Ten for Dying

Chapter Twenty-nine

“That’s an ugly burn. You’re going to have a scar.” Antonina smeared white unguent along the side of Anastasia’s hand, then wrapped a scrap of cloth around the affected area. “Perhaps it’s time to end this little romantic adventure of yours.”

Anastasia drew her lips into a pout. “Just when it’s getting exciting?”

“It’s also getting too awkward, don’t you think? It’s one thing to want the men to burn for us, but to use hot coals…”

The two women were sitting beneath the gaze of the painted empress in Antonina’s reception room. Anastasia couldn’t help feeling that Theodora-long time champion of General Belisarius-was frowning at her in a reproving fashion. “You don’t approve of Felix because he’s allied with Germanus.”

“I do wish you had made a better choice, but let’s not speak of that again. There’s no point allowing our men’s rivalries to come between us.” Antonia replaced the lid on the ceramic unguent jar, sat it down on the side table, and picked up the jewel box there. The box was of polished wood, inlaid with ivory crosses. She opened it to reveal a collection of amulets.

“I pray for Felix every day,” Anastasia said. “But he refuses to let go of that pagan deity of his. Do you think the Lord answers prayers for pagans?”

“The Lord works almost as mysteriously as the emperor. Still, you’re probably right, an amulet can’t hurt. Although, from what you told me, it may already be too late.” She rummaged through the collection, which ranged from smooth pebbles one might pick up on the sea shore to medallions made of precious metals.

“I prayed for him in the Great Church,” Anastasia went on. “I think prayers work better there. When I pray in my room I feel as if I’m talking to myself. In the church I feel a presence, in the light and the shadows up in the dome.”

“How about this one?” Antonina handed over a carnelian suspended from a silver chain. “It’s been engraved with magick symbols. How you intend to give it to him however…?”

“He’ll find his way back to me.”

“Indeed. I can tell you are still under the captain’s barbaric spell. A brawling ruffian is quite a change from courtiers who fight with poisoned tongues. You’re like our dear Theodora, except she kept her bears caged and you prefer them in your bed.”

“And what about you? You like keeping wild things around. Didn’t you say that many of your servants had been recruited from the factions because you liked their spirit?”

“That’s not to say I sleep with all my servants.”

“Oh? You have always advised me that the best way to stay young is to remain open to new experiences. Since we’re talking in confidence, what happened to that young man you brought back with you from Italy? You are keeping him well hidden. He never showed his face at the court.”

“Karpos? I couldn’t tell you where he is right now. I don’t keep my men on a chain, regardless of what people say.”

“I thought maybe you didn’t trust me. I might try to steal him.”

“Really Anastasia! I would never suspect you of such a thing. It’s servants who steal things. In fact lately I’ve noticed petty thefts-a bracelet missing, a jar of cosmetics.”

“Perhaps the thief is that demon your servants were afraid of?”

“More likely it is Tychon. A tough fellow. One of my wild things as you put it. In his case the faction was the Blues. I suspect he’s been helping himself to my wine on the sly. I have devised a little trap for the thief, whoever it turns out to be.”

“When you catch the culprit, let me know who it was. Maybe it is Karpos!” Anastasia stood up. “I’d better get back to Felix’s house now.”

“If you must. Do you really expect him to elude the emperor?”

“If he doesn’t then I shall have something to say about it!”

“I’m sure you will. Be careful. These are not normal times. This game might not turn out as you wish.”

“Oh, Antonina! You’re just cross because you know Belisarius will be retired and underfoot before long and Felix will commanding troops in Italy!”

***

Felix took a step toward the door’s barred window before the chain around his ankle brought him up short. Feeble light from a torch somewhere in the corridor made its way through the bars and trembled around the bare and otherwise windowless cell. Leprous plaster fallen from the walls revealed the bricks beneath. White flakes littered the concrete floor.

This diseased hole in the earth was the last place he was likely to see.

Narses had allowed him to escape, hoping he would lead the guards to the stolen relic. It should have been obvious. How could Felix have been so stupid as to imagine he was really outrunning trained military men half his age?

He’d put up a good fight, however, when they’d cornered him in John’s study. At least one of those callow bastards was going to have a permanently flattened nose to remind him of Felix.

Felix kicked and yanked at the chain, which was firmly attached to the wall.

Mithra!” It was a curse rather than a prayer. He didn’t feel like praying, either to his own god or Anastasia’s Christian one. They could both go to Hell as far as he was concerned, along with Narses and Justinian.

What evidence did Narses really have against Felix? Not that it mattered. He had trapped Felix by bringing that jeweled cloak to the house and having his guard pretend to find it. If Felix swore the courier hadn’t been wearing the cloak he’d be admitting he had, indeed, found the courier in his courtyard and disposed of the body.

How the stinking eunuch had enjoyed ordering Felix to lie on the floor of the emperor’s reception hall. When Justinian ordered Felix to stand he was pleased to see a huge, red blister on Narse’s naked scalp, the result of one of the hot coals Anastasia had flung.

“I am deeply troubled, captain,” Justinian had said, his bland features looking as untroubled as one of the marble busts decorating the hall. “Is there no one left whom I can trust? No one except Narses? The theft of the Virgin’s shroud is not the only matter for which you have to answer. In addition, you were observed talking to the disgraced Lord Chamberlain not long before he left the city. Narses has told me he suspects a plot. I tend to agree.”

He would. Justinian’s predecessor as emperor, his uncle Justin, had been captain of the excubitors, although in Justin’s case he had outmaneuvered a scheming Lord Chamberlain to seize the throne.

There was no reason for Narses to fabricate such a plot on Felix’s behalf. Theft of the relic was more than enough to cost him his head. No doubt the treacherous eunuch wanted an excuse to pluck John out of the safety of exile.

Felix wished he could warn John.

But the best he could hope for was to resist confessing to Narse’s inventions under the ministrations of the imperial torturers.

And that was a doubtful proposition. He had seen what was left of those from whom the torturers had torn the desired confessions-mindless, bleeding husks. By the time their mouths had babbled the required words any semblance of reasoning or humanity had long since fled.

This was what Felix anticipated in the near future. Not only death but agony beyond imagining and the knowledge that in the end he would surely betray his friend.

He shuddered. The malodorous air was clammy, but the chill he felt had nothing to do with the moisture. He stared through the bars into the corridor. The flickering torchlight gave no clue as to the time. What difference did time make here? For those who entered the emperor’s dungeons time had ended.

But surely, in the world above, it must be near dawn.

Felix heard voices. Approaching steps.

The light from the corridor dimmed, blocked by a figure in front of the cell door. A huge man.

A key rattled in a lock and the door swung forward, its hinges giving off the high, thin shriek of a terrified woman.