She paused for a moment, staring at John in a fixed fashion. “Lord Chamberlain, do you ever have visions?”
“Never, Alba. I obtain my knowledge of things by my senses and by questioning. Which is why I have sought you out. You doubtless recall the house in which I live?”
John felt her penetrating stare drop away. “Glykos the tax collector lived there,” she said.
“Did you know the family?”
“Only in passing. Comita was his wife’s name. I heard they had a daughter. She was born after I began my new life.”
“Did you see them after Glykos was executed?”
“Not very often. I had my own sorrows and we are always selfish about them, are we not? But I have occasionally run into Comita at the market. She looked very ill the last time we met. That was some years ago. She was trying to coax a farmer to part with a bunch of dried out beets for less than he was asking. He refused. You would have thought they were monstrous gems. Charity is often farther away from home than barbarous lands, I fear. I paid his asking price and we talked a little while. Comita told me she and her daughter were living with her late husband’s brother, a man called Opilio. A sausage maker. Forgive me, if I have said too much,” she murmured. “Why should someone from the palace express an interest after all these years? Has Justinian perhaps decided on a pardon?”
“No, Alba.”
He felt her stare on him again. “Are you certain you have not had visions, Lord Chamberlain?”
“I assure you I have not.”
“Visions are not always of saints and angels. Did you know I scrub the floors of the church? When I first knelt on the freezing tiles to begin the bitter labor to which I had been reduced-for so I considered it at the time-my knees were still smooth and unbruised and my hands uncalloused. The sun had not yet risen high enough to light the windows. Alone, in the dark, I pictured my friends at the palace, asleep at that hour in their soft, warm beds, as I should have been. I could have washed the floor with my tears…
“Then, I heard a voice. A whisper. By the time I realized I was hearing it, there was only the memory. What I remembered it said was this. ‘Rejoice for all is the Lord’s will…’
“I jumped up. My first thought was one of the workers who fill the lamps was mocking me. I saw shadows, the gray windows, the dim shapes of pillars…
“Then I noticed a faint gleam on the wall near where I had been working. A ray of lamplight slanted across a small icon of Elisabeth the Wonderworker. Oh, I did not know her at the time, but I made inquiries, as you can imagine…
“She was born of wealthy parents. When they died she gave away all her possessions and traveled to Constantinople to take up a monastic life and minister to the poor and the sick. How fortunate I was. Elisabeth had to choose to give up worldly things herself. My choice was made for me. It was Elisabeth who had spoken to me.”
Alba had turned slightly. Now the light illuminated her features in a soft mist. She was no youth, but her face appeared as unlined as that of a child.
“Perhaps, Alba, you were speaking to yourself?” John said in a gentle voice.
“No, Lord Chamberlain. It was Elisabeth. And how fitting it was. For at the end of her life, an icon of a saint on a church gate spoke and instructed her to prepare for her journey to heaven…
“For years I have looked to Elisabeth’s icon in the Church of the Mother of God and waited for her to speak again. I look forward to that day, because I believe the mosaic icon will speak when it is time for me to ascend to take my own place in heaven.”
She paused for a heartbeat. Her gaze did not waver from him. “Do you think me foolish, Lord Chamberlain, to expect a mosaic to talk? No, I can sense you do not.”
Chapter Fifteen
“Visions?”
“Visions!” John confirmed, taking off his boots.
Cornelia combed her hair. She was gazing toward the diamond panes of the window, in which John could make out her faint reflection as well as his own. Whether she was looking at herself or him in the dark glass he could not say.
Her thin linen tunica left her arms bare. John could see the movement of their firm muscles. She was as lithe as he remembered on their first meeting over twenty years earlier. Now there were sparkles of gray in her hair.
“And do you have visions, John?”
“Nightmares sometimes.”
“I don’t wonder. You need a better bed. You’d sleep more soundly.”
John lay down on the cotton-filled mattress. The bed frame creaked under his weight. It was the same bed he had used since he moved into the house. He had never given it any thought before. Now that Cornelia had mentioned it, he could feel the lumpy cotton pressing uncomfortably against his bony frame.
He didn’t think his nightmares had anything to do with the bed.
“I wish you’d let go of this matter of the mosaic girl, John. From what you say, the poor dead woman must have been a common prostitute. It’s the sort of crime the City Prefect will solve, if it can be solved, and if it’s even considered worth pursuing. Life is cheap here. Look at the state of those boots! You’ve been venturing into places a Lord Chamberlain shouldn’t be going without a bodyguard.”
“Anatolius and Crinagoras accompanied me for part of the time,” John protested.
“Ha! It would’ve been you protecting them if it came to blade work.” Cornelia laid her ivory comb on the wooden chest below the window. “No matter how long I live in this city, I will never get used to it. So bright when seen from the sea, but full of darkness even at noon.”
“That’s true, and it’s something that I wish to address. Apart from this matter of the mosaic girl as you call it.”
“You know, when you were younger you wouldn’t be talking about girls, mosaic or otherwise, when we were alone in a room with a bed.”
John laughed. “Well, I may surprise you yet. But I am concerned for your safety, Cornelia. As you just pointed out, it isn’t wise to be walking the streets alone.”
“I’m only out during the day and I keep to well frequented places. I don’t wander down muddy alleyways. Or did you find some foul swamp to wade through?” She wrinkled her nose.
“I should have left my boots downstairs,” John admitted.
“Yes. Peter will be upset. But don’t worry about my safety. I’ve taken care of myself in Alexandria and-”
“Yes, but in all the other places you lived, you weren’t a member of the Lord Chamberlain’s household, as I have said before. Men in my position have enemies. Many enemies.”
Cornelia sat down on the bed beside him. John was aware of her perfume, faint as a memory of their days in Egypt, and the warmth where her hip touched his.
“I know you have enemies, John, but I find it hard to understand. It’s not as if you’re an ambitious man.”
John laughed. Odd as it sounded, she was right. “What further ambition could I possibly have?”
“You could crave still more power and more wealth. The empire isn’t enough for Justinian. He wants Italy back. He never has enough churches either. He keeps building more. Everyone has ambitions. And consider Anatolius. He aspires to write poetry for future generations.”
“That’s Crinagoras. Anatolius has turned his thoughts entirely toward the law.”
“You don’t believe that, do you? And consider Captain Felix. As high as his position is, wouldn’t he prefer to be leading an army on the battlefield?”
“Probably. When he joined the excubitors they were led by Justinian’s uncle Justin, a military man. Felix has always admired Justin. It’s true, though, my office came to me, rather than my seeking it out. However, whether I am ambitious or not, there are those who fear my power, or resent it, and have reason to do so.”
John patted the mattress beside him. “May I invite you to lie down?”
Cornelia settled into the curve of his arm. “No doubt,” he went on, “I am a threat to many at court. It’s no good looking at me like that. In serving the emperor I have harmed people, sometimes without realizing it. Others may believe I have deliberately harmed them, or might simply resent me for reasons known only to themselves. And any of these people might try to hurt me by hurting my family. Which is why you should have a guard when you go out. I will have to look into finding one.”