One for Sorrow

Chapter Forty-seven

“The body hasn’t been disturbed.” John shuddered as he brushed dirt off his clothes. Despite the warm sunlight it had felt cold in the shadows beside Felix’s intended wife. “We must have frightened the robbers off before they finished their job.”

“Whatever their job was.” The cemetery guardian had returned after going to send an assistant to fetch the urban watch.

It was time for John to leave. He did not want to be detained by the prefect’s men.

He was rounding a grove of pines when the sound of hooves made him think he had left the cemetery too late.

However, it was not the urban watch. A group of mounted men came into view, among them Gregorius.

The young charioteer glanced at the sky as if trying to avoid John’s gaze, but when it became apparent the two men had seen each other, he hailed John. “Lord Chamberlain. What brings you out here?”

“I have been paying my respects to one of the departed.”

“So have I. You’re not planning on walking all the way back to the palace, are you? Take my apprentice’s horse. The boy’s young. A little exercise will do him good.” His tone suggested he was hoping John would not take him up on the offer, but John disappointed him by accepting it.

The youngster dismounted, casting sullen sideways glances at John and his master, and then slouched off down the road as if he were hauling a block of granite on his back.

John pulled himself up into the saddle and Gregorius waved his companions away.

“You’re looking at me suspiciously, Lord Chamberlain. We have been visiting a teammate, killed during practice a couple days ago. Some bastard sawed the axle of his chariot practically all the way through and it was so cunningly done it wasn’t noticed. I could have been driving that chariot, and then I’d be the one beneath the mound back there.”

“Do you think someone’s trying to kill you?”

“Not me in particular, but the Blue teams have been having too much success lately. Certain people are losing wagers too often, and heavy gamblers don’t like losing money. Some are not averse to bribing team members not to try too hard to win, though when it comes to arranging accidents….”

“Chariot racing has many dangers. Have you considered finding a safer way to make a living?”

Gregorius laughed without humor. “Something illicit, you mean? There’s certainly dangerous. And so is a man in your position walking around by himself.”

“I enjoy my own company after working with courtiers and high officials all day. I don’t have to worry about ruffling my own feathers.”

“I understand a Master of the Soldiers is worth a ransom of 10,000 nomismata. What might a Lord Chamberlain be worth?”

“That would depend on Justinian’s mood the day I was abducted.”

They rode past the Church of Holy Apostles, the dilapidated timber roof of the church contrasting with the glittering brass and gold dome of Constantine’s mausoleum beside it.

At the Forum Theodosius they parted ways. Gregorius said he would instruct his apprentice to retrieve John’s horse from the imperial stables. “Despite the intrigues I’ll be sorry to leave here,” Gregorius went on. “No other city can match Constantinople. Not Antioch, or Thessalonika, or Alexandria. Whenever I depart, no matter where I’m going to race next, I’m on my way to the hinterlands compared to this city.”

John rode back toward the palace. He felt like a mosaicist who kept gathering more and more pieces of colored glass. Something about the colors suggested the picture that might be assembled from the tesserae but as yet he couldn’t discern what it looked like.

He stopped at Felix’s house. He wanted to question Felix about the events of the preceding night. The captain had professed not to recognize the intruder, but had been intoxicated and almost incoherent at the time. Apparently he had recovered from his excess quickly because his servant reported he had left hours earlier.

When John reached home he was relieved he had not been able to spend time questioning Felix since much to his displeasure he found Thomas visiting Europa.

Peter clucked angrily as he followed John upstairs. “The so-called knight has been bending her ear for hours, master. I can’t get rid of him. They’re in your study.”

“Don’t worry, Peter. I’ll attend to Thomas.”

The big redhead leapt up from his seat when John strode in. “Lord Chamberlain! We were beginning to worry!”

“What are you doing here, Thomas?”

“Oh, I’ve just been telling Europa I’m looking….”

“I mean here in my study?”

Europa began to explain. “As I told Thomas, I was informed by Peter that in Constantinople men are not allowed to visit women in their rooms. So I suggested that we talk here. The mosaic is beautiful.”

“I would have preferred something less elaborate.”

“I don’t agree. I think it’s wonderful. Except for that little girl.” Europa’s large eyes glanced at the even larger, darker eyes of the portrait of Zoe. “She frightens me. Watching all the time. And listening. She could tell you everything she’s heard.”

Did Europa dart a glance at Thomas? Was that a raised eyebrow, a flash of a smile?

Thomas cleared his throat. “She would only have heard about my travels and the wonders of my country.” He tugged at his ginger mustache. “No wonder her eyes are glazed.”

“Really, Thomas, you’re too modest,” Europa told him. “I could listen to your tales all day.”

“According to Peter, you very nearly have,” pointed out John. He felt uneasy, uncertain of his role. This young woman was, after all, his daughter. But how could he be a father to someone he had never known as a child? He felt an irrational anger at Thomas. Was it fatherly concern or jealousy over this almost stranger who reminded him so much of a young Cornelia? “Where is your mother, Europa?”

“She had some business with the troupe.”

“I warned you both to stay at the house!”

“We aren’t your underlings, Lord Chamberlain.”

“I think you’d better leave us now, Europa.” He found that the words came with difficulty. Strange that a man used to commanding high officials should find it hard to give orders to his own daughter.

Europa stood. She was graceful even rising from a chair. “As you wish….””

For an instant John thought she was going to add “father,” but she did not.

She paused in front of Thomas and gazed up into his ruddy face. “You’ll come back another time and finish your wonderful tales for me?”

Thomas grew even redder. He appeared to be struck dumb.

Then Europa stamped out of the study as John watched in dismay.

So this was what it meant to be a father.

When she had gone he turned his attention back to Thomas. “What are you really here for, Thomas?”

“As I said, we were talking.”

“I seem to be running into you with remarkable frequency.”

“Not surprising when I’m visiting a guest in your household, John.”

“But on the street and in the palace gardens in the middle of the night?”

“Constantinople is small.”

“To a traveler such as yourself perhaps.”

“Something’s upset you, my friend?”

“Some beast dug up poor Berta’s grave.”

“But this isn’t wild country.”

“I don’t mean an animal,” snapped John. “I meant some two-legged beast.”

Thomas looked stricken. “That is unmanly.”

John felt a softening toward the big redhead. Thomas had understood John’s horror. They were both soldiers and soldiers were most solicitous of the dead.

“Why, John?”

“Grave robbing is common enough.”

“Not in my country.”

“Is this truly a surprise to you, Thomas? Are you really so horrified?”

The other looked up, his eyes glistening. “I did know Berta. Only briefly, I admit, but in a fashion better-” He stopped abruptly and apologized.

“Yes, you knew her much better than I could.” John sat down. His eyes burned. “Leave now, Thomas. I would advise you not to beguile my daughter with your tall tales.”

He slumped wearily as his unwanted visitor went out.

Almost immediately there came a knocking at the house door and Peter appeared to announce another caller waited downstairs.

The youngster at the door was out of breath, as if he had been running. “The prefect sent me, sir. A body’s been found at the docks.”