Ten for Dying

Chapter Forty-two

“So the traitorous Lord Chamberlain is still plotting against me with the captain?” Justinian dropped the parchment onto his desk.

“Former Lord Chamberlain and former captain, Caesar,” said Narses.

Justinian sat at his document littered desk in his study deep inside the imperial residence. He had barely emerged from this sanctuary for days.

“Are you sure it is authentic, Narses?”

The eunuch’s bald head bobbed up and down, catching the fitful lamp light. The stark shadows gave him a devilish appearance. “I have had Felix’s home under surveillance. We intercepted a private courier leaving.”

Justinian pushed the parchment away from him with a forefinger. “Yet it appears to be written in a feminine hand.”

“Dictated, naturally. And practically as soon as he returned home.” There was no reason for Narses to say aloud that Justinian should have heeded his advice and kept Felix in the dungeons. The plain fact hung almost palpably between them in the airless room. It angered Narses that the whim of Theodora’s sister outweighed his own good judgment. But what else would one expect?

“He asks John for assistance in his investigation of the theft of the Virgin’s shroud.”

“Do you believe that is all he wants assistance with? He also suggests John return to Constantinople in secret.”

Justinian released a sigh akin to a death rattle. “I do not wish to distress Anastasia. I expected Felix’s visit to the dungeons might dissuade her from this particular little adventure. If only Theodora could speak to her! Anastasia was always wilful and insists on going out in the city without attendants even though she knows how dangerous it is.”

That was the least of her transgressions against good sense, Narses thought, while maintaining a respectful silence.

“Returning to the matter of the relic,” Justinian went on. “We are in the grip of evil, Narses. Where will it lead? I must study the problem further and pray for guidance. You have my authority to take what steps you think best.”

***

At least he was out of the dungeons, Felix thought as he approached the street where the Jingler had his lair. He ought to be grateful for that. Grateful that Anastasia had saved him.

Thinking about her assistance made him wince. He should have been able to save himself. He was on his guard now, determined not to be surprised again. He didn’t trust Justinian’s whims. The emperor’s mood changed hour by hour. It worried him leaving Anastasia alone at his house even if she was the late empress’ sister so she had promised to spend the afternoon safely at the palace.

Why did she remain by his side? A man she had known for a couple of weeks? Love? The sheer excitement? Theodora’s sister wouldn’t be harmed, in the end, would she? How much power did the younger sister of a deceased empress possess really? It might well benefit her to be married to a leading commander for Justinian’s new supreme general, Germanus, supposing the emperor’s cousin did replace Belisarius as everyone at the palace expected. A husband of high military position would enhance what standing she gained through wealth and family connections. If Germanus succeeded Justinian as emperor Felix might well take over Germanus’ position. And who knows, Germanus might die…

Although only a short walk from the palace Felix was day dreaming about, the area where the Jingler lived might have been in a different world. A drifting miasma of smoke from the forges in the Copper Quarter dimmed the sun and the rickety tenements, blackened by years of soot, leaned tiredly against one another. Pedestrians trudged along as if employed in transporting the weight of the world. Even the feral dogs looked discouraged.

Felix told himself it was just his imagination.

He scratched idly at the back of his hand.

Those cursed red bumps. Was he falling ill? Well, a few spots on his hands and face were the least of his problems.

He went up the stairs to the Jingler’s rooms. The stuffy air inside the building was hotter than outside. It smelled of boiled fish and onions and mildew. By the time he reached the top floor he was breathing hard and wishing he didn’t need to inhale at all. His head had begun to throb. He touched the lump under his hair and winced.

Catching his breath and trying to put the pain out of his mind, he rapped at the Jingler’s door. To his shock it swung open.

In the middle of the cluttered room, Julian was hanging by his neck from a rope. The lifeless body, twisting slowly, jingled a faint dirge.

Felix stared.

The pounding in his head was worse and there was a roaring in his ears.

He scanned the hallway. It was empty.

A fat fly buzzed out of the room straight at his face. He slapped it away.

There was no sound except for the awful jingling of Julian’s useless charms and amulets. The poor man’s eyes were bulging as if he was surprised all his magick had failed him.

The foul stench of old cooking was suddenly overpowering. Felix gagged and started down the stairs moving as quickly as possible without making a racket.

He guessed the Jingler hadn’t been dead for long. His killers might be lying in wait.

He reached the street without incident, then thought of Anastasia. She was involved in this business almost as deeply as the Jingler had been. For all Felix knew whoever had killed the Jingler had gone straight to Felix’s house. Murderers and those who gave them orders didn’t necessarily care what one’s position at court might be.

Felix broke into a run.

As he neared the archway that led to the entrance to his house he saw Anastasia walking along the colonnade.

He sprinted across the Mese and grabbed her arm, just as she was about to pass through the archway.

She spun around, breaking his grasp. Her eyes blazed with fury, her fists were clenched. Then she recognized her assailant and her snarl turned into a puzzled smile. “Felix! What do you think you’re doing?”

He bent down. He saw that the dusting of ashes he had left under the archway-barely noticeable given the dirt and litter in the streets-had been disturbed, and not by only a single pair of feet.

“It looks like the whole Army of the East has been through here,” he growled.

He led Anastasia around the corner, down a side street, and ventured a furtive glance down the alley leading past the back of his house. “There’s a guard at the gate. Narses must be back.”

“You didn’t extend them a dinner invitation, I take it.”

He laughed grimly. “What’s more, the Jingler’s dead. Hanged.”

They moved away as quickly as possible without drawing attention.

“You’re too closely involved with me,” Felix said. “Whoever killed the Jingler might want you out of the way too. You have a safe place to stay. Go back to the palace and don’t come out again. Better yet, leave the city. You’ve told me you prefer your country estates.”

She took his face between her hands, pulled his head down, and kissed him. “Do you imagine I’d abandon you, foolish bear?” She pulled a ring off her finger and pressed it into his hand. “Go to the Hippodrome and ask for Maria, the widow of the bear-keeper.”

Felix turned the ring over in his hand. It was a crude copper circle holding a bit of green cut glass. Hardly fit jewelry for an aristocrat.

“I’ve know Maria since childhood,” Anastasia continued. “Theodora, Comita, and I grew up among circus performers. When you show her the ring, she’ll know I sent you. She’ll hide you.”

“But for how long?”

“Long enough for me to speak to Justinian again.”

“You don’t really think you can keep persuading him I’m not guilty do you? Without proof?”

“There will be proof soon enough. The former Lord Chamberlain will surely return to assist you once he receives your letter.”

“My letter?”

“The letter I urged you to write but you wouldn’t. I’ve written it for you. Hurry up now. Get yourself to the Hippodrome. I have things to do.”

She gave him a push, as if he were a balky child. He took several steps and when he turned to speak to her she was already walking briskly off in the opposite direction.