Eight for Eternity

by Mary Reed

  “Caesar, Haik was poisoned. The physician said it might have happened anywhere.”

  “Do you think his murder has anything to do with the riots? Were the plotters involved? How could it be a coincidence?”

  “I can’t say, Caesar.”

  “There’s much you can’t say, John. I am disappointed in you. How do the brothers pass their time? Can you say?”

  “Pompeius drinks and Hypatius broods.”

  “Don’t assume those two are what they appear to be,” Narses said. “They’ve been at court since long before you arrived.”

  Justinian paced nearer to the throne where Theodora sat. When agitated he never stood still. Most men’s features moved in revealing fashion. In Justinian’s case it was his feet that moved and they were impossible to read. The habit made him hard to talk to but no one dared tell the emperor that. Perhaps it was his version of the long walks John took when he needed to think. “Narses tells me you spoke to Porphyrius. Is the charioteer involved? He’s meddled in politics in the past.”

  “I have suspicions but no proof.”

  “Some say that display at the Hippodrome was clearly a signal for the factions to join together in revolt.”

  “There are other explanations.”

  Narses glanced in Theodora’s direction. “Do you wait until the bee stings before you crush it?”

  “An excellent point,” Theodora said.

  Justinian turned and walked back toward John, his footsteps echoing around the hall. “Porphyrius dead would give us all a nastier sting than Porphyrius alive. He might be helping incite unrest. His death certainly would do so.”

  “And if he is involved in a plot,” John added, “you would alert the other conspirators by moving against him.”

  Justinian stopped in front of John, at enough distance that John’s advantage in height was not especially obvious. The emperor’s face remained emotionless as a mask. His eyes peered out from behind it. Whereas Theodora’s eyes were huge and glassy, Justinian’s gave the impression of being apertures into a strange, dark world. “Surely you have learned something of value. What is your theory?”

  “It is plausible that the murders of the faction members were planned, since the riots on their behalf have been transformed so swiftly into an insurrection.”

  “Was it part of the plan for the hangings to fail?”

  “I don’t think so, Caesar. The executions may have been rushed because the spectators had become restive. The executioner and the guards feared for their lives.”

  “Perhaps that is what the plotters wished us to think.”

  “Planning for the hangings to fail would have been too complicated, left too much to chance, involved too many people. Unless the monks of Saint Conon were involved, the condemned men would simply have been hung again, and I have no reason to believe the monks were involved. As it was, the ropes failed twice. And—”

  Narses cut him off. “Have you pursued this matter of the monks?”

  “I visited the monastery once.”

  “Is that all? Is that enough to uncover any sort of wrong doing?”

  “It’s plain that the emperor needs a solution quickly. I have confined myself to the lines of inquiry most likely to be fruitful.”

  Narses leered at him. “And have you learned anything? Something more useful to yourself than the emperor? Have you perhaps discovered that monasteries can be very wealthy? Not to mention successful charioteers and aristocratic families! Are you sure you haven’t been paid not to make inquires or reach conclusions?”

  Theodora let out a harsh caw of laughter. “You do amuse me, Narses.” She rose from the throne in a swift, jerky motion like a huge bird, in a flurry of swinging robes, heavy fabric rustling and jewels clicking against the throne. She descended from the dais and clapped a hand onto Justinian’s arm. John thought the emperor stiffened. “Why waste your time talking with these creatures? Belisarius will give you better advice.”

  “I have already solicited Belisarius’ opinion,” Justinian replied.

  “It’s time to heed it.”

  “He’s young. Reckless.”

  “But also brilliant. And experienced in military matters.”

  “The emperor does not take orders from his generals. Or anyone else.” Justinian’s voice rose. The familiar thin timbre vanished. Then he was speaking softly and soothingly again, as he added, “Sometimes caution is best.” He turned his attention to John. “I have come to a decision. I don’t trust those two scoundrels in your charge. I am convinced they are spies. I am ordering the family out of the palace. I will send an escort for them. They can return to their houses, if they haven’t burned yet.”

  “Are you certain that’s wise, Caesar?” John realized immediately that he had allowed himself to speak too quickly.

  “It is assuredly not wise to contradict the emperor,” snapped Narses.

  “I only meant to point out that so long as Hypatius and Pompeius are within the palace they are under your gaze and under your control,” John replied.

  Something flashed in the darkness behind the emperor’s eyes. “And possibly undermining my authority practically from within my household, or opening the palace gates at the arranged time.”

  “I understand, Caesar. The daughter though—a mere girl—Julianna. Allow her to stay under my protection.”

  Justinian paused before replying. His frozen face looked lifeless, as if whatever lurked behind the mask had momentarily forgotten to operate it. His voice was icy. “I’m not sure I need to be taking advice from one who seems to believe that a girl cannot commit treachery.”

  Theodora spoke before John could reply. “In this case, he is right.” Her huge pupils fixed a gaze of pure hatred on John. “Julianna is a good friend of Antonina. I would not want to see her come to harm. Let her stay with Antonina.”

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  As John entered his atrium he startled Hypatius who looked away from the marble Aphrodite in the fountain. “Ah, it’s only you, Chamberlain. I thought they had come for us.”

  His voice sounded calmer. When informed earlier of Justinian’s decision to remove the brothers from the palace he had accepted it much better than John had expected.

  “The rioting will be over in a few days,” John said. “Everything will soon be back to normal.”

  Hypatius nodded absently in acknowledgment of the comment rather than agreement. Baskets and crates holding his family’s personal belongings sat around his feet. A small arsenal of hunting bows leaned against the fountain’s basin. His embroidered robes looked more suitable for an imperial banquet than expulsion from the emperor’s palace and good graces. “I must not forget to thank you for the hospitality you have shown us. I would put in a good word with the emperor…but…alas….” He smiled wanly and gave a small shrug. “At least I shall see my wife once more.”

  “You know Justinian’s moods. You have been out of favor with him in the past. I’m sure you’ll be speaking with him on friendly terms again before long.”

  “If these were normal times, perhaps that might be so.”

  “The worst of the violence has probably passed. Anger burns itself out. People begin to feel the tug of their everyday lives.”

  “Many of us will not have lives to return to. I am happy, though, that whatever my fate, Julianna will not be anywhere near me to suffer because of it.”

  “You can be sure Julianna will be safe with Antonina, living practically next door to the emperor.”

  “If only I could be certain she was actually with Antonina and not…well…who knows where.” He paused, obviously turning something over in his mind. The water spilling into the fountain from the seashell Aphrodite held made a melancholy sound. The day John had moved into the house, he had found the sound to be cheerful.

  Hypatius expelled a long breath and resumed speaking. “There’s something you should know. About Julianna. I didn’t think it necessary to say any
thing before. But now, since I will no longer be here, it may help you to protect her.”

  “I will do everything I can to help. What do you have to tell me?”

  Hypatius turned his face back toward Aphrodite before speaking, less to study the statue than to avoid looking at John. “When we were talking in the kitchen, you were wondering whether Julianna had been going to the Hippodrome. I denied it. I wasn’t being entirely truthful.”

  “You believe she might be one of the girls I was told about, who follow the racing factions?”

  “Yes. It is possible. But as to any assignation…you remember you accused her of being out in the city to meet someone…no, that is impossible. I am positive of it.”

  “Why are you so certain?”

  “Because the man she would have met is dead. His name was Hippolytus. One of the men murdered at Saint Laurentius. That’s why I said nothing, you see. I was afraid to get her involved in…well…who knows what. Hippolytus was a rascal. For all I know he might have been part of a plot against the emperor. Julianna is years younger. An innocent. The murderer did our family a favor, God forgive me for saying so.” Hypatius turned his face back to John. “Is that of any assistance to you?”

  “A great deal of assistance. My thoughts ran in that direction, but our thoughts can lead us astray. How did you find out about the man’s death?”

  “From Pompeius. Rusticus visited him right after attending the executions and relayed the whole dreadful story. The old man has treated my family forever. A fine physician but he always leaves you with a pain in the ear.”

  Hypatius’ words confirmed what John had already deduced. He had spent days and risked his life out in the dangerous streets while so much of the story he sought could have been found within his own house. “Was Julianna told about Hippolytus?”

  “She didn’t need to be. She’d gone to assist Pompeius when Rusticus showed up. She’s looked after her uncle more than once. She’s young. She hasn’t had time to become disgusted by his drinking.”

  “She must be terribly upset. Have you spoken with her about Hippolytus?”

  “I’ve tried to. She just flies into a rage.” He glanced toward the water bubbling in the basin beside him. “It’s better for her to rage against the world than throw herself off the sea wall.”

  “She doesn’t strike me as the sort to kill herself. Too headstrong.”

  “I worry that she may have been taking advice from Antonina rather than from her mother and me.”

  “Do you think Antonina is offering more than advice?”

  “You mean her potions? I’d rather Julianna took a sleeping draught once in a while than follow her uncle’s example and turn to Bacchus. Besides, I doubt they do more harm than some of Rusticus’ foul smelling concoctions.”

  “Julianna mentioned that Antonina has an interest in the races, naturally enough since she comes from a family of charioteers. Did Julianna meet Hippolytus through her?”

  “Not at all. She met him at the palace. Riding at the polo field. He was a scholare. Used to dressing up and parading around at official functions.”

  “An aristocrat?”

  “Of course. But a ruffian nonetheless. He was wealthy, from a good family. He might have passed his time studying the philosophers or writing poetry or hunting. He preferred to go out to the taverns with low-born charioteers. And they only humored him because he paid.”

  “Putting on a show at ceremonies is hardly the same as racing a chariot.”

  “Exactly. You and I and any charioteer knows it. But all Julianna saw was horsemanship. And he was a racing patron. Belonged to the Greens but he supported Porphyrius as well. Many of the Greens do. They think they can convince him to race for them again. I suspect Hippolytus helped her get into the Hippodrome from time to time.”

  John remembered the brilliant green robes she had been wearing when he found her in the garden, supposedly clearing brush away from the sculpted horses. He supposed the outfit was her own version of the green tunics worn by the faction, yet the hue differed from any common green as purple differed from blue.

  “Did she ever meet Porphyrius?”

  “If so she would not tell me.”

  Hypatius bent to pick up one of his hunting bows. He pivoted, raised his weapon, and aimed an imaginary arrow at a Greek vase in the corner of the room. He pulled the string back and released it, making a loud twang.

  “I never liked that vase,” John remarked. “Ostentatious. I’ll wager it would be in pieces now if you had an arrow on your string. Do you want to take the vase back to your house as a trophy?”

  Hypatius shook his head and lowered the bow. “I would not have long to enjoy it. In fact, I may have taken my last shot. Julianna hunted with me all the time. She enjoyed riding mostly. She always missed the shot, no matter how easy. Couldn’t hit a rabbit if her horse had a hoof on its tail. Yet, when we practiced at the estate she hit the target every time.”

  “She got her love of horses from you.”

  “I’m afraid so. It always pleased me that I had given her a love of something that gave her so much pleasure. But you see how it turned out….”

  In response to further questions, Hypatius told John where Hippolytus’ family could be found. John feared he would not have time to speak to them. Of any friends Hippolytus might have had, beyond anonymous charioteers, Hypatius knew nothing.

  “Is there anything else you can tell me?”

  Hypatius shook his head. “I wish there were, if it would help keep Julianna safe. I thought her…her…infatuation with Hippolytus would be a revelation but you don’t seem surprised. Then again, you work with Justinian so there isn’t much that would surprise you.”

  “You have been closer to emperors for much longer than I have, Hypatius. Are you sure you aren’t ambitious? Can’t you see yourself wearing the purple, as your uncle did?”

  Hypatius stiffened visibly. For a moment the weakness in his aristocratic features was not apparent. He looked every inch a member of an imperial family. “I spent my whole life avoiding that fate. One might as well wear a noose as a crown. The emperor may look down on the rest of us but he never knows when the trapdoor is going to open up under those red boots of his.”

  “Yet, you seem remarkably composed this evening.”

  “Do I? Yes, I suppose I probably do. Cowardice can make a fine shield, you know. That and mediocrity. But the best defenses eventually fail. At least there’s an end to it now. It is very tiresome, being afraid all the time.”

  Before John could reply, Felix’s voice rumbled out of the corridor. “Must be more difficult than staying inebriated every hour of the day.”

  Two excubitors followed Felix into the atrium, dragging Pompeius between them. The excubitors were husky young men but John could see the strain in their faces as they struggled to support the bulky and seemingly boneless man who flopped listlessly in their grasp.

  They got him to the fountain and lowered him into a sitting position on the edge of the basin, holding his arms to prevent him from falling into the water.

  Pompeius managed to turn his head toward Aphrodite. “We have met before,” he said thickly. “I fear we shall not meet again.”

  John could smell the stale wine on the man’s breath from an arms-length away.

  Felix eyed Pompeius with disgust. “I’ll wager it’s been a long time since a man in your condition has had anything to do with the goddess of love,” he growled. Then his face darkened. “Count yourself lucky. Aphrodite doesn’t seem to get along with Fortuna.”

  Hypatius walked over to Pompeius and hunkered down so their faces were level. “Can’t you muster up a scrap of dignity, even at the end? Don’t look away from me, brother. Is this how you want to be remembered? What would our Uncle Anastasius have thought?”

  It was hard for John to believe that Hypatius, the very image of a ruler, could be the brother of the bleary-eyed man to whom he was speaking.

&
nbsp; Pompeius mumbled unintelligibly.

  “You suppose the mob doesn’t want a drunk as emperor, don’t you?” Hypatius said. “Who would seek to raise up a flaccid sack of humanity like you? But perhaps you have miscalculated. Justinian is abstemious, isn’t he? And the mob hates him. Perhaps they are ready for a stumbling sot. They might decide one such as yourself would denude every vineyard from here to Egypt but leave the rest of the empire alone.”

  Pompeius’ mouth moved like that of a fish hauled out of the water, but no sound emerged. He looked ready to cry.

  From the vestibule came the sound of voices.

  Hypatius stood up. “Good. The sooner it is over the better.”

  Enough armed excubitors to subdue a contingent of Persians flooded into the room followed by Gallio and Narses.

  Hypatius addressed Gallio. “We are ready to go. Although my brother may need some assistance to return to his house, if any of you are brave enough to venture beyond the palace walls.”

  “I’ll be happy to accompany him,” Felix put in before Gallio had a chance to respond. “With your permission, Captain Gallio.”

  “Let those two who have hold of him carry him home,” Gallio said. “You are relieved of your duty at the chamberlain’s house, Felix. You are no longer an excubitor. I am sparing your head because you are as brave as you are stupid.”

  Felix’s mouth tightened into a grim line. He said nothing. John could see it was a struggle for him to remain silent.

  Narses threaded his way through the excubitors. Compared to the big, mostly youthful, military men, he more than ever resembled a performing dwarf. He peered around with ill-concealed glee.

  “Why are you here?” John snapped. “Don’t you trust the captain to carry out orders? Or do you just want to gloat?”

  “You are most inhospitable, John. I would think you should be pleased to have these serpents out of your home. Your life depends on Justinian’s safety, as much as mine does. Do you think the rioters will hang the emperor and let his chamberlains go free? Unless you have come to an understanding….”

  The excubitors gathered the brothers’ belongings. One of them picked up an intricately carved hunting bow. “A fine piece of work,” he remarked.