Four for a Boy (14 page)

Chapter Eighteen

“You know you’re welcome here, Felix, no matter what the hour! However, since you’ll be venturing back onto dark streets I insist you partake a little bit less of my hospitality than you did last time.”

Isis gave the excubitor a stern look. Nevertheless she refilled his wine cup. Turning to John, seated on a low stool by her couch, she continued. “Felix has a good heart. He once saved one of my girls from—”

“We don’t need to talk about that, Isis,” Felix interrupted. “Your kindness since, and the kindness of your girls, has more than repaid me!” Isis said no more, but gave Felix a fond pat on his knee.

“There’s something going on that we don’t know about,” Felix complained. “But what?”

“Is that why you’re here? To discuss business?” Isis began to pare an apple with a dainty silver knife.

“Actually, yes, Isis. I certainly don’t want to discuss this in the barracks. The streets are far too cold and the prospect of sitting whispering in a corner of a tavern doesn’t appeal to me.”

Isis lowered kohl-blackened eyelids thoughtfully. “There’s a service I hadn’t considered selling before. Offering gentlemen a discreet meeting place to discuss delicate matters.” She popped a sliver of apple into her mouth. “In this city there’s a market for everything. Why, a fellow approached me today wanting to supply my establishment with young boys. A lucrative trade, no doubt, but one I refuse to engage in.”

The single lamp on the ivory inlaid table between the couches on which Isis and Felix reclined cast a pool of light that glinted off a silver bowl, gold embroidery on a pillow, and the varnished panther feet of the couches.

“You have done very well for yourself, without resorting to such things,” remarked John.

Isis smiled. “Constantinople is a city where even the humblest can rise to great glory. “

“That’s true,” said Felix. “Look at Justin for a start.”

“And Theodora,” Isis reminded him. “From actress to empress.”

“She’s not empress quite yet and there are those who seek to prevent it happening,” Felix pointed out. “A common whore, they call her. Not fit to be Justinian’s wife.”

Isis looked offended. “I’ve heard that as well. It’s an ignorant opinion. Theodora was never a common whore. She was an actress and a mime. She didn’t cavort among the audience. She performed on stage. Her favors weren’t for sale to the common rabble, but only by special arrangement with men of refinement.” She waved her silver fruit knife for emphasis. “Now take Euphemia, or rather Lupicina. There’s a whore’s name if I ever heard one. She was one of those untalented little girls who work sweaty crowds. Why do you think she hated Theodora so much?”

“Constantinople is certainly a city of endless opportunity,” said John. “One day you’re fighting with a mongrel in the gutter for a bone, the next you’re supping on peacock with the Patriarch.”

“Not when you fail at even a simple task such as we have been set,” replied Felix dolefully.

“I’m certain even Justinian has failed at something, some time or other,” Isis observed.

“And whether we’ve truly failed depends on what we’re really meant to accomplish.” John hesitated, uncertain whether he should discuss such matters in front of an Egyptian madam he had met only on one previous occasion.

“Go on,” Felix told him. “Isis is absolutely trustworthy. You can rely on her discretion.”

“I should think so,” Isis retorted. “It’s vital in my profession!”

“Very well,” John said. “In short, a one-eyed man can see we’ve been planted as spies in the Gourd’s office. Deliberately obvious spies.”

“That’s right!” Felix responded. “What use are our investigations? Why should these powerful men we’ve been interviewing tell us anything? They deny anything inconvenient and meantime must be finding it very humorous to send us off to bark at some rival or other. Doubtless they think it’s a wonderful jest. No, what I’m certain our masters really want is for us to keep an eye on the Gourd.”

“And they want the Gourd to be aware we’re keeping an eye on him. Not only that, since we had specific instructions to continue our usual duties, in my case tutoring Lady Anna, I expect to be grilled about the senator’s household in due course.”

“Not to mention we are also supposed to be keeping an eye on each other.” Felix grinned.

Isis dropped her knife onto the table and made a show of throwing up her plump hands. “I’m glad I’m not in your business. At least I have a pretty good notion of what my patrons are after! Your suspicions are probably correct, though. Justinian has always been fond of informers. It was an informer of his who introduced him to Theodora. Macedonia, a dancer for the Blues. Normally Macedonia would pass on to Justinian names of those who might pose a threat to him. Remarkable how loose men’s tongues can be when they’re seeking to impress a woman. She met Theodora in Antioch, or so the story goes.”

“Why would this Macedonia have introduced Theodora to Justinian?” Felix wondered.

“Perhaps Macedonia thought Theodora would make a good informer herself. Or maybe it was because Theodora was such a strong supporter of the Blues, like Justinian. Or maybe it was because of that dream Theodora had.”

“What dream is that, Isis? Excubitors don’t hear all the gossip you do.”

“Theodora told Macedonia she dreamt she journeyed to Constantinople. There she met the Lord of the Demons who took her to his bed and subsequently showered her with endless wealth.”

“I see.” Felix frowned. “I never have these portentous dreams, myself.”

Isis chuckled. “Maybe you’re not destined for greatness. What sort of dreams do you have, John?”

“None that I remember when I awake, Isis.”

Felix stared down into his wine cup. “At any rate, I can’t say we’re doing very well as informers. We’ve learned nothing useful about the Gourd. He doesn’t seem to be taking much warning from our presence, either. Look at that magick business the other night.”

Isis leaned forward, her eyes glittering with interest. “That little act of his has certainly been much talked about. One of my girls entertained a gentleman who was present at that dinner party. He was so amazed, he took longer to relate the tale than he did to conduct his business.”

Felix looked uneasy. “I didn’t see it myself, you understand, but John here has a keen eye for detail, I’ll say that. What he described would certainly convince many that the Gourd is an adept. Doubtless they’d wonder what else he can do. Conjure up demons? Spirit men away in a whorl of mist? He’d like you to think he has eyes everywhere. It’s excellent strategy, I admit. You can’t fight that sort of fear.”

“True enough,” John said, “but I can tell you exactly how he worked his little trick.”

Felix looked at him in amazement. “How would you know about magick?”

“Not magick,” John corrected him. “A trick. I know because for a while I traveled with a group of entertainers and sometimes we worked with other adepts.”

“You have some talent, then?” Isis asked.

John shook his head. “No, but travelers like that often band together. Passing through Egypt we were joined for a time by a man who went by the name of Baba. He would set up a table and do magick tricks before we put on our show. There were always a number of coins tossed his way. I don’t know if people were paying for his entertainment or because they feared him. One of Baba’s most spectacular feats was to plunge his arm into a vat of boiling pitch.”

“Just like the Gourd did!” Felix exclaimed.

“Exactly. But the trick is that the pitch isn’t actually boiling. Baba added vinegar and a particular type of soda. The mixture bubbles when it’s warmed so it looks as if it’s scalding hot. I am sure that’s exactly how the Gourd fooled his aristocratic audience.”

Felix looked at John in disbelief. “That’s all it was? A handful or two of common ingredients has the whole city cowering?”

“For the time being perhaps. The Gourd may yet overreach himself, just as Baba did. He wasn’t content with coins, you understand. He wanted to see people terrified, prostrating themselves in the dust. There’s bronze coins to be had from boiling pitch, but there’s gold in terror, he would say. So one night he decided to conjure up a fiery, airborne demon. It was really a bird soaked in a flammable mixture, set on fire and released by a troupe member he had bribed. The poor creature flew straight into a pile of straw and nearly burnt the village to the ground. So I wouldn’t be at all surprised if the Gourd releases his own fiery demon in the wrong direction sooner or later.”

Felix stood up. John was relieved to see the excubitor would be able to return to the barracks unaided.

“A fascinating story indeed, John,” Felix said. “And I say let’s hope Gourd sets fire to his own roof before he burns down the city.”

***

Theodotus peered over Theodora’s shoulder toward the alcove at the rear of the smoky room and raised his voice. “I am Prefect of this city! By what authority do you prevent me from speaking to Justinian?”

“By what authority do you seek to impose on him?”

“The emperor suggested—”

“Justinian cannot entertain visitors this morning. He is too ill. But you know that, don’t you?” In contrast to the Prefect’s loud tones, Theodora’s voice was soft. No louder than the whisper of a blade slipping from its scabbard.

“I must discuss the matter of this eunuch he’s saddled me with! I’ve already complained to the emperor about his man, the German excubitor. The pair of them are interfering with my duties. Justin ordered me to talk to Justinian.”

“Was it Justin who ordered you, or the quaestor Proclus?”

Theodotus clenched his fists. In the dimly illuminated room, he might have been a deformed demon, every bit the horror that more than one potential malefactor feared meeting in a dark alley.

Theodora took a step forward. “What is it you managed to slip to Justinian? How have you accomplished this filthy deed?”

“What do you mean?”

“Is that the real purpose of your visit? Did you hope for an opportunity to administer a new dose of poison?”

“Poison? Ridiculous! When could I have possibly poisoned Justinian?”

“A magician is capable of many things. Perhaps the poison was borne here on a spell. You showed yourself as quite an adept the other evening.”

Theodotus shifted his feet. He had to restrain himself from pushing past the woman. “I thought you enjoyed my little display, Theodora.”

“I did. It delighted me to see how convincing you were. It was a very nice act indeed.”

“You should know about acting!”

Theodora gave a throaty laugh. “I do. I have a professional’s keen eye and skepticism. However, you certainly convinced the rest of your guests, which is the important thing. You see, what you obviously overlooked in giving that little demonstration of yours is that they’ll all be convinced that a man with such powers would have no trouble at all in poisoning a future emperor, no

Chapter Nineteen

The sky was so clear it might have been blown glass, but the cold still kept most city residents off the streets. Those who lived on them, beggars huddled in sheltered corners along the Mese, didn’t even extend grimy hands toward John and Anna as they passed.

Perhaps, John thought, the cold numbing their ill-clothed bodies also froze their spirits. When every day was much like another and each had to be devoted to struggling to survive, it made men old before their time. After a time, old men lost interest in life.

Perhaps Dorotheus had been right in his dismissal of freedom.

John glanced at two boys playing kick ball in a portico. Perhaps because they had not matured enough to realize what lay ahead, such children lived only for the day. With each sunrise came the renewed hope that they might be given a crust of bread, or find a largely unrotted cabbage in the gutter or contrive to steal a fish from a shop. John envied them their hope.

He pulled his cloak around himself more tightly. Chilly air still managed to get in and nestle next to his ribs.

The boys almost collided with a man emerging from a shop. Obviously a servant, he struggled to carry a huge covered basket. His face registered alarm. He must have thought he was about to be robbed. He sidestepped his supposed attackers too hastily. Suddenly he was down on his back, along with his basket. The portico was immediately bestrewn with hundreds of olives of every conceivable shape and shade of green, as well as light brown and dull black. They went spinning and rolling in all directions. More than one beggar materialized and began scooping up the unexpected bounty.

The servant struggled to his feet and shouted virulent abuse after the boys, who were heedlessly kicking their leather ball across the Mese. One of them turned and made a rude gesture, narrowly avoiding being knocked down by a curtained litter borne by four slaves. He made the same gesture at the slaves, who shouted even worse sentiments back at him.

Anna sighed. “It’s remarkable that children like that live long enough to become adults. Where are their parents? Although I suppose people cannot always keep an eye on their offspring.”

Recalling the young Anatolius’ near fatal adventure, John agreed. He watched the boys as they picked up their ball and disappeared, squabbling noisily, between two buildings.

When he looked back at Anna he was shocked to see she had picked up a large black olive. She wiped it clean on her cloak and popped it into her mouth.

The servant, on his knees hopelessly trying to sweep up the ruined olives, gaped up at her.

“Oh, I do apologize,” Anna told him. “That must have belonged to you. Here, allow me to pay for it.” She produced enough coins to refill the basket twice and handed them to the stunned man.

John and Anna continued on for a short distance, past shops where John and Felix had conducted fruitless interviews. Several beggars, having observed her generosity, now proffered their own stolen olives for sale, but at a glance from John did not press the matter.

The pair walked until they reached the entrance to the Augustaion.

“Perhaps we should return home now, Lady Anna. I’m pleased your father relented and allowed you this little excursion. Might it be best not to worry him by being away too long?”

“Don’t fret about father, John. He’ll never know I was out of the house. In fact, I have a small errand to run. A friend is soon to be married and I’ve given her gift a great deal of thought. I’ve decided to give her a perfume flask engraved with a portrait of Venus. I shall have it filled with rose water.”

“That sounds most appropriate.”

They continued on and before long the incongruously sweet odor of flower gardens filled the cold air. Perfumers were welcome shopkeepers here in the Augustaion. When the wind was in the right quarter, their fragrances would drift into the grounds of the Great Palace.

“Tell me, John, did you ever buy perfume for a woman?”

“No, she was not very fond of perfume.” He stopped abruptly. He had been taken by surprise and answered without thought.

“So there was a woman then?”

John nodded silently.

“I doubt I will ever marry.” Anna sounded more determined than wistful at the prospect, not to mention seemingly unperturbed that she was overstepping the proper boundaries between slave and mistress. “I try to avoid mentioning the subject since the prospect disappoints and distresses my father.”

“Naturally he wishes your happiness.”

“He sometimes appears to think I have no more sense than those unruly boys playing in the street. Dominica visited again yesterday and lectured me on how to conduct myself. She pretended we were having a conversation about art, but it kept returning to her business affairs. Not that she handles details since she employs a steward. But, as she pointed out, one must keep an eye on one’s employees. On the other hand, she kept telling me I wouldn’t need to face these problems because a good husband looks after such tiresome matters, leaving his wife free to pursue her learning and artistic interests.”

Anna’s lips tightened. “More than anything, father seems to fear that if he should die and leave me alone in the world I would be lost. Perhaps it’s because he feels lost without mother. Do you think I would be lost, John?”

“No, Lady Anna,” John replied uncomfortably.

“He insisted I attend a dinner party the other night with Trenico. That is intolerable, wouldn’t you say?”

“It is not for me to venture an opinion.”

Anna laid her hand on his arm. “Wait! Before we go into the perfumer’s shop there’s something I must tell you. The street is one of the few places we won’t run the risk of being overheard.”

She had moved close enough to speak in a whisper. John’s mouth felt suddenly dry and heat rose in his face.

“I heard certain conversations about Justinian during that dinner party,” Anna began. “Some claimed that not all the senators support him, as is commonly believed. What distresses me is that father’s name was mentioned as one of those in opposition. I’m certain it was because he championed Vitalian, but then so did Justinian and the emperor.

I have never heard father utter an ill word against Justinian and despite the wagging tongues, he doesn’t hold secret meetings at home. The only thing he’s plotting is my marriage.” “I am sure you don’t have to worry about your father. He is a man of experience and will take the right course.”

Anna drew away. “You’re right, but it worries me to hear such slanders bandied about. There’s always the chance they’ll reach the wrong ears. But now we’re here, let’s choose that gift.”

Filled with many clashing scents, the perfumer’s shop reminded John of Isis’ house more than a flower garden. Tall cupboards, their doors ajar, displayed alabastrons of assorted sizes, delicate glass flasks, and large bottles of perfume.

An immaculately dressed man with smooth cheeks and a faint hint of lilies about him greeted them in a soft voice.

“May I offer you a sample of our latest import? Our best violet perfume, very refreshing and a delicate scent most suitable for a lovely young woman like yourself. Made with the lightest grade of oil, needless to say. We use only the finest materials for our wares. Or perhaps you might care to try the lily water? It’s very popular with certain ladies at the court.”

Lady Anna declined politely and described her quest.

“A flask engraved with Venus filled with perfume made from her sacred flower? What a charming notion. As it happens, we have just received a shipment of beautiful blue glass flasks.”

The flasks were exquisite, as Anna remarked.

The perfumer looked gratified. “Being situated so close to court we are patronized by many of high birth and we offer only the finest wares. We’re well known, if I may say so, for just that reason.”

“Business must flourish then?” Anna responded politely.

“Indeed it does, and that despite the riots and the new perfumery that’s just opened a few doors down. Owned by a grocer, it seems.” The man sniffed. “What would a grocer know about perfume? I wouldn’t want to wear a scent bought from a seller of cooking oil!”

Anna tactfully agreed. After inspecting a fine array of flasks, she chose one that was elegantly tapered and gave instructions on its engraving. Then the proprietor bowed them out of his emporium with a promise to deliver her purchase as soon as it was engraved. “Filled with the finest rose perfume in the empire, that you can depend upon.” ***

The air outside was invigorating after the heavy atmosphere of the perfumer’s shop. Too long in such a place, John thought, and his reason would begin to reel.

“We need to clear our heads!” Anna said with a slight smile. “Let’s stroll up to the Strategion before we return home and let the sea breezes refresh us.”

Little sign remained of the horrific spectacle

John had recently witnessed at that location, only a scorched area on the base of the obelisk. The open air market, so recently a slaughterhouse, displayed its usual crowds. The visitors did not seem to linger as long as usual, haggling over their purchases, preferring rather to complete the transaction as soon as possible. Doubtless this was met with favor by those whose tables and stalls held colorful piles of merchandise, since their customers were by and large willing to pay the asking price. John and Anna paused beside the Baths of Actaeon. Its side, facing away from the windswept seawall above the Golden Horn, sheltered several small stalls.

“Buy a beautiful chicken for your evening meal tonight,” a rotund, fresh-faced woman coaxed as

Anna looked at her pile of plump, dimple-skinned fowl. “Fresh from the country this very morning. Killed so recently, if they hadn’t been plucked, they’d fly into your cooking pot! I can tell your lady wife would make a most tasty dish for you and afterward, who knows…?” She gave a knowing smile, holding up a particularly large bird enticingly. Anna blushed. Ignoring the chicken seller’s loud complaints about parsimonious husbands, they moved hastily away and escaped around the corner of the building.

The sight of the baths reminded Anna of her father’s as yet unrepaired bath house. “It is very inconvenient, John. I fear I’m not used to patronizing the public baths and now going there requires three or four bodyguards besides. But the worst aspect of the difficulty is Trenico. He seems to spend half his life at the Baths of Zeuxippos and so insists on constantly giving me advice. Which shops are best, the most interesting lectures, a particular statue of amazing workmanship I must be sure to see, that sort of thing. And all the while staring at me as if he’s seeing me in the baths clothed with nothing more than steam. It’s all most improper.”

But not nearly as improper as a lady addressing a slave in such a manner, John thought.

At the seawall they looked down over the docks where ships sat at anchor, each vessel attached to an inverted twin beneath it.

“Do you ever long to sail away and never return to Constantinople?” Anna suddenly asked. “If you could, I mean. The city must hold some very bad memories for you.”

“Other places hold worse.” John feared this was a prelude to another inappropriate conversation.

Instead, Anna asked, “Can chickens fly?”

John could do nothing but look at her in silence.

“The woman back there said the chickens might fly into our cooking pot, but I can’t imagine a chicken would be much of a flier from what I’ve seen of their wings. That’s after the cook has finished preparing them, I’ll admit.”

“They can fly a few wing-flaps if necessary. In order to escape a predator, for example.”

“So they take to the air only from necessity?” Anna’s tone was thoughtful. “Well, they are merely chickens, after all. And speaking of birds, I’ve just realized we’re not far from the home of my friend Avis. He’s the inventor I may have mentioned now and then. We’ll go and visit him now. The wings he’s working on strike me as vastly superior to any chicken’s wings.”

Shouting broke out on the docks below.

Intrigued, Anna leaned alarmingly out over the wall and stared down. “It’s some of the Gourd’s men. They’re dragging someone by his legs along the dock.” She was indignant. “Poor thing, I wonder what he did to incur their wrath? Nothing at all probably.”

John stared down at the growing knot of dock workers who had abandoned their labors to stand around and gape at the scene.

Two men were hauling the unfortunate man over the back of a waiting mule. He hung limply, hands and feet brushing the ground. As the Prefect’s men urged the animal toward the nearest stairway, it passed directly below John and Anna and John got a clear view of their captive.

It was Viator. At least he would not have to face the Gourd’s wrath. He was dead.

***

Lady Anna arrived home to find Trenico waiting in the atrium.

“Let me help you with your cloak, Anna,” he said.

She shrugged away his outstretched hand. Whenever Trenico was near those perfectly manicured hands hovered around her constantly, returning no matter how many times she brushed them off, as insistently annoying as a pair of flies.

“It’s all right, Trenico, thank you.”

“I can tell you’ve been to a perfumer’s. The scents cling to your hair. The perfumes I gave you don’t please?” He displayed a theatrical frown.

“I was choosing a gift for a friend.” She remained in the atrium, hoping Trenico would leave and go about his business yet knowing he would not since she was his real business. “You’re here to see father?”

“And you. Yes, I just arrived. So, who is this friend of yours? A mutual acquaintance? What is the occasion?”

“You don’t know her, Trenico. She’s getting married soon. That’s something I will never do, as I was just telling John. He’s just gone back to the palace now I am safely home.”

“Your tutor? I would hope you had more of an escort than that, Anna, considering what almost happened to your father the other day.”

“To hear the way people go on about that, you would think it was father who died rather than poor Dorotheus,” Anna snapped.

“I just don’t like to think of you out on those dangerous streets with only a eunuch for protection. Your father told me he had forbidden you to go out unless you had at least three servants to guard you. I would have been happy to do so too if you wished.” A hand alit for an instant on her arm then departed. “It’s fortunate you didn’t run into difficulties.”