“You’re thinking of the tales about the empress enjoying congress with demons?”
“Who can say what she was up to in Egypt, when she wasn’t sharing the stage with hungry geese?” Felix grinned. “Besides, what claim to the throne could an illegitimate son of the empress possess?”
“Power proves its own legitimacy. Theodora is powerful. More than a few consider her to be a true co-ruler. Were Justinian to be removed Theodora would doubtless claim to be his appointed successor, and not without justification. To placate her enemies, she could offer to stand aside in favor of her son, and thereafter rule through him.”
“That sounds far fetched,” Felix observed.
“It would sound convincing if backed up by enough swords and there were enough weak-willed men who would wish to remain in favor with Theodora.”
Two middle-aged men entered the tavern. They surveyed its cramped space and selected the table furthest from where John and Felix were sitting.
After they were served they leaned toward each other to talk. Both wore fine garments and unhappy expressions.
“I’ll have our jug refilled,” John told Felix. He moved quickly and quietly. He had passed the table where the two sat almost before they noticed.
John returned with the wine. “I have just learned Senator Corvinus will soon be involved in an exceptionally unpleasant divorce.”
Felix smiled. “From the law courts, are they? Lawyers often look as guilty as criminals. You should put that nonsense about Theodora’s son out of your mind.”
“Admittedly, it would take a lot of swords to make an argument in such a son’s favor. But what if the son himself believes he is destined to rule? Whereas the truth of the matter is more likely that certain parties only want to prove his existence in order to rid themselves of the imperial couple, and after that, well…”
Felix asked him what he meant.
“You recall the general opposition to Justinian marrying an actress? His uncle Justin, even though he ruled at the time, wouldn’t pass the law that allowed it until his empress died.”
“Eudoxia did hate Theodora, it was common knowledge, but I’m certain if Justin had thought it best for the empire he would have passed the law sooner.”
“That may be,” John said, aware of his friend’s admiration for the emperor who had risen from the same position Felix now held. “But what if her enemies had proved she was mother to an illegitimate child? Would the church have accepted the marriage? Could Justinian have ruled and commanded the loyalty of the army and aristocracy, while in a marriage to a former actress, condemned by the Patriarch?”
“It might have been difficult.” Felix stared into his cup.
“The city is overflowing with people who have grievances against the imperial couple. Luckily for the emperor they all have different grievances. Should they agree to come together over a shared outrage and rise up together…well…consider the sort of trivial events that spark riots.”
Felix set his cup down on the table so hard the lawyers looked up. “We could come up with a hundred possibilities, John, and every one as likely or unlikely as the next.”
“There is no way to predict exactly what might happen, but if an illegitimate son of Theodora’s does exist, he poses a danger to the emperor. Besides, if I find him, I may also discover who killed Agnes and Menander.”
Chapter Thirty-Five
John and Anatolius intercepted Procopius halfway across the nave of the Great Church.
“I see my friend’s informant was right,” John said. “He indicated we could find you here.”
Anatolius had been waiting for John when he returned home following his discussion with Felix. He had inquired at the palace as to where Procopius might be found.
“I just finished speaking to a deacon,” Procopius replied. “I was interested in hearing his comments about the effect this wonderful structure has on worshippers. How else to describe the Great Church except by its effect?”
He waved the wax tablet he carried at their surroundings. His garments were as pristine as when John and Anatolius had recently seen him, and his hair as neatly arranged. John imagined that no matter where he came upon the man nor what time of day, Procopius would be just as perfectly garbed and coiffured.
“You’re researching for that work about Justinian’s buildings?” Anatolius asked.
“Yes, but I intend to finish my history of the wars first. Relating historical events is an easy task compared to describing such magnificence.”
“It would take a poet,” John agreed. “A skilled poet.”
Although John had attended innumerable ceremonial functions there in his capacity as Lord Chamberlain, the church never failed to surprise him whenever he visited. Its complexity was such that it could not be fully absorbed, let alone recalled in every detail. To enter the soaring space for the fiftieth time was to enter for the first.
Columned aisles and galleries rose up into a bewildering assortment of intersections, in the center of which the impossibly huge central dome floated like a golden sky. Light flooded in through countless windows, reflecting at every conceivable angle from gilt and marble, precious metals and glass, until the air shimmered with a glow which seemed to emanate from the walls themselves.
“I am only a thin-voiced scribbler,” Procopius said. “My desire is to describe what the emperor has wrought as simply as possible. The weight of the slightest verbal encrustation would bring my whole structure tumbling down.”
“And what did the deacon have to tell you?” asked Anatolius.
“Why, that we can easily imagine the Lord in this place, can we not? There are those who say we are no more than fleeting ideas in His eternal mind, and here, in the golden light from which every shadow has been banished, we might be at the very center of that mind. Do you know, it is said there are pagans who choose to worship in places made to resemble caves? I speak of Mithrans, who worship a sun god in such sad subterranean environs. What sort of man would worship in a cave who could commune with God here instead?”
Anatolius sneezed. The sound echoed around the vast space. “My apologies. It’s the effect of the incense.”
Procopius scratched a note on his wax tablet.
“I have been told you are a repository of rumors, despite spending most of your time off on campaigns with Belisarius,” John said.
“When I am in the city I make it my business to learn as much as I can. I have many works yet to be written. Who can say what may turn out to be useful? Did you know the wife of Senator Maximus is having an illicit affair with a minor functionary from the tax assessor’s office? The Senator came upon the two in his own residence, if you will believe it.”
“I have no trouble believing it. That’s the second such infidelity I’ve heard about today,” John said.
Anatolius looked thoughtful. “Perhaps I should abandon untangling matters relating to estates and concentrate on domestic disputes.”
“It depends on whose side you prefer to take,” Procopius said. “These days faithless women run straight to the empress and cry they’ve been slandered. They start countersuits. The husbands don’t even get a trial. It’s well known the empress sees to that. The unfortunate men are fined, whipped, and sent to prison. When they are allowed to finally trudge home their wives are often found entertaining lovers in the garden or the marital bed.”
He paused and smiled. “Or so it is claimed. All preposterous. These statements are merely the vicious lies of malcontents jealous of Theodora’s goodness and beauty. I studied at the law school in Berytus, you know. I am glad I do not pursue the profession any longer. I find writing to be more rewarding by far.” He regarded Anatolius. “Perhaps you should consider writing rather than law, young man.”