Ten for Dying

Chapter Nineteen

“You can’t be serious, Felix! A collection of thugs…smugglers…threatening the captain of the excubitors?” Anastasia used her knife to spear the last olive on her plate and raised it to her lips. “I should hope you’d have them arrested on the spot.”

“It’s more complicated than that. I’ve already explained the situation.” Felix didn’t like the irritation he heard in his voice. He had never spoken harshly to Anastasia. But Mithra! Was the woman really so slow to grasp the implications or just pretending? “Quite apart from my debts and all the problems those entail, there’s also the small matter that Justinian has ordered me to investigate a theft in which I am involved.”

“Not knowingly.”

“Convince the emperor of that.”

“The only link to you is the dead courier, but what could there possibly be about a naked corpse abandoned in the street that would connect it with you?”

“I can’t think of anything, true, but I can’t keep myself from wondering if there’s something I’ve overlooked.”

Anastasia’s face clouded. “Wait! What about your donkey and cart?”

“It was just a work cart. I didn’t have my name emblazoned on the side. It was probably gone by the time the sun rose anyway, scavenged for parts and firewood.”

“And the poor donkey?”

“Would I bother marking a donkey as if it were the imperial plate? If he belonged to Theodora he probably would have worn jeweled earrings.”

Anastasia set her fork down noisily. “Don’t be stupid. Theodora wouldn’t have done something that foolish, despite the tall tales people tell about her.”

“Ah, well, you would know better than me. You’re from the palace.”

“And what if the donkey comes back?”

Felix started to bark out his reply but caught himself, closed his eyes for a moment, and only then spoke. “Donkeys are not trained to return home. Although it would be a fine thing, wouldn’t it, to find him braying at the gate like an avenging Fury?”

“You’ve been a swine ever since you got back,” Anastasia pouted.

“I can’t imagine why! I keep waiting for something to happen, or not happen.”

“That makes no sense, Felix!”

“It does. The best thing that can happen is nothing at all. But nothing happening isn’t very reassuring. It doesn’t put an end to worrying, doesn’t insure something might not happen.”

Nikomachos appeared in the dining room and began to clear the remains of the midday meal, slowly, methodically, and clumsily.

“Get on with it, will you?” Felix snapped.

Anastasia clucked, scolding. “If you insist on employing one-armed servants what do you expect?”

“Normally he has only one person to wait on!”

Nikomachos stacked the empty plates, his expression bored, the frozen face on a coin.

“It’s all very exciting, isn’t it?” Anastasia said. “Your investigation, I mean.”

“You seem remarkably unconcerned, but then it isn’t your neck in the noose, is it?”

“Oh, you are such a grumpy bear today. I’m concerned, but it’s an adventure, can’t you see that?”

An adventure compared to the pampered life at court she was used to living, Felix thought. An adventure compared to searching for an earring her mistress had lost. He managed to keep his tongue quiet. Why should Anastasia be concerned, anyway? She did not know Felix well, despite their intimacy, and she wasn’t involved in the robbery.

“Look how easily you relieved us of our unwelcome visitor,” Anastasia pointed out.

“You call it easy, but it wasn’t you roaming the streets in the rain.”

A silver knife clattered against a plate as Nikomachos continued collecting the remains of their meal. Was he eavesdropping? He was always eavesdropping, wasn’t he? “Finish your task,” Felix ordered.

The servant managed to look hurt and contemptuous at the same time. With one hand, he lifted the perfectly arranged pile of platters, cutlery balanced on the top plate, and strode off.

Turning his glare away from Nikomachos’ ramrod straight back, Felix was startled to see Anastasia dabbing away tears.

“Did I upset you?” he asked. “I’m sorry I snapped. I shouldn’t be worrying you with my problems. I’ll think of a solution.”

Anastasia snuffled mournfully. “I was just thinking about the poor donkey. Whatever will happen to him, left out on the streets all alone with nothing to eat?”

A short time and many barbed words later Felix found himself stalking along the Mese in a foul humor, wondering why he had left his own house. It was his house, wasn’t it? Not Anastasia’s.

He had listened to all he could bear about his lack of common human feelings for donkeys. Probably he should not have said he didn’t give a fig if starving beggars were roasting the animal on a spit, although it was true. However, it was she who had said a beast like him should have some compassion for its own flesh and blood.

How had she survived service at court with such a poisonous tongue?

She made him furious and all the more because he was afraid she might not cool down by bedtime.

By the time his own fury had begun to subside, Felix realized he was halfway to the Church of the Holy Apostles. It occurred to him he should ask around in the vicinity of the church, in case anyone had noticed anything the night of the robbery.

How exactly should he go about it?

He couldn’t very well ask did you happen to see two demons the other night? Or an ape? Perhaps a large number of frogs?

Obviously he would need to be circumspect.

He marched along the crowded colonnade without pause, past shops full of lamps, olive oil, fabrics. Puddles lingered in the street. A fierce afternoon sun turned the humid air into a noxious soup smelling of the dung of cart animals, exotic spices and fragrances, overripe fruit, and the sour reek of sweating humanity.

The long walk and heat had made him thirsty. He found himself in front of a tavern. Perhaps a drink before he got started?