Mary Reed: Six for Gold

John glanced around the room. “The sheep was encumbered with a heavy garland fastened tightly around its neck, and naturally soon experienced such intense irritation of the skin of its throat it attempted to alleviate the itching by rubbing itself on the only sharp thing available to it.”

“The sword!” Melios breathed. “Summon Hapymen here!” he shouted. “And as for-”

He was interrupted by a thunderous knocking on the house door.

Guests began to rise to their feet, hands on blades, as a terrified servant rushed into the room.

“Master, we’ve just received word! The tax assessor’s been found drowned!”

***

“At first I mistook it for a log,” Porphyrios told John. “But there was something familiar about the shape…He was floating face down. Must have fallen in and drowned. I was about to go for help when one of the villagers came by, so I sent him to raise the alarm.”

They stood beside the ditch, staring down at the drowned man whose sightless eyes regarded the starry sky with a steady gaze. Behind them lights moved in the darkness and the low muttering of an unhappy crowd came to them on gusts of a rising wind. Melios had instructed his guards to block the road, to prevent anyone interfering with the body. The headman had chosen to keep his distance as well.

John bent down for a closer look. Scrofa had obviously been dead for more than a day.

“Scrofa wasn’t a popular man, excellency,” the charioteer continued. “I fear the authorities will be bound to suspect murder, and whatever the truth of it there will be reprisals on Mehenopolis. Fortunately I’ll be on my way soon.”

“You’ve been able to obtain what you sought?”

“A charm against curse tablets? Sadly, no. Dedi refused my request. It’s probably just as well. I’m inclined to think he’s not as powerful as he claims to be.”

John moved his lantern above Scrofa, illuminating first the waxen face, wet hair clinging close to the skull, then the torso, and on down across legs whose red-splotched ankles testified to the powerful grip of the charioteer who had dragged the unfortunate tax assessor ashore.

Finally John stood and looked toward the settlement. “I see Melios has obligingly sent someone to take Scrofa back.”

“He’ll be more welcome there in his present state than he was when he strolled this way,” Porphyrios remarked.

The charioteer turned and saw the approaching donkey, ridden by a young servant. “Well…um…Lord Chamberlain,” Porphyrios stammered, “I’d better be off.”

“Not yet!” John grasped the man’s bulging forearm. He could easily have wrenched away, but his attention was engaged by the small beast which had reached them.

“Do…do you…er…want me to assist the young man in getting the body on the…?”

“That will not be necessary, Porphyrios,” John replied quietly. “However, you will explain immediately why a charioteer is terrified of donkeys. I noticed your reluctance to approach one during the fire, and now I recall you sat at the back of the cart that brought us here from the river. It was less fear of the inhabitants of the beehives piled up behind the driver than of the donkey trotting in front. Am I not correct?”

“Please…please…Lord Chamberlain…if you will allow me to step away…I’ll explain…just…just…”

John released the man’s arm and walked along the road a few paces. Porphyrios followed obediently.

“Does your fear extend to horses?” John asked.

“I avoid them as much as possible, but donkeys most of all.”

“It must be difficult at times, particularly when traversing crowded city streets. What is your real business in Mehenopolis?”

“Although I was never a charioteer, excellency, I am in fact employed by the owner of a racing team. I was dispatched here to collect a large sum from Melios. He lost several huge wagers betting on races at the Hippodrome during his visit to Constantinople.”

He gestured to his belt. “I told him these reins would end up tied tightly around his neck, to frighten him into settling the debt. He asked me for a day or two to find what he owes.”

“I observed the painting of the Hippodrome was much more recent than the rest of Melios’ frescoes,” John replied. “Even so, it’s been a year or two since his visit. Why is your employer in such a hurry to collect the debt now after waiting so long?”

Porphyrios looked back at the donkey as it disappeared into the distance bearing Scrofa’s lifeless form. “It came to his ears Melios petitioned the emperor about a tax dispute. Few are able to reduce their taxes, and Melios had drawn attention to himself. Once the imperial tax assessors had the headman in their grasp, there wouldn’t even be bones left for the rest of his creditors to pick over.”

“And so he wanted to collect his debt from Melios before Scrofa could take any assets that might be available?”

“That’s correct, excellency,” the other admitted miserably, “but unfortunately the assessor was already at work in the settlement when I got here.”

“However, with Scrofa now gone, you’ve got a better chance of collecting on Melios’ debt. At least until the next assessor arrives. How very convenient for your employer-and not a curse tablet in sight.”

A look of distress crossed Porphyrios’ face. “I never thought of that, but yes, I suppose it’s true. Scrofa’s death does look suspicious, doesn’t it? Maybe the emperor-”

The charioteer was interrupted by a sudden shout from a man running toward them.

“Save yourselves while you can, sirs! Dedi’s set loose another demon! This time it’s walking the streets!”

“When your conclusions proved correct?” asked Europa.

“Of course Crispin wouldn’t admit anything,” replied Anatolius, “but from his reaction I could see I was on the right track. He claimed he had to attend a service and could not spare more time. Then he said he’d send for me in due course for further conversation, as he put it.”

Francio laughed. “Watch out! He might try to persuade you to his religious viewpoint, Anatolius.”

The trio were seated in Francio’s dining room. Anatolius had just completed a description of his visit to the Hormisdas and gone on to explain how he had reached his deductions concerning the events that had led to two deaths and John’s journey to Egypt.

Europa picked up her spoon and pointed it at Anatolius. “So your reasoning was the wording of the will demonstrated Symacchus, probably the most orthodox man in the city, viewed Crispin with great esteem whereas most would expect him to consider the bishop a raging heretic? And it was from this you deduced Crispin had converted Symacchus, who began aiding him in an attempt to obtain a relic from Egypt? And how did the senator hear about this relic?”

“According to Diomedes, from Melios, one of the senator’s many visitors from that country.”

Francio asked who Melios might be.

Anatolius beamed. “Ah! Mithra smiled on our labors, for Felix discovered this Melios lives in the very settlement where John and the others went!”

Francio stared down at his plate, as if reading some meaning from the geometric pattern in the ceramic. “I’ve thought of another possibility, Anatolius. The senator might have been disposed of because he had rashly spoken with Thomas, a man who lives in the Lord Chamberlain’s house.”

“And John is Justinian’s closest confidant,” Anatolius agreed. “Eliminating Thomas by arranging for him to be caught with the senator’s body would also mean grave suspicion would be cast upon John for harboring a murderer. I doubt whoever was responsible could have foreseen John himself being accused of the senator’s death, but it must have been an even better result from their point of view.”