Seven for a Secret

Chapter Thirty-Six

There were within the empire many former actresses who had planted Christian crosses upon their doors. Most such doors were modest affairs of unfinished wooden planks, opening onto the stark cenobitic cells into which many of these fallen women had retreated in search of salvation.

The cross-emblazoned doors to Theodora’s quarters in the Great Palace were altogether different. Massive, elaborately worked bronze portals-beyond them lay a glittering maze of corridors, reception halls, and sumptuous private rooms, some unglimpsed even by the emperor. They might have been the doors to a splendid church or the servants’ entrance to heaven.

The Lord Chamberlain was known to everyone at the palace and passed into the outer realms of Theodora’s environs without challenge.

He had sent Anatolius back to the courts. He wanted to conduct the interview he sought on his own, for he knew he would be uneasy and he did not want to display it to a friend.

Brilliantly robed attendants with smooth faces swarmed in the hallways like flights of angels.

They were eunuchs.

One, chattering away carelessly to a companion, brushed against him.

John stepped away and gave the creature a black glare that sent it scurrying off like a frightened girl.

John realized his fists were clenched. He tried to force himself to relax.

He did not like eunuchs. As a former military man who had been grievously wounded, he hated any comparison between himself and those pitiful beings who had never attained manhood. He was only too aware how many of the men with whom he dealt believed because his condition was the same that he shared the eunuchs’ propensities for dissembling and treachery, although they would never dare say it to the Lord Chamberlain’s face.

After traversing the halls for a short time he found an armed guard beside a doorway leading toward the inner sanctum, a soldier rather than a eunuch. He gave John directions to the office of Theodora’s head chamberlain.

Kyrillos rose languidly from a padded chair in front of an ivory inlaid desk, as if weighed down by his garments, heavily embroidered as they were with a confusion of bright, geometric patterns overlaid with golden crosses. Like many of his kind, he was unnaturally tall but hollow chested with the puffy, characterless face of an overgrown child and the pallid skin and soft hands of a woman.

“Lord Chamberlain, do you wish an audience with the empress? It can be arranged, provided she does not have a prior appointment.”

“I am not seeking an audience. I am here to speak with you.”

John’s eyes watered, so thick was the air with perfumes. The exotic, masking scents spoke of one who lacked the discipline required to control the functions of a mutilated body.

“I am profoundly honored,” said Kyrillos. “What is it you wish to talk to me about?” His voice was thin and sexless.

“I require information concerning an incident which occurred some ten years ago.”

“A long time ago. I may not remember.”

“You will remember, I am certain, especially since the emperor’s life may depend on your recollection. Not to mention your own life.”

Kyrillos waved his hand in a dismissive gesture. “Everything is life and death in my position, Lord Chamberlain. You can be assured if eggs are boiled too hard I will be stoned to death with them, and I will doubtless be slowly strangled in any silken attire in which our dear empress discerns a wrinkle. But that is as it should be, for perfection cannot but demand perfection.”

As he spoke, the eunuch did not meet John’s gaze but stared over his shoulder across the spacious but cluttered room. A variety of chairs, sofas, and tables made it appear more like a private dwelling than an imperial office. A small fountain, its waters strewn with rose petals, gurgled between the windows of one wall.

What surprised John, however, were the statues, large and small, occupying tables and wall niches and the floor space between the furniture. He picked up a bronze statuette. The figure, half covered by animal skins, reclined beside a tree stump. “You are interested in satyrs?”

“As you see.” Kyrillos’ gesture took in his small army of goat men.

A porphyry satyr played a flute while another carved from ivory danced nearby. A large torso, the remains of a life-sized sculpture, sat in a corner, while a pedestal supported the head of a youthful satyr whose forehead displayed nubs rather than horns.

“It amuses me to contemplate the poor monsters, driven by their appetites, like men,” Kyrillos went on.

“It must have cost a great deal to accumulate such a collection. Many of these works look ancient.”

Kryillos shrugged. “Most of them were gifts. From high officials. The very sort of men who will sacrifice their heads to satisfy their loins. We are fortunate not to suffer from such a repulsive and dangerous weakness, are we not, Lord Chamberlain? We did not attain our positions by rutting like common beasts.”

“I did not bring you a satyr, Kyrillos, but I expect you to answer my questions regardless.”

“I never take bribes. Can I help it if men think I do? You must know what the common people think about us eunuchs. What information do you require?”

John felt heat rising in his cheeks. He hoped he was not visibly reddening. “Around a decade ago a boy arrived here,” he said, struggling to keep the anger out of his voice. “He claimed to be the son of Theodora. He subsequently vanished.”

Kyrillos’ eyes widened. His gaze darted about without settling on John. “How many children of Theodora have I heard about over the years?” he asked in a plaintive whine. “You’d think she was a hare before she married Justinian. I’ve never taken them seriously, and as far as remembering any particular-”

“Every beggar in the streets seems to know about this boy.”

“I can’t recall the last time I ventured outside the palace. I rarely visit the gardens, let alone the streets. Besides, I never talk to beggars. They’re always so filthy and smell in the most dreadful way.”

“This was a boy named John, aged about fourteen. He arrived following the death of his father. The man had known Theodora when she lived in Egypt.”

Kyrillos was silent. There was no sound but the splashing water in the fountain. “Why is it men suppose that the conjoining of loins imparts entitlement to the issue?” he finally said, his voice even thinner than before. “How absurd to imagine an untutored, rustic child might expect a place at the court simply because of the coupling from which it resulted. Why, by my training and experience, I am more a son of Theodora than any such bastard could be.”

“You do remember such a boy?”

“I would have to ask the empress if I do,” Kyrillos smirked.

John offered a grim smile. “I understand you are in a difficult situation. I appreciate that you are loyal to the empress, but as I have explained, the safety of the emperor is involved. Would you choose to betray him?”

Kyrillos pursed his lips. “Lord Chamberlain, I believe we both know while the emperor may forgive those with whom he becomes angry, once we attract the enmity of Theodora, she will pursue us straight through the gates of heaven, and indeed often arrange for them to be opened for us.”

“Would the empress fault you for helping to preserve the throne?”

“I have only your word that the throne is at stake. If it is not, I could be-”

“I could order you executed myself,” John cut in. “I am the emperor’s Lord Chamberlain, whereas you are merely chamberlain to the empress.”

It seemed to John that Kyrillos trembled. “I will give my life for the empress if necessary,” said the eunuch all but inaudibly. “But where is your sealed order written in purple ink? If Justinian had sent you, you would be able to show me such a document.”

John’s heart had begun to pound. “And what if your fine mistress had sent me, to see whether you would put the emperor to death by your own treacherous folly and insubordination?”

“If you have approached me in the emperor’s name without his knowledge, both he and the empress shall know of it.” Kyrillos’ faint voice quavered. “But if I do you a service by saying nothing of this visit, there will be a reward, will there not?”

So even abject terror could not allay such a creature’s greed.

John felt his muscles tense. He was aware of the weight of the bronze statuette he still held. He restrained himself from lashing out in a fury, striking the repulsive eunuch with the satyr, knocking him backward into the fountain, watching the puffy face gaze up from beneath scattered rose petals on the surface of the water. The thought reminded him of his discovery of Agnes.

The image brought him to his senses. He set the satyr down. “I will see you have a reward.”

Kyrillos slumped down into the chair in front of his desk. He looked exhausted. “Thank you, Lord Chamberlain. Now that I think about it, I believe I may indeed recall the boy you mentioned. He was brought into my office by one of my slaves. The child had been wandering around the palace asking after his mother, if you can imagine that. He was questioning a servant when my slave overheard him. How he slipped into the palace I don’t know. A large number of guards were executed afterward for dereliction of duty.”

John asked for a description of the boy.

“He was a child and children all look the same. I don’t pay much attention to them. They aren’t important at court. Strange that he said his name was John.” A sly smile flickered over his face. “There was nothing to his claim, but he had been searching from one end of the palace grounds to the other. The empress would doubtless hear about it so I wished to tell her first. To my surprise, she ordered me to send him to her at once.”

“That must have suggested to you that his story was genuine?”

“Not necessarily, given Theodora’s strange humors. I thought it was possible she was bored and looking for amusement. Afterward I knew the boy was not her son.”

John asked how Kyrillos could be certain.

“Because…” Kyrillos paused and dabbed his suddenly bright eyes, unable to control his emotions like all of his kind. “Because no mother would slaughter her own child, Lord Chamberlain.”

“Theodora killed the boy?”

“Not with her own hands. But…I heard about it later, you understand…I was not present. My slave escorted the boy off to a private audience with Theodora and that was the last I saw of him. No one knows what passed between empress and child. After a short time, she summoned a favorite of hers, a rough, illiterate brute. No better than a beast, but as loyal as a cur. She placed the child in this monster’s hands. John has never been seen again.”

“And you believe Theodora ordered the boy killed?”

“What other conclusion can one draw? The brute, Theodoulos, could be trusted to carry out the task. It is well known he had done so on other occasions.”

John suppressed an oath. “And Theodoulos?”

Kyrillos shook his head and stared at the floor. “You doubtless expect him to have been executed? But no, there was no reason to do so. He would no more betray the empress than a dog betray his master. And, as I told you, he was her favorite, a pet, like that bear she used to keep caged…

“Theodoulos is a dwarf and you know how she dotes on them. Why would she destroy a plaything like that? No, she merely had his tongue cut out. I doubt a beast like him even misses it.”

And yet the grim story had traveled on other tongues from the palace grounds into the city, thought John.