Nine for the Devil

Chapter Forty-seven

John’s sleep was brief and troubled. He was repeatedly awakened by confused nightmares that drained away like cloudy wine from a cracked cup before he could recall what they had been about. For all he knew they might contain the solution to Theodora’s murder. Most likely they were a meaningless jumble. It was commonly said dreams were messages from the gods. If so, the gods must all be insane.

When it began to get light outside, John was happy to flee his bed, despite feeling more tired than when he lay down. As he went along the hall it came to him that Cornelia had appeared in some of the nightmares.

Surely today she would send word? If not, he would have to…what? If it were not for his investigation he would have ridden immediately to Zeno’s estate, but Justinian would not take kindly to his Lord Chamberlain deserting his duties.

“How is Peter?” John asked Hypatia as she served him his usual boiled eggs.

“Almost his old self, master. He’s still asleep this morning.”

“I told you he was a tough old boot,” John said. His nightmares had left a black film over his thoughts, like residue from smoke. Perhaps that explained why he couldn’t help thinking how the ill and aged so often rallied a day or so before they died. It was almost as if they knew the end was near and summoned up their final resources to take one last clear look at the world from which they were about to depart.

He chided himself for entertaining such gloomy ideas. Might the thought give rise to the reality? Then he chided himself even more harshly for entertaining a superstition.

John took a bite from a boiled egg. It wasn’t cooked enough. He preferred his eggs what most would consider overcooked. Peter knew that. He wondered, had Theodora rallied, given Justinian a glimmer of false hope before the end? There was no knowing, not that it mattered.

Poison, unlike illness, would never grant the dying person one final day to say farewell.

He took a gulp of water to wash down the egg. “Hypatia, you said Vesta picked foxglove leaves and took them to Antonina. Would they have some use other than in making poison? In love potions, for example?”

“Recipes for potions tend to contain a little bit of everything you can imagine,” she said, refilling his water cup from an earthenware jug. “I don’t know how they work, or whether they would still be effective if you leave anything out.”

“You knew Vesta by sight. Did you ever speak with her?”

“A few times. Once, while I was working in an herb bed, she stopped and asked what could be used as a painkiller for a woman’s complaint. Everybody at court asks me questions. I must be interrupted six times a day. I sometimes think I supply more medical advice than Gaius.”

John realized he did not know what herbs had been discovered in Vesta’s room. He had never taken a great interest in plants. They were stalks with leaves. “There are many herb beds in the palace grounds and all are available to anyone with access to the gardens,” he mused.

“Yes, master. Also Gaius has a garden of medicinal plants for his own use but someone could easily steal from it. There are herbs in the garden inside Theodora’s quarters too, but you can only get into it from the imperial quarters.”

“Is there anything unusual growing there?”

“I don’t think so. I wasn’t called on to tend it very often.”

John hadn’t expected Hypatia to know much of use although he had hoped she would.

The last few days had worn him out. He would have been pleased to learn what he needed to know by staying at home.

Unfortunately that was not possible.