we thought we could achieve further advancement by it.”
Felix looked uncomfortable. “So they say. What about your investigation? Does it make any difference at this point who’s responsible for killing those two faction members at the church?”
“It might be more important than ever, if whoever was behind their deaths is behind the riots.”
“Find the culprit and bring him to justice and you cut off the insurrection at the head. If, in fact, there is any particular person behind the riots and it isn’t simply a general uprising. Don’t you think it’s too complicated to work out in time?”
John smiled bleakly. “I have to keep trying. There’s always hope. Even men hanging by the neck from the end of a rope sometimes have reason to hope. And Haik’s death must be related.”
“What makes you think so?”
“For one thing the fact that Haik and Hippolytus both ended up murdered after visiting Porphyrius strikes me as too much to be a coincidence.”
He felt too tired to go into details. Or was it that John himself was unsure there was any connection? Did he imagine there was one, simply to justify his search for his friend’s killer?
Felix didn’t press him on the question. “I’d say you’d do better to be thinking about your own life rather than someone else’s death, John. Are there any arrangements to get the court to safety if necessary? I’d wager Narses has an escape route planned and paid for!”
John shrugged. “Just as well. There won’t be room on the ships for everyone.”
“Do you suppose your reluctant house guests will be taken with Justinian? No, probably not. More likely they’ll be disposed of should he abandon the city to devour itself. I wonder if I could find Antonina and escort her to safety?”
“I see you still have your mind on Antonina. I strongly advise you to turn your thoughts elsewhere. Antonina will be safe. You don’t think Theodora would abandon her close friend do you? What we have to worry about in this house is protecting Hypatius and his family. They are in my charge and I don’t want to give Justinian an excuse to remove my head if they get away or are killed in the riots. I have come to an agreement with a certain fishing boat owner.”
Felix stared at him.
John offered his friend a thin smile. “Have you noticed that ship that’s been lying off the northern end of the palace grounds this past day or so? Its owner is a brother in Mithra and we have come to an arrangement. If it sees smoke at a certain point on the shore it will sail in to pick up our reluctant guests.”
“But how will it know it’s your signal, with half the city in flames?”
“They’re waiting to see white smoke billowing at a specific place on the shore.”
“And how do you propose to produce white smoke? Magick?”
John shook his head. “No. By burning wet leaves and branches. There are plenty in the palace gardens. The city fires produce darker smoke, and are nowhere near the pick-up point. Or at least not yet. Provided it doesn’t rain, this particular column of smoke will stand out.”
“And then they’ll be taken where?”
“Across the Golden Horn to the monastery of Saint Conon. They can be hidden for now. I don’t think they will try to escape, given they’ll be almost within sight of the scaffold where the Blues and Greens were executed. It’ll serve as a reminder that it is not safe to venture abroad just now.”
“It’s well thought out, John. But I can see one problem. What if, when their escape becomes necessary, you’ve been summoned elsewhere and cannot escort them to the meeting place?”
“I suspect a certain excubitor might act as guide. They won’t be in gaudy clothing, Felix. Just ordinary servants as far as anyone else is concerned. And Julianna has the right build to pass for a boy in appropriate clothes and her face dirtied. Or that was my opinion and it has recently been seconded.”
Felix nodded. “Couldn’t say that for Antonina. Not that I’ve seen her recently. Although I did go—” He broke off and hid his face in his wine cup.
“You went where?”
“Oh, nothing. My mind’s wandering.” He looked thoughtful. “Have you met the Persian emissary, John? I was told he traveled to Constantinople with Belisarius. Didn’t your friend Haik come here with Belisarius? Do you think he knew the emissary?”
“If so he never mentioned it. But then there seems to have been a lot left unsaid.”
Chapter Thirty
January 16, 532
John ran through the palace gardens. The covered walkway he followed veered wildly, first one direction then another. When he looked back he couldn’t see his pursuers. He could hear the thud of boots. Or was it hooves? Rhythmic, relentless.
He needed to reach the safety of the ship but he had somehow lost his way. He didn’t recognize this part of the palace grounds. He could see nothing but thick, dark vegetation, like a forest. How had he got here?
Who or what was chasing him?
The walkway emerged from the forest onto a vast plain. John peered around, hoping to spot a familiar landmark. Red twilight spilled across a rock strewn landscape. Where was the sea? Where was the Great Palace?
John saw only a charred ruin. Did nothing else remain? Had the fires spread so far?
The clamor of pursuit grew louder.
John ducked under a crumbling archway.
And found himself in a windowless room. The wooden door was shut, although he didn’t recall closing it. A familiar figure confronted him.
“You shouldn’t be here,” Haik said.
“Haik! Thanks to Mithra! I thought you were dead.”
“Hardly. I must have stayed too long at the baths. We were detained by the Persians, you see.”
“The Persians? You mean the Persian emissary?”
There was an explosive pounding at the door.
“They’re here!” Haik cried. “They’re here!” His voice rose to an inhuman howl.
His eyes turned red and his flesh began to melt.
The knocking at the door continued, accompanied now by shouts. “Chamberlain! Chamberlain!”
John was suddenly aware that he was lying in his own bed. For an instant he was paralyzed, suspended between nightmare and reality. Then he forced himself awake.
What hour was it? The oil lamp beside the bed guttered as he threw off his blanket.
The pounding continued. “Chamberlain! Can you hear me?”
He recognized the voice of Pompeius. His suspicion was conferred by the gust of stale wine breath that hit him in the face when he yanked open the door. The fat man was frantic as well as drunk. “Dead! I was afraid of it! Hurry! It’s Julianna!”
“Julianna? Dead?”
“No. You. I thought you were dead. I kept knocking. You wouldn’t answer. Julianna’s ill. Poisoned, like that house guest of yours. Must be poison. She’s in her room. Come quickly.” Pompeius lumbered off, unsteadily.
John glanced around for his clothes, half expecting to see Haik, but the phantom had gone back to wherever dreams go. It was said the gods spoke to men in dreams. Had some kindly deity sent him the solution to the murders of Haik and the faction members? If so, he couldn’t remember. As he pulled his dalmatic on over a light tunic he tried to hold onto the vision. It was like trying to grasp sea mists at sunrise.
He rushed after Pompeius and caught him at the entrance to the suite of rooms the guests were occupied. “Have you summoned a physician?”
“Yes. Of course. Rusticus is staying at the palace
. One of the excubitors agreed to go for him. I think, at first, he thought it was some sort of ruse. But I…I…well….it’s your house…I thought you should— ”
“Where is she?”
“In her room.”
“But I’m not a physician or a clergyman. It wouldn’t be appropriate.” John well knew that in aristocratic circles the women’s quarters were strictly off-limits to men. In this case, those quarters were the single room Julianna was staying in. Even if Pompeius were too intoxicated to take offense, others might.
Pompeius stared at John glassy eyed. “What? Not appropriate? Oh…Oh…I see. No. It’s fine. As Hypatius agreed. Because of your….um….your status.”
John felt a sudden rush of heat to his face. He managed to control his voice. “I see. Very well. I have no antidotes for poison though.”
By the time he reached Julianna’s bedside his anger was under control.
Hypatius, hovering nearby, snapped at his brother. “It’s about time. I was afraid Bacchus had detained you or you’d fallen asleep under a table.”
John leaned over the girl. Her face was shockingly pale and her breathing shallow but her eyes were open and alert. “I’m fine.” Her voice was barely a whisper. “I just felt dizzy. It’s nothing to worry about. Please reassure my father and my uncle.”
“She collapsed,” Hypatius said. “The crash woke me up. When I got her she was crumpled up on the floor. You can imagine what I was thinking, after what…just happened.”
John wondered if she had been injured during her confrontation with the street thugs, or had inhaled smoke while out in the city. Probably the exertion and worry of recent days had finally caught up. He knew he should alert Hypatius to his daughter’s secretive comings and goings. Julianna knew it too. The gaze she fixed on him clearly demanded that he say nothing.
He was reminded again of Cornelia. She had been strong-willed too.
“I’m not a physician,” he said. “but it doesn’t look to me as if she’s been poisoned. The past few days have been too exciting for her. That’s all it is.”