He pried her hand off his arm and stepped away.
It made him ache to look at her. To never touch her again…He felt a breathless emptiness rise up inside him, as if he were about to step off a precipice.
“No,” he said. “It is over.”
Her eyes flashed. Before he could react she raked his face with her fingernails. He could feel the hot blood blossoming and running down his cheek as she spun around and walked away.
Epilogue
A rutted path led from John’s villa to a wide field overlooking the Aegean. The waters were so bright and blue they might have been glazed, the color of a ceramic serving bowl at a palace banquet. Grazing sheep made John think of clouds drifting above the towers and domes of Constantinople.
Sheep! John hadn’t realized that he owned so many sheep.
There was a small ruined temple in the field. The pillars and part of the roof remained but any representation of the deity it had sheltered-perhaps Demeter, who had been popular in the region-was missing.
John and Anatolius sat on a bench inside in the shade, near where the statue of the deity had once stood.
“You’re a true soldier of Mithra, Anatolius, visiting a man in imperial disfavor.”
His companion waved a hand. “I had business in Athens, an excellent excuse to visit in person. And if I decide to take a short tour while in Greece, well, why not? I don’t think Justinian is hiding behind any of those bushes, and as for his spies, you haven’t seen any strangers on the estate, have you?”
“No.”
“If any do suddenly appear, we’ll see them coming across the field and deal with them. We could stampede the sheep and crush them to death…though I see you still carry a blade. And wisely, in my opinion. So we don’t need to worry about spies. I hope you and your family are prospering in your new lives?”
“It’s a little too early to tell.”
“It’s very different from the city, isn’t it?” Anatolius sounded almost wistful. “I would write a poem about your bucolic retreat but Felix, in sending his good wishes, made it plain I am not to descend to poetry as he put it. Alas, the muse’s whisperings fall upon deaf military ears. So instead, a description of how events have unfolded.”
Anatolius began with an account of everything that had befallen Felix with occasional refreshment from a jug of wine at their feet as the heat increased with the advancing day.
John stared out over the dazzling sunlit water as he listened.
“Felix and I have deduced,” Anatolius said, “pooling what we had learned with what Anastasia gleaned from her friendship with Antonina, that Porphyrius the charioteer had long been involved in smuggling. Felix confessed he had been forced into assisting Porphyrius due to his debts.”
“Debts are more deadly than a Persian sword, especially for a captain of excubitors,” John observed.
“Indeed. But Porphyrius was clever, he kept his involvement in relic smuggling well concealed. Remember, Felix’s contact was the Jingler. Felix didn’t realize he was actually working for the charioteer. The murdered courier, Martinus, had become entangled for the same reasons as Felix. He was one of those foolish young fellows who get into debt by gambling on the racing. When I spoke to his widow, she told me in passing about their missing servant. Given his master’s participation and admittedly drawing my bow at a venture, I suspect this unfortunate fellow was also involved in the matter and was the man Felix saw hanged in the Hippodrome.”
“And his execution was either to punish him for some infraction or more likely to demonstrate to Felix that Porphyrius would not hesitate to carry out his threats if the piece of shroud was not returned?”
Anatolius nodded and took another sip of wine. “Of course, there is nothing to connect Porphyrius directly with the missing relic except Felix’s account of their uncivilized meeting in the Hippodrome.”
He paused. “By the way, I notice you have not yet restocked that foul Egyptian wine you favor. I’m happy to say.”
“A consignment is on the way.”
“Then I’ll bring my own next time I visit. Let me see. I believe Martinus’ servant must have been one of the thieves who fled the Church of the Holy Apostles with the shroud. He would have taken it directly to his master for delivery to Felix. The other thief was, it seems, Antonina’s servant Tychon. We know that because Dedi, who was trying to reanimate Theodora from her sarcophagus at the time of the theft, followed one of these so-called demons back to Antonina’s house. He told Felix all about his forays into magick.”
“I’m surprised Dedi didn’t sail immediately for Egypt as soon as Theodora died. He has enemies at court and no protectoress now.”
“He’s nothing if not inventive. Having failed to bring his former employer back, I gather from Felix he’s taken up residence under the Hippodrome, making a dishonest living by selling curse tablets to faction members.”
John gave a thin smile and said nothing.
Anatolius paused to collect his thoughts, watching his horse crop grass not far off, and then went on to tell John that he had deduced that Antonina’s servant Tychon would have been known to the missing courtier Martinus because he was also a former Blue, as Antonina had mentioned to Anastasia. “And his task was to steal from Antonina’s workshop the incense and mandrake causing those at the church to have visions of demons,” he continued. “He was suspected of pilfering and died when he threw himself over the seawall as a result of Antonina drugging wine to which, as it turned out, he had been helping himself.”
“It’s a complicated affair, Anatolius. You and Felix make a good investigative team. From what you say, presumably Porphyrius didn’t find out about Tychon’s involvement, or he might well have suffered the same fate as Martinus’ servant.”
“That’s what I think. After all it was the Jingler who was responsible for the details of the smuggling, so Porphyrius did not know every person involved, which added to his own safety.
“I base my speculation, admitting it is something a lawyer should never do, on the fact Felix told me he could never discover the Jingler’s superior because the Jingler claimed his instructions came from an anonymous party. But when he mentioned Porphyrius to him he became agitated, and what strikes me is that the Jingler’s death was unusual in a city where the typical method of settling disputes is a knife in the ribs. Quicker and simpler by far than creeping up on a man with a coil of rope over your shoulder.”
“Then again it may have been suicide, but two private hangings in one set of rogues is not met often in my experience,” John observed.
“At least some good has come of the poor man’s death. It transpires the Jingler owned the tenement in which he lived and once sold the proceeds by direction of his will are to be used to found a home for lock-makers’ orphans. Though I do wonder how many lock-makers’ orphans there can be, perhaps he thought such charity was the key to heaven.”
The two men fell silent. The scene stretching before them-the sheep, the sea, bees buzzing around clumps of wild flowers, a few olive trees-was almost too peaceful and transparent. There were no hidden mysteries here as there always were in the noisy, teeming crowds of Constantinople. Anatolius’ words about devious dealings might have emanated from another world.
Eventually Anatolius sighed. “So I think it is safe to conclude that Porphyrius planned to steal the Virgin’s shroud as part of his smuggling activities. He recruited accomplices he knew as gamblers or former Blues, while keeping his own distance. The Jingler acted as a go-between, coordinating those involved. Certain Blues helped Porphyrius to enforce his will when necessary since they are always eager for mayhem.”
“And Belisarius’ aide Karpos?”
“He was not involved with the smuggling operation. He had only arrived in Constantinople with Antonina a few weeks before and had hardly emerged from her house, even to attend functions at the palace, whereas Felix had on several earlier occasions taken packages from Martinus to pass along via his excubitors. Karpos, spending so much time at Antonina’s house, somehow learned that Antonina’s servant Tychon had been recruited into the plot to steal the relic, perhaps by overhearing a revealing comment or Tychon might have become intoxicated and talked too much.