One for Sorrow

Chapter Thirty

By the time Hektor had dressed his fright had apparently faded. He slumped on a couch in the nearby room to which he had been led and regarded the Lord Chamberlain with sullen contempt.

His look reminded John that while most court pages left imperial service upon attaining manhood, a number stayed on in other employment at the palace. He wondered briefly if Hektor might take that path, and possible future ramifications if he had already made a bitter enemy of him. Such calculations were never far from the minds of those who wished to survive at Justinian’s court.

“What do you want with me?” the boy snarled. “I know it’s not the usual reason. Not you!”

John shut the door. The room was simply furnished with the couch, a stool, a low table on which a lamp burned, and a wooden cross on one wall. There were no windows. John pulled the stool to the couch and sat down.

“Were you at the empress’ gathering the other night, Hektor?”

“Most of us were. I’ll tell Theodora you’ve been asking about her.”

“I’m sure you will.” John ignored the boy’s insolence. “What went on that night?”

Hektor shrugged. “Nothing much. The usual things.”

“Dining, entertainment?”

“Are you sure I can’t do something for you, Lord Chamberlain? I’m very obliging. Is there anything anyone can do for someone like you?” Hektor reached out and stroked John’s knee.

John brushed the boy’s hand aside angrily. Hektor smirked.

“I’ve been told there was a soothsayer there,” John continued, keeping his voice even. “Is that true?”

“Perhaps. I don’t remember.”

“You will remember to whom you are speaking, Hektor. No doubt there are powerful men at court who would protect you to conceal their secrets. Unless, of course, you are merely silenced, for a dead tongue can tell no tales. But I advise Justinian, who has condemned the sort of services you provide, and I am afraid your friends, if that is what you call them, won’t dare to defy their emperor if he decides to grant me your pretty little head on a stake.”

Hektor’ fists clenched but he said nothing.

“Now,” John continued, “tell me about the soothsayer.”

Hektor glared, but answered immediately. “The charlatan? For one thing, the smelly old goat had his wrinkled paws all over one of the whores there.”

“You mean he didn’t prefer little boys? What about his readings? Did he tell anyone’s future?”

“Theodora wanted her fortune told.”

“Using a chicken’s entrails?”

Hektor nodded. John wondered if the woman for whom Ahasuerus had mentioned providing such a reading had been the empress herself. He would have to speak to the soothsayer again. He asked Hektor about the chicken used for the empress’ reading.

“Theodora sent one of the guards to the kitchens for it. The knife must have been quite blunt, since the chicken squawked a lot.” Hektor smiled.

“I presume the reading was conducted in a more decorous manner than your own?”

“If you mean were Theodora and her guests naked….”

John’s warning look stopped Hektor in mid-sentence.

“Do you remember what the soothsayer said?”

“The old goat told her she would be rich. An easy prediction, her being the empress.”

John’s attention was drawn to the door. There was muted shuffling outside; the other pages were probably taking turns to eavesdrop.

“Did you see the captain of the excubitors?”

“Yes. He and his guards were ogling the women. I could have strangled the empress myself for all the guarding they were doing.”

“Who else?”

Hektor shrugged again. “Your usual prissy courtiers and puffed-up officials. And a flock of whores. Some of them dressed like virgins!”

“What about the entertainment?”

“Jugglers, mimes, some poor whiny poet, dwarves. The usual rubbish. Then there were two women, acrobats.”

“Acrobats?”

“They were doing handstands and cartwheels, things like that.”

John frowned. “Two women, you say.”

“I guess you would call one a girl. The other was an older woman. I heard someone say they were performing with a traveling troupe.”

Then Cornelia and Europa had attended Theodora’s gathering. John felt cold. Perhaps it was just the soaked clothing that clung uncomfortably to his back and shoulders.

Lounging even lower on the couch, Hektor was beginning to regain his courage. “Why don’t you get out of those wet clothes, Lord Chamberlain, “ he suggested sweetly.

John got to his feet, pushing the stool away more violently than he had intended. It crashed against the wall. The wooden cross, jarred loose, fell. Hektor clamped his hand over his mouth to hide his smile.

John walked out quickly, ignoring the cluster of pages gathered across the corridor in an all-too-obviously innocent game of knucklebones. He hoped the rain was still pouring down. He needed cleansing.