Chapter Fifty-eight

A marriage between Hypatia and the gravely ill Peter was absurd. Even if he were not dying, Peter was twice Hypatia’s age, but John had no time to dwell on the news.

He brushed by the guards at the entrance to Joannina’s quarters. Recognizing the Lord Chamberlain, they stood aside.

Anastasius did not.

The tall, skinny young man appeared from an inner chamber, straightening his tunic, black hair rumpled. “What do you think you’re doing harassing us in the middle of the night?” he shouted. “We’ve had enough of this!”

“I am here on the emperor’s business.”

The young man clenched his fists.

“Anastasius! Stop!” Joannina, emerging from their room, placed a restraining hand on his arm. “What do you want at this hour, Lord Chamberlain?”

“Direct me to Vesta’s room. I wish to speak to her.”

Before Joannina could answer, her lady-in-waiting emerged groggily from another room

“I heard raised voices,” she said. “What…” Seeing John she fell silent.

John noted Vesta wore the same kind of light blue tunica her mistress was wearing. “Why are you here, Vesta? I thought you lived with the other attendants?”

“The excubitors turned her room into a shambles,” Joannina said. “Besides, she’s too uneasy to stay there, since they’ve violated the place. I gave her one of our spare rooms.”

“Only until we find her a more suitable place,” Anastasius said, sounding petulant. “She won’t be staying here long.”

John wasn’t surprised Vesta was upset, considering what she had been through. “Do you have any idea where Kuria might have gone?” he asked her.

“Kuria? She was ordered to leave the palace after-”

“Did she tell you where she intended to stay?”

Vesta shook her head.

“Did she ever speculate about what she might do if she had to leave? Did she mention friends in the city?”

“I…I don’t remember, excellency.”

“Are you satisfied?” snapped Anastasius. “If so, we’ll return to our beds. If you want to pursue this, come back tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow will be too late. The emperor seeks to arrest Anatolius. Your lawyer.”

Vesta let out a small cry of distress.

“What do mean our lawyer?” barked Anastasius. “Who is this Anatolius?”

Vesta drew her clasped hands up to her face in a gesture of prayer.

John addressed Joannina. “Please take Anastasius back to your room. I must speak to Vesta alone.”

Anastasius’ took an angry step forward but Joannina’s hand tightened on his arm and she gave it a tug. “Come, Anastasius. The Lord Chamberlain is working for Justinian. We don’t need to anger the emperor.”

Anastasius glared at John long enough to preserve his dignity, then relented and followed Joannina away, grumbling and throwing venomous looks back over his narrow shoulder.

Vesta began to blubber. “Where is Anatolius? What will happen to him? Is he safe?”

“For now. He’s taken sanctuary in the Great Church. But I must find Kuria. Justinian believes she poisoned Theodora on Anatolius’ orders.”

Vesta shook her head wildly. “Oh, no. He would never do that, never! He had nothing to do with Kuria! Not for years and years.”

“He was telling me the truth? He hadn’t been seeing her recently?”

“No. And I would know. Kuria and I were friends.”

John detected coldness in her tone. “You weren’t going to Anatolius’ house for legal advice on behalf of your mistress, were you, Vesta? You were trying to gain Anatolius’ attentions.”

She caught her lower lip under her oversize front teeth and nodded morosely.

What he had already guessed had become certain to John when he saw Vesta wore the same sort of blue tunica to bed as Joannina. Vesta had come to the palace from a relatively modest background and being a naive girl, idolized her mistress. She considered the relationship between Joannina and Anastasius the height of romance. She wanted to emulate Joannina in every way, not just in dress. Anatolius had somehow drawn her attention. He was a romantic figure-not the grandson of an empress perhaps, but the son of a senator and a handsome man whose poems still circulated at court. That he was too old for Vesta simply added a spice of impropriety to the sought-after affair, giving it the same illicit savor as her mistress’ romance.

“Anatolius did not return your attentions?”

She said nothing, but the tears that welled up in her eyes answered for her.

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