‘I want you over here, Silas,’ he said softly. ‘I’m going for Alypius. If you see or hear anything, call out at once.’
I heard the quiet turning of a key in its lock. In a moment, Theophanes would be making his way along the right arm of the Legation, to see what he could from one of the far windows. And I could then expect Alypius underneath me, poking up with a sword as his master directed him.
I’d learned little enough from listening in to the conversation. But the fact that I knew of it must have made it worth putting me out of the way. A soft heart doesn’t get you far if you want to run an Empire.
It was lucky for me there was no balcony on this side of the dome. The only windows I could see from my position on the ledge were at the end of the right arm. By standing, of course, I’d see more, but I would be equally visible to anyone able to look in my direction. But if keys were needed – and there was always the need for secrecy – discovery was still some way off.
I slithered back along the ledge until I was on dry lead again. Too frightened of discovery even to think about falling, I got up as carelessly as if the drop had been only a few inches. In the same way, I turned and walked quickly back to the dome. There was a momentary rush of fear as I felt my heels projecting over the narrower ledge. But, body arched forward, I was shuffling quickly to the right.
The moon was now fully up. Unlike on my way out, I didn’t continually stop to feel my way, but kept moving further and further to the right – that is, increasingly out of view. As I moved, the patterns of light and shadow on the brickwork of the dome seemed to race past an inch from my nose.
As the furthermost windows of the Legation’s right arm disappeared behind the bulk of the dome, I heard the outward swing of shutters and a hissed command in the language Theophanes had spoken in the library.
If I jumped straight down to the balcony at the first safe point and dodged inside, I might not be seen.
17
‘And where the fuck have you been?’
His face making up for any lack of volume, Authari stood on the balcony. He must have been watching me all the way back from the dome.
Normally, you expect a certain dignity where exchanges with slaves are concerned. But these weren’t normal circumstances, and Authari wasn’t a normal slave.
‘Let’s get inside,’ I whispered. ‘I think we can be seen out here.’
As we stepped into the dim light of my office, I looked back once. Far over, in one of the last rooms of the Legation right arm, there was still a light burning.
Was that a face looking back at me? It might have been a trick of the moonlight.
‘You’re back early, Martin,’ I said, trying to sound nonchalant. I glanced at the wine jug to see if it had been refilled. No such luck!
‘I’m back late, Aelric – very late,’ Martin said. His face was ghastly in the moonlight that streamed into the room. Was that his blue robe he was wearing? I wondered vaguely to myself. I thought he’d gone out in the yellow one.
But he continued: ‘We’ve been hunting the place down for you. If I hadn’t seen you staggering round like a drunk on that ledge, we’d have raised the alarm. We were terrified for you up there. Please don’t do this again.’
I ignored the slight on my balancing abilities. Before I could think of a reply, Martin spoke again: ‘Did you see the Permanent Legate?’
‘No,’ I said. I thought briefly whether to say more and I decided not to. There had been a thawing of relations lately between Martin and Authari. On the one hand, it had saved me the endless trouble of mediating their spats. On the other, I was beginning to appreciate the value of ‘divide and rule’.
Besides, I needed time to sit down and think all this through. I was like a fisherman who’d set out to catch a meal and had pulled up a feast.
‘Do you know how dirty you are, Master?’ Authari asked, his temper back under control.
I looked down at my naked body. I was black with filth. Aside from the general rubbing off of lead on me, the bird shit clung like an oily gel. A trickle of sweat that started from my chest was carrying bits of it on to the floorboards.
‘We can’t get a silent bath arranged,’ Martin said. ‘Authari, I’ll help you with cold water and sponges.’
They looked at each other. It was as if they were taking up a conversation I’d interrupted.
‘No,’ I said, suddenly cold with the ebbing of the excitement. ‘There’s plenty of water running through the latrine. I’ll scrub up in there.’
I heard a subdued wailing from some other room in the suite.
‘What in God’s name is that?’ I asked weakly. I was suddenly too exhausted to feel the alarm I felt I ought.
‘Let’s get you clean first,’ Martin replied edgily.
I looked down at the baby boy. He couldn’t have been more than a day old.
With infinite tenderness, Martin wrapped him in the sheet and laid him back on his bed. Authari took up the sponge again and was squeezing milk into the little open mouth.
‘He was lying all alone in the porch of the Mary Magdalene Church,’ Martin explained again. ‘There were some dogs sniffing at him. I couldn’t leave him.’
It was impossible to know who’d dumped him there. The mother would never come forward to say.
‘Well, you can’t keep him here,’ I said firmly. ‘You’ll have to take him back to St Mary’s. Let someone else take him. There’s always someone out there trawling for boys.’
‘Oh please,’ Martin gabbled, ‘please don’t say that.’
‘He was dumped too late already, Master,’ Authari broke in. ‘He’ll have to survive the dogs before he’s any chance of a foundling hospital.’
A foundling hospital? With beggars dying in the streets, the most likely outcome was that some priest would baptise the boy to save him from the fires of Hell, and then clap a hand over his nose and mouth.
‘What is to become of him?’ Martin asked.
What answer was there to that? I looked down at the boy again. I thought of my pregnant Gretel. I thought of Edwina and my living child. I swallowed and looked away.
‘We’ll look after him, Master,’ Authari added. ‘He’ll be no trouble to you. He can stay in the slave quarters below. You won’t know he’s down there.’
‘Then we’ll need a wet nurse,’ I said. ‘He’ll need to be fed.’
Those weren’t the words I’d intended. What I had intended was to order the child to be put back early the next evening and was astonished even as I uttered them. It was like watching a close friend say something unexpected.
Having said these words, though, there was no going back.
‘Martin,’ I added after a pause, ‘go to the slave market tomorrow. I’m sure you’ll pick up someone. You know where the key is to my strongbox. Take what you need from there. Do make sure to buy someone in good health.’
I cut off their excited babble and continued: ‘I take it you will adopt the child as your own. That, or you’ll rear him as a slave.’
Silence.
Martin’s wife would never allow him to adopt – not with their own child. He was plainly thinking of Sveta’s scolding voice. As for enslavement:
‘Such is against the laws of the Empire,’ Martin said with sudden pedantry. ‘If you pick up a foundling, its status is automatically freeborn.’
I gave a cynical laugh. ‘That’s what the lawyers say. Didn’t they also tell you and your father that enslavement for debt had been abolished? You really should ask the brothel keepers where they get their stock.’
If Martin wanted a boy slave, he had one here for the taking. But he still wasn’t interested.
I looked hard at the child. No longer crying, it lay calm before me, eyes still squeezed shut. It was very, very small.