Mary Reed: Six for Gold

“Almost certainly,” Anatolius agreed. “And then who would have held the real power in the empire? Fortunately for Justinian, Crispin and whatever other clerics were involved were good at plotting, but reluctant to set events in motion. That changed when Hektor arrived on the scene. He isn’t one to hesitate.”

John nodded. “I’d guess that Hektor originally got in touch with Senator Symacchus because he’d briefly been his reader and Hektor was attempting to establish himself as a pious Christian for his own purposes. When he realized the opportunity he’d stumbled over he must have been jubilant!”

“Doubtless they intended to use Apollo’s services to smuggle the relic out of Egypt?” Europa asked.

“I believe so. Melios admitted Apollo had performed similar services for him. I believe that Zebulon also had a hand in the same trade. He probably still has contacts in the religious community in Antioch. More importantly, the relic is not much taller than a man. It would fit into a large enough hive or could be cut in half and placed in two.”

Thomas gave a snort. “I would’ve just put it in a crate and shipped it.”

“Caution and secrecy are always the best policies when plotting against the emperor,” John said. “Even Hektor was cautious, in his own way. He had to remove Symacchus and his servant Achilles, to make certain their indiscreet chatter didn’t cause further trouble. He also arranged that the meddlesome adventurer who’d appeared on the scene was to be found in circumstances where he would be held responsible for the senator’s murder. That he turned out to be Thomas, with myself on his heels, was just a stroke of unexpected good fortune.”

Anatolius frowned. “I suppose Hektor and his accomplices came to the senator’s house that evening in order to take Achilles and dispose of him. I’ve given it some thought. It wasn’t just the matter of what he revealed at Isis’ house that condemned him. Remember, Achilles was sent to alert Felix because Achilles was expendable, and furthermore wouldn’t be recognized as a known associate of Hektor’s.”

Thomas leaned over to John’s desk and plucked up the small enameled artifact which had been the cause of so much misery. “So it turned out this is not a broken cross as we all supposed, but a copy of Nehushtan with the snake removed?”

“Indeed. The original would be a particularly impressive relic to bring into the city with the plague still raging,” John observed. “Consider. It cured the sick centuries ago and is still believed to be as powerful now as it was then.”

Thomas laughed. “You’re thinking about the crippled beggar, the one Peter kept telling me had been healed after going into the maze? It seems more likely Dedi arranged for one of the villagers to pretend to be lame, so he could point to him as an example of a so-called miraculous cure.”

“That might be so,” John admitted.

Cornelia looked away from gazing out the window. “What do you mean, John? You’re not suggesting the relic is anything but a forgery, are you? Remember, the beggar wasn’t in the maze for very long, yet it took you hours to find your way to the center and out again. The people carrying him should have stayed inside an hour or two at least. That speedy cure was a bad slip on Dedi’s part, I’d say.”

John agreed it was so. “Still, you have not seen Nehushtan as Peter and I did.”

Cornelia smiled. “You sound so solemn, I could almost suspect you believe in the power of this relic!”

“I’m not certain what I think about it. Religion defies proof, unlike murder. I’ve already explained why I believe Scrofa was sent out to kill me.”

Anatolius looked puzzled. “I don’t understand. If it was Porphyrios who tried-“

“He obviously didn’t know how to use the weapon very well. He must have taken the cord from Scrofa’s body after he killed him. Maybe he thought he’d hide his tracks by using it. I’m convinced the plotters ordered Scrofa to kill Symacchus and Achilles as well. They were killed the same way.”

“That makes sense. But if Porphyrios murdered Scrofa, why didn’t you bring him back in chains?”

“He was gone by the time I got out of the maze. Not only had he admitted to at least one murder, but he’d also tried to kill a Lord Chamberlain. Then there’s the question of his employers’ money. He hadn’t been able to get it, but I have no doubt that once they hear he’s run off, they’ll be convinced he absconded with it. He’ll spend the rest of his life looking over his shoulder until someone catches up to him.”

“So everything has been neatly solved,” said Thomas.

“Except for the most important matter,” John pointed out. “There remains the real reason I went to Egypt. The plotters have not been exposed. For that, I will need your assistance, Anatolius.”

Anatolius looked at John in surprise. “What do you mean?”

“You mentioned you’ve gained Crispin’s confidence?”

“Temporarily at least. He’s half-convinced I know something about this relic, which is probably the only reason I’m still alive.”

“Then you must arrange matters with him. He wanted to present Nehushtan to the emperor, and so he shall.”

The audience gathered in front of the ivory double throne occupied by Justinian and Theodora could not have been more unlike the crowd atop the Rock of the Snake, except that they had assembled for similar reasons.

Glancing around, John recognized senators, aristocrats, and assorted palace officials. Shielded by lesser clergy, the Patriarch-whether by design or accident-stood as far from Crispin as was possible. Hektor had, John noted, stationed himself mid way between the bishop and Theodora. Armed excubitors flanking the imperial couple and stationed around the walls outnumbered the distinguished guests. Felix stood beside the throne.

Work on the hall had been completed in John’s absence, and now that night had fallen, light from hundreds of lamps set on ornate silver stands or hanging by ceiling chains gilded the panes of the high windows. John glanced upward at the enormous cross that glittered through the mist of smoke. Although it was rendered in nothing more than gold and gems, he had the uneasy feeling it was on the verge of crashing down on the assembly.

He stepped toward the throne.

Justinian nodded almost imperceptibly, acknowledging John’s low bow, while Theodora gazed down at him with the fixed, incomprehensible stare of an ancient statue.

“My dear Lord Chamberlain,” the emperor began in thin tones John doubted were audible to most of the gathering. “We are pleased to extend our gracious thanks for your unceasing labors on our behalf. We were much relieved to hear the sheep which concerned us was not in fact suicidal, but merely the victim of a cruel trickster.”

He leaned forward and continued. “Furthermore, Lord Chamberlain, you have intrigued us with the information that this strange man concealed a far more important secret.”

“Yes, Caesar. The magician Dedi is the guardian of an astonishing relic.”

“We understand Bishop Crispin knows something of this?” Justinian turned his bland, bucolic countenance toward the bearded monophysite.

Crispin bowed. “That is so, excellency. It has pleased the Lord to deliver unto His followers a sacred artifact as irrefutable proof our understanding of His true nature is correct, and one which I venture to suggest will not disappoint your expectations. The man who brought it to the city awaits without.”

John glanced around. Theodora’s expression remained unchanged, while a smirk of satisfaction crossed Hektor’s ruined face.

“Very well,” Justinian replied. “Then it is our wish to observe and examine it.”