Nine for the Devil

Chapter Thirty

John found his house door locked. He knocked, waited, and tried again. There was no response.

He looked up at the second story window of his study. The diamond-shaped panes showed only muddled reflections.

He raised his fist to pound harder, then paused to think. If Hypatia were there she would have answered. She must have gone out, and Peter wouldn’t be able to navigate the stairs even if he could hear John’s knock up on the third floor.

It would be best if Peter didn’t hear because if he did, he might foolishly attempt to get out of bed.

What could have prompted Hypatia to leave Peter alone?

The answer was obvious. She assumed John was in danger, having been abducted in the middle of the night, and had gone to seek help.

Should he look for her at the Urban Prefect’s offices?

She would hardly have sought the assistance of the prefect’s night watch. They worked in concert with the excubitors and it had been excubitors who carried John off.

He doubted she had seen his captors but if by good fortune she had glimpsed the carriage surely she would have recognized it as an imperial vehicle.

Therefore, he reasoned, she would seek help from someone outside the palace.

Who did Hypatia know in the city who could help?

Anatolius. Who else? John’s friend, who had at one time paid her unwanted attention.

John strode back across the square in the direction from which he’d just arrived.

The sun rose higher, measuring its power in shadows fingering rooftops and statues. Already it was warm, heralding another stifling day. Carts carrying crates of produce and squawking chickens rattled through streets coming alive with artisans hurrying to their work and beggars rolling out of sheltered corners to begin scratching out a hopeless existence for another day.

John took a shortcut, little more than a crevice between buildings. He was sorry almost as soon as he emerged from it when he was hailed by a man scrubbing the entrance to a business selling costly linen, wool, and similar cloths.

“You are abroad early, sir. A worker like myself, no doubt? Times are hard for those who labor to earn an honest crust.”

The man sat back on his heels. “It’s not just outrageous taxes. When do you think Justinian will authorize measures to protect merchants from beggars using our doorsteps as lavatories?”

John was reminded of Artabanes urinating across his hedge frontier. Before he could answer, the shop owner, evidently a man happy to pass the time of day with anyone who would listen, continued.

“Every morning I have to scrub my steps. The ladies don’t want to buy in a place smelling of-well-it reminds me of a certain landowner one of my cousins works for. This landowner, you’d know him if I mentioned his name, very well-known he is, he’s so rich he has a servant whose only task is to keep his master’s collection of statues cleansed of bird droppings. And yet he only collects damaged statues! You know, missing a limb or damaged in the casting. What’s the use in buying such statues, I ask you, sir? They’re fit only to melt down for the value of the copper.”

John agreed that it was quite puzzling and hurried on before the fellow could bring up Theodora’s death and point out a rival who sold cloth colored with poisonous dyes.

It occurred to him that the peculiar collector might feel he was sheltering those poor, injured images. At times he found himself reacting to a statue he passed as if it were alive. Feeling sorry, for example, for the long-forgotten dignitary who stood year after year in the forum near Anatolius’ house, alone and unrecognized though he had been a great man once. Could a statue retain some part of the living man? If a dessicated piece of bone could harbor the essence of a saint, why not?

His thoughts uncharacteristically wandering, he almost failed to see the figure emerging from the entry of the passage to Anatolius’ house.

It was Vesta, walking quickly with her gaze on the ground.

John stepped back and positioned himself behind the unfortunate statue standing forlornly in the fountain’s basin. The marble man could have used the assistance of the benefactor of statuary. The less than artful modifications made by the weather and gulls made it hard to tell whether he was a general or a poet.

John waited until Vesta’s slim figure vanished down the street before continuing on his way.

When he had seen Vesta at Anatolius’ not long before, Anatolius’ comment had indicated the fair-haired lady-in-waiting was a client. However, it seemed a strange hour to be conducting business, and with a girl practically young enough to be a daughter.

Anatolius greeted him effusively.

“John! So you are well after all! Hypatia must be relieved.”

“She was here?”

“Yes. Didn’t you meet her on your way?”

John shook his head. “I took a shortcut.”

“She was frantic. Something about you being dragged out into the night. I was just about to rush off to the palace to see what I could find out.”

John gave a brief account of the night’s events, leaving out the fear he had felt.

“You best be getting home, John. Who knows what Hypatia will do when she gets back and finds you’re still absent?”

“Hypatia is a sensible woman. I’m sure she realizes she’s done what she could. Although I missed her, I did see Vesta leaving,” John added after a short pause.

Anatolius shook his head tiredly. “I’m overwhelmed with work, John. Vesta was here again yesterday. I stressed I couldn’t see her today because of a number of important appointments. So what does she do? She turns up on my doorstep before dawn, or as she put it in advance of my first appointment.”

“Is she consulting you on behalf of her mistress?”

“What else? The girl is a devoted servant but I wish she wouldn’t harass me endlessly. I’ve told her repeatedly there is nothing I can do to help a couple living together illicitly and without the approval of the girl’s parents.”

He paused and rubbed his red-rimmed eyes. “Since Anastasius is Theodora’s grandson he’ll doubtless avoid prosecution. I’ve stressed that more than once to Vesta, not to mention pointing out the young couple should be grateful for the protection Theodora extends them from the grave.”

“A strange notion,” John observed.

“Yes. Well, I shouldn’t detain you.”

John was struck with the unsettling impression that Anatolius was concealing something. Was his friend really so tired or was he trying to mask his nervousness? Did he seem overly anxious for John to return home?

Perhaps Anatolius sensed John’s doubts. He smiled ruefully. “I must be getting old, John. The young ladies visit my house only for advice these days.”

“You mentioned that the last time I saw Vesta here.”

“Did I?”

In the old days a young lady who insisted on visiting Anatolius with regularity would most certainly have found herself subject to his attentions. Not that Vesta was a beauty. She was still just a ungainly girl.

“At least I have saved you going to the palace to try and save me,” John said. “I’d best be on my way.”

“Wait, my friend. I’m afraid I might have given you the wrong impression. I didn’t mean to be rude. Stay a little while. Have a cup of wine. You look as if you need one.”

“But Hypatia-”

“As you say, she’s sensible. She was much calmer by the time she left. I’ll have the wine brought. You don’t have to worry about Hypatia.”