Mary Reed - Five for Silver

He had instructed Hypatia not to attend to the door. She would be asleep, exhausted after another day helping at the hospice. Peter and Europa must be sleeping also, while Thomas was no doubt performing guard duty for Isis.

Perhaps Anatolius was correct and John should engage a few more servants. It was unseemly for a Lord Chamberlain to carry a key, not to mention dangerous to maintain a residence so unguarded.

He trod lightly up to Peter’s room.

From behind its closed door came the ragged sound of labored breathing.

John turned away and visited the kitchen.

Having filled a plate with bread and olives, he went to his study, lit the lamp, filled his cracked cup with wine, and sat down to his frugal repast.

No one in the house had stirred. If he’d been a thief he would have come and gone unchallenged.

He stared at his mosaic confidante, Zoe.

Tonight her normally expressive eyes appeared nothing more than polished glass.

If he’d been able to seek out Cornelia at once, perhaps Gaius could have saved her.

The thought he had failed his lover was unbearably painful.

On the other hand, his practical side argued, had he not been heavily distracted by the upheaval all around?

Still, the thought of Cornelia dying alone beat at the edge of his thoughts, a black-winged demon tearing at his vitals.

Wiping away tears, he forced himself to focus his thoughts on the puzzle confronting him.

Why had he so readily accepted Anatolius’ account of his interview with Cador? How could Anatolius have failed to realize the man could not hear?

More importantly, if the oral will was invalid, then Nereus’ estate had passed to his wayward son, Triton, since he was no longer disinherited.

Very well. Then how did this relate to the labyrinth he was attempting to navigate?

Well, since Triton was dead, the estate would have devolved to his heir or heirs.

That was John’s understanding of the position.

But did Triton have any heirs?

It was a question John had not hitherto pondered at length since he had believed from the beginning that Triton had been disinherited by Nereus’ oral will.

“No wonder you appear so uncommunicative tonight, Zoe,” John muttered into his cup. “These endlessly complicated legalities…”

Was there any reason to pursue Triton’s connection to the will further, now that that young man was beyond questioning and further had died with no apparent family?

Yes, John concluded, it seemed he had taken the correct course in concentrating on those connected to the will who were still alive and able to divulge information about its provisions and each other.

Although, he ruefully admitted, they’d failed to do much of either.

Then too, John had been ever mindful of Peter’s request and the limited time that appeared available to honor it.

Perhaps it was that realization that had caused John to make the wrong deductions.

Cador had mentioned delivering a letter from Nereus to Prudentius, leading Anatolius to leap to the conclusion that Prudentius was Nereus’ lawyer.

On the other hand, Prudentius had not disabused John of the misconception. Had Prudentius realized that John was under the impression he was Nereus’ lawyer, or had he decided to be circumspect when confronted by a high-ranking official from the palace?

Or had Prudentius lied?

If Prudentius did not serve Nereus in a legal capacity, what exactly was the connection between the two?

Anatolius had been guilty of making an unwarranted assumption, but as John thought back over his interviews he wondered whether he had not unknowingly committed the same mistake.

There was someone he should speak to again as soon as possible.

He slumped back wearily in his chair.

His gaze went to Zoe again, but all the life seemed to have gone from her.

His thoughts returned to Cornelia. Why did the world seem so empty now that he knew she was no longer part of it?

He drained his cup and his fingertip found the familiar crack in its rim.

Drawing back his arm, he threw the cup against the wall.

***

Glykeria’s wizened visage peeked around her half-opened door.

She peered at John with sightless eyes. “Ah, the man from the palace who favors vulgar wines has honored me with another visit. Out and about early, aren’t you, excellency? Still looking for new accommodations?” She let out a thin cackle, akin to the squawk of a sick crow.

“I wish to question you further about your tenant Triton,” John replied.

“Come inside, then. There seems to be a bit of a chill in the air today.”

To John, the weather felt oppressively humid, but he was happy to escape the ripe stench emanating from the rotting heap of pelts still lying across the street.

Inside, the kitchen sweltered. The only light came from a dusty slit of a window and a glowing brazier on which a pot bubbled and steamed.

Glykeria made her way without hesitation to a bench beside the brazier. John sat down next to her, wiping away the sweat already beading on his forehead.

“In case you’re wondering, I’ve heard nothing further about the so-called actress friend of his either,” Glykeria informed him.

Whatever was boiling in the pot carried a strong odor of herbs, bundles of which hung haphazardly from nails in the walls. Herbs were a perfect decoration for someone who lived largely by her sense of smell, John thought.

“I’ve been trying to recall the details of what you told me about Triton’s death,” John began, “and there are one or two points I would like you to clarify.”

“If it’s the exact day you want, I can’t remember. As I said, so many of my tenants have died…”

“You mentioned you thought Triton’s death was the most terrible of them all,” John prompted.

Glykeria nodded. “It was heaven’s justice, excellency.”

“You also mentioned he suffered a great deal of pain, in fact, more than most plague victims.”

“A lot more, yes. However, that’s not surprising since he didn’t die of the plague.”

John patiently asked her what had caused Triton’s death.

“That I can’t say. I’m not a physician.”

“Then how do you know it wasn’t the plague?”

Glykeria tapped her nose. “Didn’t I explain? I can smell the pestilence on them. Be happy you’ve not been blessed with such a talent. No, Triton most certainly did not die of the plague.”

She leaned forward and reached unerringly for the handle of a ladle propped up in the bubbling pot and stirred the mixture briskly, sending a fragrant cloud into the dim air.

“You mentioned Triton had a number of visitors?”

Glykeria emitted another grating chuckle. “A steady stream of bill collectors. He was never lonely.”

“Could you identify any of them? I’m particularly interested in those who visited him during his final few days.”

“Now there I can be of assistance, excellency, strange though that may seem. The very last visitor he entertained was a cheesemaker. I remember the fellow very well, because the smell wasn’t just faintly clinging on his clothing. He must have had a whole basket of his wares. I only hope he obtained payment before handing it over.”

“Do you know who it was?”

Glykeria shook her head. “No, excellency, but if I passed by his shop I could identify it right away. The cheese was most unusual. Smoky with a more than a hint of herbs.”

Chapter Thirty-One

Smoke lay along the Mese, emulating early morning fog on a river. John strode through the swirling gloom, deep in thought. He had not gone directly to his next interview. Instead he had walked in the opposite direction.

He needed time to gather his thoughts. More importantly, he urgently needed to return to his house.