Mary Reed: Three for a Letter

“Thank you, highness,” Zeno muttered with a slight bow.

“I expect you to provide a suitable sequel next summer, Zeno. I shall look forward to it.” Although some time had passed since the earthquake Theodora was still flushed with excitement.

She turned her attention to John. “I must also commend you, Lord Chamberlain, for discovering the identity of the murderer. Who would have imagined a crazed old woman could inflict such damage on her superiors? Yet she managed to accomplish two deaths as well as a near-fatal poisoning. One must admire her resourcefulness and ingenuity, I suppose.”

To this strange remark John made no reply.

“My carriage is ready,” Theodora declared. “I shall request the emperor to order the Patriarch to hold a special service at the Great Church on behalf of the village. Justinian will also arrange assistance of a practical nature, of course.” Turning to go, she pointedly remarked to John, “And, yes, I am quite confident that the Great Church will still be standing when I arrive back in Constantinople. The emperor employed only the best architects and the finest building materials.”

After the imperial carriage and its accompanying guards and carts, including one carrying the litter that had unwittingly acted as an oracle, had rumbled away down the coast road, John paced thoughtfully off into the garden. It was an hour or so before Anatolius located him.

“I’ve finally found you, John! Why do you keep running away when people want to talk to you? I have wonderful news to impart!”

“I didn’t see you during the empress’ farewell speech.”

“I wanted to talk to Calyce before she left and managed to persuade her to leave her duties for a while.”

John replied with an inquiring look.

“You’ll be pleased, John. I’ve come to realize the whole notion of any romantic involvement was foolish. Fortunately, Calyce wasn’t too upset.” Anatolius sounded hurt at her implied rejection of his affections. “She tells me that she feels she needs to devote her entire attention to the service of the empress. However, I think the real reason is that she hopes to return to Italy some day whereas I have absolutely no desire to go there. What is Rome these days? Nothing but ruins, so I hear.”

John expressed agreement with the young man’s decision.

Anatolius looked disappointed. “You don’t sound very enthusiastic about my sacrifice, John.”

“My apologies. It’s just that my thoughts are of an exceedingly dark nature.”

Anatolius inquired as to their content.

“It’s a terrible fate for a child to lose a parent, Anatolius,” came the surprising reply. “I’ve been thinking about my daughter. It wasn’t my wish that I never knew her, yet it still saddens me greatly that I didn’t. I can’t help wondering if her life has been poorer for my absence. I hope it hasn’t. And now think of the twins, taken from their family and living far from their homeland. Always moving from place to place, pulled this way and that by servants and ladies-in-waiting, by men of religion, by the emperor and empress. Children without parents need guardians whose first concern is their charges’ welfare, not how to use them to further their own selfish interests and ambitions.”

“I suppose these are the sorts of thoughts you always have after an earthquake?” Anatolius replied in a puzzled attempt to lighten their conversation.

“I’m sorry,” John said wearily. “I’ve been forced to take an extremely hard decision and in considering it, my thoughts began running here and there and ended up galloping in some odd directions indeed. So you won’t be surprised to hear that I went and sat in Zeno’s mithraeum for a while.”

“You asked Lord Mithra to guide you?” Anatolius guessed shrewdly.

John nodded. “Still, it was a struggle to take the right course, and even now…I don’t wish to deprive Poppaea of her mother, so I haven’t had Livia arrested for Briarus’ murder.”

Anatolius could only gape at his friend.

John stopped and looked at the sky, gathering his thoughts from the clouds. “It’s true there’s no proof that could be used against her,” he admitted, “yet my order would suffice to have her detained and there would soon have been a full confession, as we both know. However, if she is correct in her religious beliefs she will answer to her god soon enough and in the meantime her daughter will still have a mother.”

“But why, John? Why would Livia do such a terrible thing?” Anatolius finally managed to blurt out.

“Livia left the basket containing Hero’s hand in the pile of boxes and baskets deposited beside the gate to Castor’s estate. She was afraid that Briarus might have watched her leaving it. Even if he didn’t know who she was, once he was arrested and brought to Zeno’s villa it was quite possible he’d see her at some point and identify her as the person who left the hand there. He had to be silenced as soon as possible. She admitted she killed him when I questioned her just before Theodora and her entourage departed.”

“Ah,” the other replied. “And there I was, convinced that Briarus’ murderer gained entrance to the villa through the malfunctioning automatic doors while an accomplice outside distracted Briarus’ guard. Of course, it wasn’t nearly as complicated as that. It rarely is, is it? Livia was already inside the villa. All she had to do was draw away the guard by creating a disturbance in the garden and then she could strike.”

They had reached the road and stood in silence for a while, staring at the jagged length of new coastline. Birds wheeled and mewled in the cloudy sky above them. The sea was calm, keeping its secrets.

“Something troubles me a great deal, John,” Anatolius finally said. “I can see Livia would have been in a panic to get rid of the murder weapon before she was discovered in possession of it and how this led to Briarus’ death. But what reason could she possibly have had to kill Gadaric?”

John shook his head. “It is best if you know nothing further about this tragic affair, my friend,” he said firmly.

When John finally met him, Castor turned out to be a short, unremarkable-looking man. His undyed garments were not ill-fitting enough to hide a slight paunch nor did his cropped hair lend any air of asceticism to the face half concealed by a straggly beard.

Castor’s living quarters were plain but not the barely furnished hermit’s cell John had expected. The room’s narrow window overlooked a steep drop to the beach, reminding him uneasily of the headland near Zeno’s villa.

“I know what you’re probably thinking,” Castor told John abruptly. “How could the empress have been attracted to such an ordinary, middle-aged fellow? The truth, I fear, is that she saw me only as a useful tool, a playing piece in an imperial game. Or perhaps even a weapon against Justinian, for I don’t believe he knew she was urging me to come forward and claim the Italian throne. He supported the boy Gadaric as heir, of course.”

John said he had thought as much.

Castor sighed. “Yes,” he went on reflectively, “Theodora ordered me to meet her secretly on a number of occasions. She beguiled me with all sorts of inducements and encouragements to declare my ancestry. Wealth and power to begin with, but at the end all she offered was a chance for me to keep my head on my shoulders! Nothing more carnal than that, thank heaven. After all, would you wish to couple with a scorpion, Lord Chamberlain?”

Castor’s servant padded in, placed a jug of wine on the table and then left the room after shuttering its window.

“You do not find this new life too burdensome?” John inquired.

“As you see, even here wealth eases one’s way through life although my servant didn’t like having to grow his beard to be allowed to sit at table.”