Mary Reed: Seven for a Secret

John shrugged. “You did not know Theodora’s reputation?”

“Silence!” Troilus shouted. “You are speaking of my mother!” He paused and gathered his thoughts before taking up his story. “And yet that was only the beginning of the horror. I ran away. I was pursued through a nightmare of dark and unfamiliar streets, every one of which could lead only to my death.”

John pointed out that his present course was leading him to that dark destination.

Agnes stepped forward. “Troilus, I advise you to have the Lord Chamberlain’s tongue removed.”

“Afterward, perhaps, when we have extracted all the information he can provide,” Troilus replied. “If he chooses not to cooperate with us, that is. But first let me finish revealing my history to the fool. It will be spoken of for decades, celebrated in song, and if he refuses to join us, he should not go to his death without hearing it.”

Turning toward John, he continued. “And then when in my flight I sought refuge on a stylite’s column, as I reached the top, there descended upon me a demon. A foul, black bird. Flapping and screeching and scratching at my eyes with its filthy talons. Its stench was like the pits of hell. I fought, though I was nearly senseless with terror. The demon died and in doing so took the form of an old man.”

John remained silent. The remaining mosaic pieces were rapidly joining together.

“I was afraid I would be seen,” Troilus continued in a quieter voice, as if talking to himself. “I hid the body in the shelter atop the column and huddled beside it. Dawn came. How would I know when my pursuers had ceased to search for me? I had nowhere to go. If I were discovered I would die. Besides, all my senses left me. For a while I did not know where I was. Perhaps I actually was dead and in hell.”

“You have not seen Justinian’s dungeons yet,” John offered, calculating how near he would have to get to be able to leap on Troilus and disarm him.

Troilus paid no attention. “There was no room to move. I was thrust against my dead companion. His glazed eyes stared at me. He wheezed, as if some foul thing were trying to speak with his corpse mouth. And more than once I saw his expression change, but now I realize it was only the mass of flies crawling across his sunken face.”

Agnes began to interrupt, but Troilus waved his hand and she fell silent.

“Yes, Lord Chamberlain, my shelter was alive with flies. Their buzzing filled my thoughts and the formless drone became the tormented cries of dead souls, too loud and horrifying to be grasped by a mortal man. So overwhelming that it made me unable to think. And then there was the smell of death. I gagged ceaselessly. When I tried to breath through my mouth to avoid the stench, I inhaled flies.”

Felix stirred restlessly. Knowing his friend as he did, John realized he was tired of listening to Troilus and wished to move into action.

Troilus, however, was determined John would hear his story. “It was during that endless damnation that details of my flight came back to me as a dream I had forgotten. In the palace garden I broke away from the monster into whose hands my mother had delivered me and threw myself into an abyss. I had no thought but to end my life in my own way before death was inflicted on me in some manner too dreadful to contemplate.”

“It would have been an honorable death,” John said quietly.

“Ah, but my destiny was shown to be greater than that! For I was saved by falling into an ornamental pool. I stood in the water, hardly believing I was alive, wondering if I were really still falling and the world would wink out in an instant to end my hopeful dream. I felt a gaze on my back. Turning, I saw a figure glimmering in the darkness.”

Troilus paused, took a few steps to the statue of the satyr, and patted the chiseled fur on its marble flank. “It was the god Pan, Lord Chamberlain. He had spared my life by arranging for me to fall into a pool guarded by his image. Clearly I had been chosen to overthrow the foul representatives of the new religion, whose mothers throw their babes into the arms of demons. That is also why I ascended toward heaven and replaced the so-called holy man on the pillar. These were miracles, you see. Miracles arranged for me.”

John thought of Alba, who had also thought the boy’s ascent a miracle, although interpreting its message in a different fashion. He made no comment.

Troilus moved to Agnes and grasped her hand. The girl continued to stare darkly at John.

“The miracles did not end with my being transported to safety atop the pillar,” Troilus went on. “Before too many days had passed, the gods sent to serve me a man who had also been cruelly banished from court and now as you see…”

He fell silent.

“John!” The rumbling voice belonged to Felix. “The emperor has surely convinced himself you have turned against him.”

“I cannot imagine that,” John replied.

“It’s true. I’m certain of it. You must protect yourself by joining us.”

“What if I refuse, my friend?”

“Don’t think to test me, John. I can do nothing for you except to see…to make sure…you don’t suffer…You were warned, why didn’t you take notice?”

“You mean Cornelia was threatened. It was Procopius who visited her, wasn’t it? Did you send him, Felix? You could hardly warn me yourself.”

It was Troilus who replied. “We were and are concerned about the welfare of you and your family.”

“Felix must have told you I was loyal to Justinian,” John said. “And I remain so.”

Troilus smiled. “Then there is no reason for me not to have you killed, Lord Chamberlain. In fact, now you’ve seen what is about to happen and can betray those involved, there is every reason to order your execution. You will become half a centaur skeleton, like the stylite who once lived atop a pillar but now passes his days underground!”

“Soldiers die if it is necessary,” John replied.

“You might choose to die, but is your family as loyal to Justinian as you are? Even if our plans fail-which they cannot, for it is the will of the gods that they succeed-you have been implicated so far as Justinian is concerned, just as we planned by the method Procopius revealed to your wife. In the past the emperor has not treated kindly the families of those who displeased him. As for myself, a good ruler is merciful, but a ruler must sometimes give orders he might find distasteful for the preservation of the empire.”

“Such as murdering the man who rescued you from the pillar and treated you like a son?” John snapped.

Troilus’ jaw clenched.

It was Agnes who spoke. “Menander was untrustworthy. He talks too much when intoxicated. He had to be silenced. Besides, being like a father to Troilus was just good business on Menander’s part, wasn’t it?”

Here her voice was not distorted by echoes as it had been in the water-filled cistern. It sounded not unearthly but merely strident, not at all like the voice with which John was familiar.

Zoe’s voice, which had only been the sound of his own thoughts.

“But as to you, Lord Chamberlain,” Troilus was saying. “I offer you one more chance of life. If you are willing to aid me in-”

“The answer is no, Troilus,” John interrupted. “And as for Menander, however he died, your hand was in it.”

“I don’t dispute it, Lord Chamberlain.”

“And what about that young prostitute whose body you dragged into your shop and took from there to the cistern where I was led to discover her? You used the underground route I have just followed. Did you meet her when she came to the theater looking for her actress friend? How did you lure her to her death?”

“Mithra!” Felix drew his sword even as he uttered the oath. He took a step toward Troilus. “You said you’d paid a madam for a body. You never said you’d murdered an innocent woman.”