“He’s gone?”
The landlady coughed, then spat on the floor. “And good riddance. After all these years, this morning he says he’s leaving. Immediately! Well, he paid me what was due, so you can get on with it.”
“I’m here to speak with Xiphias, not to move his possessions. Where has he gone?”
“Did he tell me? Of course not, the ingrate. Didn’t I put up with his friends, in and out at all hours? Not that he didn’t make it worth my while.”
“He had a busy social life?” John couldn’t imagine that. It had always struck him that Xiphias hated humanity in general. Then again, he probably didn’t consider slaves and eunuchs and underlings quite human.
“Well, he was a single man, you know,” the landlady observed.
Apparently Xiphias had not only fled his workplace but also his residence as soon as Beppolenus ran off to see the Lord Chamberlain. Perhaps John had been wrong to doubt the boy’s story.
“Show me Xiphias’ rooms.”
The landlady cackled. “I don’t know how you’re going to move anything without seeing them. You’re a slow one, aren’t you? But I don’t suppose they employ you for your brains.”
The rooms were on the first floor and looked out onto a walled garden behind the building. They were well furnished. If much had already been moved out the place must have been extremely cluttered. John questioned the woman further.
A couple of men had loaded up a donkey cart.
“When was this?”
“Right before you arrived. I don’t know how you didn’t see them. You must be blind.”
“Mithra!” John muttered under his breath.
He raced outside. There were the usual crowds beneath the colonnades, some hurrying, others loitering in front of shops. The air was heavy with smoke and the sounds of the city.
There was little chance of catching up with Xiphias. Nevertheless, John started down the street, moving away from the palace on the theory that a fleeing man’s first inclination would be to put as much distance as possible between himself and what he feared.
John’s boots slapped loudly against the cobbles as he dodged wagons and horses. It was easier to navigate around the congested and slow-moving traffic than through the crush of pedestrians.
He overtook a covered litter borne by four hulking slaves. As he went by he caught a glimpse of the curtain opening a crack to allow a heavily powdered and rouged face to gape in amazement at what must have appeared to be a wealthy aristocrat gone mad.
He had spotted a high-sided donkey cart swerve abruptly into an alley, the driver applying the whip.
Was it Xiphias? Had he spotted John coming after him?
John managed a burst of speed and as the cart completed the turn and began to accelerate, he caught up, gained a handhold, and pulled himself on to the cart.
As he crashed down, toppling crates, he realized instantly that his pursuit had been in vain. This wasn’t the cart carrying Xiphias’ belongings.
Brushing feathers off his garments, he cursed, his oaths drowned by a cacophonous cackling.
He was certain that whatever Xiphias kept in his rooms it had not been chickens.
Chapter Thirty-three
Anatolius gave no thought to Leukos’ murder or John’s investigation as he strolled with Europa.
He had gathered his courage and called on her at the Anubis. As soon as she agreed to accompany him on a tour of the city the unpleasant musings which had been competing for his attention the past few days were temporarily banished.
They had already visited the Church of the Holy Wisdom and the enormous bronze gate leading into the palace grounds, and now they had come to an obelisk at whose base sat a crone surrounded by birds in wicker cages.
She plucked boldly at Anatolius’ cloak. “Buy one of my pretties for your lady?”
Europa glanced at the bedraggled birds. Her mouth set firmly in a thin line. Anatolius noticed with a shock how she favored her father in mannerisms as well as in looks. He picked up a cage. “A partridge. Some keep them as house pets.”
“It’s a pity to see a free creature caged,” Europa said.
“Shall I buy one for you?”
“Only if you let it go!” came a voice from behind them. It was a large, redheaded man Anatolius did not recognize. “You must be the Lord Chamberlain’s friend Anatolius,” continued the stranger. “I’ve seen you at the palace. I am Thomas.”
Anatolius set the birdcage down. “Oh yes, the emissary from Bretania. John mentioned speaking with you.” He concealed his annoyance. “May I introduce you to Europa? She is one of the bull-leapers currently performing at the Hippodrome. I am showing her the sights of Constantinople.”
Thomas made a slight bow. “I am glad to make your acquaintance. I regret I cannot show you my native land, Europa. This poor uncivilized city suffers by comparison.”
Anatolius glowered at the interloper.
Thomas grinned and clapped a beefy hand on Anatolius’ shoulder. “You must take the humor of us barbarians with a grain of salt, lad.”
Anatolius shrugged away from the man’s hand. “Being a visitor, you may not realize that over familiarity is not encouraged here.”
Turning back to the bird seller, he dropped several coins into her dirty palm. “How many of your poor captives will this ransom?”
The old woman gazed at the coins in amazement. “These would free every partridge in Constantinople.”
“Be quick about it then.”
She began opening the doors of the cages. The dispirited birds seemed not to notice their chance for freedom, remaining perched or huddled where they were.
Europa brushed past Anatolius and removed one of the partridges. Cradling it in her hands she drew it up to her face. “Have you forgotten the sky?”
She tossed the bird high into the air. For an instant the poor creature seemed about to fall back to the ground, but its wings flapped weakly, then picked up a stronger beat. And suddenly it had cleared the top of the obelisk.
Its escape seemed to rouse its former companions. The air was alive, then only a few floating feathers remained as partridges scattered up into the sky above glittering domes and roofs.
“Shall we walk down the Mese, or perhaps you would like to see a collection of statues in a forum not far from here?”
“I’d much rather walk and see the sights and the people than look at a collection of old statues,” the girl replied, still looking toward the sky. She glanced at Thomas. “But since Anatolius is showing me around,” she said to him, “why don’t you accompany us?”
Her invitation struck Anatolius as much too eagerly offered. “John tells me you are on an important mission of state, Thomas. I’m sure you have no time for sightseeing.”
“There is always time for beauty,” the other replied.
Anatolius noted that Thomas’ gaze was not directed at the busy street. It was with a heavy heart that he led his two guests away, across the Forum of Constantine and on up the Mese toward the Forum Theodosius.
As they neared it, Europa stopped to stare raptly at a bronze pyramid. “What is this?”
Grateful for a chance to display his knowledge, Anatolius pointed out the various animals, plants, and birds decorating the monument. “The ornaments symbolize spring,” he lectured. “It was erected by the order of Theodosius, the second emperor of that name that is, and it seems some of the figures came from a pagan shrine.”
Thomas leaned back, hair cascading past the nape of his neck, and squinted up at the female figure pivoting back and forth atop the pyramid. “The wind’s moving the woman to and fro. Do the people here believe a woman is so fickle as to change direction with every breeze?”
“Not at all. The decorations represent spring, when all the world renews itself. The female, then, must be the Mother of All.”
“I see. Well, still, it is true that there are many women who are fickle. I remember one time when I was in Crete-”
“You know Crete?” Europa looked up at Thomas’ ruddy features with the exile’s hungering gaze. “You have been there recently?”