Mary Reed - Four for a Boy

“But he was paying you unwanted attentions,” John managed to say.

She pursed her lips. “Perhaps he thought he was being kind. No, a rich man like him would not wish to take as wife someone plain as I am. I’m sorry if I sound cross, John, but everyone seems to believe they know what is best for me. Or, rather, what father has told them is best for me. Everyone wishes to please father. He has convinced a widow of his acquaintance, a redoubtable woman indeed, to counsel me on how a single woman of wealth conducts her affairs. I suppose this would be in case I remain obdurately single should father die. A few months ago Dominica, that’s her name, suddenly began visiting more frequently. At first I thought she had her eye on father! Then she started taking me aside for little talks.”

“I am familiar with such well-meant lectures,” John said. He couldn’t help but remember the advice Dorotheus had insisted on giving. It was not proper for a lady to converse in such manner with a slave. Yet how could a slave properly tell a lady that? To his dismay Anna plunged ahead.

“And now there is the matter of Trenico.”

John scowled, but remained silent.

“His wealth is, it seems, not unlike the Christian’s Lord, something one must take on faith. Lately there are fewer believers amongst his creditors. Father tells me that Trenico’s dropping broad hints about marriage and dowries. That’s as far as it’s gone.”

“You will be hoping then that he does not mention any upcoming banquets of great import.”

“I trust not. I know Trenico well enough to realize that marriage would not put an end to his romantic liaisons with ladies of the court, not to mention those in lower strata of society. Not that I would criticize his being attracted to a woman of a humbler class. We are all of the same flesh, after all.”

John was saved from finding a reply by the hollow sound of the stout front door being banged shut, closely followed by raised voices in the atrium. Quick steps sounded and Senator Opimius stamped into his office, brushing snow from his hair.

Anna’s father was as plain as his daughter. Of average height, his pale features seemed rather too small and crowded together. He could have been mistaken for one of the hundreds of minor functionaries populating the palace’s administrative offices.

“Anna. Always at the lessons, I see. John, fetch me wine.” His voice trembled.

Anna handed her cup to the senator. “Here, father, take mine. There’s more wine in the jug. I can see something terrible has happened. What was it?” Senator Opimius took the wine and sat heavily in the chair John had hurriedly vacated.

“Please remain, John,” Opimius told him. “This concerns you also. By great good fortune, you brought Anna home without mishap, but she will not be venturing out again without at least three bodyguards. Do you hear that, Anna? I just escaped grave injury myself.”

“Injury…?”

Opimius took a gulp of wine before speaking. “We were attacked by a ruffian. Or a demon. In that narrow way that runs between the Church of Eirene and Samsun’s Hospice…Yes, yes, I know it was foolish to cut through there, but I was anxious to be home. This man, this demon, appeared from thin air and flew at us like a wild beast. I’ve never seen such rage on a human face…The slave escorting me fought him off but-”

“There’s blood on your sleeve,” Anna interrupted, panic in her voice. “Let me-”

Opimius shook his head. “It’s not my blood, Anna. Dorotheus defended me.”

“Dorotheus?” Ann’s voice was a barely audible whisper.

Opimius looked at his daughter and John saw that the senator’s eyes were glistening. “Anna, if only your mother were alive. She would know how to tell you, how to make it…” He shook his head, almost imperceptibly. The gesture was terrible nevertheless. “Dorotheus is dead.”

In the ensuing silence John could hear excited voices from somewhere deep inside the house and the faint sizzling of oil burning low in one of the office lamps.

Anna let out a hoarse sob and John stiffened with horror.

Unseen by her father, Anna had clasped John’s hand.

“Surely the attack on Senator Opimius was nothing more than an attempt at robbery?” Felix squinted across the cobbled square and up toward the sun just now rising over the roof tops. A few of the big German’s fellow excubitors, on their way out of the barracks where he and John had agreed to meet, barked brief greetings at their colleague and cast curious backward glances at the tall man by his side.

“Going by Opimius’ description, his attacker wasn’t a member of a faction. There’s nothing unusual about street violence these days, sad to say, and if one chooses to go out in public without an adequate guard…He regrets his mistake now. Not to mention the grief it has caused his daughter.” As he spoke John seemed to feel again the pressure of Anna’s hand on his own. He shivered, as at the touch of a phantom.

“You wouldn’t think a senator would be so foolish as to be going about the city with only an elderly servant as a guard. But, I understand, this particular senator has a history of making foolish decisions. I’ve made some inquiries, and-”

“You’ve been investigating Senator Opimius?”

“Don’t look so shocked. I’ve been ordered to work with his daughter’s tutor. It pays to know as much as possible about the man you’re working with, including anyone connected with him. Actually, I happened on certain information while trying to ascertain why, in particular, Opimius had engaged you for the job. Apparently the senator made enemies at the palace when he backed Vitalian so strongly five years ago.”

Seabirds swooped in to fight raucously over a chunk of stale bread lying not far away. John hoped it had been dropped by someone who could afford the loss and not by a beggar who would go hungry for the day. Then again, he reasoned, how many beggars could be wandering the grounds of the Great Palace?

“Vitalian? Didn’t the emperor invite him to Constantinople to appoint him consul? A reward for his defense of orthodoxy, wasn’t it? So why would

Opimius’ support of Vitalian make him enemies in the palace? Not that a man doesn’t make some enemies no matter what he chooses to do or say or think.”

“Let’s walk while we discuss this matter. We shouldn’t be seen standing around looking idle. It wouldn’t be good for our careers!”

Felix set off across the square, scattering the seabirds, which retreated noisily to the roof of the house across from the barracks.

“The senator’s real problem,” he continued, “or so rumor has it, is that he truly did support Vitalian. You’ll recall that imperial hospitality extended to a banquet at which Vitalian was stabbed to death. Seventeen wounds the man had. Now where were the guards while seventeen blows were being struck? A dining hall may be large, but try putting a blade into someone that many times without being noticed!”

They turned down a path which funneled a stiff breeze, redolent of the unglimpsed sea, into their faces.

“I’ve heard about that. Justinian’s opponents claim to this day that he arranged Vitalian’s murder, and, over time, the murders of half the aristocracy to boot. But where is the proof?”

“Where’s the proof of anything in this city? Right here!” Felix slapped the hilt of the sword at his belt. “Even so, that was years ago. Justinian could have relieved Opimius of his head long since if he wanted it. Why now? I’ve never heard a word breathed against Opimius’ loyalties. And he’s a good friend of Senator Aurelius, one of Justinian’s strongest supporters.”

They climbed a wide set of stairs and entered a cavernous hall. Light filtering from a row of windows set high up in the gaudily frescoed walls fell on a whirlpool of humanity where those hastening away from the palace on imperial business converged and swirled with those leaving to go to their day’s labors inside the vast complex.