One for Sorrow

Chapter Thirty-eight

The sun had not yet risen above the rooftops when John left his house on the way to the Inn of the Centaurs, scattering raucous seabirds scavenging in the deserted square. He wanted to speak to Ahasuerus again. He was determined to find Leukos’ murderer no matter what Justinian ordered.

Theodora’s slyly menacing words still rankled. Had they been meant to impress upon him that, as she had said, observing too closely could be dangerous? If so, he was going to put himself in very great danger because he intended not only to observe but also to actively investigate.

A Mithran or any man knew his duty and the fact that a duty had suddenly became more onerous did not alter the necessity of fulfilling it.

He was also relieved to be out of the house. Though he had arrived home late from the banquet, he had slept poorly, confused thoughts of Leukos, Cornelia and Europa, Justinian and Theodora, Berta, running imperceptibly into nightmares of which he awoke with no memory aside from the last trembling echoes of some overwhelming horror.

The presence of the two women in the house he shared with Peter seemed palpable. More than once he thought he heard voices or footsteps but when he came fully awake he had realized it was only the sounds buildings make at night or the wind. He feared for the safety of the women. Should he have asked for a guard to be posted?

A cat raced past him as if all the demons of hell were after it. Startled, John paused and looked around for whatever was chasing it. A stray mongrel seemed the most likely culprit, but nothing appeared. So perhaps the cat was the pursuer and not the pursued. It was often hard to distinguish in Constantinople.

John heard the shriek as he came to the archway leading to the inn.

His first thought was someone was being murdered. He raced across the courtyard, into the inn, and following the continued shrieking, sprinted upstairs.

There was a crash and a rusty brazier rolled out of a doorway at the end of the hall.

Entering the room he saw a distraught Kaloethes standing, a fleshy Mount Athos of despair, while his wife screamed and stamped around.

“He’s disappeared in the night!” she bellowed. “The cheating old fraud! If I catch him, I’ll tell his fortune with his own gizzard, and it won’t be a pleasant fortune either, nor a long one!”

“What happened here?” John asked quietly.

His sudden entrance didn’t detour Mistress Kaloethes from her anger. “The miserable old vulture has gone without paying me a single coin! And with all the rich folk who came up to listen to his lies, he must have made a fortune! Money up their arses, they have!”

“How do you know he’s not returning?”

“He’s taken all his possessions, such as they were,” put in Kaloethes. “Just a few things. Tools of his trade.”

“Tools!” his wife spat out. “Some colored rocks and his fancy chicken-splitters. You call those tools?”

John’s gaze scoured the room. “I wanted to speak with him. When did you see him last?”

“At the evening meal yesterday, when else? Christ himself couldn’t have broken enough loaves!” The woman took an enraged step toward the window, perhaps intending to see if the missing man might still somehow be lurking in the courtyard below. She winced as her bare foot came down on something. She picked the object up. John recognized the round, green stone as one of the charms Ahasuerus gave to his clients. A brief search garnered several similar stones. Why hadn’t he gathered them up before leaving? Could he have been in such a hurry?

“You have no idea where he might have gone?” John asked.

“No,” spat Mistress Kaloethes. “To hell I hope.”

“It’s just the opposite,” came a voice from the doorway.

To his amazement John saw Peter, hair tousled, clothes disheveled.

“I saw the soothsayer taken away under armed guard last night,” Peter continued. “I followed them. They escorted him to the palace of the patriarch.”