Six for Gold

Chapter Twenty-two

On his way to John’s storeroom, Anatolius decided to explore the house further.

There had never been any need for him to venture beyond the study, garden, or kitchen, since Peter had always been close at hand, ready to fetch wine or provide a meal for John’s few guests.

Besides which, he was bored. The baker’s unfinished will, still waiting on the desk in the study, only added to the attraction of a walk around the house.

He was surprised to discover that a corridor, beyond a doorway at the far corner of the garden peristyle, led to a series of deserted and nearly empty rooms. Dim light filtered in from the garden. The floors were covered in veils of dust which showed the passage of small creatures, while Anatolius’ boots left larger tracks of bright mosaic.

One room held a number of wooden boxes. Upon investigation he found they were filled with scrolls. Lifting a tag attached to one, he saw it was a ledger belonging to the tax collector who had owned the house before John, but who, having fallen from imperial favor, had subsequently lost his head.

The scrolls should be in possession of the imperial treasury, Anatolius thought.

There was a rumble. At first he mistook it for the sound of a cart passing by. When it came again he recognized thunder. The dim light was fading.

There was another sound. A scraping.

A startled mouse scuttling away?

Anatolius looked through the archway to the next room and saw movement in the gathering shadows.

A pale shape.

He stepped through the archway warily.

The other gave a low, startled cry.

“Europa!”

The young woman’s plain white robes hung loosely. Anatolius could make out the points of her shoulders. Her face was gaunt.

“I’m sorry if I surprised you, Europa,” Anatolius said. “I thought I’d do a little exploring.”

“I was looking around myself. Why does father own such a large place when he spends all his time in the kitchen or the study?”

She was right, Anatolius realized; John was usually either beside his brazier, like a peasant farmer, or reading and communing with Zoe in his study like a philosopher.

“The Lord Chamberlain is required to have a large house,” he said.

“Is that one of Justinian’s laws?”

“Well, no, I was jesting.”

“I hear you’ve taken up the law.”

“Yes, I am no longer the feckless poet who showed you around the city so many years ago.”

“I had forgotten that.” Her tone was suddenly icy.

Still, thought Anatolius, her delicate features were perfection and her eyes dark pools.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t express myself well, Europa. I didn’t mean…that is, I realize you’re a married woman, and, well, I admit I was attracted when we first met…”

The sudden clatter of torrential rain overhead broke the ensuing silence.

Europa sighed. “I spoke too sharply. I was thinking about Thomas, and worrying about my parents.”

“I understand. I don’t want you to feel uncomfortable here now that Hypatia’s gone. I seem to be making everyone uncomfortable these days.”

She gave him an appraising look. “I’d like to show you something I discovered.”

She led him to the end of the corridor, and opened the door there. “Look at this!”

Anatolius found himself staring into a luxurious bath. It was obvious it had not been used for years.

Rain poured through a circular opening in the domed ceiling, dimpling the leaf-strewn greenish water of the round marble pool which occupied most of the room. A voluptuous and much larger than life statue of Aphrodite stood beside the bath. She leaned forward, one knee bent, to gaze into an oval marble mirror which the sculptor had thoughtfully made horizontal, providing a useful shelf for perfume bottles or cups of wine.

During all the time Anatolius had known him, John had patronized the Baths of Zeuxippos. Many preferred the camaraderie of the baths, but for John it meant not company but exposing to the public the wounds about which he never spoke. The more Anatolius learnt of his friend the less he seemed to know him.

The rain hissing into the bath chilled the air.

Europa gestured toward the walls. “Look at the mosaics. If Peter peeked in here those angels of his would need to carry him off immediately.”

As Anatolius’ eyes became more accustomed to the gloom he began to discern details. He felt his face flush. The subject of the mosaics indicated they had been created by the same artist who had created the wall mosaic in John’s study. In that rural scene he had tilted many of the tesserae in an ingenious manner so when night fell and they caught the lamplight, viewers might almost imagine they could see debauched, pagan gods cavorting in the clouds. Here, nothing had been left to the imagination. Madam Isis could have sent her girls to view them for amorous lessons.

“I wouldn’t be surprised if the wife of the previous owner of this house declared that since Theodora had a private bath, then she would have one too,” Europa remarked as she pulled the door shut. “At least Thomas will be back soon. He said he’d be gone no more than a few weeks.”

Anatolius looked away, hoping she hadn’t caught his sudden scowl. It pained him to think the lascivious mosaics had turned her thoughts to the uncouth barbarian. Why were women invariably attracted to men of the coarsest sort?

“Try to be patient,” he advised her. “These things often take longer than might be expected.”

Europa’s mouth drew into a thin line. The expression reminded Anatolius of her father. “These things? What things? Thomas isn’t one to go into details about his work. What exactly is this business that took him away so suddenly?”

“I’m not entirely certain, Europa.”

A peal of thunder overhead shook the floor.

If Anatolius had not been trying to suppress his poetic instincts, he would have taken it as an admonition from the gods.