Nine for the Devil

Chapter Forty

Instead of looking John in the eye, Anatolius stared down at the skull depicted on his desk top. “How could I turn him away, John? My father knew the Cappadocian well. You remember how much father wanted me to take up the legal profession. How could I refuse legal aid to one of his closest associates?”

John had broached the subject as soon as he set foot in the study.

“I am amazed Senator Aurelius would have allied himself with a man like John the Cappadocian,” John replied, keeping his voice level. He couldn’t help thinking of the Cappadocian’s escapades as described by Pulcheria. Nor could he see Anatolius’ staid, respectable, and happily married father engaging in such behavior or even wanting to be associated with a man suspected of such outrages.

Anatolius finally looked up. “That’s unfair, John. I know what people say about the Cappadocian. My father had a different view. He used to tell me people hated the man because of his reforms, because they didn’t like change.”

John wondered if he were, in fact, being unfair. He was angry that his friend had concealed the presence of the Cappadocian in the capital from him. “I admit I never dealt with the man. His reputation is unsavory.”

“I have no opinion on his reputation for licentiousness, if that’s what you mean. Mostly rumors, no doubt. My father worked with him in a purely official capacity. He respected what he did as Praetorian Prefect. Before he took over, the prefecture had become an empire unto itself, paralyzed in tradition like so many bureaucracies,” Anatolius replied. “There are those who devote themselves to writing histories of bureaucracies-the prefecture, the Master of Offices. They have a ready audience in their fellow civil servants. A clerk might spend his time poring over the the accounts of estates, adding up taxable goats and sheep, but at the end of the day he wants to read he is a valiant soldier, battling for the empire in an institution stretching back to the age of Augustus.”

He paused. “The Cappadocian had the temerity to imagine that the prefecture was supposed to function for the benefit of the emperor rather than for the benefit of its bureaucrats. Naturally, he was resented and hated. The civil servants didn’t care about doing things more efficiently. They loathed having to use Greek rather than Latin, for example.”

“You sound as if you are preparing to be a Cicero for your client, Anatolius. It is commonly said the Cappadocian was guilty of endless financial depredations. How do you defend him against that charge?”

“He merely enforced the tax laws others refused to enforce. If the rates are onerous, well, it is the doing of the emperor.”

“You should have told me he was in the city.”

“Why? It is my job to represent clients who come to me for legal advice. Do you tell me about every private discussion you have with the emperor?”

“His being in the city might well have a bearing on my investigations. He was one of Theodora’s bitterest enemies. Everyone knows that. He’s an obvious suspect in her murder.”

“But you said you do not believe the empress was murdered.”

“At the time I thought the Cappadocian was safely confined in Egypt.”

Anatolius’ expression was unreadable. Apparently the flighty and emotional young poet of the past had learned some lawyerly skills.

John asked bluntly what, exactly, Anatolius was doing on behalf of the Cappadocian.

“In general, he wants me to investigate whether he can reclaim certain properties confiscated when he was exiled. He thinks it might be possible because Justinian did allow him to maintain considerable wealth in Egypt despite being disgraced. It is his opinion it was only on account of Theodora’s animosity that he was deprived of office. I can’t go into specifics.”

“In other words, he heard of Theodora’s illness, decided she would soon leave the world, and decided he should get a head start on returning to his former prominence?”

“He hasn’t said as much, but I gather that’s correct. You know what a favorite he is with Justinian. As soon as the emperor conquers his grief he’ll be issuing orders for the Cappadocian’s return.”

“How long has he been back in the capital?”

“He didn’t tell me.”

“When did you first see him?”

Anatolius met John’s gaze. “You know I should not discuss a client.”

“He was here before Theodora’s death? That would make him an obvious suspect, as I have already pointed out.”

“I am representing him in land dealings, straining my eyes over dusty documents. I have had no reason to question him about other matters.”

“Both he and you are aware there are other matters involved, not least the fact he is in the city illegally, otherwise he wouldn’t be creeping in your back gate in the middle of the night. Whatever the Cappadocian might be up to, you will naturally be implicated. Justinian won’t care whether you were serving as the man’s lawyer or not.”

“You can’t think I am working against the emperor?”

“I would prefer not to think so, Anatolius. Where is the Cappadocian staying when he is not here seeking your aid?”

“I cannot say.”

“Does that mean you won’t say, or that he hasn’t told you?”

“It isn’t my business to know where he’s living.”

“Spoken like a true lawyer.”

“I’m surprised, John. You’re a man of principle. I thought you would understand I have my own duties as a lawyer.”

“We also have duties as friends, Anatolius. Your association with the Cappadocian puts you in grave danger. And yes, before you say it, if I fail to find a murderer for Justinian, I am in danger too.”

Anatolius started to reply, stopped. His gaze wandered from John’s face, fell to the skull in the desk top. He pushed an opened codex over the leering face. “So you intend to offer up the hated Cappadocian as a sacrificial lamb?”

“That’s not what I meant,” John snapped with evident anger.

“I apologize, John.” Anatolius paused. “We shouldn’t argue over this matter. We both have our duties. I will arrange for you to speak with the Cappadocian. Will that suffice? Perhaps he will see fit to tell you things he has not told me or that I am not at liberty to reveal. But not here. Not at my house. I will make arrangements. Come back tomorrow and-”

“No. Today, Anatolius. I will speak with the Cappadocian today.”

“I can’t guarantee that my client…” Anatolius stopped and shook his head wearily. “All right, John. I will see what I can do. Come back after midday.”

***

The sun was a blinding orb of molten glass as John walked slowly and pensively back home. The streets throbbed with heat, all surfaces-the pavements, columns, bronze statues, brick edifices, and John’s skin-blazed with it.

Felix and Anatolius had both lied to him.

His two oldest friends.

Felix had either concealed the fact one of his watchmen had spotted the Cappadocian, or he had lied about sending watchmen. Did Felix know Anatolius had been meeting the Cappadocian and yet had not told John?

And what was the real reason Felix had not been seen at the mithraeum for so long? Were Vesta’s visits to Anatolius truly about legal matters? If the men had lied to John about the Cappadocian how could he expect them to be telling the truth about anything else?

Had he got anywhere at all with his investigation? Had he learned anything beyond the obvious fact that numerous powerful people might have wanted the empress dead?

Artabanes would have seen it as revenge for Theodora foiling the marriage he desired. Antonina, on the other hand, could save her daughter Joannina from the marriage Theodora had been forcing upon her. With Theodora’s interference gone, Germanus might finally be elevated to the level of power he was arguably entitled to as Justinian’s cousin. And now there was the Cappadocian, who would not only revel in the death of his imperial persecutor but also, perhaps, be allowed to return to power.

He had at least confirmed that very few had had access to the empress-ladies-in-waiting, clergymen, a physician-none of whom appeared to have any reason to wish her dead. In fact, all had every reason to want her to continue to live, if only to keep their employment and remain free from possible accusations.

As he crossed the square to his house John found his thoughts instantly drawn away from these puzzles by concern for his daughter Europa and for Peter.

“Mithra,” he muttered. Was he getting old to be unable to concentrate on his work, distracted by family matters?

Hypatia answered his knock, tears in her reddened eyes.

“What is it, Hypatia? Peter?”

She wiped her eyes, nodded, and showed him a trembling smile.

“He’s cured, Lord Chamberlain! Completely himself again and furious his broken leg won’t let him jump out of bed. It’s as if one of his angels visited during the night.”