Ten for Dying

Chapter Forty-seven

Fortuna had not abandoned Felix entirely. He careened past Isis who was startled into immobility. Bones crunched under his feet, then he flung himself out the door.

Isis’ mysterious caller was still within sight. The man sauntered along, showing no sign of concern. Apparently he had not heard the commotion he had left in his wake.

Perhaps he was hard of hearing. Keeping his distance to remain undetected, Felix could tell he was a man of late middle age, sturdy. There was something familiar about him.

When the man passed through a pool of torch light in front of a closed shop, Felix recognized him-the lamp keeper he and John had interviewed at the Church of the Holy Apostles the morning after the theft of the Virgin’s shroud. What was his name? Peteiros? He claimed to have seen demons making off with a sacred relic, yet hadn’t he just delivered a bag of bones to Isis?

An ugly swarm of possibilities began to buzz around in Felix’s head.

As the sun rose, light spilled into the streets. The squeaking and banging of metal grates being raised as shops opened for the day reverberated beneath cool shaded colonnades. Peteiros, if indeed Felix had identified him correctly, strolled along the Mese. Naturally, he would take his time, now he had nothing to hide. He carried only the coins Isis had handed over.

To be delivered to whom?

The answer seemed obvious.

But perhaps Peteiros wasn’t going to the church. He might have taken the furtive job to make extra money. He could even be employed by Porphyrius. Peteiros would make an inconspicuous courier. Just as an aristocrat would not appear out of place arriving at the house of the excubitor captain, so a church worker would raise no eyebrows by going to the door of a refuge.

However, to Felix’s dismay, at the spot where the Mese forked, Peteiros took the northern branch and started to climb the hill atop which sat the Church of the Holy Apostles.

All the way there Felix hoped Peteiros would turn from his route. He held his breath in expectation every time they approached a side street, but the carer of holy lamps kept straight along, dragging Felix’s hopes lower and lower, until he finally entered the grounds of the church and vanished through its entrance.

Felix cursed silently. Already he was opposed by the emperor and a wealthy and famous charioteer. Now it seemed he had to worry about the priest of one of the city’s largest churches. Who would it be next? The Patriarch?

How could he have been so stupid? Who had unrestricted access to the shroud except Basilius? He bore the responsibility for its security. All that nonsense about demons must have been concocted between the priest and Peteiros.

If he-or John-had given the matter thought Basilius could have been confronted immediately and Felix would never have run afoul of Justinian and Porphyrius. And Julian would still be alive.

Felix’s spirits had been sagging the closer they got to the church, but as he went up the steps his despair turned to anger.

A deacon took one look at his grim face and directed him to Basilius. The priest was taking a morning walk through the grounds behind the church. He stopped in front of Theodora’s mausoleum at Felix’s approach and when he saw Felix’s expression he blurted out, “Bad news? Is it the shroud? Please, Lord, let it be safe.”

“You should be able to me whether the relic is safe or not. First explain the transaction at Isis’ refuge this morning. Then tell me what you did with the missing relic. And no lies this time!”

“You have no right to speak-”

“A man with his life hanging by a thread has the right to demand information from anyone to save himself.”

Basilius was making little gestures with his hands, pleading for Felix to be quieter. “You can’t think I had anything to do with stealing the shroud?”

“I can, I have reason to think it, and I do.”

“But you saw me after I consulted with the emperor about the theft.”

“A good smokescreen. You knew the shroud was going to reside here for a while after Theodora’s funeral. So you decided to take advantage of the chance. It was you who arranged to have it protected so inadequately. On purpose, I believe.”

“That’s not true.”

“I know you’ve been selling relics to Isis. Do you expect me to believe it’s a coincidence the most valuable relic in your church has been stolen?”

Basilius looked around nervously. There was no one nearby. “Isis? Who is Isis? Wait. Do you mean Theodora’s model prostitute? The one who supposedly changed her house to a refuge?”

Felix’s fists clenched. He forced himself not to grab the little cleric by the front of his robes and shake the truth out of him. “You know Isis well enough to have had your man Peteiros deliver a sack of relics, old bones to be precise. I observed the transaction myself and followed him back here.”

Basilius seemed stunned. “This is true?”

“Why are you questioning me?” Felix thundered. “You’re the one who’s lying!”

The priest suddenly strode in the direction of the mausoleum. For an instant Felix thought he was running away, but instead he called out. “Timothy!”

The elderly doorkeeper came hobbling out, leaning on his stick and blinking. No doubt he had been sleeping, Felix thought. Or pretending to sleep. Was he involved too, with his frogs and amulets and implausible stories of apes and demons?

“Timothy, go and bring Peteiros. Tell him there’s a man here making inquiries about his…um…activities. A man from the palace tell him, so he will know how to…uh…conduct himself.”

The ancient fellow gave Felix a suspicious look and shuffled off. He took a very long time in returning with Peteiros. Time that Felix and the priest passed in an increasingly awkward silence. An unseen bird sang in a tree. If only the songs of those Felix interrogated were as simple and guileless at that bird’s, he mused.

By the time Peteiros finally arrived Basilius had composed himself. He related in sharp tones what Felix had told him.

Peteiros was stricken. “Lord forgive me!” He wailed, dropping to the ground and groveling at the priest’s feet in a display of debasement that Theodora would have admired.

Basilius took hold of the back of the man’s tunic and yanked with surprising strength, urging him back to his feet.

Peteiros complied and stood swaying and moaning.

“It’s true, then?” Basilius said. Felix would never have believed the little priest’s tones could be so cold. “You’ve been pilfering holy relics and selling them to a…a…prostitute?”

“No! No, sir. Only a few small, useless things.”

“It was quite a collection of bones you brought to Isis this morning,” Felix put in.

“They were the foot bones of a donkey,” was the reply.

Felix recalled one of the stories Anastasia had insisted he learn. “You mean the beast Jesus rode into Jerusalem?”

“Oh no, sir. It couldn’t have been. There was still skin and fur attached until I-”

“You’re talking about the donkey bones the old cart driver tried to pass off on us last week, aren’t you?” Basilius said. “A dreadful case. The poor fellow was starving, without a beast to pull his cart. He must have prayed he wouldn’t outlive his donkey.” He turned to address Felix. “I gave him a few coins and sent him away, then I ordered the bones placed into our store room with all the other similar items. We receive an endless stream of blatantly fraudulent relics, for one reason or another. I had no idea-”

“Why should I believe you?”

“Because I’m telling you the truth.”

Felix smiled wearily. “And you, Peteiros why shouldn’t I hand you over to the authorities for stealing the Virgin’s shroud? Because you’re telling the truth too? You’ve admitted you were selling relics.”

“Not relics, sir. Donkey bones.”

Basilius broke in. “Why, Peteiros? How could you do such a thing?”

“But I was only tidying up a bit, wasn’t I? And Mada and I, we hoped we might save enough to buy a bit of land for a farm.”

“The relic with which I am concerned would be worth more than a farm,” Felix pointed out.

Peteiros was almost in tears. “I’d never think of such a blasphemous thing, sir. My soul would burn. Those demons I saw would fall upon me and carry me off under the earth, into the eternal fires.”

“Pray that you are not destined for the flames for your perfidy,” Basilius told him. “How did you come to know such a woman as this Isis?”

Peteiros swallowed and licked his lips. “During the winter, when we needed to replace lamps and you wished me to find the least expensive…It was from one of the shops run by the refuge that I got the best bargains.”

Felix saw Basilius’ eyes widen slightly. He could imagine the priest thinking, in horror, “I have been walking in the light from a whore’s lamps all this time!”

What Basilius said was, “You may go now, Peteiros. We shall speak about your future later.”

Felix allowed the man to creep away. He didn’t believe his story, nor did he believe Basilius was ignorant of his employee’s activities. Hadn’t he as much as instructed Timothy to warn Peteiros to conduct himself appropriately? Clearly the two had a story worked out between them in case of need. And Peteiros wasn’t likely to deviate from it in front of his employer. Nor was Basilius likely to confess to any crimes, except perhaps to his god or Justinian’s torturers, and Felix was trying to avoid the latter himself.

He wheeled and stalked off without a word.