Nine for the Devil

Chapter Nine

“It was Anatolius who caused you to leave, wasn’t it?” Peter asked.

Hypatia shook her head and a lock of hair, black as a raven’s wing, fell across her forehead. She pushed it away with a tawny hand. “No, Peter. I just felt you didn’t want my assistance.”

Peter levered himself up with his elbow. A cushion from one of the house’s virtually unused reception rooms was wedged between his bony back and the wall. “That young man was paying you unwanted attention. Don’t think I didn’t notice. It was most improper.”

“You mean because he’s a senator’s son and I’m a servant?”

“That’s not what I meant exactly, Hypatia. What I meant was that Anatolius is not the sort of man you would, well, get along with. Flighty.”

Hypatia couldn’t help smiling. Scowling as he was, Peter looked very fierce. His leathery, wrinkled face displayed a finely lined map of his long life. Had he always looked aged? When Hypatia imagined him at twenty, he looked the same as the man before her. His eyes were still as young and lively as they must have been then, she thought. “That was years ago. I’m surprised you remember. It wasn’t serious. We both know how Anatolius is about women.”

“About attractive young women.”

“Why, thank you, Peter.” She was sure Peter’s face flushed slightly. “What is Anatolius doing now? Still a lawyer?”

“Yes. The master tells me Anatolius is faring well in his profession.”

“Not so flighty as he once was then?”

Peter lowered his voice to a whisper. “Between you and me, his business thrives mostly because he used to be Justinian’s personal secretary. People come to him because they suppose he might still have the emperor’s ear. Not only that, but everyone at court knows he’s a good friend of the master and the imperial council the master belongs to hears legal appeals.”

“Speaking of which, I intend to stay here as long as you need me, even if Anatolius throws himself at my feet and proposes marriage.”

Peter’s face sagged. “You don’t think he might-”

“Oh, of course not! Here, drink this.” She pressed a cup half-filled with brownish-green sludge into his hand. The thick liquid resembled the growth atop a stagnant puddle. “It’s a tonic. I make it for Gaius to give his patients.”

Peter raised the cup. His nose wrinkled and his lips tightened.

“It isn’t hemlock!” Hypatia said.

He managed to imbibe the medicine.

“There, it’s not so bad, is it?”

“I’m afraid it is very bad. Very, very bad. But if you say it will help…”

“It will. I’m glad Cornelia is still here. Are they married yet?”

The question seemed to startle Peter. “In the eyes of God, yes.”

Hypatia smiled. “It’s strange how none of our employer’s circle of friends have married. Not Anatolius nor even Captain Felix. Do you suppose it’s because they are Mithrans and can’t find suitable matches?”

“You know we don’t talk about the master’s religion, Hypatia.”

“I’d only mention it to you, Peter.”

“You shouldn’t mention it even to me. There are laws against pagan practices. Who can say what danger the master could find himself in?”

“But Justinian must know that-”

“Please. Don’t say anything more about it.”

The room’s single window opened on a vista of the city dominated by the dome of the Great Church. Peter would be able to see it from where he sat propped up against his elegant cushion. Hypatia was not a Christian, but worshiped the gods of her native Egypt. “I understand the master will soon be a grandfather,” she said to change the vexed subject.

“That’s right. He’s awaiting news.”

“The child was some time in coming, wasn’t it? Europa and Thomas have been married for years.”

“We all arrive when God wills it. And depart.” Peter lifted a thin arm and moved his hand in the Christians’ sign.

“They are still living on the estate owned by Anatolius’ uncle?”

“Zeno’s estate. Yes. Thomas is still employed as estate manager. I never thought that redheaded rogue would settle down to a regular job.”

“He was a military, man wasn’t he?”

“Harrumph! He claimed he was a knight. I saw a rogue, plain and simple.”

“But things have turned out for the best, as fate would have it.”

“Fate? You mean God’s will.”

Hypatia made no reply. Was it only the Christian’s haughty god who didn’t consider himself subject to fate? She bent over to straighten Peter’s coverlet. “Why don’t you let me adjust your cushion so you can lie down? The potion I gave you will make you sleep.”

Peter’s eyes narrowed. “You said it was a tonic.”

“Sleep is the best tonic.”

“But I wanted to tell you about what’s happened since you worked here last.”

“There’ll be plenty of time for that.”

Grumbling, Peter managed to slip into a prone position, grimacing when he slid his splinted leg further down the bed. “I already mentioned the master is now officially a member of the consistory, although he was always one of the emperor’s closest advisors. And you won’t be surprised to know he has performed some confidential assignments and had a few close brushes with death while you’ve been gone.”

“Which you will be able to tell me all about in the weeks ahead,” Hypatia said, adjusting the cushion.

“I won’t be bedridden for weeks, Hypatia. Do you think I won’t be able to manage the stairs with a crutch soon or that I can’t chop onions sitting down? In a few days I won’t need your assistance and you can go back to your flowers and herbs.”

“There’s no hurry. When our employer spoke to me in the gardens yesterday evening and told me about your accident I agreed to help out. How could I not? I will be here longer than a few days, Peter. Gaius thinks you might be laid up for months.”

“Months?” Peter’s words slurred and his eyelids drooped.

“Perhaps. Even if it is, I will be here.”

“It distresses me to think of you having to care for me that long,” Peter mumbled.

Hypatia was pleased to see he did not look distressed.