Mary Reed: Three for a Letter

“I’d already left for Constantinople before her lady-in-waiting delivered Hero’s artificial hand to my estate,” Castor went on. “No doubt Theodora intended it as a warning of what would happen if I refused to carry out her order.”

“Indeed.”

Castor belatedly asked John how he had deduced Theodora’s role in Gadaric’s death, not realizing that his admission had indirectly provided John with confirmation of what up to then had been merely speculation.

“I originally debated who would want the boy dead,” John replied. “But later I realized it was fruitless to pursue that since the boy was not the intended victim.”

He explained this astonishing statement by relating how the solution had begun to coalesce around Castor’s library, the library of an estate neighboring the property where Theodora had insisted the twins spend the summer, the library of a man who, as it turned out, was another heir to the Italian throne-and a library that would doubtless be irresistible to a bibliophiliac mime.

“When I was able to question him,” John went on, “Barnabas confirmed what I suspected, which is to say that he had observed you and the empress in your library late at night.”

Castor sighed. “Yes, Lord Chamberlain. She would take Zeno’s key and slip through the private door between my estate and his.”

“As it happened, on this particular occasion she left the mud and leaves on your library floor that so distressed your estate manager. Briarus had to brush similar vegetation off his clothes after he showed us your caper beds and the door itself, but of course I didn’t attribute any significance to it at the time.”

John stopped to collect his thoughts before continuing. “So the question to be answered turned from who might have wanted Gadaric dead to who might have desired Barnabas dead? Barnabas didn’t think the empress saw him peeking into your library window, but he still thought it best to flee rather than take that particular gamble. Subsequent events proved it was a wise decision. Even though he’s a favorite of hers, she wanted him eliminated to protect her own interests, if not yours.”

Castor turned pale at the thought and took another hasty gulp of wine. “Does he suspect Theodora of killing the boy?” he finally asked in a faint voice.

“I think he must. Naturally, he didn’t say so to me.”

“But how…?”

“It’s reasonable to suppose that Theodora stepped into the workshop to get a closer look at the mechanical whale before the banquet or perhaps to talk to Hero. He wasn’t there, being otherwise occupied with Bertrada, but she heard someone moving around inside the whale. Now, nobody was allowed to touch the contrivance except Hero and Barnabas. Who else then could it be but the mime who was, after all, due to portray Jonah very soon and would be expected to be making one final check to see that everything was in order for his performance?”

Castor nodded wordlessly.

“It was probably a sudden decision,” John continued. “Hero liked to talk about his ingenious constructions and during one of her previous visits would certainly have shown her the artificial hand. She’d been quick to realize its murderous possibilities. It wouldn’t have taken long to find it, open the trapdoor in the whale’s head and then, seeing the small shape sitting down there in the dark mouth of the beast-for the lamps lit automatically and it was not yet time for them to flare into life-to extend the artificial hand downward…”

Castor hastily stopped him.

“When I spoke to him, Barnabas revealed that when he climbed into the whale during the performance and discovered what was inside, he got out immediately. Naturally the other actors were puzzled, but he’s nothing if not ingenious. He explained that another scene had been written at the last moment especially for him, one that required him to reappear not from the whale but under the banquet table. You can imagine the coarse humor that such a notion provoked. Then he set the beast in motion and seized his opportunity to flee while he still had time,” John concluded.

“It’s long been preying on my mind that if I’d refused to entertain any notion of claiming the throne when Theodora first brought up the subject, Gadaric would still be alive,” Castor said sorrowfully.

“The empress committed the murder, Castor, not you. In fact, by ordering Livia to take the basket to your estate, she’s also indirectly responsible for your estate manager’s death.”

“But what led you to suspect Livia of killing Briarus?”

“I’d been told that Theodora customarily employed her for fetching and carrying. So Livia hurrying about with a basket would not be remarked upon, even if anyone noticed in the first place. Nor do I think the empress would have entrusted such an important task to anyone else.”

John quickly explained Livia’s subsequent actions as he had to Anatolius, carefully omitting to mention that the latter had immediately-and naturally-assumed that Livia was also responsible for Gadaric’s death. It was misapprehension John had not corrected since, as he had said at the time, it was safer for Anatolius to know as little as possible.

“And of course Livia is under Theodora’s protection! To think that neither of those murderous women will ever be called to judgment,” Castor burst out furiously.

“No,” John said softly. “But you should remember also that Livia knows one of Theodora’s secrets and that’s extremely dangerous.” He fell silent for a space before continuing. “It is ironic that only Minthe, who didn’t even succeed in her murderous plans, and in fact spared Poppaea’s life, has been punished.”

Castor sighed heavily. “And yet, Lord Chamberlain, is it possible that you’re not entirely certain of your deductions? You have fitted together many pieces of information into a most convincing picture, but could they not also be assembled into another? It’s little wonder Theodora looked so horrified and shocked when she realized it was the boy and not Barnabas who had died. Her reaction was genuine enough and the same as that of everyone else present, it just wasn’t for the same reason. But where is proof that would persuade a court of law of her guilt or, more importantly, persuade Justinian? Would even you dare to suggest that the empress was a murderess?

“As to the rest of it, what if Livia lied to you? Or Barnabas? Or someone else? What if I’ve lied to you, for that matter?”

“Have you lied?”

Castor ignored the question. “I believe you’ve constructed an explanation with which you can feel comfortable, Lord Chamberlain, rather as Sunilda appears to have created an imaginary world for herself, one where she rules, one that remains untouched by tragedy.”

John stood to make his departure. “I don’t think that I’m wrong, Castor,” he replied brusquely. “And indeed I sincerely hope I’m not.”

For the first time, Castor noticed the haunted look in his visitor’s weary eyes.

The wind howled even louder around the high building. Heavy drops of rain rattled against the shutters and from the sea came the thunderous rumble of an advancing tempest.