Murder in Megara

Chapter Twenty-one

Halmus’ servant told John that his master was currently resting from his devotions and free to discuss earthly matters. He showed John into the atrium. Atop the stylite column, half-naked and draped in chains, Halmus had looked the part of an ascetic, but in his atrium, dressed in fine garments, he resembled any other successful businessman, solid, well fed, and one who would not take orders from anyone.

Or no mortal at least.

“Yes, I have dealt with Diocles. I am glad you have removed him. He was a villain but the former owner of the estate wished me to do business through the man. I would not willingly have chosen to have anything to do with him. You will not be overseeing the estate yourself?”

“My son-in-law will be overseer. He has been delayed but he’s a competent and honest man. He has had charge of a large estate not far from Constantinople.”

“Very good. Except of course…”

“As you say. There is a great deal of animosity here toward myself and my family.”

“There is no animosity toward you in this house.”

Was that true, John wondered? Who then were the evil ones releasing demons and conducting wicked rites, against whom Halmus had been fulminating from his column? He was starting to suspect the merchant was transformed into a different person, having climbed back down to the ground, when Halmus disabused him of the notion by launching into an account of his travels in the Holy Land.

“We are a godly household. I have visited the summit of Mount Sinai, sat on the very rock upon which Moses smashed the tablets, and seen the spot where the golden idol stood.”

As Halmus spoke he embarked on a peregrination of his home, which led them along corridors decorated with gaudy mosaics and through a huge kitchen into the garden behind the house. It couldn’t have been more different than the immaculately groomed grounds of the Great Palace. This was more of an untamed jungle, confined between walls like a wild beast.

Halmus spread his arms, gesturing toward tangled brush and drooping tree limbs. “I think of this as my wilderness, a place to which I can retreat from the affairs of the world and commune with the Lord. My first intent was to re-create the rugged, rocky deserts of the Holy Land but in such a confined space the effect would not have been the same. I would have found myself sitting on a patch of bare ground, surrounded by walls, almost a prison. With this vegetation on all sides I can’t see the walls. I can imagine I am in the middle of a vast forest, far from humanity-a hermit, if you will.”

John nodded politely. He had attempted to discreetly establish Halmus’ business relationship with the estate but Halmus was not forthcoming. Perhaps he didn’t want to tell John anything of his business, or possibly he was one of those men who left most their affairs to underlings. No doubt a churchman or another devout Christian would be impressed by the man’s pilgrimages.

“Careful,” Halmus cautioned as they pushed through a thick planting of rhododendrons lining the steep banks of a small stream.

The flashing trickle, appearing from and vanishing back into the overhanging vegetation, was just narrow enough to step across.

“But perhaps I shouldn’t be talking about religious matters,” he went on. “Please do not take offense. In business matters I only judge people by their wealth, but I confess I do wonder about this rumor you worship Demeter.”

So that was what Halmus had been trying to establish. “I can assure you, I do not worship Demeter.”

“I am glad to hear it. Not that I would allow it to interfere with business. We must all render unto Caesar what is Caesar’s. Not only does the emperor demand it, but Jesus commanded us to do so. And in order to render what is Caesar’s we must first obtain what is Caesar’s, is that not so?”

John agreed.

“Have you met Abbot Alexis? I believe his monastery’s land borders your estate. He is a good friend of mine. I will give you an introduction to him. You may want to attend services there.”

“I’ve known Alexis since boyhood.”

“Is that so? Excellent. A most competent man. He has greatly expanded Saint Stephen’s holdings. I will not be alone in recommending him to replace our current bishop when the time comes. After all, the church must make its way in this world, if it is to do the Lord’s work. A good bishop must first be a good businessman.”

There appeared in front of them a dome-shaped hill largely overgrown with moss and weeds. It loomed large in the enclosed garden, vanishing back into the overhanging vegetation. As they approached he noticed the hill itself was constructed of concrete, left unfinished and lumpy to simulate rock.

“Here is my hermit’s dwelling.” Halmus pushed back an animal skin hanging down inside the entrance, allowing them to enter a rough walled cubicle, its back also hung with an animal skin, a cramped space furnished only with the stub of a candle sitting on a flat rock against the wall. It could almost have been the beginnings of a miniature mithraeum had it been below ground, John thought.

“I will be staying here tonight,” Halmus explained. “An angel appeared to me this morning as I preached and instructed me to pray here from nightfall until sunrise. Evil is loose in Megara and I must pray for our deliverance.”

John said nothing. The businessman spoke of angelic visitation as if it were the price of olive oil. There was something odd about Halmus’ retreat. Before John had a chance to latch onto the thought, Halmus reached down and picked up a small stick laid beside the candle, extending the former in John’s direction. “A relic from the Holy Land. Please be careful how you handle it.”

John grasped the stick and gave an inquiring look.

“You have in your hand a small part of the bush that burned with holy fire. Can you feel some lingering warmth? Can you hear a faint vibration after all these centuries of the thunderous voice of the Lord speaking to Moses?

“After descending Mount Sinai, where I visited the cave in which Moses stayed for forty days and nights, a cave not unlike this one I may add, I was asked whether I wanted to see the burning bush which still lived,” Halmus continued. “I was eager to do so, so after cautioning me that the journey would be arduous, my guide and I set out across the desert. This was near the head of the valley that runs in front of the holy mountain and which is easily crossed in two hours. But on account of the miraculous presence of the bush, the geography of the place is like nothing else on earth.

“We walked all morning and on into the afternoon and although we never turned, as far as I could tell, the mountain lay sometimes before us, and other times behind us, and at others was invisible. So, too, the position of the sun in the sky moved around the zenith mysteriously, and also I sensed I was walking downhill or up an incline when my eyes told me the barren ground remained level.

“Finally, late in the afternoon, we came to an utterly flat and bare expanse upon which grew not a single blade of grass. The surface beneath my feet was gray and hard. It might have been solid rock. And in the midst of this deathly landscape grew the bush from which the Lord spoke in the fire.

“After falling on our knees to pray we turned our backs and left. In a few steps we were at the edge of the valley and looking back could see no sign of the bush. But it had shed a few twigs for pilgrims such as I, and the one you are holding proved that we had been there.”