A wry grin crossed the excubitor’s face. “Not that Theodora will thank either of us for any of our efforts,” he continued. “I have a strong suspicion she does not enjoy the notion of Justinian being grateful to anyone except her. If he was, such people might well have some influence with him and she’s the sort who cannot tolerate even the thought of any such possibility. Still, aside from that, it’s all been tied up very neatly.”
“There is one matter still left unfinished.”
Felix gave John a questioning look.
John’s fist smashed into the excubitor’s jaw, sending him to the ground. He looked up at John, his expression more bewildered than angry.
“Don’t you recall what you said outside Isis’ house?” John asked. “‘Watch your tongue, slave, or I’ll give you a thrashing you won’t soon forget.’ Those were your exact words. Were you too intoxicated to remember? A man can’t allow himself to be insulted in such a manner, but a slave has no choice. A slave does not dare retaliate. There can be no real friendship between a man and a slave.”
John extended his hand. Felix took it warily and allowed himself to be helped to his feet. He rubbed his jaw, frowning.
Then he grinned widely.
“I see you’ve guessed, my friend,” John said. “As a reward for my services, Justinian has granted me my freedom.”
Felix’s shout of joy disturbed several seagulls rooting among the gutter debris. They rose, squawking with indignation, into the slate gray sky.