John followed the old man until he came to a halt near a partially disassembled scaffold leaning against a pillar. The patriarch looked up at the dome.
“It may surprise you, but I am as puzzled as the poorest peasant by the ways of our Lord.”
John, in fact, was not surprised, but remained silent.
The patriarch continued, “Just a few days ago, a young laborer, a country boy, was gravely injured. He fell and landed right where I am standing. I am given to understand that part of the scaffolding gave way. And so he fell through that glorious light down to these beautifully laid tiles. But at least he was serving in the house of the Lord. And when I heard about it I thought of Leukos, dying in the darkness of a filthy alley.”
John wasn’t certain what point the patriarch intended to make. “About your guards. You sent several for an old soothsayer. They dragged him from an inn and took him to your residence.”
John expected a denial. The patriarch’s response surprised him.
“You are well informed. I ordered the arrest of the self-styled fortune-teller, the man Ahasuerus. A murderer.”
Was that why Justinian had ordered John to cease his investigation? Had it been decided by the time of the banquet the patriarch would have Ahasuerus arrested?
But why then was the patriarch involved?
“Why was he escorted to your residence?”
“I presume they wanted to question him at the guard station there.”
“He is still in custody?”
“Alas, no. He escaped.”
“Escaped?”
“A little way at least, Lord Chamberlain. They found the scoundrel at the docks, seeking transport no doubt. He is drowned. He flung himself into the sea to avoid recapture.”
John felt disappointment settle with the dust in the back of his throat. “This is certain?”
“I am told the undertow pulled him down immediately. The body has not yet come to light, but there is no doubt as to the location of his black soul. You seem distressed?”
For an instant giddiness washed over John. The golden air, pierced by shafts of light, took on an underwater aspect.
“I sympathize,” the patriarch continued. “Drowning cannot be a pleasant death. The mouth opening for air, finding only brine. A fall from a scaffold would be preferable. On the other hand, drowning can be no worse than a knife in the ribs. Or am I wrong? I have no experience of these things.”
“You referred to him as a murderer. What reasons do you have to think so?”
“One receives information. What does it matter why he was suspected since his guilt has now been proved?”
“By the fact he threw himself into the sea?”
“More than that. In his panic the soothsayer dropped the satchel he was carrying. It contained numerous implements of his blasphemous trade, including two ceremonial, elaborately decorated daggers, an exact match for the dagger with which Leukos was murdered.”
Chapter Forty
“So it’s over?” Anatolius said.
He sat talking with John in John’s garden. He had come to the house hoping for a glimpse of Europa but aside from a hint of exotic perfume, possibly imagined, as he crossed the entrance hall lit by a single lamp there was no evidence of her.
“As far as Justinian and the patriarch are concerned it is over.”
“And as for you?”
John’s lips tightened. “I instructed the prefect to inform me of any bodies recovered from the sea.”
“For what purpose?”
“For one thing, he might have had something on his person that would offer a clue to why Leukos was murdered.”
Anatolius was almost sorry he had asked John about his investigation. He had listened with one ear while staying alert for the sound of light footsteps on the garden path.
A few rays of dying sunlight straggled over the house roof to coruscate off a pool fed by a soothing trickle from the mouth of some unidentifiable, time-worn creature. John sat on a bench and Anatolius perched on the smooth edge of the fountain basin.
“You say Justinian instructed you not to pursue the matter further, even before those incriminating daggers were found in Ahasuerus’ possession?” Anatolius continued. “Doesn’t that suggest he knew then that Ahasuerus was about to be arrested for the crime?”
“It might have been nothing more than one of his whims,” John said. “There also remains unexplained the disappearance of Xiphias, who worked with Leukos.”
Anatolius shrugged. “From what you’ve told me about Xiphias, John, there’s no mystery there. He was a cruel and vengeful man. Had he been in your position, seeing an opportunity to exact revenge on an old tormentor, he would have leaped on the chance gleefully. Men like that always believe the hearts of others are as black as their own.”
“I’ve been Lord Chamberlain for a long time. Had I wanted to relegate Xiphias to the dungeons or deprive him of his head, I could have done so at any time, and for no reason at all.”
“Reasonable men make the mistake of thinking everyone else is reasonable.”
John directed his gaze toward the eroded creature in the middle of the fountain. “Look at that poor beast,” he mused. “The elements are sending him back to the lump of stone from which the sculptor coaxed him.”
“Are you unwell, John?”
“Tired. My mind wanders when I’m tired.”
“Mine just lies down and sleeps.” Anatolius’ attempt at levity was apparently lost on John. His friend, who always had the look of an ascetic, appeared even more drawn and hollow-eyed than usual. It was not surprising. Being reunited with a lost love might not be a joyful experience, considering the circumstances.
“Anatolius, you remember I mentioned I had visited a stylite a couple of evenings ago? I haven’t had the opportunity to tell you much about that.”
“It must have been harrowing to be out in that terrible storm.”
“Worse yet trying to climb up an exceedingly narrow and slippery ladder in order to converse with a taciturn holy man ringed in his own filth and not in the best of tempers. Especially with the wind plucking at my cloak and plunging cold fingers into my tunic.”
“Reminds me of some wild actresses of my acquaintance,” Anatolius remarked, still hoping to elicit some sign of good humor from his friend.
John frowned. “This young religion has acquired some strange encrustations. I wonder what the patriarch thinks about having this pious beggar sitting up there in his crow’s nest, communing with the Lord, not a stone’s throw from that great church filled with gold and silver?”
“The stylite might not be looking at the church. Perhaps he watches the chariot races.”
John smiled at last, if wearily.
“I’ve only seen the fellow from the ground. What was he like?” asked Anatolius.
John wrinkled his nose at the recollection. “It would be difficult to guess his age. He is bearded and dressed in rags. At least he isn’t the sort who stands there semi-naked, wearing just chains.”
“You make him sound like someone who’s managed to get on the bad side of the empress. Or perhaps the good side.”
John shook his head in mock disapproval. “You must watch your tongue, my friend.”
Anatolius made an even more scurrilous joke.
“You shock me,” John was stern-faced but faint lines of amusement were blossoming around his mouth and eyes. “I hope you will not be a bad influence on Europa.” The admonition went home.
“No, of course not.”
“Do you think I haven’t noticed you sitting there with your head cocked to one side, only half hearing what I’m saying, glancing around every time a bird rustles a branch? Or guessed why?”
Anatolius looked at his feet. “You are observant, John. You must surely have learned something from the stylite.”
“I learned that Constantinople is a small city full of twisting alleys. We live here in such close proximity, each to all. Leukos’ murder was the sort of tragedy that happens in the poorer byways of the city all the time, but they are practically as close to the palace as to the tenements.”