Ten for Dying

DAY EIGHT
Chapter Fifty-three

Maria flung a bucketful of dead rats over the railing into the bear pit. The bear reared up on its hind legs and batted at the falling rodents, its monstrous head looming so near Felix felt the animal’s humid breath. He could make out a crescent shaped white patch on the creature’s chest.

The pit looked dangerously shallow. Felix glanced nervously toward the gate at the top of the ramp descending into the well-like concrete hole, reassuring himself it was securely chained shut.

“Hercules does love his rats.” Maria was a ponderous ruin of a woman, her face wattled and wrinkled as if it had come partly loose from her skull. She had succeeded her long dead husband as bear-keeper. “Now then, sirs, since I have served Hercules, how may I serve you?”

“We need a place to stay for a while,” Felix told her.

Maria examined him suspiciously. “Is that so? I wouldn’t think this would be a suitable place to stay for a gentleman such as yourself, sir. As for your servant…” She peered at the magician with a mixture of distaste and horror.

“We both need lodgings.” He handed her the copper ring. “Anastasia said if I showed you this ring, you would assist us.”

Again Felix was beginning to have his doubts about this arrangement. Even if the old woman were trustworthy, what about all the people in the Hippodrome he had asked directions from? Would they remember him asking the whereabouts of Maria the bear-keeper if questioned?

Maria drew the ring up close to her eyes. “Praise be! I always told the dear little sisters they could count on Maria, but now they are of high rank I never imagined any of them would ever need the help of a poor woman like me.” She wiped at the tears suddenly running down her wrinkled cheeks. “To think, little Anastasia remembers old Maria. A fine lady like her and the sister of an empress.”

Remembered you when you could be of some use, Felix almost said, then chided himself for being unfair to Anastasia. Maria appeared to be genuinely moved. Nothing in her demeanor suggested that Anastasia had sent Felix into a trap.

“Come along then.” Maria turned and waddled away. “You can stay with me for as long as you wish.”

Felix followed, Dedi at his heels.

The clammy air was disturbed by the occasional freezing draught slithering along the concrete floor.

He expected Antonina’s guards to suddenly come running into the subbasement. After all, Antonina’s house was practically next to the Hippodrome. The sun had long since risen. The guards must be scouring the area.

They passed several pits similar to that occupied by Hercules. He heard a cacophony of scrabbling, roars, hisses, grunts, growls. At one point he shuddered at what sounded like the dolorous cry of a distressed infant. Animal odors rose from the pits, each different yet equally foul. Who could say what beasts were confined in those noisome holes?

The trio passed by a wall into which were built cages with iron bars. Grotesque shadows shifted in the dark corners of the barred dens. Felix made no attempt to look inside. He knew there was nothing here but the common animals which regularly performed or were displayed at the Hippodrome.

After what felt like a long time but probably wasn’t, Maria said, “Here we are.”

Where they were appeared to be a heap of planks, bricks, broken masonry, and even pieces of carts piled in a corner of the subbasement. Maria invited them to step through the doorway that opened, incongruously, into the pile.

Felix hesitated. For no reason he could name he had a terrible premonition.

Something was waiting inside for him.

Antonina’s guards? Excubitors? Porphyrius’ murderous Blues? Or something much worse?

He clutched at the chains around his neck. His fingers brushed past the cross and touched the amulet Anastasia had given him. The irrationality of his reaction shamed him, brought him back to his senses.

Inside Maria’s home a clay lamp burned atop a table made from an overturned crate. The body of a chariot served as a couch. The walls were draped with ragged, stained hangings.

Before Felix could assimilate all the details, Maria ushered them through another opening and into a smaller chamber, similarly lit by a guttering flame.

“Make yourselves comfortable,” she told the pair, with no hint of irony. “I will be back soon with something to eat.”

Felix blinked in the shifting light and fingered his amulet.

He glanced around and abruptly realized he was staring into two black, bottomless vortexes. The eyes in the stern face of the Christian’s crucified god.

His fingers left the amulet for the cross.