“Only a few months ago, after I left Cyrenaica and before I journeyed to Syria.”
Anatolius sensed the redheaded foreigner was bent upon passing him in the race for Europa’s interest, akin to a charioteer wielding his whip on the final circuit of the Hippodrome. “I hear Crete is a lovely island and has produced many things of great beauty. Let’s continue. There is something I think will particularly interest you, Europa.”
They had not gone far when three men embroiled in a noisy argument erupted from an alley. Two of the brawlers were squat men wearing the flour-bedaubed tunics of bakers. The third was dressed in the rough garments of a laborer.
Anatolius stopped short, preparing to call for assistance. The urban watch were never far off. Thomas’ beefy hand went to his sword hilt. Europa, however, simply skipped nimbly around the melee, hardly glancing at the three combatants.
It was apparent that the trio were a danger only to themselves, but, as he carefully sidestepped them, Anatolius felt renewed admiration for the self-possessed young woman. He shouldn’t have been surprised, he reminded himself. Someone who dealt with charging bulls would not likely be intimidated by an acrimonious public discussion.
“Europa,” he said. “We are almost there. If you will cover your eyes?”
The girl obliged, giving Anatolius an excuse to take her by the arm. Trailed by Thomas, he steered her under an arch and into the Forum Bovis, where he led her to the foot of an enormous bronze.
“Now you can look,” he instructed, hand lingering on her arm.
She opened her eyes. They widened. A broad smile settled on her face as her gaze wandered over the huge bull’s head which gave the forum its name.
“How beautiful! You must bring mother to see this too!”
“A beautiful beast,” said Thomas, in what sounded like sincere admiration.
Anatolius glanced at him with interest. When had Thomas seen him at the palace? Was this meeting a coincidence or could Thomas be following him for some reason? Surely not.
He turned his attention back to the young and attractive bull-leaper.
Chapter Thirty-four
John waited for Cornelia in the cramped cabin of the Anubis.
It was growing late. Following his misadventure with the cart of chickens he had returned home, changed clothes, and spent the rest of the day overseeing banquet preparations.
He pondered the mysteries confronting him: Xiphias’ flight, Leukos’ death, the self-styled knight from Bretania, the emperor’s insistence on burdening him personally with banquet details any of John’s assistants would normally have handled. Was the Armenian Ambassador in whose honor the banquet would be held such an important personage?
He had worried ever since learning from Hektor that Cornelia and Europa had been at the same private gathering attended by Berta. The young prostitute was dead. Might Cornelia and Europa be in danger too?
John had no reason to think so, but it struck him as prudent to speak with them about that night.
He waited for a long time and when he finally went onto the deck for a breath of air, he found that Europa had already returned. Instead of going inside, she was sitting on the rail of the bow looking out over the darkening harbor where the wavering reflections of countless ship-borne torches formed unfamiliar constellations on the water. He walked over to her and placed his hand on the smooth rail.
“Lord Chamberlain.” The girl swiveled effortlessly to face him.
Her formal mode of address sounded wrong to John, but then “father” would have sounded just as strange.
“Europa, you’re here…I hoped to talk to Cornelia.”
“Mother’s probably with the troupe. I’m not certain. I just returned myself.”
“I trust you didn’t ventured into the city on your own?”
“I’m old enough to take care of myself. But, as it happens, Anatolius showed me around. We met a knight. A fascinating man.”
Staring out at the scattered lights in the harbor, John was brushed by a touch of vertigo. It was as if the dome of heaven had been inverted and the Anubis was bobbing upon its endless depths. His hand tightened on the rail.
“Isn’t that a dangerous perch?” he asked Europa.
“Not compared to the back of a bull,” she replied. “Besides, there’s water below to catch me, not hard earth.” Torchlight glinted in her dark eyes as the ship moved on a swell. She seemed to be studying John. “You’re afraid of the water, aren’t you?”
John ignored her comment, but it made him uneasy. He was accustomed to reading others, not to being read himself. In the dusk Europa had a remarkable resemblance to the woman he had fallen in love with so long ago.
“What did you want with my mother?”
“I have questions concerning Theodora’s celebration and some of the other guests.”
“It’s about the murder of that friend of yours, isn’t it? Anatolius told me all about it.”
“Anatolius has a bad habit of talking about matters that are dangerous for him to reveal, and just as dangerous for others to hear.”
“I am sorry about Leukos. Was he a good friend?”
“A very good friend, Europa.”
“Did he have a wife, a family?”
“None that I know of. He never talked about his family.”
“Where was he from?”
“I do not know.”
The girl was silent. John could hear the wash of waves against the dock. “A strange friend, one you know nothing about,” she finally said.
“That is the way it is at the palace.”
“I don’t think I would like the palace, if it is truly a place where your friends are strangers. And what about daughters? Are they usually strangers too?”
“Europa, I had no idea I was a father until-”
“Father? You aren’t my father. You’ve killed him.” The girl swung gracefully down from the rail. “My father was a soldier. My mother used to tell me about him. A good man. Brave. Something terrible must have happened to him, she always said. He must have been carried down to the underworld, because nothing in this world would have kept him from returning to her. To us. And now, here you are. A rich man, who didn’t care!”
For a heartbeat, in the dim, dancing reflections of torch lit water she was her mother’s daughter, with Cornelia’s pride and fierce temper. Then tears began to flow, and the woman’s face dissolved into that of a child.
John stepped forward, reaching out awkwardly to draw her toward him. She shrugged away.
There was the sound of movement behind them, sufficiently different from the random sounds caused by the gentle motion of the ship on the water to be noticeable.
John whirled. Saw nothing. Yet he had heard a footstep. “Europa,” he whispered, “is there a watchman on this ship?”
“Watchman?” Europa quickly collected her thoughts. “There should be, but the crew’s an idle lot. He’s probably asleep.”
John scanned the ship. Did a shadow move in the doorway of the cabin he had vacated?
He drew his dagger.
“Mother must have got back.”
“No. Someone was trying to make as little noise as possible.”
“Oh, I’ll just go and-”
John blocked her with his arm. “You may be in danger,” he whispered to Europa. “Stay here.”
He could see her eyes glittering and she began to open her mouth to protest.
“Quiet! If need be, get ashore and run.”
John crouched low and moved away to investigate. The deck shifted under his boots, each movement bringing a different patchwork of shadow and reflected light. But there now seemed no sign of the intruder.
As he reached the cabin’s dark doorway, the vessel dipped in a sudden plunge. Caught off balance, he reflexively grabbed the doorframe to keep his footing.
He steadied himself, and putting his back against the cabin wall he peered at an angle through the doorway. The darkness inside was impenetrable. He was certain he could hear ragged breathing.