Mary Reed - Six for Gold

“I placed a wager with him myself. It hinged on whether or not he could extricate himself if I were to tie him up.”

“Using that knot he showed you? Perhaps it’s easily undone despite its elaborate appearance?”

“No. I was to tie him any way I wanted.”

John looked thoughtful. “So you’ve been busy tying up the captain?”

Cornelia laughed. “Indeed! When he mentioned this trick had won him more than a few coins, I thought it would be useful to learn. An incantation or two and the captive is free. It would be most impressive. Magick is always popular.”

John smiled to himself. They had only been at sea a few hours and already Cornelia was making plans. “You’re thinking you can resume your old career, and Peter and I might join you? If only it could be so! And what happened with Nikodemos?”

“Oh, he escaped without any difficulty!” Cornelia clapped her hands and rocked backwards on her precarious perch. “I lost the wager, but it was a small price to pay for learning the trick.”

“He explained how it was done?” John’s mouth went dry as a large swell caused the ship to lurch and Cornelia with it.

“After I told him I wanted to use it for an act to be called the Nikodemos Mystery Escape. He was flattered, you see, when I explained the idea would be he was captured by pirates…”

The deck creaked as the Minotaur lurched abruptly. Cornelia gave a cry and began to topple backwards.

John leapt forward and grabbed her. Suddenly her weight was pressed against him. He staggered backwards, arms around her.

His heart was in his throat. “You almost fell into the sea,” he managed to say.

She smiled up at him. “When you ride bulls you learn how to fall in whatever direction you wish, just as when you travel with a troupe, you learn to make a home wherever you find yourself.”

Anatolius lit the terra-cotta lamp on the table by the door of John’s study. The flame illuminated what the gathering twilight beyond the diamond-paned windows did not. The room was sparsely furnished. A table, a scattering of three-legged stools, a desk, all guarded by a solemn-eyed little girl John called Zoe, who now glowered at him from her wall mosaic.

“Sorry to barge in when John’s away,” Anatolius said to the mosaic girl. “I suppose I’ll end up talking to you myself if I stay in this house long enough. In fact, as you see, I already am.”

He felt like a snail in a strange shell. He told himself to make a note of the image, then remembered he no longer wrote poetry.

The odor of burnt verse haunted the air.

Lighting lamps was a task for John’s servants. Unfortunately, Peter had left with his master and Hypatia was assisting at Samsun’s hospice, which was still overwhelmed by plague victims. The only person left in the house besides Anatolius was Europa. She had taken to her room as soon as her mother and Peter had left, according to Hypatia. If she had emerged during the day, Anatolius hadn’t seen her.

He was aware of Zoe staring at him. The shifting firelight brought her glass eyes to life.

“Have you seen her, Zoe?”

“Nooooo…” came the whispered reply.

Anatolius stepped back in a panic.

From behind him came a deep, muffled laugh.

He spun around. His hand went to the blade concealed in his robes. Not that the puny weapon would have been any protection, he immediately realized. The figure filling the doorway held an upraised sword. The intruder had his free hand half buried in a bristling red beard, pressed over his mouth to stifle a laugh.

It was Thomas, who glanced back over his shoulder, trod into the room, and sat down.

Anatolius began to speak.

Thomas shook his head. “Let’s not wake anyone. I’m afraid I’m in desperate trouble, Anatolius.”

“That explains why you couldn’t keep yourself from laughing out loud just now.”

Thomas grimaced. “I couldn’t help it. If you’d seen yourself, gaping at that mosaic like it was a demon come to life. Surely you’ve laughed on the bloody field of battle, even though it’s strewn with the limbs of your dead comrades?”

“Actually, I haven’t,” Anatolius replied. And neither have you, he thought. He didn’t believe Thomas’ endless battlefield stories any more than he believed it when the Briton claimed to be a knight.

“What are you talking about?”

“John. Is he terribly angry at me?”

“He isn’t here.” In a furious undertone, Anatolius related all that had happened in Thomas’ absence. “So John has been exiled,” he concluded, “and Peter and Cornelia followed him. I expect we’ll never see them again.”

Thomas’ face had gone as white as bone and suddenly his big shoulders shook. He drew in a great, sobbing breath, as if to steady himself before speaking.

“For one thing, John didn’t kill the senator,” he said. “I was at the Hippodrome and can swear an oath he’s innocent.”

“You were there?”

“Yes. And no, before you ask, I didn’t murder the senator either.”

“I don’t think you’re a murderer, Thomas. A naive fool, yes.”

“I appreciate your confidence. I’ll knock you down for the insult another day.”

“What happened, Thomas?”

“I had some business at the Hippodrome. When I got there the senator was already dead, or at least it looked to be the case. I was just bending down to be certain when John appeared out of nowhere and pushed me aside. ‘Go’ he said. ‘Run.’ I took his advice and just as he raced off in the other direction, Felix and his excubitors appeared. ”

“Then what?”

“As it was getting dark, I continued on to Isis’ establishment and-”

“You went to work?”

Thomas shifted on his stool. “I had to, didn’t I? I owe Isis money to repay that loan she gave me. And I’m trying to save as much as I can so that Europa and I can-”

“But you left John in the Hippodrome with a corpse and excubitors pouring in! How do you think it must have looked?”

“Well, you can hardly go out the door without stumbling over a dead body right now,” Thomas pointed out. “Besides, John is well thought of by Justinian, so I thought he’d have no difficulty persuading the emperor that neither of us had anything to do with it.”

“If you’d shown your face here after your work was over, you’d have found out a lot sooner that the situation is much graver than you could possibly think. And where have you been all day anyhow?”

“Oh, here and there.”

Anatolius got up and looked out the window. The cobbled square below was deserted. Beyond the barracks at the far edge of the open space, the palace grounds spread out their eclectic collection of administrative buildings, churches, and houses set amid groves, hidden gardens, and ponds. With the coming of night windows here and there glowed like jewels under a gray sky, which further out blended with the dark waters of the Sea of Marmara.

He felt an almost uncontrollable urge to throttle Thomas, even though the fool would have no trouble killing him if he tried. “What was it that took you to the Hippodrome?”

Thomas reached into his tunic and drew out a small item he kept clasped in his fist. “It was like this, Anatolius. A business opportunity presented itself and I leapt at it quicker than a beggar after a dropped loaf. It was something to do with relics. As you know, I’m an expert on the subject-before I came here I made a living seeking the Holy Grail. I sent a message offering my services to the senator. Being a cautious man, he insisted on my dealing with an intermediary.”

“Very sensible of him.”

“I didn’t know the person I’d be meeting, so I didn’t expect to see the senator, and certainly not his cadaver. And a very fresh one at that.”