Mary Reed: Three for a Letter

Anyhow, after that we went for a walk in the garden with Bertrada. The gardeners were all rushing about trimming bushes and bringing in flowers and greenery to decorate the villa. It was so frantic it made my head ache. But even in the garden we kept getting in the way, so we went and found Poppaea and went down to the seashore. I was hoping we’d see Porphyrio but we didn’t.

Zeno told us that a whale has been spied now and then for many years and that he’s called Porphyrio because he’s the same purple gray as the marble. I wouldn’t name a whale after a piece of rock, would you? We’ve seen Porphyrio a few times and he’s more gray than purple, it reminds me of the color of a storm cloud. Zeno says Porphyrio has been attacking ships for years and years. The sailors don’t like him, it seems, which goes to show how foolish some people are. But Zeno is very kind even if he is often mistaken, although I suppose he would have to be kind since it was Theodora herself who said we all had to spend the summer with him by the sea. She’s been to visit more than once and right now two of her ladies-in-waiting are helping Bertrada, if you can imagine that. They are very great ladies themselves although not royalty. I told Poppaea that some day I will make her my lady-in-waiting, just as her mother serves Theodora, but she didn’t seem very happy about the idea.

The empress is not very pretty. She’s quite short as well but she’s got lots of beautiful clothes and jewels and attendants. Also soldiers to guard her, of course. And some men in very fine robes, all from court, are here as well. Just imagine that, all those high-born people coming to see us!

I wanted to go to the banquet, only Bertrada said it was too late for us to stay up. That wasn’t the only reason, though, because I overheard her talking to Godomar-our tutor, you know, and a gloomier person than Godomar you never saw-and he told her the entertainments would not be suitable for young people. We were going to be shown how the mechanical whale works after the guests had gone back to the city but I haven’t seen it yet. Everyone is going about with long faces. Bertrada cries all the time. At the banquet Theodora raised her voice to the Lord Chamberlain-at least Godomar says that’s who the man is. I could tell by the way Godomar talked about him that he doesn’t like him, but I don’t know why. I’ve only seen the Lord Chamberlain briefly. He’s called John. He’s almost as tall as Godomar. He’s thin and moves very quietly.

Anyhow, to get back to what I was saying, the banquet was very noisy and I kept waking up. Bertrada came in and went out again and then came back crying and told me Gadaric has gone away. If only she knew! You see, Porphyrio promised us we’d be taken to a safe place and when I asked him how he could do that so we wouldn’t be missed, he said he knew how but that it was a secret and we would see in time. So when they took me to see Gadaric to say good-bye I knew it wasn’t him, for that clever Porphyrio really has smuggled him away and left behind a figure like the ones Hero builds all the time. It’s so clever it’s fooled everyone, even the empress! Godomar was shocked because I laughed when I saw it but I couldn’t say why because I’d promised not to tell. But I know you will keep this secret, dear aunt.

I am sitting by the window as I write and I can see the Lord Chamberlain and another man, I think he is the palace physician, talking in the garden. I wish I could hear what they are saying.

Chapter Three

“The boy’s throat was crushed. As a matter of fact, he was nearly decapitated. The neck was-well, never mind the details.” Gaius took a deep breath and released it in a ragged sigh.

In the past the stout palace physician had delighted in regaling John with the most gruesome of medical details but on this occasion, in the watery morning sunlight, John could see that Gaius’ normally ruddy face was as pale as the marble peristyle where the two men had paused. The airy gardens laid out before them seemed a world removed from the dim room, just a few steps down the corridor behind them, where Gadaric’s body huddled beneath a coverlet in the posture of a child who has pulled his blanket over his head to escape some imagined terror of the dark.

“If the boy had been brought to my surgery,” Gaius continued, “I would have guessed he’d been thrown from a horse and trampled or perhaps run over by a cart. Since he was found inside this construction-this whale you’ve described-I can only assume that the injury resulted from his being trapped in the mechanism. You say the mouth opened and closed?”

“Yes. Zeno’s ordered the automaton back to the workshop, if you’d like to inspect it.”

“No need.” Gaius resumed walking, leaving John to follow. “I’m convinced that the boy’s death was an accident. Now I’d like to go home. I’m accustomed to being summoned at odd hours but to spend half the night on horseback to get here, well, I’m getting too old for that. And then to find such a sight waiting for me…I’m not usually distressed by bodily misfortunes. You know that. The wagon maker can’t lament every broken axle. But when a child is involved…”

They started along the flagstone path that crossed the interior garden. It was true, John thought. There was something particularly disturbing about the death of a child. He had been almost relieved when the mouth of the deadly contraption in which the boy had died had slowly closed, hiding the pitiful body from view. The death of one so young and defenseless against the whims of Fortuna seemed unfair.

“I trust you are not thinking about accepting consolation from Bacchus?” John said quietly.

Gaius assured him there was no need to worry about the possibility. “I’ve resolved to stop self-medicating with wine,” he asserted. “Bacchus is as likely to get an audience with Justinian these days as with me.”

John remarked that he was glad to hear it. The emperor, as everyone in Constantinople knew, was abstemious to a fault. “So you’re certain it was an accident?”

Glossy laurel leaves, still shining with dew, brushed at their robes as they paced along. From some hidden corner nearby drifted the sharp odor of fallen pears fermenting on the ground.

“No one strangled him, if that’s what you’re thinking. Not unless Hercules walks among us mortals again.”

“Barnabas is an acrobat, Gaius, as well as a mime. He’s reputed to have exceptional strength-and he is missing,” John pointed out.

The physician shook his head. “John, the child’s throat was mangled. I’ve seen similar injuries after riots where the victims had been crushed by falling under the boots of panicked crowds.”

“There weren’t any riots here last night, although I noticed that Theodora’s guests departed as fast as a losing faction leaving the Hippodrome.”

“Do you suspect one of them was hiding something?”

“What I suspect is that they decided it was more prudent to risk being robbed on a dark roadway than to remain within striking distance of Theodora’s wrath. She was as furious over Barnabas’ disappearance as Gadaric’s death, or so it seemed to me.”

Gaius sourly pointed out that the empress was nothing if not practical. “One of the royal twins is still alive, after all. Barnabas, needless to say, is matchless. Nobody’s seen him since the performance?”

“None who’ll admit it,” John replied ruefully. “I managed to have a few words with all the guests despite their eagerness to depart and as for Barnabas, apart from his reputation, not one of them had anything to say about him. I suppose they’re all of the same mind as Theodora, taking no interest in the private affairs of mimes.”

“Not since she left the acting profession herself, you mean. Let’s hope he turns up soon. There’s no telling what the empress will do when she’s in such a foul temper. Yet what puzzles me, John, is how the child managed to get inside this mechanical whale in the first place.”