Ten for Dying

Chapter Thirty-five

“Why are you looking so shocked, Felix? You know that Theodora had sisters.”

“Anastasia is such a common name. Anyone could make the same mistake. I’ve seen Comita at the palace from time to time but-”

“I avoid the court and in particular public ceremonies, They are both so terribly boring.” Anastasia dropped onto the bed next to Felix. The bed’s motion sent a shot of pain through his side. “I’m still the same woman.”

Felix tried to avoid wincing. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I thought you knew and did not want it mentioned. As I said.”

Her tone didn’t sound convincing. Felix was about to say as much when she grabbed his beard, pulled his face toward her, and gave him a lengthy kiss.

“There. Do my kisses taste different?”

“No,” he admitted.

But now he was afraid the honey concealed a bitter poison.

“You’re worried it isn’t safe to be involved with Theodora’s sister, even if the empress is dead. That’s it, isn’t it?”

As always she seemed to read his thoughts. Felix ran his tongue nervously over his lips and said nothing.

“Remember, you aren’t a common soldier. You’re the commander of the excubitors, the imperial guard.”

“Was the commander, you mean.”

Anastasia waved her hand dismissively. “The trouble with you is you don’t have the courage of your ambitions. You’re too loyal.”

“Justinian prizes loyalty.”

“And where has it got you?”

Felix grunted. “Right now I’m not concerned about getting anywhere. Just remaining out of the dungeons is enough.”

“As soon as you’re rested and healed, you’ll be longing for the battlefields of Italy again.”

“A few hours ago I was sure I’d be dead by now, or if not, wishing I were.” A chill went down his back as he thought again of passing through the room full of torture instruments.

“If you don’t stop getting your humors deranged you’ll kill yourself without any help from Justinian or Porphyrius. You don’t look well at all. Just look at the backs of your hands.’

“Yes, I know, Anatolius pointed out the same thing. What am I supposed to do? I’m in grave danger, and so are you. We must proceed with great caution.”

“Me? In danger? Hardly! Did it not occur to you that in your current predicament you are extremely fortunate to have the empress’ sister for a lover? Do you think I can’t protect you? Who do you suppose spoke with Justinian after he’d ordered you hauled off to the dungeons? Who told the senator to engage Anatolius?”

Felix looked away from her. “I see. The empress’ sister is even allowed to throw hot coals at guards if it amuses her. And to think, I feared-”

Anastasia placed a finger on his lips. “Hush. I’m sorry if you were afraid for me.”

“You’ve been playing with me, Anastasia!” The words burst from Felix. “All I am to you is a…captive bear. Like the one Theodora kept in her menagerie.”

“That’s cruel, Felix.”

“And how can I be sure you don’t know who the courier was? How can I be sure it wasn’t you who-”

“Don’t even think such a thing! And if I knew anything, wouldn’t I tell you? Maybe I can find out who the dead man was.” Anastasia put her arms around him. Reflexively he tried to draw away.

“Please, Felix. Don’t turn against me. If I could erase my birth to please you, I would. But what does it matter? Isn’t it obvious that I’m your slave? Is there anything a servant girl could give you that I haven’t?”

“It’s not…it’s just that…well…” He let his voice trail off. How could he tell her he felt humiliated, having been saved by a woman. Grateful, certainly. Relieved. But nevertheless humiliated. “I need to speak to Nikomachos,” he said instead.

“About what?”

“That cloak Narses claimed was found in the servants’ quarters. I want Nikomachos to question the staff. I’m sure Narses supplied the cloak himself, but Anatolius is of the opinion one of the servants might have stolen it.”

“Without bothering to tell you there was a dead body in the courtyard?”

“Thieves who rob corpses are not noted for their honesty.”

“You might ask him to conduct his own search. In case the guards overlooked something else that might have been stolen. That might give away the courier’s identity. If you trust Nikomachos…more than you seem to trust me.”

“Nikomachos has been with me for years. He’s perfectly trustworthy. Servants tend to be light fingered, but with only one arm he’s twice as honest as most.”

“Perhaps you would have more faith in me if I had only one arm,” Anastasia sniffed. “I’ll go and get him. He should have looked in here to see if his master required his services. I’m not that frightening, am I?” Without waiting for a reply Anastasia left Felix alone with his thoughts.

They made for very poor company.

He felt dazed. Theodora’s sister! Thank Mithra, or the Lord, or whatever deity wouldn’t take offense, that the empress was dead. Even so…

Anastasia was gone much longer than Felix would have expected. Did she have to search the house to find a servant who was supposed to be nearby, ready to attend to Felix’s every wish?

Finally she returned, looking grim.

“Nikomachos isn’t here. I looked everywhere, asked the whole staff. No one has seen him all day!”

“He might have gone to see if he could do anything for me.”

Anastasia’s lips tightened. “That’s not the first explanation that would have sprung to my mind. However, we will know soon enough if your servant has run off, for whatever reason. In the meantime I’ve had an idea.”

She came over the bed and held out a torn bit of cloth the size of her palm.

Felix looked at it without comprehension. “What is that?”

“Part of the Virgin’s shroud.” She shook it insistently in his face.

He took the scrap from her, holding it gingerly between his thumb and forefinger as if it might come alive and bite him. His heart raced. “What do you mean? Is there more you haven’t told me? It looks like, well, just a bit of rag.”

Anastasia put a hand to her mouth to muffle a laugh.

Felix’s simply gaped at the cloth, holding it at arms-length. “I don’t understand, Anastasia.”

“I tore it off a cleaning cloth. It’s part of that relic everyone is seeking.”

“What? My servant’s been cleaning with the Virgin’s shroud?”

Anastasia snatched the rag back. “Of course not, foolish bear! But from now on, we pretend it’s been torn off the relic.”

“Lie about it?”

“Of course. I know you are more comfortable with brute force but a lie is more effective than a sword here in the capital.”

He eyed the rag dubiously. “And how am I supposed to use this weapon?”

“To start negotiations with Porphyrius. I’m certain once he sees it he’ll be willing to come to an accommodation with you. Especially when you explain that you will continue to bring him pieces until he agrees to terms. Or until the shroud ceases to exist.”

***

Porphyrius’ laughter boomed around the stables behind his mansion. “You expect me to believe this piece of rag is from the Virgin’s shroud?”

“If you want the shroud returned you have no other choice.” Felix kept his voice calm. It was a struggle, particularly since the great charioteer had designed the frontage of his private stables to resemble the starting gates in the Hippodrome. The beating and threats Felix had suffered in the latter were still fresh in his memory and on his flesh.

Besides, he had never been a good liar.

Porphyrius returned the scrap of cloth to Felix and rubbed his fingers briskly on his leather breeches. “But I don’t want the shroud returned. I have nothing to do with the unfortunate theft. I have explained that to you already.”

“Then why did you agree to speak with me?”

There was no reply. Porphyrius stamped across the hard-packed dirt, stopping at a gate to look into the stall beyond.

Felix followed, determined to extract some admission. Anastasia had brought him around to her way of thinking. It was safer to allow Porphyrius to think he had the relic. If he convinced the charioteer that he, in fact, had no idea where it was, Porphyrius might very well have him killed for knowing too much about his affairs. But Porphyrius wouldn’t dare kill the only person who might lead him to the relic, would he?

Felix leaned on the gate beside Porphyrius. From within the stables came the odor of hay and horses but the stall was empty. The charioteer had been staring at nothing. Pondering the offer, perhaps?

“We’re both familiar with the races,” Felix said. “We both know something about gambling. If you choose to believe what I showed you wasn’t torn off the shroud, you’re free to do so. But we both know that’s a losing bet, either way. If you’re right, and I don’t know where the relic is, I can’t retrieve it for you. On the other hand, if I am telling the truth-and I am-then I will destroy the relic in stages, as I described to you, unless we come to terms.”

“Perhaps you should tell all this to whoever it was threatened you the other night.”

“Tell a gang of anonymous Blues? Where do I find them? I’m sure you can identify them more readily than I can.”

Porphyrius’ face remained impassive but muscles tightened in the massive forearms leaning on the gate. “You’re hardly in a position to harass me about this, are you, Felix? I could offer you a job cleaning my stables if you’re looking for work.”

Felix shrugged. “We both know Justinian is prone to sudden whims.”

Porphyrius pushed himself away from the stall and nodded toward the guard stationed in a corner of the enclosure. The man, who had been watching the conversation, shifted his lance and strode over. “My servant will see you out.”

Felix looked down at the scrap in his hand then closed his fist around it. “When you want to talk about obtaining the rest of this, let me know.”

He left, deep in thought. Had he made the desired impression on the charioteer? If he had succeeded in buying himself time, what happened if time ran out again before he found the relic?