Looking further afield, there was what had been established as a counterfeit coin brought back by John from Halmus’ artificial cave. Was that only a coincidence? Such coins circulated and this one could have come from anywhere in the district-Leonidas had handled enough at the tax office to have made a modest collection of counterfeits-but it was suggestive one such would have been found in the possession of a man who had business dealings with Diocles.
Admittedly, that was not a strong link, but let it stand for now. John came to a halt at the top of a rise and scanned the glistening sea below. Like his musings, the waters washing at the shore were always in motion, but moved back and forth over the same place.
John thought of Halmus gazing down from his pillar at the citizens of Megara flowing into the marketplace to eddy around its shops and merchants’ carts. Strange predilections for a businessman, haranguing the world from atop a column and retreating to an artificial cave to meditate. Denouncing the wickedness of the world might not be considered suspicious, but wouldn’t residing in his cave permit him to be in two places at once? While all of Megara thought he was secluded in his garden, he would be free to do business elsewhere without anyone being tempted to pry into his activities.
Was it a fantastic notion? Peter had disputed Halmus’ description of the burning bush supposedly seen during a pilgrimage he claimed to have taken. Why lie about such a matter? Unless he had never gone on that pilgrimage, but had been doing something else during his absence?
John resumed walking. The waves whispered on the shore, their message unintelligible.
He considered the mob that had attacked the estate in his absence. Where had their illegal weapons come from? Could the seller of fish have obtained them from the estate or even from Halmus, who as a fellow businessman he must know well? It was possible in Halmus’ absences he was making secret sales of weapons, manufactured perhaps by Petrus.
So the circle of suspects returned to the estate, yet the only evidence John had of any of these deductions was a single counterfeit coin, a secret message regarding a shipment of iron, and fraudulent estate accounts.
And none of his theories explained why his stepfather and Diocles had been murdered or if Lucian was indeed also involved and, if so, what assistance he had been contributing.
As he neared home and saw lights glimmering from the windows a thought came to mind. The mysterious criminal web might be hidden in darkness at present but morning would inevitably come and all be revealed in due course in the burning light of Mithra’s sun.
There must be more evidence. But with no assistance as would have been the case in Constantinople, finding it would mean another nocturnal journey around the estate.
***
What John mistook for a puddle in the darkness was a water-filled depression. He suppressed a curse at the shock of cold water rising over his knee as his foot plunged into mud below. Then, thankfully, he stopped sinking. He stood motionless, listening for any sign that someone had heard his blundering. There were only the rasping songs of insects.
Around him, in the hollow, he could dimly make out grassy hummocks and scattered trees interspersed with the shining, featureless black glass of water. Shallow surely? Lucian wouldn’t let his pigs wallow where they might drown. Despite the dry conditions there remained a considerable amount of water here, doubtless due to the location containing springs.
He tried to raise his imprisoned foot. The mud resisted. He pulled harder and his foot came loose, leaving its boot behind. He had to dig into the mire to retrieve it.
The air was ripe with the scent of decay and swine. A cloud of mosquitoes followed him as he searched. A lean Greek mostly covered in a tunic was no substitute for a fat, naked hog, but tonight John was all that was available. He waved at the swarming fog, tried to avoid the droning fliers.
Only a fool would search this pestilent pig wallow, which was exactly why John was here. What better hiding spot than a place where no one but pigs would bother to venture?
A cluster of sickly trees visible against the night sky marked a patch of solid ground near the middle of the boggy area. He made his way to it, clambering over rotting logs, some moss-furred and others slimy. It would be safer but inconvenient to submerge what one wished to conceal hereabouts.
On the island, thorny bushes filled the spaces between stunted trees. John wondered where Lucian kept his pigs at night. Swine could be aggressive, another reason why no one was likely to be trespassing into the wallow.
He didn’t relish the idea of waking a monstrous sleeping hog. He took out his knife, though the blade was not long enough to penetrate far into the flesh of a good-sized hog.
Exploring the brush turned out to be noisier than he would have preferred. Finally he came upon the sort of structure he had expected, a crude lean-to, built against a low earth bank. Ducking inside he could make out straw, which on investigation covered shallow pits.
Clearing away straw, his hand encountered iron rods of the kind used as raw material by blacksmiths. Another pit held a bundle of swords wrapped in rags. Most of the swords were of double-edged military quality.
Lucian’s role then was to conceal both the weapons Petrus manufactured and the raw materials he used. He had doubtless profited from his cooperation. Diocles had after all allowed Lucian to expand his farm beyond its agreed limits, and he also probably shared in the profits.
Philip was waiting for John when he emerged from the structure.
Placing the fire-sharpened tip of his staff against John’s chest to keep him at arm’s length and away from John’s drawn blade, the young man waited until he was recognized and then lowered his weapon. “I could easily have killed you.”
“For inspecting my own estate? I’m pleased to see you are doing the job you are paid for.”
“You made a lot of noise, sir. Certainly you have the right to be here, although it puts me in an awkward position.”
“You know there are illegal weapons stored here?”
“Of course not. And even if I did I am not going to betray my father.”
“You have just betrayed him, Philip. If there was nothing to betray why would you say you would refuse to do it?”
Philip pointed his staff again. “I won’t be dragged in as a witness against him, sir. If I should be, I shall deny all knowledge of anything illegal occurring on your land. Besides, I believe the City Defender is being bribed to turn a blind eye.”
“Explain.”
“Why do you think he released your servant and you are still a free man? Why has so little been done in the matter of Theophilus’ murder? I predict the death of Diocles will not be investigated to any great extent either. The City Defender wants as little attention as possible directed at this estate.”
“Perhaps your father should not have hidden Diocles.”
“Only temporarily. He ordered him to leave. The City Defender is corrupt and also he is not to be trusted.”
John realized the allegation also shed light on the release of James, the seller of fish, caught red-handed with an illegal weapon and in the company of arsonists, and his only defense that of possession by a demon. “Your accusation suggests there is something to be discovered.”
“I am not clever with words, sir, but I can tell you that it’s fortunate the City Defender is corrupt. If it were not so I would kill you to protect my father.” Despite the threat, Philip’s voice shook.
“And you would no doubt have a story ready to explain my death. After all, you are my head watchman. A mistaken identity on a dark night and an unfortunate accident suggests itself as an easy way to ensure my silence.”
Philip shifted his staff. “Not everyone in Megara takes murder lightly, sir. If I were inclined to kill you I would have done it when you told me Hypatia was married to that ancient servant of yours. Please consider, wouldn’t it be best for everyone if it was agreed you would not interfere in what is going on?”