One for Sorrow

Chapter Fifty

John sensed that time was running out.

As he sat in his study in the harsh light of morning, pondering what to do next, he felt that he could actually see the water steadily descending in the bowl of the water clock.

The identity of Leukos’ murderer remained elusive.

John decided to start over at the beginning.

The alley where he had stumbled on Leukos’ body.

Sunlight glinted sullenly off puddles left by the storm. Remembering the rainy night, he thought of Cornelia, even in this sordid place while on such a grim task.

John followed his shadow down the alley. The buildings rising on either side seemed to sag inwards. Overhead only a crack of sky showed. He stopped and scanned his surroundings.

A puddle gleamed where Leukos had lain. It turned John’s thoughts to that night and he remembered the cobbles under Leukos’ body had been dry.

If Leukos had been stabbed there and left to die, there should have been more blood. But if Leukos had not died there, then where had he been murdered?

A sound from above caught his attention. John looked up. Two stories up was the shuttered tenement window which had opened briefly the night he had found Leukos dead.

***

Maera had pulled the shutters closed abruptly. Her heart leapt. It wasn’t possible to get a breath of morning air any longer. What kind of place had Sabas brought her to, this filthy city where you couldn’t even open your own window without some awful shock?

At least it wasn’t a corpse this time. But for what good reason would a gentleman-and surely he was a gentleman, judging by his expensive robes and boots, even a country girl could tell that-for what good reason would such a person linger in an alley examining the ground under Maera’s window? Right where she emptied the chamber pot.

Her husband Sabas, lying sprawled on a pallet by the wall, erupted in a series of gasping snores. There was barely room for him to stretch out. His eyelids fluttered but did not open.

Maera heard a footstep in the hallway and her heart thudded harder.

“No,” she pleaded, “No.” But even as she began to pray there came an imperative knock on the door. What to do? There was no escape. Again there was a knock. The door had no lock anyway.

Maera pulled it open a crack. She was trembling. It was the man from the alley. Closer, he looked even more elegant, tall and smooth-skinned. Not one who worked with his hands.

A hundred thoughts ran through Maera’s mind. She had never had so many thoughts before she came to this place. Perhaps he was coming to help Sabas, perhaps he was coming to take him away. Or perhaps they were to be thrown out for not paying their rent.

“May I come in?”

The request was surprising. The voice was less imposing, gentler, than its master.

She looked around, unsure of what to say. Sabas’ pallet occupied most of the floor space. The close room smelled of sickness. The gentleman stepped inside anyway.

She remembered she was clothed only in the thin, stained tunic in which she had slept.

“I’m sorry to disturb you. I am John, Lord Chamberlain to Justinian.”

Lord Chamberlain? To the emperor? In this place? Surely the city had driven her mad. Yet why should she doubt him? His robes were hemmed in gold. He could have been Justinian himself or the patriarch. Maera instinctively shrunk away.

“I want to ask you a few questions,” John continued quietly. “Your window overlooks the spot where a body was discovered.”

Had he come to accuse her? “I don’t know anything about it,” she stammered.

“This has nothing to do with you or your husband. What is your name?”

“Maera.” It stuck in her throat like a stringy scrap of meat.

“And your husband?”

“Sabas.”

“Maera, did you see anything strange on the night of the festivities?”

Maera’s expression must have given her away, because John’s eyes narrowed. “You did see something, didn’t you?”

Maera bit her lip.

“You looked out and saw something in the alley. What did you see?”

“Oh, sir, it was just as you said. I was going to empty the…But there was a dead man. Looking right up at me.”

Sabas groaned and one arm slapped bonelessly at John’s leg. Maera felt faint, but the gentleman seemed not to notice.

“Did you look out again?”

Maera shook her head.

“And before? Did you open the window at any time before you saw the dead man?”

Maera nodded. The Lord Chamberlain was looking at her, his face stern. She forced herself to speak. “It was dark in the alley. At first I thought it must be demons lurching along, stumbling and falling against the walls. Then I saw it was just two men, intoxicated, holding each other up. Quiet though, not like most who have drunk too much. And then I wondered again if they were really men or if I’d been right the first time and they were demons.”

“What made you think of demons, Maera?”

“They were masked. Terrible bird-headed things. They must have been masks, don’t you think? Or else they must have been demons.”

“There’s nothing uncommon about masked drunkards wandering the street during celebrations,” John reassured her. “I saw quite a few myself that night. Was your window open during the day?”

“I usually keep it open but I don’t look out much. There’s nothing I care to see, sir. Just men using the side door of that house. And sometimes beasts that can’t be bothered to get inside first.”

“Did you know a girl was killed there recently?”

Maera paled. “It does not surprise me that someone working at such a trade would come to grief, God rest her soul. I shall pray for her.”

“You have seen nothing unusual these past few days?”

“No.”

“And you are certain you didn’t see a well-dressed man pass by on the night of the celebrations? Completely bald, pale, older?” John made a final attempt to refresh the woman’s memory.

Maera tried to remember.

A voice startled her.”I saw such a man.”

Sabas.

He had not spoken since his fellow workmen carried him back to her.

She knelt down beside him, taking his hand in hers. “Sabas!” For the first time she felt hope. He would live.

“Where did you see him?” John bent down to inquire softly.

“The Church of the Holy Wisdom.” The words came in a hoarse whisper.

“My husband is a laborer,” explained the woman. “He fell from the scaffolding. They thought he was as good as dead. It was a miracle he survived.”

“Did this man come to see the church?” John bent closer to catch the mumbled answer.

“No. No. I would never have noticed, there’s so many people there. But sometimes I work late or very early. I usually work high up in the dome. You can look out the openings where the light comes in and see as far as the city walls, and down into the patriarch’s garden, into the guarded way that leads to the private entrance of his palace. It is always kept well lit. A bald man used to go in that way at strange hours.”

“To the patriarch’s private quarters? Was he alone?”

But Sabas’ eyes closed again and he lapsed back into unconsciousness.

Maera’s lips trembled. “Sabas! Sabas!” She turned tear-filled eyes to the Lord Chamberlain and saw compassion for her husband’s terrible injuries. “We’ll go back to the country when he’s healed.” she cried wildly. “I’d prefer he laid up stone walls than churches, if this is how God rewards poor workmen.”

“He is alive, Maera. That is the important thing. No matter his injuries, he is alive.”

Maera saw two gold coins in the Lord Chamberlain’s palm. She had never seen even one such coin before.

“Here. There is a physician across from the palace gate. His name is Gaius.”

“We are poor people,” she protested.

“You are less poor now. Gaius will take one of these and heal your husband. Don’t pay more. If he is intoxicated, go back when he’s himself again.”

Maera was transfixed by the coins. How could she take them? Weren’t they part of the city which had so hurt her husband? She shook her head.

“Take them, Maera,” John said gently. “I have many more. More than I can possibly spend in ten lifetimes.”

“I can’t. I can’t take them from you.”

“They are not from me. Consider that they came from heaven.”

Maera took the coins in trembling hands. When the Lord Chamberlain had departed, she saw that indeed, though they bore the likeness of Justinian on one side, on their reverse they bore a cross.