Mary Reed - Four for a Boy

Proclus said nothing.

Justin leaned forward and peered attentively into the shadows clustered around the cascade of trailing vines at the far end of the garden. “Ah, Euphemia, my dear, there you are. I have been waiting for you. Leave us alone for a while now, Proclus.”

Proclus followed the emperor’s gaze. Back there, partially obscured by a black filigree of tree limbs, something pale caught the moonlight. It was nothing more than an unhealthy mist rising, he thought uneasily. Yet the shape was vaguely that of a woman. A statue, then. One he had not noticed before. He bowed and backed away from Justin’s presence.

Proclus did not stop until he was a few paces from the guards who waited just outside the door to the concealed garden. He did not want to risk overhearing the emperor’s conversation.

Sitting in Lady Anna’s study the next morning, John could still feel Felix’s weight. It was as if the excubitor were perched on his shoulders like a demon which had arrived during a nightmare and refused to depart with the morning light.

“You look pained, John. Is my work so poor?” Lady Anna’s unpainted lips were set in a line of concern.

“It’s well done, Lady Anna.” John set aside the copying exercise he had been correcting and managed a smile. Anna’s answering smile blossomed.

Anna might not have been considered a beauty by court standards. There was nothing striking about her features and she did not use cosmetics to paint herself a new face. John, however, found her intelligence attractive. It was a pity that her intelligence did not extend to an understanding of more worldly concerns, or, more precisely, other peoples’ concerns involving herself.

John made an effort to banish the excubitor’s phantom weight. His memories of dark streets and recent events, so inappropriate here, drew back a step.

In this room, painted roses bloomed on walls and climbed over arbors formed by arched niches holding the scrolls and codices Anna collected as other women might hoard jewelry.

“Am I progressing well with this strange language?” Anna sounded anxious.

John smiled again. “In a few more months you will be speaking Persian like a native.” His expression clouded for a heartbeat and then cleared again. Not quickly enough to escape the notice of his aristocratic pupil.

“You hate the Persians.” It was a statement rather than a question.

“Many hate them. With good reason.”

“Why then did you learn their language?”

“Of necessity.”

Lady Anna picked a scroll from the neat pile on her writing desk. “I’ve been trying to translate this romantic tale, John. It is really quite beautiful. The man has not seen the woman since childhood. One day her litter goes past and the wind disturbs its curtain. When he sees her, he is so overcome that he faints and falls off his horse!”

“Unfortunately, the Persians who formed my opinions weren’t prone to swooning in their saddles.”

“But aren’t they just like us? Most of us aren’t violent, grasping after power and wealth. Should Persians judge all Romans by the actions of a ruthless man such as the Gourd?”

“If they are prudent, they will.” John broke off, appalled not only at his own words but the tone. “I am sorry, Lady Anna. I spoke out of turn.”

“But in this perhaps you can learn from me? You are not a man filled with hatred, like so many at the palace. Why do you then hate the Persians so?”

“With respect, slaves should not burden others with their pasts.”

Anna toyed with her still furled scroll. She tapped it against her lips, then stared out over it at John. “I could order you to tell me…”

“Lady Anna…”

“I would not do that. The positions we occupy in society are not of our choosing, but our loyalties certainly are.” Anna laid her scroll back on the pile. “When I’m somewhat more fluent and have accomplished my translation I shall show it to you. The story concerns love between a man and the wife of his brother. A most improper love, yet I can understand it.”

“I shall report your continued progress to your father,” John said, changing the subject.

Anna sighed. “Yes, I’m sure father will be pleased by my achievements. I wonder why so many don’t realize there are greater enemies closer to home than at the border?”

Hardly a surprising comment, John thought, given the recent attempt on her father’s life. Seizing his opportunity, he asked her hesitantly if she had any thoughts on who might wish to harm the senator.

“When men become powerful, they have as many enemies as a ship has barnacles,” Anna replied. “Then, too often, men have long memories. They nurse grudges for years until their chance for revenge arrives. Or they have one too many burdens to carry, or some other reason, trifling perhaps in itself, but one that causes them to finally strike.” She paused. “Isn’t it said that the best revenge is one that has been contemplated for some time?”

“Certainly many hold it to be so. But as to that, although many thought very highly of Hypatius surely he too had enemies?”

Lady Anna shook her head. “You would have to ask those who knew him best, I suppose.” She paused. From further back in the house came the sound of a loud argument. The shrill voices of two women could be heard; they obscenely taunted each other, apparently having fallen out over a man whom one claimed was her lover, a claim hotly disputed with lascivious details by the other.

Anna looked neither shocked nor surprised. “Those two are always fighting. I shall have to quench this outburst before father returns. He doesn’t need strife breaking out in his kitchen as well as on the doorstep. If I have to warn them again they will have to go. This seems to be a good time to end my lessons for today, John, so I will say goodbye for now.”

John remained in Anna’s study and finished correcting her work before going into the corridor. He did not care to witness women’s squabbles nor to extend his increasingly uncomfortable visit, so rather then passing through the kitchen to the servants’ entrance, he decided he could be forgiven for leaving by the front door for once. Especially if nobody saw him.

Just as he crossed the atrium, however, voices and the stamping of feet at the entrance announced the arrival of Senator Opimius and a companion.

“Ah, John, are you leaving?” the senator said. “Remain for now, please. I want to speak to you about my daughter’s progress.” Turning to his companion he added, “This is the man I mentioned to you, Aurelius, the one I borrowed from the palace to tutor Anna.”

“And what are you teaching her, John?” The visitor arched an imperious eyebrow. His features had the look of the classical busts Justinian had imported and placed all around the Hormisdas Palace, although a tactful sculptor would certainly have chiseled away the nascent, middle-aged jowls. He could be nothing but a senator. A sharp contrast to Opimius, who resembled an assistant to the overseer of an obscure administrative department.

“I am helping her to learn Persian, sir.”

Aurelius ran his hand through black curls. Once, they might have been unruly, but they were now thinning and beginning to silver. “An interesting choice of languages. I suppose it’s prudent to know your enemies.”

“What is more important,” put in Opimius, “is knowing which of our acquaintances are also enemies. Anna chose the subject of her lessons herself. She wanted to try to learn something challenging, she said.”

“And what will she decide to study next? If I were you, I would be happier if the next subject she takes an interest in is one of Justin’s subjects. An unmarried one.”