Ten for Dying

Chapter Twenty-seven

Perhaps Felix had lost his wits. As he neared his house, the sinking sun lengthening the shadows of columns and statues and passersby, pulling them taut, made him think of hangmen’s ropes.

“Anastasia,” he called, striding across the atrium. There was no answer. Had she returned to Antonina for more medical advice? What did she have to do with Antonina, anyway?

He sat down in his study and pulled off his boots. Not that he could give his feet a long rest. Much as he would have liked to linger while Anastasia applied hot poultices to his aching limbs he didn’t have time.

“Nikomachos! Wine!”

Had he convinced Porphyrius or the Jingler that he did not possess the relic? Or had they in turn convinced whoever was in charge of the smugglers, if indeed it was a party unknown to Felix? Perhaps after all one of his informants would remember he had seen something useful, or Porphyrius or the Jingler would decide their best course would be to discuss matters further.

His servant did not appear promptly. It was not unusual. Felix got up and inspecting the jugs sitting here and there found one still partly filled and poured himself a cup. He decided to visit the nearest excubitor barracks. Despite his misgivings he would bring a contingent to the house and if Porphyrius did send men to carry out his threats Felix would have them arrested, pursuant to the investigation Justinian had ordered. As he’d explained to Anastasia, the consequences to his reputation when people began to talk to protect their own skins would be devastating, but what else could he do? Better his reputation than his neck.

Assuming his neck was spared.

His hand went to his neck, finding only the sore spot where Anastasia had nibbled.

He looked at the wine cup. Suddenly he was dizzy. Were the wine and potions he’d taken warring or was it the lingering effects of kicks to his head? He pushed the cup away and shouted for his servant again and at last heard a footstep at the doorway.

Turning he growled his displeasure. “About time. You do at least have two legs, if you’d choose to use them!”

“True enough, captain.” The speaker was a short, bent, almost dwarfish man, as bald as a vulture. His plain looks were emphasized by their contrast to the sumptuously embroidered silk garments he wore.

“Narses!” Felix stared at his visitor. From the atrium came the clatter of boots and raised voices. Armed men appeared in the doorway beside Justinian’s trusted official. By rank Narses served as imperial treasurer but in practice, as had been the case with John, he carried out whatever duties the emperor ordered.

“I bring you greetings from the emperor,” Narses went on in a reedy voice.

Despite the wine, Felix’s mouth had gone dry. “He wishes a report of my investigation so far?” he managed to say, trying to feign a hope he did not really feel. “I regret I have not yet discovered much of assistance, and-”

Narses made an impatient gesture. “You will be able to report personally to Justinian on your way to the dungeons, although not as captain of the excubitors. You are relieved of your command. Guards!”

Two men stepped forward and yanked Felix to his feet.

“On what grounds?” Felix demanded with a scowl.

“You question imperial orders?” Narses snapped.

“There is always the possibility of misunderstanding.” Felix contemplated the distance between himself and the door and wondered if surprise might give him a small chance of escape. Was it worth the wager? The palace dungeons were escaped as frequently as the grave.

His captors evidently sensed his thoughts or noticed the direction in which his gaze had flickered. He felt strong fingers dig more tightly into his bruised arms.

Two more guards entered the study. There were others nearby. Felix could hear voices and the slap of boots on tiles. They were probably searching the house. Luckily, this time, there was nothing to find.

Narses smirked up at him. “Hardly a misunderstanding, Felix. You see, the courier you murdered was not a complete fool. He left a note saying where he was going and when he didn’t return his wife sent a servant to inform me. It’s well known I do like to keep a keen watch on court matters.”

More like watching for the next fly to blunder into a web of intrigue so you can benefit in some way, Felix thought. Narses was so close he could smell the cloying perfumes with which the eunuch official drenched his heavy robes. The years had not wrinkled his face like that of a natural man but rather seemed to have worn it as smooth as the face of an ancient sculpture.

“If you believe every schemer who tries to bring down his enemies with lies you must be very busy, Narses. I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“No? It was another big, bearded fellow who deposited a naked corpse behind a statue of Aphrodite?”

“What are you talking about? What statue is this?”

“We have a witness. The streets are full of witnesses. No crime goes unglimpsed.”

“You mean beggars will gladly agree to see anything you want them to see to avoid a beating.”

Narses chuckled. His vulturine head bobbed up and down as if he were feeding on a carcass. “The wife of the victim, and I am sure I do not need to name him for you, identified his body. You had stripped the man but the corpses one finds on the street are rarely well fed, healthy, and clean, so the connection was made immediately.”

“What connection? What makes you think he was here? The Blues have been allowed to roam the city like hungry dogs. No doubt they robbed the fellow and disposed of his body.”

An visibly excited guard came trotting into the study and handed Narses a short jeweled cloak. “Found it in a servant’s room, excellency.”

“Ah!” Narse’s thin, colorless lips curved into an imitation of a smile. “Yes. His wife said he was wearing a cloak exactly like this one.” He held it out for Felix’s inspection. “Familiar? Isn’t this what your visitor had on when you killed him?”

Felix stared dumbly at the cloak. He remembered the dead courier, crumpled against the courtyard wall. An aristocrat obviously, judging by the richly embroidered robes. But a jeweled cloak? “No. It’s a lie. He wasn’t wearing-I mean — ”

“Ah, you did see him then. So you admit your guilt?”

Felix said nothing. He could make no sense of it.

Narses signaled the guards and they yanked Felix in the direction of the door.

“Wait! You’re not going to drag me off with bare feet, are you? If I have to die, let me die like a soldier with my boots on.”