Mary Reed: Six for Gold

“You’re forgetting the most important thing,” Francio pointed out. “This mysterious murderer will doubtless attempt to kill anyone who knows anything at all about what’s going on, which now includes all three of us. Dear me, this isn’t the sort of conversation to whet one’s appetite, is it?”

Europa ignored the remark. “What could this relic be and why do they want it? The churches here are already bursting with old bones and such like.”

“I’m hoping John can enlighten us when he returns,” Anatolius replied. “It can’t be a coincidence Justinian sent him to the very settlement where Melios lives.”

A savory odor filled the air as Vedrix carried in a silver bowl filled with meat in a dark sauce. A ladle protruded from the steaming mixture.

“Let us put aside this gloomy conversation and celebrate your successful visit to the bishop.” Francio gestured at the bowl. “Please help yourselves from this most amusing dish. The markets might be empty but the spice of imagination is inexhaustible!”

Anatolius peered into the bowl and blanched at the sight of tentacles coiled artfully around lumps of meat floating in the thick sauce.

“There wasn’t much to be purchased today,” Francio went on. “A rather mature octopus, a couple of fig-peckers, and an under-nourished partridge. So my cook and I devised this cunning dish. I call it The Wreck of the Ark.”

Europa gingerly ladled out one of the lumps and dropped it onto her plate. She poked at it dubiously with her spoon. “What’s that, Francio? Partridge?”

Francio leaned for a closer look. “I’m not certain. Oh, there’s also something in it that Vedrix caught in the garden, so that could be a tasty tidbit of weasel.”

Europa put a hand up to her mouth. “A weasel?”

“I wouldn’t swear to it on oath in a court of law, you understand.”

Europa pushed her plate away.

“Condemned without a trial,” Anatolius remarked. “Barring Francio’s testimony, I believe I could have conclusively proved these lumps are all portions of a succulent hare.”

Francio looked disappointed as he traded plates with Europa. “There’s more than one in this city tonight who’d be glad to have weasel boiled in sauce.”

Anatolius rescued one of the fig-peckers and a bit of tentacle from the wine-dark sea. “Surely vegetables are still available, even if there isn’t much meat?”

“Vegetables? What sort of meal can you make with vegetables? A peasant’s meal!”

“We’ve had this discussion before,” Anatolius grinned. “Justinian manages perfectly well without eating flesh.”

“That’s why he’s ruled by Theodora,” Francio observed. “A little red meat in his diet might do the emperor a great deal of good.” He popped a portion of suspected weasel into his mouth and chewed. “You don’t know what you’re missing.”

“Nor do I want to.” Europa dropped her spoon.

“What’s the matter?” Anatolius asked.

“We really don’t know what we’re missing, do we? We don’t know what’s happening to everyone. Where’s Thomas? What’s become of my parents? What about poor Peter, not to mention Hypatia?”

“You’re safe here, Europa,” Francio said. “My home is an island of sanctuary in a perilous sea.”

“What will you do when Crispin decides to summon you to another interview?” Europa asked Anatolius.

“The bishop is nothing if not cautious. It’ll take a few weeks for someone to go to Egypt and back in order to consult his contacts there, whoever they might be. We’ll just have to hope John returns to Constantinople before then.”

“I’ve been called many names in my time,” Thomas observed, throwing back another hearty gulp of wine, “but never a demon.”

“It’s your red hair,” John explained. “Many in Egypt consider it ill omened because their evil god Set’s hair was the same hue.”

“People will kill you for the strangest reasons. I suppose that was the intent of the fellow with the knife who waylaid me as I passed by some ruin or other. I don’t think he intended to trim my beard.”

They were sitting on the guest house roof, enjoying the light breeze that had sprung up after sunset. Several lamps cast flickering light, pale imitations of the vast starry vault overhead.

“I suspect the local residents wouldn’t normally have reacted the way they did,” John replied, “but there have been some strange events recently, and old fears once raised take a long time to die down again.”

Thomas refilled his cup and gazed into the night. “The comical thing, John, is that I traveled to Egypt to save you. Anatolius sent me, but I’d better tell you the story from the beginning.”

John and Cornelia listened closely to Thomas’ narrative, starting with when Isis’ employee Antonina had told him the client who’d been talking about relics was a servant of Senator Symacchus, thus setting in motion the chain of events that led to them sitting atop a mud brick house at the edge of the empire rather than in John’s house in the grounds of the Great Palace.

John restrained himself from chiding Thomas for his reckless stupidity. “So you went to the senator and offered your services in obtaining some mysterious relic?” he asked when Thomas paused.

“That’s right. He gave me this and instructed me to be at the Hippodrome at sunset on a given day. I’d know the man I was to meet because he’d be carrying the matching piece.”

He drew from his garment the token in question and handed it to John. “The figure’s been snapped off along with the top part, as you see,” he continued. “There’d be no chance of someone duplicating the missing bit. Very clever idea, wasn’t it?”

“As you say, Thomas. Further instructions were doubtless to be given at this meeting?”

“That’s what I was told. I do have some experience in these matters so I was not suspicious when Symacchus insisted on utilizing an intermediary. Now it’s obvious he didn’t seek my expertise, but rather my execution.” He frowned. “But how did you contrive to arrive in the Hippodrome on my boot heels, John?”

“You’d been going about with the look of a man with a guilty secret,” John replied, “and in Constantinople it’s wise to know everyone’s secrets, particularly when the person involved is your daughter’s husband.”

“Of course, I should have told you,” Thomas admitted. “But I thought if I could help them obtain this wretched relic, the service would be worth a fair amount of money.”

“Strangely enough, we might be searching for the same thing, Thomas. Justinian is of the opinion those working against him seek something of value in Mehenopolis. Could it be this relic you heard about?”

“The orthodox have strange beliefs,” Thomas replied. He looked down into his cup. “It may be it wasn’t just my behavior which caused you to follow me to the Hippodrome, John. Mithra might well have been dictating your steps. I hope He will look out for Europa and the others. It’s extremely dangerous for them right now.”

“I doubt Mithra has any interest in assisting Justinian! As to those you left behind, Anatolius is much more capable than he often appears and Felix is on the spot too. Now what’s this about you traveling here to save me?”

“An assassin’s been sent after you.”

“I’d be more surprised if one hadn’t followed. Naturally, I’ve been on my guard.”

Cornelia’s face registered dismay. “John, the intruder on the night of the fire! It must have been the assassin! But who-”

“It was Scrofa,” John replied.

“The tax assessor?”

“He managed to arrive here just before we did, but that’s not surprising considering we were delayed in Alexandria. When I examined his body earlier tonight, there were marks on the man’s ankles I subsequently realized were strongly suggestive of scorpion stings. Remember, Peter drove the intruder away by throwing his jar of scorpions at him.”