Six for Gold

Chapter Fourteen

Felix pounded up the stairs. “Anatolius! I’ve just heard one of my men’s found a body in the water. It might be that missing servant you told me about. It appears the man was murdered.”

Anatolius, paused, caught by surprise midway between the kitchen and John’s study, holding a wine jug.

Hypatia stood beside the open house door, looking bemused, as Felix urged Anatolius downstairs and across the atrium.

“But Felix, what about Hypatia and Europa-”

“They’ll be perfectly safe behind locked doors,” Felix growled.

Anatolius hastily pushed the jug into Hypatia’s hands. Then he and Felix were marching across the cobbles.

“When you told me the man Achilles vanished the same night Symacchus was murdered, I didn’t expect he’d ever turn up again,” Felix said. “Even though we’ve got a city full of dead bodies, I told my men to keep their eyes open and gave them your description of the man. I’ve sent for the senator’s reader, of course, and perhaps he can identify the body.”

They went out through the Chalke and quickly turned off onto a side street. Before long they were crossing a square scantily populated with passersby.

As they approached the sea wall, a bundle of black rags lying in a warehouse doorway sprang to life and staggered toward them, coughing like a sick crow.

“Sirs! Sirs! If I may introduce myself? My name is Tarquin. My services are much in demand at the palace. I know what gentlemen of refinement prefer.” The ragged young man simpered and pushed greasy hair away from his pallid face. The motion revealed the swellings on his neck.

“He doesn’t realize he’s a dead man,” muttered Felix. “Or doesn’t care.”

Anatolius tossed a coin. “Off with you, now.”

Felix spat on the cobbles. “You might as well throw your money in the sewer, Anatolius. He’ll be taking the ferry with Charon soon.”

“Well, at least he can afford a little wine now to ease the journey.” Anatolius stepped through a gap in the waist-high sea wall that opened onto a steep stairway. Its steps were slick with sea spray and bird droppings.

When they reached the bottom, and Anatolius dared look up from his boots, he saw an excubitor and a crowd of gawkers on the dock gathered around what might have been a sodden sack of wheat.

It was the corpse, bloated into an inhuman shape.

The lantern-jawed excubitor with a gourd-like nose noticed Anatolius staring. “Don’t be thinking about prodding it, sir,” the man advised him. “He’ll burst like an overfilled wineskin.”

“He’s been in the water several days,” Felix remarked, “so he could very well have gone in the night Symacchus was murdered.”

Beyond the dock, a humid miasma clung to the calm waters of the Golden Horn. Flies buzzed around their newly found feast.

The corpse stank. Anatolius tried to breathe through his mouth.

“It’s definitely murder, captain,” the excubitor reported. “Observe the cord he’s wearing around his neck.”

Felix bent to get a closer look at the swollen and discolored flesh, sending up a swarm of flies. “Criminals all think the same, Anatolius. Need to get rid of bloodstained cloaks or inconvenient bodies? Toss them in the water.”

“And water’s never far away in this city,” observed a bystander.

The captain uttered an oath and stood abruptly. “This could well be the man who came to my office to warn me about the senator’s murder.”

“How can you tell?” To Anatolius the livid face retained no hint of individual features.

“For one thing, our friend here was young and yet bald. Even though the fellow dashed in and out, that stuck in my mind. He was too young to have lost all his hair. Once you’ve seen a few bodies fished out, you can begin to visualize what they probably looked like before they went in. This definitely was not an old man.”

Diomedes made his way through the crowd of onlookers, and after a hasty glance at the body turned to Felix.

“Yes,” he said, “that’s Achilles, or at least those are the clothes he was wearing last time I saw him. May I leave now?”

“I’m afraid I’ll need some further information. Wait here.”

Felix took Anatolius by the elbow and led him to a spot behind a pallet of marble blocks, out of view and earshot of everyone.

“This is getting complicated. I see the senator’s so-called reader wears a lot of powder.”

“So-called? You suspect Diomedes’ duties extended beyond reading?”

“You told me he was a former court page. He’s far too old now for that sort of work, but then some of these aristocrats like their duck hung longer than others.”

“You’re thinking Diomedes had something to do with the murder because of some relationship with the senator?”

“Murders, Anatolius. Jealousy has killed many a man.”

“Yes. Murders. It is getting complicated. It’s possible, I suppose, but I must say I’m dubious about the idea.”

“One thing seems certain at least. Whoever killed Symacchus also killed Achilles. It is too much of a coincidence that two men from the same household were strangled within hours of each other. Anatolius, I owe you a favor for getting me home safely from that tavern the other day, but if Justinian discovers how many excubitors I’ve had searching for a servant supposedly carried off by demons…”

“John told you he didn’t murder the senator, and how could he be responsible for this murder when he was arrested immediately?”

Felix scowled. “As far as everyone else is concerned, since Justinian has said he’s responsible for Symacchus’ death, naturally makes it so, or at least for all practical purposes.”

The captain ran an agitated hand through his beard. “But you’re missing the main point, Anatolius. Don’t you see? It was Achilles who came to tell me what was happening in the Hippodrome. Someone wanted Senator Symacchus dead, and further for some reason wished the senator’s body found exactly when we did. Obviously, this person intended to ensure the messenger sent to bring us to the Hippodrome wouldn’t be able to identify him later and took appropriate action. He’s certainly thorough, I’ll give him that.”

“Nevertheless, whatever it takes to untangle this mystery, I think you’ll agree we must see justice done. I’ve been wondering if Justinian sent John off to Egypt for his own protection. But if so, why?”

“I’d suggest Theodora’s involved,” Felix replied. “We all know she’s hated John for years. In fact, according to rumor he’s no safer on his way to Egypt than he is at the palace.”

“What are you talking about?”

Felix paused. “You don’t know? Of course not, since you haven’t been spending time at the palace lately. It’s being whispered that an assassin’s been sent after John.”

Anatolius’ fists clenched. “Why didn’t you tell me before now?”

“It’s just a rumor, although a plausible one, I admit. More than one man’s been sent away in disgrace so the messy business could be accomplished out of sight of the capital.”

From where they stood, Anatolius could make out the mouth of the Golden Horn. A solitary ship was entering it, haze boiling around its outline. He wondered if the vessel had come from Egypt.

“Even if it’s true, Felix, John’s been gone several days. He should have reached his destination by now.”