One for Sorrow

Chapter Fifty-three

In the enclosed garden of the patriarchal palace pale morning light cast time’s faint shadow across the face of a sundial.

Nearby, Patriarch Epiphanios bent over, examining a flower bed. At John’s approach, he straightened up with obvious difficulty. He looked frailer than he at their last meeting.

“The dial reveals the hour, the flowers reveal the season,” the patriarch commented. His skin showed the translucence of old age, as if the body were giving up its corporeal qualities. “What do you wish to speak to me about, Lord Chamberlain?”

“I don’t know that this is the place.”

“A delicate subject? Don’t worry. We will not be overheard here. I prefer to be out in the garden today. The walls of my rooms feel much too close.”

“Leukos, the Keeper of the Plate, was your frequent visitor.”

“That is so.”

Sorrow in the patriarch’s expression confirmed what John had suspected. “Leukos was your son.”

The patriarch smiled faintly. “Very few know that. How did you?”

“He was seen visiting at odd hours, using your private entrance. I was always been puzzled by his lack of a family, or any hint of family history. Most people will mention their relatives even if they are far away or long deceased. And when I spoke to you in the Great Church you seemed inordinately interested in his funeral.”

Patriarch Epiphanios shook his head. “How is it that God should choose a man to serve him in the highest capacity, and yet allow such a servant to remain enslaved by the same appetites as bedevil any man?”

“You may wish to keep this.” John held out the silver necklace he had found in Leukos’ pouch. The patriarch took it in a shaking hand, and brought it closer to his tired eyes to examine the entwined fish.

“Thank you, Lord Chamberlain. I gave it to Leukos as a keepsake. It was his mother’s. She is dead. She was married.”

“You took good care of your son, even if you could not acknowledge him publicly. It was you who asked the emperor to stop me from investigating further?”

“I was afraid you would discover the truth.”

“I would not have sought to use the knowledge against you. My only interest was in seeing my friend-your son-avenged.”

“He is avenged. The soothsayer is dead.”

“Ahasuerus wasn’t the murderer. The murderer is still free.”

“But the soothsayer stabbed Leukos. His dagger was in Leukos when you found him, wasn’t it? As I told you before, two matching daggers were found in the satchel he left behind when he threw himself into the sea.”

“You also told me that your guards had gone to the inn to arrest Ahasuerus for the murder and brought him to the guard house at your residence even before those daggers were found.”

The patriarch put a trembling hand to his forehead. “Did I? Yes, of course. Pardon an old man’s faulty memory. My guards had received information pointing to Ahasuerus. The daggers confirmed what they were told.”

“I regret I find your story hard to believe.”

The patriarch’s lips tightened and his hand moved to his side, fingers whitening as they pressed into his ribs. He made no sound. Then the spasm had passed-or else, John thought, he had given himself enough time to formulate a response.

Epiphanios gave a dry, bitter laugh. “Trying to hide anything from you is like trying to hide it from heaven. Look there. Do you know what I had planted?” He indicated the plot he had been examining when John arrived.

“I’ve never been skilled at identifying plants.”

“It is monkshood. I hope to see it reach its full growth one more time. My physician has been giving me a concoction of it for the pain. It makes me feel very cold. I think it numbs the soul as well as the body. The Greeks say the plant springs from the spittle of Cerberus. Were I a pagan I would expect to be seeing the beast soon. As it is…” The weak voice trailed off.

“As it is?” John prompted.

“I am afraid when my angel leads me up to heaven, the demon toll keepers on the way will charge me heavily for my sins. You are quite right, Lord Chamberlain. It was not the soothsayer who murdered my only son. It was I.”

It was obvious the patriarch was near death. Had he lost his mind as well? Or was it the effect of the medicine he was taking? John asked for an explanation.

“I murdered Leukos,” the patriarch repeated. “It was that vile soothsayer who wielded the dagger-who else? But it was I who placed Leukos in his path. I asked him to consult Ahasuerus on my behalf, to inquire about the Grail. What greater relic could I have acquired for my-for Justinian’s-new church?”

John recalled what the servant Euphemia had said about strangers bringing things to Leukos’ house late at night. “It wasn’t the first time Leukos had rendered such services, was it?”

“He blessed the city with more than one sacred relic. Sellers of costly goods sometimes acquire other sorts of treasures and Leukos was in a position to know when such valuables became available.”

“How did you know the soothsayer purported to possess such a relic?”

“Rumors he had it in his possession reached me. There was also an adventurer in pursuit of the Grail.”

“Is that why you had Ahasuerus escorted away from the Inn of the Centaurs in the middle of the night? You were afraid the adventurer, or let us name him, Thomas, would purchase the relic before you could?”

“The soothsayer and I negotiated a fair price. Then he left.”

“And went straight for the docks to take ship. He didn’t have to be prescient to realize you might not want to risk anyone finding out you had purchased this supposed holy relic from a fortune-teller.”

The patriarch rubbed his eyes. “It was a misunderstanding. My guards were instructed to see he was sent safely out of the city. It appears he panicked and threw himself into the sea.”

John supposed there was no way he would know whether that was the truth or not. He noted Epiphanios had not explained who had told him the soothsayer owned daggers identical to the one found in Leukos’ body.

The patriarch stared down at the sundial. “Did you know this relic is said to be a heal-all?”

“So I have heard.”

The patriarch’s eyes looked glassy in the thin light filtering out of the cloudy sky. John could not tell whether it was the sheen of tears or the effect of physicians’ concoctions.

“My son died because I was so afraid of death that I grasped at a chance to preserve my own life.” A quaver had entered the patriarch’s voice. He smiled wanly. “You realize I am only telling you this because I am a dead man, Lord Chamberlain?”

“And the Grail?”

The patriarch reached inside his robe and produced a jewel-encrusted box.

“Come closer, Lord Chamberlain.”

John stepped forward.

The patriarch’s hands trembled as he opened the lid of the box. “The Grail,” he breathed. “It cost me dearly but now the most holy relic in Christendom will reside for all eternity in the empire’s greatest church. Perhaps now I will be forgiven for all my sins.”

John stared down into the box.

Inside lay a round stone, green, flecked with red, perhaps three times the size of the stones Ahasuerus had given his clients, but otherwise identical.