Six for Gold

Chapter Thirty-six

Europa nervously cracked open the house door.

“Anatolius? Why are you back so late? I was beginning to get worried-”

The door was kicked violently inward, catching her on the side of the head and flinging her onto the tiles. Dazed, she tried to push herself up. All she could see from her prone position were boots stamping across the wildly spinning floor. Too late, she remembered what Anatolius had told her-not to open the door unless she was certain he was on the other side.

She lay still, peering through half-closed eyelids.

The intruders had leather leggings.

Except, comically, for one, who wore yellow hose and soft leather shoes.

The floor spun faster. The yellow hose no longer seemed so humorous.

She pretended to be unconscious. The thin trickle of blood seeping toward the house door would help the illusion, she thought. The shoulder of her tunic was already soaked. Scalp wounds bled profusely.

“Search the upper floors,” someone ordered. “The men must be elsewhere, otherwise the racket would’ve brought them down here by now. Still, we better be certain they aren’t hiding, trying to be clever.”

There was a muffled query.

“You’ve had your instructions,” snapped the man in charge. “Don’t hesitate to do it, and don’t ask me again.”

Europa tried to control her breathing. As the floor gradually stopped turning she became aware of an agonizing pain in her side, centered on a hard lump. She hesitated to reach down to investigate. Had she broken a rib?

No, it wasn’t a rib.

Through slitted eyelids she watched the yellow hose approach.

“If they aren’t here now,” said their wearer, “they’ll be back soon enough. Then we’ll finish our business and be off.”

The intruders intended to kill Anatolius and Thomas, Europa realized. Thomas was safely away, but Anatolius should have returned long ago.

Yellow hose’s shoe prodded her roughly.

She gasped.

“Ah, so you’re still alive,” he said.

The man in the yellow hose wore a brown robe. The face was a visitor from a nightmare, half human, half demonic.

It was Hektor.

Anatolius had warned her the former court page wanted her father’s house.

Would he kill for it?

It seemed so.

“Should I finish her off, sir?” asked a gruff voice.

“It seems such a waste,” Hektor remarked. Looking down, he addressed Europa. “Tell us where Anatolius and Thomas have gone. I’m delivering a homily on divine grace later this evening and I don’t want to be waiting here all night.”

“We can handle the task of persuading her, sir,” the gruff voice suggested.

“And would you deal with that task as magnificently as you and your idiot friend handled your assignment at Francio’s house? Unfortunately, the only man I can trust to do any such job correctly is currently in Egypt. Go up and help the others search. I’ll call you when you’re needed.”

After the man had gone upstairs, Hektor kicked Europa more vigorously in her ribs.

She sat up groggily.

“Where do pagans suppose they go after they’re dead?” Hektor asked her with a vicious smile.

“Your intention is to kill me?”

“I prefer to think of it as sending you to join your father.”

Europa’s hand moved swiftly, reached behind her, grabbed the clay scorpion on which she’d fallen and flung it straight into Hektor’s face.

The protective charm disintegrated, showering bloodstained fragments onto the tiles.

Then Europa was on her feet, running across the atrium.

Behind her Hektor screamed, “Your death will be slow now! I’ll make certain it’s slow!”

Europa plunged into the darkness of the garden.

Past the pool she ran, toward the unused wing of the house.

Shouts and the clatter of boots followed.

She raced down a corridor and into the room containing the bath.

She was shaking. Her chest burned and her head pounded.

She surveyed the small space. The round bath, the lascivious mosaics, the enormous Aphrodite holding her marble mirror, the circular hole in the domed ceiling through which moonlight slanted.

She ran around the edge of the bath, took a breath, tensed her muscles, and jumped.

No sooner had she landed on Aphrodite’s mirror than she leapt up lightly, gripped the goddess’ smooth shoulders, climbed onto them, and launched herself upward again.

For an instant she dangled at arm’s length from the rim of the aperture in the ceiling, until her feet found the head of the statue.

With a final despairing push she pulled herself out into moonlight and slid down the far side of the dome, hidden from anyone in the garden.

She could not linger. Her pursuers would doubtless now be racing back through the atrium and around to that side of the house.

She dropped to the ground and ran through shadows to a stand of firs some distance away, from which she surveyed the cobbled square separating the house and the excubitors’ barracks.

Anatolius usually took the path leading around the corner of the barracks.

How could she warn him?

It seemed strange that none of the excubitors were investigating the disturbance at the Lord Chamberlain’s house, hardly a spear’s throw from their lodgings.

But then Hektor was known to be Theodora’s creature. No doubt orders had been given no notice was to be taken of anything that might happen that night in the Lord Chamberlain’s dwelling.

Making a quick decision, she slid away into the deeper concealment of the confusion of shrubbery behind her.

***

Anatolius let out a sigh of relief as he finally came within sight of the barracks. He hadn’t intended to be away so long, and doubtless Europa would be getting anxious about him.

All the way back, as shadows massed under colonnades and spread out into the streets, he had felt nervous. Every beggar in a doorway had been lying in wait for him, only pretending to be asleep.

Now he was safely back on the palace grounds.

As he approached the barracks, a figure leapt from the bushes bordering the path.

His blade was in his hand before he recognized a familiar face.

“Europa!”

“Quick,” she whispered. “Into the bushes. Hektor and his men are waiting to ambush you at the house.”

Anatolius grasped the situation immediately. “There’s no point calling the excubitors out if he’s involved. We’ll have to go to Francio’s house.”

They ran through deserted imperial gardens, taking the most direct route to the Chalke. As they loped along, Anatolius prayed Hektor had been over-confident and had overlooked stationing any of his men there.

Soon they slowed to a walk and approached the great bronze gate of the palace. The guard on duty looked them over and then stood aside to let them pass.

Suddenly, he lowered his spear into their path, barring their way.

“Anatolius! It’s you!” The guard grinned broadly. “You’re panting as hard as if you’ve just run twice around the Hippodrome. After the thief who stole your hair, were you? All the ladies will ignore you now!”

He laughed and raised his spear.

Then they were safely out of the palace grounds and moving swiftly along the Mese.

Anatolius led Europa into a series of alleyways and narrow spaces between buildings, through squares too small to allow a cart to turn around, and along decrepit, roofless colonnades. Their route twisted and turned.

“Are we lost?” Europa wondered.

“Don’t worry. I’ve been this way plenty of times. Besides, you can never really get lost in the city at night. Not with the Great Church for a beacon.”

Anatolius looked up toward the slice of night sky visible between the brick warehouses pressing in on either side. “See, just over there the sky’s brighter. That’s the glow from the windows in its dome.”

There was no sign of pursuit.

When they reached Francio’s door, Vedrix ushered them inside.

Francio had recovered sufficiently from the attack of the eels to be up and about again. He clucked sympathetically at the sight of the blood-bedaubed Europa.

Anatolius explained the situation.

Francio tapped his nose in annoyance. “So, it seems my visitors gathered together a few of their friends and paid a call on you. They are going to start a fashion for swathing the head in strips of white linen.” He ran a hand over the wrappings still adorning his head. He was dressed, uncharacteristically, in matching white.

“We’ll get that attended to right away. You’ll be as stylish as I am in no time,” he told Europa. “Might I suggest you adopt the same sort of headwear, Anatolius, until your hair grows back?”

“We don’t want to put you in danger, Francio,” Anatolius said. “But if we could-”

“I’ll hide you in the servants’ quarters.”

“Felix has given me some useful information. I’m going to risk paying Bishop Crispin another visit. I think I can change his mind about talking to me.”