Nine for the Devil

Chapter Forty-one

John didn’t believe in miracles. How could a smear of lamp oil on a forehead heal? Why would an elderly man who had journeyed to Egypt and obtained a flask of oil be cured while elsewhere in Constantinople other old men, who had never set foot far beyond the city gates, were dying?

He did not believe in omens either. Lightning had struck the column of Arkadios because it towered above anything else in that part of the city. The strike had not presaged the death of Theodora or calamity for the empire.

However, John the Cappadocian did believe in omens. It was said he consulted oracles and sorcerers. Was that why he had arranged to meet with the Lord Chamberlain at the column of Arkadios?

The Forum of Arkadios was comparatively small, populated with ancient statuary, a peculiar gathering of all but forgotten pagan gods and unfamiliar emperors.

John entered the forum warily. There were only a few passersby. The sun was still high enough to press the full weight of its heat down onto the open space.

John was not certain he could trust Anatolius’ word that he was not being sent into an ambush, and his lack of trust distressed him.

There was no sign of the Cappadocian.

Had John been tricked?

He walked toward the column. Constructed of dark green serpentine, it rose from a massive base of red granite. A continuous frieze winding around the column depicted the military triumphs of an emperor who, like Justinian, had never ventured onto the battlefield. A sculptor’s chisel could make a man a hero as readily as his own sword, and with considerably less risk.

A charred line ran down the side of the column. Where the charring ended, the pavement had cracked and exploded upward. Jagged pieces of masonry lay about, some at the forum’s far edge, the result of the lightning strike. Apparently city workers had been too busy with the imperial funeral to begin their cleanup. Those who claimed the top of the column had been sheared off or that Arkadios’ image had been reduced to a molten mass had exaggerated.

“Lord Chamberlain.”

The voice came to John clearly, yet there was no one nearby.

He looked up and made out a figure standing on the railed platform upon which sat the silver statue of Arkadios.

John went through the door in the base of the column and started up the spiral stairway inside. Shafts of light fell through narrow, scattered openings. The bright, intersecting lances created a confusion of brilliance and shadow on the steep, open stairs. John kept close to the wall, aware of his vulnerability.

No one lay in wait and at the end of his climb he was greeted by the corpulent figure of the Cappadocian. According to rumor, the Cappadocian’s oracular advisors had convinced him he would one day wear the robes of Augustus, but this afternoon he wore what might have been the clothing of a beggar, a shapeless brown garment. His broad-featured face was ruddy. He was tonsured, just as described by Pulcheria.

Looking past the Cappadocian John noticed something he had not seen from the ground. The lightning bolt had blasted away half of the platform. A length of railing dangled out into space, resembling the twisted metallic limb of a dead tree. The Cappadocian stood near the platform’s edge, seemingly unconcerned by the steep drop below.

“We won’t be overheard here,” John observed.

“If Theodora were still alive I would not be so sure of that,” the Cappadocian replied.

He might have been tonsured and humbly dressed but John saw the thick, loose lips of a debauchee and the small, glinting eyes of a rodent, a perfect image of the dissolute which monk ascetics inveighed against. Then again, John told himself, that was probably just a result of the man’s vile reputation coloring his features.

“You may have more to gain by Theodora’s death than anyone in the empire,” John said. “Justinian is convinced she was murdered. How long have you been in the city illegally?”

“Not long. Weeks.” The Cappadocian surveyed the forum below. “No armed men that I can see. You could have had me arrested, Lord Chamberlain.”

“I promised Anatolius I would not.”

The Cappadocian’s heavy lips curved into an expression between a smile and a sneer. “And you always keep your word, as everyone knows. But naturally I must be suspected of violence against the empress.”

“You were not until your presence in Constantinople came to my attention.”

“The fact I’ve been working in the palace kitchens will make me appear even more culpable. There’s no reason not to admit what I’ve been doing. You’d surely find out soon enough. I respect your competence.”

“I am surprised no one recognized you.”

“No one expects a humble, junior cook to be the monstrous tax collector.”

“Where have you been staying?”

“Oh, here and there. I’ve moved around.”

John felt a trickle of sweat snake down his neck. Exposed to the harsh sun, the platform might as well have been on fire. He placed a hand on the remnant of the metal railing. It was hot to the touch and wobbled alarmingly.

“Anatolius believes you decided to return here in the expectation Justinian would soon invite you back anyway, and you wanted to begin regaining properties you had lost.”

“That’s correct. Your friend is a very capable man. I knew his father well, and so I felt confident I could trust his son. I wished to have some legal matters dealt with before I resumed my duties.”

“You expect to resume your duties?”

“Why not? Justinian satisfied the mobs by removing me from the prefecture during the Nika riots, but a year later I was back in charge.”

“You’ve been absent for seven years this time.”

“Only because Theodora was involved. Yes, Lord Chamberlain, I had every reason to kill her, and opportunity too, considering how I was employed.”

“Why tell me that?”

“Because I didn’t kill her. You’re a man of principle. When you discover I didn’t kill her you will be honest about it. You will do everything in your power to ensure I’m not executed for a crime I didn’t commit. If not for your efforts I’d be offered up as a scapegoat. There are plenty of people at court who hate me. I’m counting on you, Lord Chamberlain, to save my life.”

“You may be overestimating my influence with the emperor.”

“I hope not.”

The Cappadocian looked east. From this height Constantinople formed a panoramic complex beyond comprehension. Wherever the gaze fell were colonnaded streets, churches, tenements, squares, monuments, warehouses, mansions. Smoke rose from manufacturies in the Copper Quarter. To the north could be seen the long, narrow bay of the Golden Horn, to the east and south the Sea of Marmara. Above ground cisterns reflected a glare of sunlight. The Aqueduct of Valens cut across the hilly peninsula. At the tip of the city the Great Palace and its gardens could be made out, falling in terraces to the sea shore. Somewhere in the welter John’s own home could no doubt be seen if one were to search long enough.

“Magnificent, isn’t it?” the Cappadocian said. “Imagine ruling it all.”

“Those of us who are not Justinian can only imagine.”

“But like his empress, he will not live forever. And who can tell, he may pine away prematurely now his beloved consort is gone. Not that any decent person would wish such a thing, you understand.”

John looked away from the scene and back at the Cappadocian, who was smiling to himself. “You can’t still harbor ambitions to the throne?”

“Why not?”

“You are one of the most hated men in the empire. The powerful hate the tax collector as much as the poor do.”

“And what does it mean that people hate you? It is a sign they envy you, fear you, admire you. Men always hate their betters, but in the end they follow them. I’m no different than you, Lord Chamberlain. I served Justinian. The prefecture was in disarray, ineffective, tied up in tradition. I changed that. I collected taxes that were due, secured the revenues Justinian needed to rebuild this city and recapture Italy. Those who were used to evading their taxes hated me, but who was at fault? Those who flaunted the law or the man who insisted they obey it? Who better served the emperor, the wealthy who balked at paying to restore the empire’s glory or the man who forced them to share in the enterprise that benefits us all? They said I was a thief. Naturally. Not to mention a glutton, a pervert, a libertine. Their enemies are always thieves, gluttons, perverts, and libertines.”

“Whatever truth there might be in what you say, you would be well advised to return to Egypt before anyone else knows you left. You won’t be safe here.”

“You are offering to allow me to leave unmolested. Is that what you’re saying?”

“I am giving advice.”

“We have much in common, Lord Chamberlain. We both know what it is to be hated by Theodora, to be persecuted and plotted against, for no reason beyond her envy, her dread that anyone except her might have Justinian’s ear.”

John observed the same applied to many people.

“But the two of us, she hated us specially, hated us for years. You know how she had me exiled to Cyzicus and ordained a deacon against my will, how she forced Justinian to confiscate my estates.”

“He allowed you to retain enough to live comfortably,” John pointed out.

The Cappadocian’s dark eyes narrowed and he drew his lips into a tight, plump line, the first signs of anger he had shown. “Live comfortably in the middle of nowhere as a deacon? Even that was not enough for Theodora. When the bishop of Cyzicus was murdered she contrived to have me accused. I was not convicted, because I did not kill the bishop any more than I killed the empress. Yet I was stripped, scourged, and put on board a ship bound for Egypt. In order to survive I had to beg at every port. Think of it. I was reduced to begging.”

“Count yourself fortunate. I was once reduced to slavery, although not by Theodora,” John replied. “She treated countless people unjustly. I have been thrown into the dungeons. But, like you, I survived. That is all past. Theodora is gone.”

John saw the Cappadocian’s florid face ran with rivulets of sweat. “You think the past vanishes? Has your long ago encounter with the Persians vanished? Do you think I can forget being thrown into an Egyptian prison? And how, a few years later, she tried to convince two young members of Cyzica’s Green faction to testify I had indeed been involved in the bishop’s murder? Only one refused even under torture, so she had the hands of both cut off.”

John was well aware of the story and did not doubt its veracity. He said nothing.

The Cappadocian ran a hand over his shaved head. The hot sunlight had turned his scalp a fiery scarlet. “You know what is the worst of it, Lord Chamberlain? She used my only child, my innocent young daughter, to lead me into a trap. Think about that. You have a daughter yourself. What if Theodora and Antonina deceived her in order to destroy you?”

He scowled and continued. “Yes, it was Antonina who assisted her. She convinced my daughter Belisarius desired to overthrow Justinian and needed my support. But when I went to the appointed place and spoke to Antonina about the matter, I discovered Narses had been listening with an armed guard. I was seized and sent into exile. Now my poor daughter will carry until the end of her life the burden of what she inadvertently did to her father, simply because she was an unsophisticated young girl.”

“Those who hold positions of power can’t help but subject their families to the dangers of court intrigue.”

“You know that yourself, Lord Chamberlain. I know you suspect me. But when you discover that I am innocent, you will realize we are natural allies, having suffered the same injustices. I remind you that I only know how to cook the sort of nourishment those in holy orders consume. I learned that skill after I entered on my religious career.” He smiled and spread his arms, calling attention to his monkish garb. “Antonina, on the other hand, knows how to cook potions and poisons.”

“You hid in the kitchens because you could pass for a cook?”

“And also because it is a good place to hear what’s going on in the palace. When meals are delivered people are often in the middle of conversations, and servants are regarded as furniture, totally deaf. An hour after the venison in honeyed sauce is placed on the banquet table everyone in the kitchen knows that a certain senator is having an affair with the wife of a prominent official in the prefecture. I had good reason to be in the kitchens, but poisoning Theodora wasn’t one of them. Antonina, on the other hand-”

“You aren’t the first to point out Antonina dabbles in potions. But then you have as much a grievance against her as you do against Theodora. It would doubtless please you if she were executed or hauled off to the dungeons.”

“Certainly. You see, I am frank. Not that Antonina will wield any influence a month from now. How long do you think Belisarius will keep his position without Theodora blocking the ascent of Germanus? A changing of the guard is coming, Lord Chamberlain. I have no grievance against Germanus, nor he against me. The two of us have never opposed one another. In fact, we have much in common.”

John directed a thin smile at the fat man. “So you agreed to meet me here to make an offer?”

“No. Not yet. I am merely indicating that I will be willing to make you an offer when I am in a position to do so. But first, you will clear me of wrongdoing, Lord Chamberlain. I have every confidence in you.”