“Dorotheus?” Ann’s voice was a barely audible whisper.
Opimius looked at his daughter and John saw that the senator’s eyes were glistening. “Anna, if only your mother were alive. She would know how to tell you, how to make it…” He shook his head, almost imperceptibly. The gesture was terrible nevertheless. “Dorotheus is dead.”
In the ensuing silence John could hear excited voices from somewhere deep inside the house and the faint sizzling of oil burning low in one of the office lamps.
Anna let out a hoarse sob and John stiffened with horror.
Unseen by her father, Anna had clasped John’s hand.
Chapter Nine
“Surely the attack on Senator Opimius was nothing more than an attempt at robbery?” Felix squinted across the cobbled square and up toward the sun just now rising over the roof tops. A few of the big German’s fellow excubitors, on their way out of the barracks where he and John had agreed to meet, barked brief greetings at their colleague and cast curious backward glances at the tall man by his side.
“Going by Opimius’ description, his attacker wasn’t a member of a faction. There’s nothing unusual about street violence these days, sad to say, and if one chooses to go out in public without an adequate guard…He regrets his mistake now. Not to mention the grief it has caused his daughter.” As he spoke John seemed to feel again the pressure of Anna’s hand on his own. He shivered, as at the touch of a phantom.
“You wouldn’t think a senator would be so foolish as to be going about the city with only an elderly servant as a guard. But, I understand, this particular senator has a history of making foolish decisions. I’ve made some inquiries, and-”
“You’ve been investigating Senator Opimius?”
“Don’t look so shocked. I’ve been ordered to work with his daughter’s tutor. It pays to know as much as possible about the man you’re working with, including anyone connected with him. Actually, I happened on certain information while trying to ascertain why, in particular, Opimius had engaged you for the job. Apparently the senator made enemies at the palace when he backed Vitalian so strongly five years ago.”
Seabirds swooped in to fight raucously over a chunk of stale bread lying not far away. John hoped it had been dropped by someone who could afford the loss and not by a beggar who would go hungry for the day. Then again, he reasoned, how many beggars could be wandering the grounds of the Great Palace?
“Vitalian? Didn’t the emperor invite him to Constantinople to appoint him consul? A reward for his defense of orthodoxy, wasn’t it? So why would
Opimius’ support of Vitalian make him enemies in the palace? Not that a man doesn’t make some enemies no matter what he chooses to do or say or think.”
“Let’s walk while we discuss this matter. We shouldn’t be seen standing around looking idle. It wouldn’t be good for our careers!”
Felix set off across the square, scattering the seabirds, which retreated noisily to the roof of the house across from the barracks.
“The senator’s real problem,” he continued, “or so rumor has it, is that he truly did support Vitalian. You’ll recall that imperial hospitality extended to a banquet at which Vitalian was stabbed to death. Seventeen wounds the man had. Now where were the guards while seventeen blows were being struck? A dining hall may be large, but try putting a blade into someone that many times without being noticed!”
They turned down a path which funneled a stiff breeze, redolent of the unglimpsed sea, into their faces.
“I’ve heard about that. Justinian’s opponents claim to this day that he arranged Vitalian’s murder, and, over time, the murders of half the aristocracy to boot. But where is the proof?”
“Where’s the proof of anything in this city? Right here!” Felix slapped the hilt of the sword at his belt. “Even so, that was years ago. Justinian could have relieved Opimius of his head long since if he wanted it. Why now? I’ve never heard a word breathed against Opimius’ loyalties. And he’s a good friend of Senator Aurelius, one of Justinian’s strongest supporters.”
They climbed a wide set of stairs and entered a cavernous hall. Light filtering from a row of windows set high up in the gaudily frescoed walls fell on a whirlpool of humanity where those hastening away from the palace on imperial business converged and swirled with those leaving to go to their day’s labors inside the vast complex.
“It’s my opinion that all this street violence is an excellent cover for people with scores to settle,” Felix remarked, “but what makes me wonder about the attack on the senator is that it happened not long after Justinian recruited us both.”
John stopped walking, forcing Felix to do the same. “What do you mean?”
The crowd surged around them, jostling and casting ill-tempered looks at the two unexpected rocks dividing their current. The clatter of boots, the sound of voices reverberating in the vaulted ceiling overhead, rang in their ears.
Felix shook his head with disgust. “I’m not stupid. You know as well as I do that it is very peculiar Justinian insisted that you continue your tutoring. What is it to him if Lady Anna can speak Persian when there are far weightier matters demanding immediate attention? Do you suppose he has his eye on that dowdy woman when he’s already got a famous actress in his bed? And if he’s looking for an emissary to send to Persia he wouldn’t choose a woman. Clearly, he wants someone in there, keeping an eye on Opimius’ household. Why do you think Justinian chose you, in particular, to investigate the murder? Simply because you are clever? How many clever slaves are there at the palace? Now, ask yourself, how many clever slaves from the palace work in Opimius’ household?”
He was right, John admitted to himself. Felix might be just an ordinary military man, but he was far shrewder than most. It wasn’t so easy, as he’d already discovered, for a slave in the lower echelons of the palace bureaucracy to discover anything and it must be almost as difficult for an excubitor, even if he did belong to the emperor’s bodyguard.
They continued on, past a small army of guards and through the Chalke, the palace’s massive bronze gate. The sun seemed much brighter now by contrast to the dim interior from which they had just emerged. From nearby perfume shops the sweet scent of flowers mingled with the pungent odor of animal dung in the street, a remnant of early morning deliveries.
“And what about this attack on Opimius?” John mused. “If someone wanted Opimius dead because he was suspected of opposing Justinian years ago, that would surely be meant to benefit Justinian.”
“Whatever the reason, if someone is in fact out to kill Senator Opimius then everyone near him is in danger as well. Including you. And perhaps myself, since we are working together.”
And, thought John, Anna also. “So far we’ve been asking whether anyone saw anything. Perhaps we should instead direct our investigations toward those who might be responsible.”
“But you saw those responsible. Blues. That’s who we’re looking for.”
“They, or one of them at least, are certainly the killers. Did someone hire them? If Justinian’s enemies wanted to implicate him, would they wait for a convenient murder?”
“They might not have had it in mind, just seized the opportunity.”
“On the other hand, as Theodora said, it’s almost as if Hypatius’ murder was designed to outrage the public.”
“That’s obvious enough, but our job is only to find the man who actually wielded the blade. We’re in no position to do more. At least the sun’s out for once. Why the look of gloom?” John said nothing. He wished the demons that tortured him could be driven off by a few rays of sunlight.
“It always feels as if someone’s staring at my back in this city.” Felix glanced back at the palace entrance. “Perhaps it’s that.” He gestured toward the Chalke. The huge icon of Christ set on it appeared to be gazing up the Mese. “He must’ve seen something,” Felix went on. “If only we could ask. If He’s looking for sinners to grieve over, He should be gazing into the Great Palace instead of away from it.”