Five for Silver

Chapter Fourteen

John pounded again on the door to Peter’s room.

The sound echoed in the hallway, but Peter did not respond.

Even in his own home, the Lord Chamberlain was being thwarted. It was as if he had succumbed to the plague and unknowingly entered a dreary afterlife where the pagan dead knocked forever at doors that refused to open.

“Peter! Answer me! I order it!”

A pause and then a reply. “Master, forgive me. I’m waiting to die. Everyone must stay away. I would not want my last act in this world to be to give you all the plague.”

Hypatia, standing behind John, leaned forward to address the door. “Gaius told me it was all a matter of chance! Come out right now, Peter. The Lord Chamberlain’s has been tramping about the city all day on your account and it’s getting late. Do you want to leave this world disobeying the master’s orders?”

“Please, master, don’t order me to open the door,” Peter replied with a hoarse sob.

Again the sound of knocking echoed in the hallway.

“There’s someone at the house door,” Hypatia said and ran downstairs.

John remained outside Peter’s room. He heard the clatter of Hypatia’s footfalls on the steep wooden stairway to the second floor, followed by their more muted sound as she went down the final set of stairs into the atrium.

“Peter, we can’t help you if you won’t let us in,” John said quietly.

There was no answer.

John turned away.

Hypatia met him before he reached the kitchen.

“Master, there’s a pair of impertinent vagabonds outside. They claim they know you. One of them’s armed. I locked the door.”

John’s hand went to the blade at his belt. “I will attend to it, Hypatia.”

Had he been summoned to the emperor? Or had his frequent comings and goings been observed by someone who hoped to find a poorly guarded house and a naive servant who would allow them to enter?

Hurrying to the atrium, he threw open the house door.

“Lord Chamberlain!” declared his unexpected visitor. “I thought I would call on you since I find myself in the city.”

The man’s Greek was heavily accented, the booming voice familiar. The speaker was a burly fellow with long red hair and a ginger mustache. His scuffed leather boots and dust-covered clothing attested to a long journey. He was indeed armed, but the broad smile on his face indicated good will rather than evil intent.

Even though his presence was improbable, John recognized him instantly.

“Thomas! I never expected you to set foot in Constantinople again!”

Before John could say more, his second visitor stepped into view.

A slim young woman with dark eyes and an exquisite face.

Europa, the daughter John had not seen for seven years.

John gestured them inside wordlessly.

Europa hugged him awkwardly.

“Thomas,” John said over her shoulder, “you know I don’t allow anyone to carry weapons in my house. Leave your sword by the door.”

“I know we’ve taken you by surprise, father, but it was rather a good jest, wasn’t it?” Europa giggled, stepping back.

John smiled down at her. “So it was, Europa.”

When John had last seen his daughter, the only time he had ever met her, Europa was still a girl. Now her figure was the slightest bit fuller, her features thinned and sharpened, her demeanor more adult. She had become a woman. He couldn’t help looking back at the door.

“Mother will be here shortly,” Europa said, as if reading his thoughts.

John nodded. “I see.”

He found himself in the kitchen with his visitors, unable to remember having climbed the stairs.

Hypatia poured wine and set out honey cakes, all the while peering curiously at the strangers until John, tersely, explained who they were. She left, with obvious reluctance, to work in the garden.

For a while the three of them sat and stared at each other, sipping wine.

Suddenly Thomas set down his cup and laughed.

“Well, John, here we are again. Doesn’t seem that long ago since we said farewell, does it?”

“Indeed not,” John replied. He did not add that their visit was unwelcome in one sense. He did not want his daughter and her mother living in the city. Powerful men made inviting targets. In his deliberately solitary life, John could employ a staff of only two servants, could both keep a house and walk in the streets unguarded. But how could he ask Europa and Cornelia to also live in such a dangerous manner?

“Many things must have changed since then, but I have to say these honey cakes are as good as I remember,” Thomas said. “Either your cantankerous old servant is still with you, or he taught his successor how to make them.”

Europa brushed a crumb from Thomas’ ginger mustache. “Mother’s not far away. A few hours’ ride at most. She’s still at the inn where we were staying.”

“The last time I saw you, you were bound for Crete, Europa. How long have you been living on my doorstep?”

“Not long.” Thomas took a swig from his cup and grimaced. “I must have neglected to finish that last cup of ghastly wine when I was here last. My thanks for saving it for me all these years.”

“Where have you been all this time?” John looked toward Europa, but again it was Thomas who answered.

“It’s more a question of where haven’t I been? Egypt, Gaul, Germania, living by sharp wits and a sharper blade.”

“And you, Europa?”

“Mother and I remained in Crete for a while and then rejoined the troupe. We were traveling with them until quite recently.” She glanced at Thomas, who appeared only too eager to take up her story.

“As I said, John, I found myself in Egypt. It was some months ago, in Pelusium, to be precise. Visiting the baths, I heard much talk about recently arrived entertainers, said to include a pair of bull-leapers in the ancient tradition. Could it possibly be the friends I’d last seen some years ago in Crete, I asked myself. After all, you don’t stumble over bull-leapers every day.”

Thomas offered Europa a broad smile. “I made some inquiries and finally found the troupe, or what was left of it. The company was in the process of disbanding. The plague had just appeared and had already taken a few of them. It was time to leave.”

“And what’s more, our bull had been stolen,” Europa put in. “I fear he ended up butchered. A beautiful, intelligent beast like that.” Her eyes glittered at the memory, although whether with tears of sorrow or anger John couldn’t tell.

“I don’t think those pagan priests would have allowed that,” Thomas observed. “But in any event, the disaster sweeping the city put an end to my business there as well.”

He paused and John wondered exactly what business Thomas had been pursuing so far away. “In any event, I suggested to the few remaining performers that we stick together and move along the coast, earning our way by impromptu performances in towns as we went. Alas, I fear I am not cut out to be an entertainer.”

The admission caused Thomas to pick up his cup, which turned out to be empty. Before he could say a word, Europa refilled it.

Thomas fortified himself and continued with his story. “Unfortunately, the plague appeared to be pursuing us. No sooner had we arrived in Ephesus, but the plague appeared. We hastened on to Smyrna and Nicaea and the same thing happened. You’d have thought we were carrying the disgusting sickness on our backs. Eventually we parted company with the rest and gradually worked our way up the coast to Nicomedia.”

“Naturally at that point it seemed an excellent notion to come into a city where the dead were piling up in the streets,” John observed.

Thomas began to mumble a reply.

“Mother asked Thomas to escort me here,” Europa interrupted. “She was trying to protect me.” Her tone and accompanying frown made it plain that she considered the effort unnecessary. “We knew Constantinople was being ravaged. Is there anywhere that isn’t? Yet, she said, to survive in the midst of such a horror, what better chance could one have than to live in the household of the Lord Chamberlain?”

“She’s a practical woman, is Cornelia,” Thomas put in.

“You say Cornelia is still at the inn where you were staying?”

“A place called the Inn at Stephen’s Column, on the road from Nicomedia. It’s not far from a stylite’s column. Stephen isn’t there any more, just the column. I suppose the place was built to accommodate passing pilgrims.”

“Why didn’t she accompany you?”

“The innkeeper owes us money,” explained Europa. “We’d paused there for a few days, performing in the courtyard to entertain guests. He was awaiting payment for something or other himself. I’m not certain of the details, but in any event, mother didn’t want to arrive on your doorstep empty-handed. Isn’t that what she said, Thomas?”

Thomas’ head bobbed in agreement.

“That would be her way,” John said. “A very proud woman, Cornelia. As if I don’t possess more than enough wealth!”

“I notice you still haven’t spent any of it on new furnishings,” said Thomas.

Before John could reply, there was a rap at the house door.

John leapt to his feet and went to the top of the stairs.

Hypatia had come in from the garden and already opened the door, but the figure who rushed inside and loped frantically across the atrium towards the stairway was not Cornelia.

“Anatolius! You look as if you’ve had a terrible shock. Come up into the kitchen.”

“Fortuna has smiled on me, John.” The young man was out of breath as he reached the top of the stairs. “Balbinus is sinking fast! I called at his house again. The place was in an uproar, but I gathered that when Lucretia looks out of a window tomorrow, the sun will shine in on a widow.”

John caught his friend’s arm a stride’s distance from the kitchen and spun him around.

“Anatolius!”

Anatolius looked at him, amazed at his harsh tone.

John released his grip. “You’re wishing for Balbinus’ death!”

“I’m thinking of Lucretia-”

“No doubt. But the Lucretia you knew is gone, Anatolius.”

“No, John, never.”

“Lucretia has shared the senator’s bed for some time now. It’s true she left him once, but she returned.”

“John, I would rather not think-”

“You had better think about it, Anatolius. However much we may desire it, the past can’t return.”

Even as he uttered the words, John realized he had been giving voice to what he had been trying to tell himself ever since his visitors had arrived, counseling himself not to hope too much, not to build dreams.

As Anatolius turned toward the kitchen doorway, John saw Europa seated at the table, a living refutation of everything he had just said about the past.