Nine for the Devil

Chapter Sixty-three

Hypatia sat with Peter-her husband Peter-all night. She had pulled a stool to the side of the bed and taken one of his still hands in her own. The physician told her Peter would not wake again when he went back to sleep, and Peter had fallen into a deep slumber before the clergyman who married them left.

Peter had mumbled the appropriate words. Had he truly known what was happening? At the same time he was taking his vows he seemed to think he was climbing the ladder to heaven.

He was half-sitting, propped up on the pillow. His hand was cool. She could hear him breathing faintly, with an occasional long pause between breaths. Hypatia waited every time, holding her own breath, until his breathing resumed.

She kept brushing his wispy hair back into place. His forehead felt as cool as his hand. In the soft glow from the sleeping city outside the open window he might have been any age.

What a strange marriage, ending before it began. Like a baby who died at birth, whose life consisted of a single cry and an inscription on a tombstone.

She had always felt a bond with Peter, as if they were family, without realizing it.

Was it foolish for her to marry an old man? She ran a finger over the back of his hand, feeling the fragile bones through the parchment skin. It was better they had married. The Lord Chamberlain should have married Cornelia long since. Did he suppose there would always be time?

The night passed. Outside the window dawn replaced the soft night glow of the city. Hypatia was gradually aware she could again discern Peter’s bedside table, the amulet she had given him, the lucky coin from Derbe, the pilgrim flask with the oil she had thought miraculous for a brief while. The cross on the wall came into sharper relief.

Her eyes burned and for an instant, as sunlight began to filter into the room, she was sure the increasing light formed a cross over the sleeping Peter. She blinked and it was gone.

No doubt it had been a transitory effect of sunlight and her own exhaustion.

Then the hand she held spasmed.

Suddenly it was clenched tightly around her hand, squeezing painfully.

Then the pressure released.

Peter opened his eyes and looked at her.

“Hypatia. I have just had the strangest dream.” His voice was strong. His eyes were clear.

How long Hypatia might have remained speechless she would not know because almost simultaneously with Peter’s awakening there came a pounding at the door. Up on the third floor the noise was barely discernible but it startled Hypatia like a thunderclap.

She rushed downstairs. She could hardly see for the tears of joy blinding her.

What wonderful news she would have for the Lord Chamberlain when she let him in. She had forgotten their argument.

Blinking back tears, stifling sobs, she fumbled with the bolt and finally threw the door open.

The caller was not the Lord Chamberlain.

***

It was later that morning before Hypatia learned what had happened to John.

He gave her a hurried summary of his meeting with Justinian as they stood in the atrium.

His first question upon entering the house had been about Peter.

“He’s sitting up and having something to eat, master. Complaining I undercooked the eggs.”

John had braced himself for bad news. “He sounds like his old self,” was all he could think to say.

“He’s entirely himself. He really has recovered. It’s a miracle. Isn’t it wonderful?” Hypatia smiled. “His god has decided to grant us some time together, or so Peter says. And how can I not believe him?”

For Peter’s sake John accepted Hypatia’s tearful apologies for her outburst and reinstated her in the household. Hypatia worshiped the gods of Egypt as John knew. He wondered if Peter would seek to convert her to his own religious views. “I am happy for both of you, Hypatia.”

He and Hypatia had exchanged their news in a rush. There was no time to waste. No time for John to visit Peter.

He put his hand on the door and looked around the atrium, wondering if he would see it again, half expecting it to dissolve like a dream. He was enveloped by a sense of unreality. If he were to reach out his hand it might pass through the scene as it would pass through the reflections in the water in his impluvium, or perhaps come up against a hard, cold, mosaic.

He had experienced this sensation after his mutilation by the Persians. Surely, he had thought, it must be a nightmare. The world could not have changed so much, so abruptly and inexorably. But he had never awakened, and gradually he had stopped waiting.

“I’m leaving immediately for Zeno’s estate to find out what has become of Cornelia,” John told Hypatia.

“That won’t be necessary,” said a familiar voice.

He turned, startled. Cornelia came down the stairs. Her clothing was mud-spattered.

“I arrived back not long ago,” she said. “All that rain delayed us right from the start of the trip. The roads were flooded. We got stuck in mud, then a bridge had been washed out. It was my fault, ordering the driver to try a side road. We ended up in a ditch with a broken axle and had to stay at an inn waiting for the carriage to be fixed. By the time we got to Zeno’s estate a messenger had already been sent asking when I would arrive. I turned right around and came back immediately.”

She put her arms around John.

“I may as well not have bothered to go,” she said. “I was no help at all. Our grandson was being born as I arrived. He is named John.”

“You really should have stayed,” John said, holding her tightly.

“Europa and Thomas and John are doing well. I knew you would worry and I didn’t want you to be distracted from your investigation, and given I could get here as quickly as another messenger, well…” She kissed his cheek.

Over Cornelia’s shoulder, John saw Hypatia looking uncertain if she was free to go, trying to remain unobtrusive.

Cornelia put her head on John’s shoulder. “Why does it all need to be so complicated?”

John gave a thin smile and put his arm around her shoulders. “It doesn’t have to be, not any more. We have always talked about living in Greece. You can start to pack, Cornelia. I am free to leave the city at last. The emperor has relieved me of my position.”