One for Sorrow

Chapter Six

A visitor was the last thing John wanted the next morning. Unfortunately, just as the watery sunlight of a new day banished the pagan gods from John’s wall mosaic, Peter announced a caller.

The stranger was a powerfully built man with red hair and a wild beard. He sat down stiffly on the stool John indicated and introduced himself as Thomas, a knight of the High King of Bretania.

He spoke the Greek used in the capital passably well but with a heavy accent. John noticed, however, that for knight he employed the Latin eques, a class which dated back to the early days of Rome.

“You say you are a knight?”

“The High King has trained a cavalry after the Roman fashion and given us that title. I understand it is a long time since Roman knights rode in battle.”

“I have heard of King Arthur. What is your business here?”

“I thought you would be expecting me.”

John offered only a questioning look.

“The Keeper of the Plate sent me,” Thomas explained. “Two days ago I visited him and he said I should see you, that he would arrange for a meeting this morning.”

“I was never told. The Keeper of the Plate is dead. Murdered.”

Thomas stiffened and his eyes widened.

Peter padded back into the room to pour ruby Egyptian wine into the silver goblets that displaced John’s clay cup when the Lord Chamberlain entertained visitors. John noticed the servant scowling curiously at the so-called knight. The visitor looked the complete barbarian with scuffed leather boots and leggings and a wool tunic stained by travel and weather.

“You are surprised to learn that Leukos was killed last night?”

The question seemed to fluster Thomas. “Why wouldn’t I be? I only met him briefly. How-?”

John cut him short. “What is it you have come to see me about?”

“If you would prefer I returned-”

“Leukos wished for me to speak to you, so I will. Briefly.”

Thomas took a long drink and stared down at the silver goblet clutched in his large, scarred hand. “I’m seeking a sacred relic.”

“I see. Relics aren’t hard to find in Constantinople. We have hundreds. The staff of Moses, a fragment or two of the True Cross, bones of almost any saint one could name.”

“I’m searching for the Grail.”

“The cup from the last meal before the crucifixion.”

Thomas turned his goblet around nervously. “Some say it is a platter, such as those from which we eat, or a precious gem.”

“An interesting legend, but the Grail is one of the few relics I have never heard rumored to be in the city. If it were it would be in the patriarch’s charge.”

“I couldn’t get an audience with Patriarch Epiphanios. I visited the Keeper of the Plate because I was advised that he is-was-in charge of the emperor’s valuables. I thought he might know about something as valuable as the Grail. He said you would give me an introduction to the patriarch.”

John got up from his chair and went over to the window. A breeze carried the pungent smell of the Sea of Marmara into the study. A detachment of excubitors emerged from the barracks opposite. John was tempted to dismiss his annoying visitor immediately. But was it a coincidence Leukos had died the day after he had been called upon by Thomas? Or the day after Thomas claimed he called upon him? Had that meeting really taken place?

Leukos hadn’t mentioned it to John. Then again, he had seemed oddly distracted for some reason, perhaps something to do with his visits to the soothsayer. Perhaps it had simply slipped his mind.

It was best to humor the man until he could learn more about him.

“Why does your king want the Grail?”

“It’s the holiest of all holy objects,” Thomas said quickly, then added, “and, like mistletoe in the old religion, it will heal all.”

“Is that what they say?”

Thomas rose. “I fear I am intruding, Lord Chamberlain. If you see fit to supply me with an introduction, I am staying at the Inn of the Centaurs.”

John remembered Anatolius mentioning the inn during the afternoon at the Hippodrome. It was where he and Leukos were supposed to meet the soothsayer.

As John turned away from the window to reply, Thomas said suddenly, “One for sorrow. Unfortunately, the prediction has already come true.”

John looked back outside in the direction of his visitor’s gaze. A large dark bird had landed on the roof of the barracks and sat there alone.

“You’re referring to the raven. I haven’t thought of that old rhyme since I left Bretania.”

“You’re familiar with my land?”

“I was there as a young man.” John didn’t add that he been a mercenary. For all he knew he might have been fighting for Thomas’ enemies.

“Then you know that to see a raven, a single raven, is to foretell sorrow. But for the fortunate one who sees two, this means joy. Three is for a girl, four for a boy, and so on.”

“In the part of the country where I lived the old wise women used to say three was for a letter.”

The raven rose silently and soared away. John watched it diminish to a speck and vanish into the cloudless sky above the countless crosses that the pious had raised on the rooftops of tenements and mansions alike.

A fortune-telling bird, and the symbol of a Mithran rank at that, yet perfectly at home in the capital of a Christian Empire. It made John think of how eager Leukos had been, devout though he was, to visit a soothsayer. What had the soothsayer foretold?

He pushed the thoughts aside. They were the result of a sleepless night. He needed to force himself to think clearly.

He wrote an introduction to the patriarch and gave it to Thomas. If the man was telling the truth it was what Leukos had wished. If he was lying….well, John did not believe in Christian relics. Let Epiphanios deal with his fellow believer.

After Thomas left, John sat brooding, staring at the fantastically detailed mosaic and the little girl Zoe. She had listened to their conversation so solemnly and silently.

“What do you think then?” John asked her. “Is this Thomas trustworthy? Is there a connection between Thomas’ visit and Leukos’ death? Yes, yes, you are right, Zoe. It is my task to find that out.”