Murder in Megara

Chapter Forty-one

Stephen guided his mother into the stark anteroom of the City Defender’s office. Helen, sobbing inconsolably, hands over her face, allowed herself to be led to the wooden bench along the wall.

Stephen sat beside her. There was no one else in the room. A bust of Emperor Justinian stared from a corner pedestal, not seeing them. The single window looked out into a featureless gray underworld.

“You were right to come to the monastery, Mother. Abbot Alexis will have everything set to rights before long.”

“Your father looked so pale, so worn. Do you think they are starving him?” Helen snuffled.

“He’s only been in custody a couple of hours. He told you he hasn’t been mistreated.”

“Do you think I will ever see him again? What will I do?”

“Of course you will see him again, and before too long. It’s all a mistake, I’m sure. Father involved in counterfeiting? It’s preposterous.”

“It’s punished by death. That’s what the laws say. Death by burning. Your father told me that himself, years ago. If…if…oh, how could I manage on my own?”

“Well, Mother, hadn’t you better think of Father first?” Though his father and the others were nearby there was that peculiarly strong feeling of emptiness that pervades work spaces after business hours.

Helen turned glassy eyes toward him. “You believe I am not thinking of your father, Stephen? How can you say that? It is bad enough that you have no house for me to come to if I am widowed.”

“The Lord cares for widows, Mother. You could enter a religious order.”

Helen sniffed. “That is your answer to everything. You only joined the church to spite your father. Isn’t that true?”

“Mother! You’re distraught. Perhaps we should pray together.”

Helen ignored the suggestion. “Some sons follow in their fathers’ footsteps,” she continued, “others do everything they can not to be like them at all. Just because he worked as a tax collector, you had to go into the church where love of money is condemned as evil.”

“One of the apostles was a tax collector,” Stephen reminded her.

“Your father isn’t an apostle. If only he had been firmer with you, then a destitute old widow might have a loving son’s home to go to.”

“You are not destitute, old, nor a widow, Mother. This is Satan talking, not you.”

Helen fell silent. Stephen said a prayer in which she did not join.

“You tried to be so different from your father,” Helen continued abruptly. “But you are so very like him. He never kept his mind on his job. His thoughts were always flying off to distant corners of the world. And you, Stephen, your thoughts have flown right out of this world completely. You have locked yourself away from it.”

“I thought you approved of my vocation, Mother. As a matter of fact, I would like to see some distant corners of the world myself someday. I intend to undertake a pilgrimage to the Holy Land when the time comes. Halmus dines often with the abbot and I have been occasionally invited to hear him tell remarkable stories about his travels.”

“Halmus is a rich man. It’s easy for him to travel. How would a poor monk afford it? It takes more than dreaming to live in this world. Look at your father, if he had worked more diligently we would have been able to actually see those places he continually dreamed about.”

“Mother! You don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m not at all like father, pottering away at his miniature world, lost in dreams, and nothing but a glorified clerk all his life. Do you think I don’t have responsibilities at the monastery? I’m in charge of the hospice. Abbot Alexis considers me his right-hand man. In fact, he has hinted that I may succeed him when he moves on to a higher office.”

Helen began to cry again. In the silence her sobbing sounded very loud. One could almost imagine the mournful wail echoing through the dim, empty corridors and offices beyond. “Perhaps it is the Lord’s will I end up in your hospice, a broken old woman, not leading the quiet life your father and I had planned.”

***

“Thank you for permitting John and myself to speak with Leonidas.” Abbot Alexis addressed the City Defender.

The four men had drawn up chairs facing each other in the same whitewashed hearing room John had seen before. In the uncertain illumination of a single oil lamp it looked even drabber than it had in daylight, a commentary perhaps on the quality of justice maintained in Megara.

“You answer to a higher authority than I do,” Georgios replied. “I would never refuse a reasonable request. Feel free to ask the prisoner whatever you wish as if I were not present.”

Georgios had not offered to absent himself.

Leonidas’ chair creaked as he shifted nervously. Had he heard the muffled sobs from the anteroom?

“We know you’ve explained everything to the City Defender, but Alexis and I would like to hear it for ourselves,” John began.

Leonidas avoided looking at him.

“What about this bag of counterfeit coins? What were you doing with them?” John asked.

“Working in tax collection, I have a keen interest in counterfeiting. Over the years I’ve saved examples that have turned up at the tax offices.”

“Quite understandable,” put in Alexis. “It is part of your responsibilities.”

“How is that?” Georgios’ tone was curt.

Leonidas swallowed visibly. “I use them to compare to any suspected counterfeits I come across.”

“Why would that be necessary?” Georgios asked. “Certainly you are aware of the general characteristics of counterfeit coins. And one counterfeit would not have precisely the same flaw as another.”

“That may be. Nevertheless it is…uh…my method.”

“One not officially sanctioned,” Georgios snapped. “Otherwise counterfeits would be kept at the administrative offices.”

“You told us you had already questioned him, Georgios,” John said.

“So, one suspect wants to instruct me on how to interrogate another suspect!”

“I am hoping we can clear this up informally. You can’t really believe Leonidas is involved with counterfeiters, can you?”

Georgios shrugged. “He’s just admitted he stole the coins.”

“But, sir, it was no loss to anyone.” Leonidas’ voice trembled. “They would simply have been destroyed.”

“No loss to anyone perhaps but a nice gain for yourself.” Georgios leaned toward Leonidas in a threatening manner and his voice rose. “What did you do, pass them off on unsuspecting merchants? A small purchase here and there, who would notice? And quite a nice little side income it must have added up to over the years. Or was it more than that? A lot of money goes through the tax collector’s offices. There would be plenty of opportunities to swap your counterfeits for real coins. I’m sure you could describe more sophisticated frauds to me.”

“Please,” Alexis said, “there is no need to sound so harsh, Georgios. You are not talking to a criminal.”

“I’m not?”

Leonidas slumped and folded his arms, as if he were trying to make himself small enough to become invisible. Finally, he raised his face to John and spoke directly to him, avoiding looking at the others. “I suppose I thought of it as a bit of an adventure, collecting all those coins. I mean, who could say where they had been made, in what disreputable places in dangerous neighborhoods or what kind of men might have handled them? The basest criminals, men who prefer to walk in the shadows. When I picked up one of those coins I felt a thrill, my fingers tingled, I could feel the heat of the forge where it had been minted by a swarthy Egyptian, could smell the sea from the deck of the pirate ship transporting it. You understand don’t you, John?”

“Of course. Even one who chooses a simple life can still long for a little adventure.”

“Longing for adventure is not a legal defense,” Georgios pointed out. “A lot of criminals are seeking adventures.”

“But as Leonidas has already explained, he was also employing the coins in his work,” John replied. He glanced at Leonidas for confirmation.

His friend squirmed and stammered. “Well…I said so…but I was ashamed to admit…well…”

“How did Helen happen to find the counterfeits?”

Leonidas nodded almost imperceptibly. “I became so engrossed looking at them she surprised me when she arrived home. I tried to hide the bag, too hastily. I…I should have guessed she’d buy more fish sauce and put it with the rest.” His eyes filled and he shook his head hopelessly. “If only I did not have a taste for fish sauce. What a fate-to have one’s life destroyed by fish sauce!”

“Be honest,” John continued. “You were looking over those counterfeits to compare them to the one I gave you. Isn’t that so?”

Leonidas’ eyes widened. “The coin you gave me? What…I don’t know.…”

“I appreciate you trying to protect me but there’s no need.” John turned to Georgios. “When I talked to Leonidas in the marketplace after my last visit here, I gave him a coin I suspected to be counterfeit and asked him if he could examine it and let me know if I was right. Was I right, Leonidas?”

“Yes,” he said miserably. “The coin is a counterfeit. A very good one.”

“And why,” John fixed his gaze on Georgios, “did your men happen to barge into Leonidas’ home? You couldn’t have suspected him. You had someone following me, didn’t you? Your man saw me hand the coin to Leonidas.”

“No. You’re wrong.”

“Someone must have told you to go to Leonidas’ house.”

“We had an anonymous tip. It’s no business of yours.” There was a threatening undertone to Georgios’ voice.

“A man was watching the house,” Leonidas said. “Helen told me. I saw him myself.”

“That’s enough!” Georgios stood abruptly and sent his chair clattering backward. “We’ve wasted enough time. Guard, escort the prisoner out.” He turned his attention back to John. “I shall be interested to hear more about this counterfeit coin of yours.”

“You certainly will. Especially where I found it.”