Mary Reed - Four for a Boy

“Come by when you have a free hour or so,” he told Felix on his way out. “We’ll resume our tour of the city’s taverns.”

John had only glimpsed the wounded doorkeeper in the Great Church. There the old man had been nothing more than a pile of discarded robes in the shadows. Here, swathed in a coverlet, he appeared not much different. His thin, leathery face reminded John of a preserved holy relic.

“Who are you, good sirs?” The doorkeeper’s eyes were bloodshot. His gaze darted back and forth between his visitors in terrified fashion.

Felix made his usual introduction. His mention of the Prefect elicited a peep of horror. “And what is your name?”

“Demetrios.”

“You were one of the doorkeepers on duty the day that the man Hypatius was murdered in the Great Church?”

“My job was to guard the door. Not the vestibule. The villains stabbed me too.” The man pulled himself up into a sitting position, revealing wrists as thin as a kalamos. He was shaking.

“I’m sure you’re not responsible in any way for Hypatius’ death, Demetrios. We just need to know if you saw anything that might help us find the men who committed the crime. You are attentive, I’m sure.”

Demetrios seemed to relax a bit. “Certainly.

Doorkeepers always have to be alert. I regret to say that not all our visitors are pious. Some of them, and you will scarcely credit this, even seek to steal whatever they can conceal about their persons. So we keep a close watch on all who come into the church and also aid worshippers as needed. The old and the feeble, for example, sometimes need help. All are welcome in the house of the Lord but some need extra assistance getting into it.”

“No doubt that’s true. But did you witness the murder?”

“I did.” Demetrios sat up straighter. “It was not long after Hypatius arrived. A sad loss, sir. He was a most pious gentleman, very generous to the church and full of charitable works. He always gave us doorkeepers a coin or two. We’ll miss him. But as to that terrible event-it was bitterly cold that day and not much better inside the church. The archdeacon does not allow much funding for charcoal, you see.”

The old man shivered as if memories of the cold had chilled him anew. “Yet even so, a fair number of people came, mostly to see the sculpture. It offends some, sirs. Others, sadly more superstitious than devout, consider such representations to be magickal. I’ve had to tell more than one not to soil the marble with their grubby hands. There was even a fellow we had to pull down off the pedestal because he was convinced his wife would be cured of her fever if he touched Christ’s face. The sculpture is so lifelike that, well, sometimes, and especially when the light was dim, it gave me pause. Yet if such a pious gentleman as Hypatius thought to glorify the church with it, then who is a simple doorkeeper to say otherwise?”

Felix removed his helmet and ran a hand through his thick hair. Despite the seriousness of their investigation, John had to suppress a smile. Between Gaius and Demetrios one might guess the main affliction besetting Constantinople was a mysterious disease which refused to allow the lips to stop moving.

Felix broke into the doorkeeper’s ramblings to ask when the Blues had arrived on the scene.

“Oh, there was already a crowd of them in the church,” was the surprising reply. “All are welcome, as I said, without exception. Now as it happened, I was standing inside by the main door. I’d just come in for a short time to get out of the bitter wind, you understand, when it happened. It was all very confusing, between the number of people in the vestibule and the fact that it’s not as well lit as the rest of the church. Anyhow, the trouble broke out among the crowd gathered around the sculpture.”

“These were Blues?” put in Felix hopefully.

“Some certainly were, but most of them were regular visitors. I knew many of them by sight. Hypatius was standing looking up at the sculpture, when one of the Blues shouted.”

“What was it he shouted?”

“Let’s just say it was a blasphemy and leave it at that. Hypatius took him to task for using such words in a holy place. The others immediately started yelling even worse. A few of our regular worshippers tried to shout them down. Then Hypatius attempted to calm everyone. It was no good. Things had gone too far.”

Felix shook his head. “And this in a holy place!”

“As you say, sir. It turned into chaos. Women were getting hysterical. Men ran outside to escape. Wisely so. Damage was done to the church…yet really it all happened in less time than it takes to tell you. Within a few heartbeats fighting began.”

Demetrios’ voice rose incredulously as he continued. “Including among the faithful! Suddenly Hypatius fell, mortally wounded as it turned out. It was as if he had been struck by the hand of God. But why a man of such piety? And he hadn’t even started the argument. That is how blood was spilled in the house of the Lord, sirs!”

To John’s surprise, the doorkeeper began to cry feebly. “Yes, blood was spilled in the house of the Lord,” Demetrios repeated forlornly.

“And it was then that you were wounded?” Felix asked after a brief silence.

The doorkeeper’s head bobbed in agreement. “I tried to go to Hypatius’ aid. The Blues were running away and a couple shoved me aside, but not before one turned back and sunk his blade into my shoulder. Why would they do that? Killing one man, wounding another, and for what reason? Is there nothing they won’t stoop to? We’re not safe in our beds!”

The thought brought fear back to his face.

“The city will be calm now,” Felix reassured him. “Look at the way the Prefect put down those rioters just the other night. They’ll think twice about starting anything now.”

“Those young troublemakers aren’t averse to murder. They’ll be very hard to convince.”

John had the fleeting impression that the doorkeeper was about to leap off his pallet. The man raised a stick-like arm and waved it in feeble agitation.

“Decent citizens never know whether or when they’ll be assaulted. Prudent men go about their business well guarded and it’s best for women to stay at home. Except for attending church, that is.”

He slumped down, looking suddenly exhausted. Felix asked the doorkeeper if he had related all that he had seen.

“That’s all, sir.”

There was an outburst of screaming in the corridor. Looking out, John saw a young woman, her head covered with a soiled veil, carted shrieking into a nearby room. Gaius raced into view.

Felix stepped out of the sickroom and laid a hand on the physician’s arm before he could pass. “What’s happened?”

Gaius wrenched his arm free. “It’s a street whore. A dissatisfied customer threw a lamp full of burning oil into her face.” He vanished into the room where the woman’s continued screams now had a raw, rasping quality. Evidently the tortured cries had been going on for a long time.

“Gaius was right, John,” Felix said as they departed the hospice. “Tempers are short. There’ll be worse before long, I’d wager my sword on it. Anyone who’s not prepared to fight should stay off the streets.”

John followed Lady Anna as she stepped hastily into the bookseller’s shop just off the Augustaion. Her quick step resulted not so much from eagerness to discover what new offerings might be found in the brightly lit emporium as from her desire to take shelter against the feathery snow beginning to drift from a sullen sky.

“Ah, my lady.” The bookseller greeted her with a low bow. He appeared not to have noticed John at all. “It is good to see you again. And how is your father the senator?”