One for Sorrow

Chapter Fifty-one

The establishment of Madam Isis was but a few steps from the entrance to the tenement where Maera and Sabas lived.

As John entered Isis’ house, he saw Darius, the doorkeeper, had not yet been liberated from the incongruous role of an enormous Eros. Darius shrugged in response to John’s look of inquiry, making the tiny wings attached to his broad shoulders flutter.

“Fortunately, we won’t be a Temple of Venus much longer. After Berta was murdered, Madam decided we’d have to change.”

“To a motif that will suit you better, I trust.”

Darius shrugged again. “I doubt it. It won’t be a military encampment. I’ve suggested that more than once.”

“I’m afraid I’ve come to ask more questions, Darius. They concern the evening of the celebrations.”

Darius grimaced. “Most of the city was making merry but here we never worked harder. But as I told you already, I didn’t see or hear anything out of the ordinary.”

“And what about the night Berta was murdered?”

Darius shrugged again, flapping his stiff little wings. “No one. We had a few travelers-pilgrims by the look of them though they claimed to be traders. Except for them, it was just regular clients. You were here that night yourself, with Felix as I recall.”

“What about Thomas?”

“The redhead who claims to be a knight? I don’t think he’s been here since you first brought him. But I don’t stand guard every hour of the day and night. Madam can give you the names of the other guards and perhaps they will remember something useful.”

“There’s just the one door into the alley?”

“Yes. Some of our more discreet guests use it. Often those of high rank.” Darius raised an eyebrow, creating an alarming effect for an oversized Eros.

John asked to be shown the door in question. Darius summoned an assistant to take his place, then led the Lord Chamberlain through a beaded curtain, along a wide door-lined corridor, and down a windowless hall lit by torches at each end.

The plain wooden door Darius halted before was a stark contrast to the elaborately carved main entrance.

“At our establishment, unlike the palace, the beggars enter in grand style while it is the powerful who often make their way inside in humble fashion.” Darius grinned and gave the door a rap with his enormous fist.

John had been examining the walls and floorboards.

“Something has occurred to me,” said Darius abruptly. “You asked about whether a completely bald man was in here the night of the celebrations. I didn’t see anyone like that. But then again, more than a few who visited that evening were wearing fantastic headdresses or masks. A ridiculous-looking bunch.”

“Ridiculous, indeed,” agreed John. “And by the way, your left wing is crooked. Madam wouldn’t appreciate that. Could I trouble you to stand aside, Darius?”

The big man stood back as requested. John bent closer to the doorframe. After a short time he straightened.

“This doorway appears to have been cleaned but in the crack down here, I can see what looks like dried blood. I shall have to speak to Isis.”

When John entered her chambers the usually cheerful Isis was in a disagreeable humor. “If I say your friend Leukos did not set foot in this place that night, then he did not.”

“He might have used an assumed name.”

Isis laughed. “Who doesn’t? Believe me, if the Keeper of the Plate was here, I’d know about it.”

“A bald-headed man?” John persisted.

“Or a man with a birthmark on his bottom shaped like a bust of Caesar. We had such a guest last week, in fact.”

“Did Leukos ever come here?”

“No, John. If your friend had been here, I would know. Why are you asking?”

“One of his servants told me he sometimes went out at night at odd hours and never said where he was going. He was a single man.”

“Mine is only the best house in the city, not the only one,” Isis pointed out.

“And something else. I have just looked at your door, the one opening into the alley.”

“What about it?”

“When I examined it, I found traces of dried blood near the bottom of the frame. I’m hoping you’ll be able to explain how it got there.”

***

Gregorius shifted his heavy sack to his other hand and peered nervously up and down the street. The usual assortment of pedestrians strolled along by the towering wall of the Hippodrome. No one looked suspicious. He had half-expected to catch someone ducking into one of its entrances or stepping quickly into a shop. If anyone had in fact done so they had been too quick for him.

As soon as he emerged from the Hippodrome on his errand he sensed he was being followed. Perhaps it was his imagination. He had been on edge ever since his teammate was killed by the sabotaged chariot.

Such attacks weren’t uncommon. Whoever had tampered with the chariot must have intended for the axle to snap during a race. The fool might have wanted to insure he won a bet against the Blues and hadn’t given any thought to, or cared about, what happened to drivers whose chariots crashed.

Gregorius continued to study the street, hoping someone might peek out from a hiding place, but no one did.

There was always bad blood between the Blue and Green factions. Well, Gregorius would be out of the Constantinople soon enough.

This would be his final delivery.

And he’d be glad to leave too, with the Lord Chamberlain taking so much interest in his activities.

He continued on, the sack over his shoulder.

Immediately he felt the gaze on the back of his neck again.

Detouring into the Hippodrome, he went up and down several ramps connecting the upper and lower levels, zig-zagged through stables and storage rooms, and exited by a delivery gate which opened onto a tangle of alleys. By the time he reached the tenement that was his destination he felt certain he had lost his pursuer.

He trudged up creaking wooden stairs. The smell of boiled fish hung in the air. On the fourth floor he rapped at a door which was opened by a gaunt woman. He stepped inside and dropped his sack on the floor.

Three small girls leapt on it but their mother, who might have been beautiful if able to eat regularly, shooed them away. Then her eyes narrowed as she stared over Gregorius’ shoulder. “You have brought a friend.”

Gregorius looked around.

The Lord Chamberlain stood in the doorway.

John smiled faintly. “You led me on a good chase, Gregorius. When I happened to see you coming out of the Hippodrome, I wondered where you were going with that sack.”

“Well, Lord Chamberlain, now you know.”

“I know very little. What is in the sack?”

Gregorius bent down and opened it to reveal a jumble of loaves, onions, cheese, and other edibles. “Food for this poor woman and her family. What did you expect?”

“The Blues have been helping us since my husband died,” the woman explained. “We found ourselves in the same position as Theodora’s family many years ago and now we are being aided as they were. My husband died a few days ago. Like Theodora’s father, he was a bear trainer who entertained at the Hippodrome.”