Six for Gold

Chapter Twenty-nine

A scorpion scuttled toward the chest.

Before it could slip out of sight, Peter swept the creature into a wine cup with the flat of his blade. John cracked open the lid of the jar and Peter dumped his venomous captive inside to join the other.

“I think that must be all of them, master.”

Dry, scraping noises came from the jar as John set it into a corner.

“I should have chased the intruder, master,” Peter apologized. “I might have been able to see who it was. At first I wasn’t even sure it was a man.”

“What else could it have been but a man?”

“There are demons even in Constantinople. Considering that blasphemous performance at the pagan shrine, I wouldn’t be surprised if demons were as thick as scorpions hereabouts.”

“Then let’s hope they all stay away. You did well, Peter. It was a most inventive weapon.”

“It was Zebulon who inspired it, master. I remarked to him this was a strange place with many dangers, and he mentioned those ancient travelers in the wilderness, beset by fiery serpents. He said the serpents were scorpions, for in the language in which the holy books were written serpent and scorpion are rendered by the same word.”

“It sounds like an interesting conversation, Peter.”

“Oh yes, it was indeed. I was going to gather vegetables and met him by Melios’ house. He invited me to play his strange game. Naturally I refused, but after I explained why I thought it blasphemous, we got into a most interesting theological discussion. I would have liked to have talked longer. He promised next time we met we’d continue our discussion about how the Son of Man was lifted up, just as Moses lifted up the brazen serpent in the wilderness to cure the sick. As I walked back, I began to think about serpents and snakes and scorpions, and well, that was how it came about.”

“An interesting story,” John said.

Peter frowned. “Even so, master, certain statements he made lead me to suspect he is less than orthodox, like many here.” The distress in his voice was marked.

John agreed, then turned his thoughts back to the recent attack. Had the intruder used the commotion caused by the flying demon to hide his activities, or had he purposely created the fiery diversion in order to-what?

The door banged open and Cornelia entered. Behind her, the only evidence of the recent excitement was a column of luminously gray smoke rising against the stars.

“Look what I found, John!” She held out a handful of half-burnt feathers. “It appears the secret of the illusion is known to charlatans all over Egypt.”

Peter stared at the pungent scraps.

“It’s to impress the ignorant, Peter,” Cornelia explained. “You’ll recall in Alexandria I mentioned Baba, the magician in the company John and I traveled with years ago? Well, one of his most frightening tricks for shows taking place after dark was pretending to conjure up a flaming demon.”

“However did he accomplish that, mistress?”

“Like most magick, it’s simple once you know how it’s done. After Baba intoned some meaningless incantation, an assistant hiding behind a house would put a torch to a hawk or some other large bird and then set it free. Do you remember, John, the time the unfortunate demon set half a village alight and we had to flee? We can be certain Dedi’s responsible for tonight’s blaze.”

“In which case, it was probably intended to further intimidate Melios. It might have been a diversionary tactic too,” John replied, and related Peter’s experience earlier that evening.

Cornelia looked thoughtful. “Whoever came in here might just have intended to rob us. A fire is the perfect opportunity for theft. After all, a Lord Chamberlain, even if he’s dressed in less than magnificent garments, would surely be traveling with bags of gold, wouldn’t he?”

Peter nodded solemnly. “I’m sure that is the opinion of most of the people in Mehenopolis.”

“What I would really like to know,” John said, “is where Dedi was at the time the flying demon appeared, particularly since we first saw it rising above the Rock of the Snake.”

“That reminds me,” Cornelia said. “There’s something I want to show you.”

***

Cornelia led John along a path through a stand of palms. Their towering height reminded John of the columned cisterns that competed with dungeons for space beneath the Great Palace. He preferred not to dwell too much on thoughts of those subterranean chambers into which so many vanished and from which so few returned.

“You’re quiet, John. I’m not surprised. I’ve found being back in Egypt after all these years disturbing. It’s as if we’ve stepped through a doorway into the past.”

“If we have, it must have been a doorway to a different past entirely. But here we are, together, and what is it that I am to see?”

Cornelia looked up at him, her face barely distinguishable in the dim light from the thick dusting of stars arching overhead.

“Do you ever wonder if we’d been able to stay together how different our lives might have been?”

“I’ve asked myself often and there’s no answer. Which also seems to be the case with this accursed investigation. I’m beginning to feel exactly like Theseus following Ariadne’s thread, only I fear I’ve dropped mine and am wandering about in circles. I’m not even certain what I’m seeking.”

Cornelia smiled. “Where do you find yourself right now, John?”

“I’ve established very little. In brief, Dedi and Melios are competing for leadership of Mehenopolis and they’re also arguing about ownership of a piece of land. Dedi claims to have caused a sheep to kill itself. Melios is terrified of Dedi. Then too someone, probably Apollo even though he denies it, is smuggling religious relics by hiding them in his beehives.”

“Selling relics is a thriving trade and bees are excellent guardians, since it’s not only Melios who’s afraid of them. Remember how Porphyrios sat at the back of the cart, as far away as possible from the hives?”

John was silent for a while. “I’ve also been devoting some thought to Porphyrios. It’s highly suspicious that more than one exile was sent here at the same time.”

“Porphyrios must be grateful he was parted from Constantinople rather than from his head. And what about Zebulon, who apparently exiled himself, fleeing persecution years ago?”

“He’s safe here, at least. Who would journey this far to assassinate an old cleric?”

“Let Zebulon draw the wrath of Justinian and sailing beyond the Pillars of Hercules won’t save him.”

“Expecting a mere mortal to escape the wrath of the emperor is akin to asking him to undertake the labors of Hercules. Speaking of which, unfortunately thus far I have not been as successful as Hercules in performing my task,” John concluded.

“You may not have captured the Cretan bull like he did, John, but you certainly snared a Cretan bull-rider!”

John did not seem to hear her comment. “Cornelia, something has just occurred to me. It isn’t beyond the bounds of possibility that Zebulon is involved in the sheep’s mysterious death.”

Cornelia expressed her doubts.

“Consider,” John replied. “He serves as spiritual advisor to Melios and his household as well as to visitors and those who live in Mehenopolis. I could see Zebulon arranging it to discredit Dedi, given he knew Dedi would claim the credit. The magician is a dangerous heretic from Zebulon’s point of view, but if his wild claims and vanity could be used to maneuver him into declaring his hand in something forbidden, such as magick, and then the authorities were informed of it…”

They emerged from the palm grove. The vast pearled cloak of the sky stretched overhead.

“John, I have to confess. I may have killed that sheep. Yes, I could have climbed into the rafters of the barn during the daytime, hid there until the door was bolted, and then dropped down and-”

“It’s more likely you’ve been in the sun too long as well, Cornelia. Why do you make such a ludicrous claim?”

She assumed a theatrical pout. “I thought if I were a dispatcher of woolly animals you might pay more attention to me.”

John glanced around. “What is it you wanted to show me here?”

Cornelia reached up, caught John around the back of his neck, pulled his head down, and kissed him. “I want to feel you against me again. What do you say? Cheops will look the other way!”

John looked up at the stars cascading across the horizon with a brilliance he’d not seen since his youth.

“I think he will. It’s time we returned to our bed, Britomartis.”