Nine for the Devil

Chapter Forty-five

Night pressed its dark veil against the windows of John’s study.

By this time the house was usually quiet but tonight he could hear footfalls upstairs as Hypatia bustled about caring for Peter.

John had looked in on the servant and listened respectfully to the old man’s encomiums to his Christian god and the miracle he had wrought. John could see the attraction of believing the most dire of problems could be solved with a dab of Egyptian lamp oil, that the world was overseen by a loving omnipotent being who was willing to assist His followers if correctly petitioned.

His own god, Mithra, was a general who sent his men into a battle against the the forces of darkness, a battle in which they depended entirely on themselves.

Or so John believed.

He stared at the little girl in the mosaic on his study wall. “Well, Zoe, are you going to help me at least begin to untangle this Gordian knot?”

He swallowed another sip of his bitter wine. “I know your name is not truly Zoe, but you’ve always answered to it before. At least you don’t change. You never grow old. Not like people. Flesh is not glass. Look at Antonina, who is entangled in this whole business. She hides the years cunningly but they are beginning to catch up. Yes, Antonina offers a good starting point. Consider what we have discovered.”

He put his wine cup down and began to tick off points on his fingers. “First, Antonina purports to suspect both Germanus and the Cappadocian. Let us bear in mind casting suspicion elsewhere diverts it from yourself.”

He got up and paced around the room as he continued. “Very well, then. As far as Antonina is concerned, it would be in her interests for Theodora to remain alive, thereby thwarting Germanus’ ambitions for the throne and in the process protecting Belisarius’ current role as Justinian’s foremost general. Not to mention she hoped to use Theodora to get more supplies and troops from Justinian for Belisarius in Italy. Joannina has the impression that the latter is her mother’s main interest at the moment.”

Zoe’s eyes seemed to twinkle in the trembling lamp light as John looked up at her on his second circle around the room.

“We agree so far, I see. But consider. Antonina is trying to stop the marriage between Joannina and Anastasius, whereas Theodora is adamant that it would take place. Was adamant, I should say. Thus her death means doubt is cast upon the eventuality, which would suit Antonina.”

He paused at his desk and took another sip of wine, then resumed his pacing. “However, arguments over a marriage are not a very good reason to risk your life by poisoning an empress. After all, Antonina and Theodora were good friends. Or appeared to be.

“Yet even good friends fall out,” he continued, remembering his recent hot words with Anatolius and the surly behavior of Felix. The latter made him think of two other military men: the bitter and intoxicated Artabanes, and Germanus, the rising general.

“Artabanes is frank about his hatred of the empress. Why wouldn’t he hate her, forced to live with a wife he does not love and seeing the woman he does love married to another man at Theodora’s instigation? And Germanus has every reason to resent Theodora’s efforts in checking his career. Would either of them resort to poison? Neither had direct access to Theodora. Then there’s the Cappadocian who worked in the kitchens. The imperial couple’s personal cooks have always been held responsible with their lives. Let us suppose Theodora was poisoned with food from the kitchen. Who could have poisoned the meals her cook delivered?”

John shook his head. “Too many guards in the kitchens. Too dangerous. The Cappadocian is too shrewd to take such a risk. Besides, a man used to power would not be likely to perform such a task with his own hands. That trio can be put in the second rank of suspects for now, don’t you agree, Zoe?”

The mosaic girl did not disagree.

“Let us examine means and motives next. Was Antonina the culprit? She admits she sent Theodora gifts. Joannina said Antonina had, as in the past, supplied Theodora with potions and cosmetics. She could have sent something poisoned. Equally Gaius could have been responsible by accident by making a mistake in what he prescribed.”

He sat down again and thought for a while. “Anyone on the palace grounds could make a potion if they had the knowledge. Anyone could steal the ingredients from the gardens. I could have been responsible, given Hypatia is knowledgeable about herbs.”

A thought struck him. Cornelia! She has a hasty temper, and she knew how much Theodora hated him. Surely not. She had left the city shortly after Theodora’s death. Where was she? Why hadn’t John heard from her?

These thoughts he kept to himself, unwilling to share them even with Zoe.

Obviously he had drunk too much.

He took another large gulp of wine and forced his thoughts away from Cornelia.

“Poison might be introduced by bribing a servant,” he continued, aware now of the slight slurring in his words. “So let us consider matters from that angle. Take Vesta. Devoted to her mistress and determined to see her marry that feckless boy Anastasius. Furthermore, she is being taught to make various preparations by Antonina. Has she learnt to make those that are harmful? She lives on the palace grounds and can easily obtain the necessary ingredients. Then too Theodora’s lady-in-waiting Kuria said Vesta always brought a gift of fruit for the empress.”

John frowned. “I suppose it would be possible to poison fruit even if Gaius thinks it unlikely, but then Kuria said she and Vesta ate it. She could be lying.”

But why would Vesta wish to poison the empress when her mistress’ marriage depended on Theodora’s continued existence?

“A good question, Zoe,” John remarked. “But let us leave it for now and proceed to examine Kuria, also constantly in attendance on Theodora in those final days. Kuria seems unlikely, don’t you think? The only protection between her and a life on the streets was retaining her post as a lady-in-waiting to Theodora. And why is Felix behaving in such an odd fashion? What is he hiding? Anatolius has already lied to me. Is there anyone I can trust?”

He laughed softly. “Why, I am even suspecting Cornelia when it is clear Theodora was not murdered in the first place. That is merely Justinian’s fancy. Why not suspect everyone of the crime that didn’t happen? Is there anyone in the city that didn’t want the empress dead? No crime and endless suspects!”

He looked over at Zoe. Her sad expression seemed to say he ought to talk to Felix again. Soon and at length. Even though he is your brother in Mithra and a close friend, he appears to be avoiding you.

“I must speak with Felix,” John agreed, draining his wine cup. “It’s almost the middle of the night so I should be able to catch him at home. And tomorrow I will question Vesta further. And Kuria too. Vesta said she was with the empress more than anyone. Yes, Kuria might have valuable information. First, though, I will go to see Felix.”

***

Kuria woke screaming, lying on her back in darkness. She smelled blood and ashes.

Where was she? Was she blind?

The nightmares that had driven her from the refuge of unconsciousness bled into the nightmare that had preceded what she had been certain would be her death.

She gasped at the searing pain as she rolled onto her side. Her body might have been filled with hot coals. It felt as if a spike had been driven into her temple.

Her groping hands stirred ashes. She choked, coughed, spit out a piece of tooth.

Maybe she had died. This was the underworld. Hell. A fitting final destination for a whore.

Why had the beggar insisted on beating her?

She had accommodated enough men she didn’t want. That was nothing, really, if only he had not been so brutal. Had not been like a demon.

Well, at least she had stabbed him with her brooch more than once before she passed out. She hoped the pin had hit him in the eye.

Had she? Had he blinded her in return?

She could feel her fine green stola was in shreds and almost ripped off. Oddly, as far as she could tell in her sightless state, her assailant had not taken any of her necklaces, bracelets, or rings.

She rolled onto her stomach with agonizingly slowness, whimpering in pain, hearing the rustle of ash beneath her.

Her bones did not seem broken. She pulled herself around until, suddenly, she was facing a glimmer of light.

She could still see.

She lowered her face and sobbed. “Thank God. Thank God.”

Never had she been so devout while at Madam Isis’ refuge.

She began to crawl toward the light.

A doorway, she realized, opening into the night. Opening onto the Mese, she remembered.

So she was not blind, not in hell.

“Thank God, thank God,” she muttered again.

She crawled straight into the arms of the waiting demon.