Murder in Megara

Chapter Thirty-nine

Cornelia tossed down her spoon. It rattled off a platter of figs, spun around, and came to a stop against John’s bowl of boiled greens.

“The only reason you’ve been released is so there can be more attempts to get rid of us permanently,” Cornelia raged. “We ought to go, John. Fortuna has smiled on you and you’ve escaped so far, but for how much longer? Neither of those men was worth your life. Why can’t we just leave? We could find the troupe we traveled with and join them. They’re usually in Alexandria in the autumn. We had nothing then and we were happy.”

John put down the beaker of olive oil he had been about to pour over his greens. “We were young. I can’t see you leaping from bulls these days.”

“Why not? You see I haven’t lost my archery skills! Of course, I’d need to get back in practice.”

“Broken bones don’t heal as quickly when we get older. Besides, what about our daughter and her family? They’ll be arriving before long. Where would they go, not to mention Peter and Hypatia?”

“Yes, I suppose I am just dreaming. But couldn’t you buy an estate somewhere else?”

“This is the place to which I was exiled. Even if I were allowed to leave, I don’t want to draw unwanted attention from Justinian’s spies. They would present our flight as evidence of my plotting with enemies of the emperor. After all, I would have plenty of reason to do so.”

“They have long memories, these enemies of yours. I hoped we had left all of that behind when we came to Greece. Apparently they took the next ship after ours. And now Hypatia has been entangled in murder. I have never seen Peter so angry and afraid. Estate owners have some protection by virtue of their holdings, but a servant doesn’t.”

“She has my protection and I have told Peter so.”

“As long as you are free. And then what? There is no justice to be had here.”

“It was often much the same in Constantinople, Cornelia. Only there were so many people living there it was more difficult to notice that was the case.”

A discreet cough revealed Peter at the door. “The blacksmith Petrus, Master.”

“You wish to speak to me?” John asked in a weary voice.

“Indeed, sir.” His visitor glanced nervously at Cornelia.

“Continue,” John told him.

Petrus shifted his feet uneasily and looked down at his leather apron. “I was interviewed by the City Defender, sir, but could not shed any light on the, er, matters involved in his investigation. I thought I should let you know that, as I am certain you would wish to consult me about the topic. For as they say…” He trailed away, misery written on his face.

“I believe I know what you intended to say. A loyal and honest servant is worth a fortune. Is that not so?”

“Indeed!” Petrus brightened. “And I assure you I have nothing to tell you about how Diocles came to be near my forge or who killed him or anything at all relating to the event. I…um…thought you would want to know, sir.”

“To save me the trouble of visiting you, no doubt?”

“Indeed.”

“You weren’t expecting Diocles? You hadn’t arranged a meeting?”

“I work hard, sir, and that time of night I am asleep. But a sound woke me. What, exactly, I can’t say, being asleep, until I was awake, you see. Once I was awake it was quiet but I went out to the forge in time to see…well…”

“And Lucian’s arrival was a surprise also?”

“Just as much. Well, that is, not so much of a surprise as finding Diocles there, in the condition he was in…I mean, dead. “

“I understand. I appreciate your help, Petrus.”

“Thank you, sir.” Petrus appeared to have gained control of his nervousness. “After all, as I often say, we cannot know what we know unless we first know what we do not know.”

As the blacksmith departed, Cornelia stared at his broad retreating back with undisguised consternation. “What does he mean?”

John shook his head. “A clumsy attempt to curry favor, I presume. Petrus doesn’t necessarily want me to leave. A new owner might not want him on the estate.”

“Unless Petrus is working with a new owner to remove you.” Cornelia suggested.

John gave a faint smile. “True enough. One might think you’d spent years at the imperial court.”

Cornelia plucked a fig from the platter and chewed thoughtfully. “I know it’s impossible but would it be so difficult traveling with the troupe again?”

“It wouldn’t be very difficult if we could move freely.” John thought she looked wistful and changed the subject. “I see you’re wearing a most attractive fibula.”

“You noticed! I thought they went well together.”

John had a faraway expression. “They? Went well?”

“My fibula and the silver earrings you brought back from Megara.” She reached over and put her hand on his. Her fingers were sticky from the fig. “Tell me, John. What are you thinking about?”

He saw her expression was stern. “An elaborate fibula. Possibly two of them. Your jewelry jarred my memory. One of the guards I saw in the room behind Halmus’ cave was wearing a winged fibula. It reminded me of something then, and now I recall what it was. Diocles wore a similar bronze eagle.”

“And that means…?”

“I’ve been thinking about smuggling, counterfeiting, illegal weapons, and possibly stolen jewelry. Those fibulas were unusual in design and might have come from the same collection, shared out by colleagues in crime.”

“But why would Diocles have any connection with one of Halmus’ guards?”

“It might be that Diocles, like the guard, was employed by Halmus. As overseer Diocles had dealt with Halmus. Diocles knew Petrus. He could hardly avoid knowing him given Petrus also lives on the estate and has repaired its farm implements. And don’t forget, as Diocles mentioned, Halmus commissioned work from Petrus. Consider, too, as a blacksmith Petrus would have the equipment needed for the manufacture of illegal weapons.

“Look at how the arsonists were armed with spears and swords. They should not even have had access to them. Then there is that iron shipment someone wanted kept secret. If it were all being used for gates and plows there would be no reason to be so mysterious about its delivery. Not to mention Halmus’ guards were armed with swords, thus also breaking the law.”

“You are thinking Diocles was the intended recipient of the notice the iron had arrived, and he would have arranged to have it delivered to Petrus? It would seem then both of them were assisting Halmus in certain matters he would prefer not be known?”

“Halmus is a fraud. According to Peter, the man lied to me about his supposed pilgrimage. His hermit’s cave disguises a much larger area. I believe it’s used to store illegal goods, otherwise why hide and guard it? I suspect the coin I found there is a counterfeit. It looked remarkably unused to have fallen out of someone’s money pouch.”

“And Theophilus?”

John peered down into the bowl of rapidly cooling greens before him but he saw nothing except the tumbling patterns inside his head, glittering tesserae, falling into place, beginning to a form a picture, but one still too full of gaps to make sense. “My stepfather was involved with similar crimes also, as I discovered while I was away. I have no doubt he was one of those concerned in certain matters here.”

Cornelia smiled. “Good!”

John looked at her in perplexity. “What do you mean, good?”

“I mean I would far rather think he was murdered because of a dispute between criminals than that you were the real target.”