Five for Silver

Chapter Twenty-Two

As much as John wished to question the cart driver who had witnessed Nereus’ oral will, he needed to speak to Prudentius more urgently.

The recent incident at Nereus’ house was worrisome. If someone had been looking for the last written will, then Nereus’ lawyer would be the obvious next victim, and he was a man who had not struck John as particularly Argus-eyed.

Prudentius immediately dismissed John’s fears as he settled into a chair behind the lacquered table in his office. “Strangely enough, though, there was a curious commotion early this morning.” He gestured to the waiting servant girl. “Xanthe, my dear, wine for our visitor, if you’d be so kind, and bring along a small snack as well.”

A breeze from the garden blew several sheets of parchment off the table. Prudentius shifted the ivory box at the table’s side to the top of the pile, weighing it down. The freed sheets drifted around the room.

“The wind has shifted, I see. Perhaps we will have rain.” Prudentius glanced outside. “That might serve to temper the terrible smell somewhat. I find it troublesome.”

“This commotion you mentioned. What was it about?”

“The commotion? Oh yes. It awakened the entire household. You’ve probably noticed my guests are quieter than usual? Most of them are still asleep. The sun wasn’t even up when Ezra began running around the roof exhorting all and sundry to repent. One thing I’ll say about our current affliction is it’s certainly turned men’s attention toward heaven.”

Looking across the garden to the roof that sloped down opposite, John could make out what appeared to be a bag of rags near its ridge. Evidently Ezra the stylite was also resting.

Xanthe reappeared with the wine and a platter bearing a tiny chunk of cheese.

Prudentius frowned and ran a hand over his severely cropped hair. “Is that all there is?”

“I warned you it was almost gone,” Xanthe said.

“You’re right, my dear. You said so, just last night.” Prudentius shook his head as the servant departed to wait just outside the room, in case, as Prudentius put it, the household’s esteemed guest needed anything.

The lawyer eyed the platter disconsolately and his long face grew melancholy. “My apologies, Lord Chamberlain. Since I am unable to reenact the miracle of the loaves and fishes, I fear that this is all I can offer you.”

John declined and the lawyer popped the scrap into his mouth and then continued. “When shall I taste the like again? I went around to the merchant who sells it just the other day. His shop was closed and none of the neighbors appeared to know where its owner had gone. I wonder if it will ever reopen?”

John took a hearty gulp of wine, temporarily cleansing his throat of the acrid taste of the smoke of funeral pyres. “Does Ezra often have these shouting fits?”

“Yes, but not usually at such an hour.”

“Perhaps something disturbed him? Did you notice anything amiss? Anything that might indicate someone had tried to get into the house?”

“No, I haven’t. Why do you suppose anyone would want to do that?”

John explained that it appeared an unknown person might want Nereus’ last written will.

“What good would it do them, Lord Chamberlain?”

“I thought you might provide the answer.”

Prudentius nodded thoughtfully. “People often steal wills in order to destroy them. However, Nereus’ oral will immediately destroyed his written one. Anyone who stole his last written will would possess nothing more than a piece of useless parchment.”

“On the other hand, whoever intended to forge a will would need a sample of Nereus’ signature.”

“Forgery? Well, that has certainly been attempted on more than one occasion.”

“Then again, supposing the intent was not to make an entirely new will but rather to alter the existing one?”

Prudentius pondered the matter briefly. “Alteration of such a document would be difficult, although not impossible. However, I should point out that this hypothetical person is obviously not well versed in the law, because if they were they’d realize neither plan would serve their purpose. They can produce any will they like, but it would still be a fruitless endeavor because, as I just said, Nereus’ oral will supercedes everything. Which is not to say I wouldn’t put that sort of knavery past Triton, except that he is dead.”

The lawyer offered John a frosty smile. “You really should have told me about that, Lord Chamberlain. After all, a lawyer is not instantly privy to everything that happens in the family of someone who consults him.”

“Have you met the son?”

“Xanthe! Another jug of wine, please! The better sort, if there’s any left.” Prudentius turned his attention back to John. “Although I’ve heard much about Triton, I met him only once. He came here not long ago and demanded I immediately return something of his I had allegedly stolen. He went so far as to make threats against my life, I may add. I instructed the house steward to remove him from the premises and, further, that he was never to be admitted again.”

“Something he owned? What was that?”

“Perhaps he thought I might have his father’s will in my custody? He was intoxicated, a regular occurrence with him, I’ve been told. A violent man too, by all accounts.”

Xanthe returned with more wine. Prudentius reached toward the jug, then seemed to think better of it, and set his cup beside the mountain of documents on his table.

“I’m afraid I can’t tell you anything more about the man, Lord Chamberlain. He wasn’t my client and I wouldn’t have worked for him even if he had asked me to.”

John gazed outside. The ragged stylite lying on the roof remained motionless. “I believe you were brought up by the church, Prudentius?”

“Indeed I was. My parents died when I was only a few months old. I don’t even know what caused their deaths. I am told I was found lying in the Augustaion. In any event, the church has been my mother and father. I do my best to pass along the charity I received, for kindness can only be repaid that way.”

“Let me add a kindness or two of my own in return for the time I have taken from your work.” John stood and placed several coins on the table. “I will arrange for regular deliveries of food from the palace until the city has returned to normal. We must all do what we can. Meanwhile, however, if my theory is correct, I would strongly advise you to post guards here. Your charitably open door makes it very easy for someone to gain access to your office.”

“Thank you for your generosity, Lord Chamberlain. I shall certainly consider your advice carefully. In the end, however, our lives are in heaven’s hands.”