John gave a thin smile. “I think of Egypt often, madam. Unfortunately my master requires my constant attendance at court.”
“Yes. How thoughtless of me. I apologize.” She reached over and patted John’s knee. “What does your friend Felix want to know?”
Felix frowned at the two whose conversation, in Egyptian, had been indecipherable to him. “I hope you’re not busy plotting, Isis. If you’re going to talk about me, can’t you speak in Greek?”
“Of course.” Isis refilled his cup and pushed a tray of dried apples toward him. “What do you seek?”
Felix took a hearty swallow of wine. His eyes looked unfocussed. “We’re interested in anything you might have heard from your girls about the Blues.” He described the distinctive young man John had observed fleeing after Hypatius’ death.
Isis shook her head. “Nobody like that has been here, Felix. It sounds as if even Darius would have had his hands full if such a man had visited.”
“He was larger even than your doorkeeper,” said John. “But we hear you’ve had problems with other Blues?”
Isis muttered a ripe curse under her breath. “Yes, we have. I am contemplating barring them from my house since lately they have been more trouble than their money is worth. It’s my opinion that Justinian lets them get away with murder because of Theodora’s affection for them. Not that I can blame her.”
John asked Isis if she had a particular reason for her opinion.
“You’ve probably heard that her father was a bearkeeper for the Greens and that when he died, her mother remarried. Theodora’s stepfather hoped to keep the bearkeeper’s job in the family, but the Greens turned him out. They condemned the whole family to poverty, because the father’s fate is the family’s fate. It was a terrible act. Unforgivable. Theodora and her two sisters were very young. Luckily the Blues were willing to employ the man and so her family was saved. I can appreciate Theodora’s feelings perfectly. If for some reason someone had to step in and save my girls, I would be eternally grateful to them as well.”
“Few in this city share Theodora’s gratitude toward the Blues,” put in Felix.
“True enough. But while none of us wants a blade in the ribs, I’d say the empire has more to fear from the Gourd than dim-witted young men parading around in outlandish clothing.”
Felix squeezed his eyes shut. John wondered if he was thinking hard or trying to conquer an impression that the room was spinning. Isis had already refilled the excubitor’s cup more than once.
“John was treated to a fascinating spectacle the night of the last riot,” the excubitor finally said. “I was keeping the statuary in the Gourd’s garden in line so I missed the show. From what John told me I begin to wonder if the Gourd really does practice magick, as many say.”
“They say it in whispers, surely?” was Isis’ tart reply. “And what was this astonishing spectacle?”
John quickly related the scene he had witnessed at the Gourd’s dinner party. Isis, chewing on a segment of dried apple, considered the information, then ventured the comment that nothing would surprise her with the Gourd. More importantly, what dishes had he served to his guests?
Mystified, John described the various courses he had seen.
“I am always looking for something new in the culinary line to offer my clients. I don’t think those baked gourds you described would do. However, I’ve had an inspired idea. What do you think of this? I shall redecorate my house in the style of Sobek, the crocodile god!”
“Sounds very exotic to me.” Felix’s speech was slurred. “Though when visiting a girl, how much notice does anyone take of the surroundings? What did you say? Crocodile god? That might keep the Blues away and everyone else as well!”
“Oh, Felix, it would all be in jest!”
“A toast to whatshisname then, the god of Egypt.” Felix spoke too loudly. He helped himself to yet more wine.
John set his own cup down. It was always wise to keep a clear head. He wondered if he’d have to carry the burly excubitor back to his barracks.
***
On their way out, Felix fumbled his sword as Darius returned it. The sun’s early promise had proved to be as reliable as that of a man of law. The wind was sweeping in from sea, swirling around corners and throwing dust into pedestrians’ eyes. John hoped its chilly fingers would revive his companion.
As the two men stood outside Isis’ house several others hurried up, paused as they drew abreast, and then quickened their pace to go by, faces averted. John suggested it would be better if they moved away from Isis’ door since their presence there was obviously affecting possible clients.
Felix, however, planted his boots stolidly, leaned against the wall and contemplated the sky, evidently seeking inspiration.
“I’m not certain where we should inquire next,” he finally announced, scratching his chin.
He appeared to John to be in no condition to make further inquiries. “As I suggested earlier, we should try to establish who might have an interest in engaging someone to do away with Hypatius.”
“And what authority have we been granted to question the sort of people who can hire others to do such murderous tasks?”
“None, strangely enough given the circumstances,” John admitted. “However, I think it would be the best-”
“And who are you to be giving orders?”
“I am trying to cooperate as ordered.”
“Well, I’m willing to listen to sensible suggestions.” Felix spoke thickly.
“We certainly can’t find the culprits by sitting around and drinking.”
Felix took a lurching step forward. “Watch your tongue, slave, or I’ll give you a thrashing you won’t soon forget!”
Slave! The insult was a spark to the anger that permeated John’s being like oil in a lamp wick. A raven’s wing of darkness beat across his eyes and a roaring akin to breaking waves filled his ears.
Felix seemed unaware of his companion’s anger. “You dare to insult one of the emperor’s bodyguard?” he went on. “You. A slave! And a eunuch at that!”
John’s fists clenched. The muscles in his arms tightened.
With an effort he stopped himself from lashing out.
A terrible heat rushed up around him as he looked at the excubitor, swaying, splay legged and glassy eyed. An easy target.
John reminded himself he was not free to defend honor he did not possess. Were he to strike Felix, he would be destroyed like a defective tool.
Not that that possibility concerned him, for it would mean a merciful end to the undesired, phantom existence into which he had been cast.
But how then could he find those shadowy enemies who seemed to be menacing Senator Opimius and his daughter, Lady Anna?
“What, you’re not going to fight? At least pretend to be a man.” Felix took a unsteady step toward John and fell forward.
John caught him. “Come on, Felix,” he said. “Perhaps we can get you into the barracks without your captain noticing.”
Chapter Eleven
“Do you know, Proclus, I sometimes wish I were still Captain of the Excubitors. It’s a more straight-forward job than this emperor business. I should have refused the crown, especially since the Master of Offices was eager enough to wear it.”
Justin shifted uncomfortably on the marble bench in an instinctive but vain attempt to relieve the ever-present pain of his wound. He did not look at his quaestor. Instead, he stared out into the night, across the sunken garden he had insisted they visit.
“It was you for whom the crowds in the Hippodrome roared, Caesar,” Proclus replied smoothly, “and the empire would have been the poorer had you not acceded to the public will.”