Six for Gold

Chapter Twenty-six

Anatolius felt uneasy as he labored up the steep street toward the monumental cross marking Senator Symacchus’ house. He was not being entirely truthful with either Felix or Europa. What would they think when they found out?

Could they be of more assistance if he shared his knowledge? John’s life was at stake, as well as the lives of Cornelia and Peter.

Assassins left no witnesses.

He had his doubts about Thomas.

Except for the fact that Europa remained in Constantinople, Anatolius would not have been surprised if Thomas took to his heels rather than travel to Egypt to warn John. On the other hand, Thomas had lingered in the city after talking to Anatolius after John’s departure.

That proved he did not intend to flee.

Didn’t it?

Anatolius tried to put his misgivings aside. He couldn’t help thinking how vulnerable John would be in Egypt. The wise man was always wary at the palace. In Egypt, John would have no reason to be alert for the stealthy footstep, the sidelong glance, the shadowy figure moving around the corner. In a place where everything was unfamiliar, would John be able to sense the subtle disturbance of the normal that signaled danger?

Surely John would not let down his guard?

A stray dog loped toward him, blunt nails clicking on the street. The animal’s ribs were visible. It wrinkled its muzzle and growled. Anatolius shouted a lurid curse and the dog turned tail and ran.

If only all problems could be so easily solved.

Anatolius’ rap on the senator’s door was again answered by the slim, deep-voiced servant Diomedes.

“I’m assisting the Quaestor with the senator’s estate,” Anatolius explained. “I’ve come to retrieve certain items to deliver to a legatee.” He presented Diomedes with the authorization Perigenes had provided. It had been an unwise move, Anatolius felt, because there would surely be claims on the estate that would cause numerous administrative difficulties. It would be as well for Perigenes if he found a buyer for his position as soon as possible.

Diomedes led Anatolius down a hallway adorned with crosses and pedestals bearing basalt sculptures of Egyptian deities. They arrived at a room piled high with chests and sacks. Diomedes rummaged around and eventually handed Anatolius a sandalwood box of a size suitable for storing jewelry. Inside, Anatolius found a dozen stoppered, cylindrical clay bottles, none longer than his forefinger.

“That’s the master’s collection of pilgrim flasks, sir.”

Anatolius examined one. It sported a tiny handle on each side and bore an incised picture of a figure in a tunic standing between two camels. St. Menas was written above the scene in barely legible Greek letters. “How unusual! Do you know where he purchased these?”

“They were gifts from his guests. Everyone who took advantage of the senator’s hospitality presented him with a token of their appreciation. I don’t suppose these crude little things cost much.” His tone conveyed his opinion of the generosity of the senator’s guests.

“What is their purpose?”

“Miracles, sir. Each of these flasks is filled with oil from a lamp in a martyr’s tomb, or water from a spring near the spot where a miracle occurred. It’s said these mementos possess holy powers from being in close proximity to such holy sites.”

Anatolius examined the collection. Several flasks bore the same inscription and scene as the first. One or two were incised with simple crosses, while another featured both a cross and a broad, wavy line. It was a crude but effective attempt to render the sea and so doubtless most appealing to pious mariners, he thought.

“Did Senator Symacchus ever mention Bishop Crispin?”

“No, sir, not to me, but perhaps his bequest will serve to lessen the bishop’s disappointment that the master failed to obtain the Egyptian relic he had promised him.”

“And you know this because…?”

Diomedes reddened. “Achilles told me, sir. One of the senator’s guests, a fellow called Melios, talked about it constantly and Achilles overheard. He was always gossiping about the master’s business. I warned him more than once it would lead to trouble, but he took no notice.”

“Indeed. Tell me, were you in the senator’s employment when the former page Hektor worked here?”

“No, sir. Hektor was a reader, like myself. Servants who’ve been here longer than I recall him well.”

Anatolius did not reply. His gaze wandered over the contents of the room. From a shallow basket he plucked one of a number of enameled metal crosses.

“I’ll take this with me as well, Diomedes. I’ll notify the Quaestor’s office I have it. The bishop’s legacy only mentions pilgrim flasks, but I am certain he will appreciate this small item too.”