Mary Reed: Nine for the Devil

Once past the antechambers John entered a lavishly over-decorated world populated solely by women, eunuchs, and brightly costumed boys-court pages who served mostly, though not entirely, for decoration. A page smirkingly directed John to the rooms Theodora had given to Joannina and Anastasius, deep within the warren.

The girl John had glimpsed at Anatolius’ house-Vesta-opened the door at his knock.

Before he could speak, another slender blond girl padded barefoot through an archway leading into the vestibule. She wore nothing but a wisp of a white tunica that swung lightly yet managed to remain clinging to her with each step. “Oh! I was expecting Anastasius.”

John introduced himself.

“Naturally I recognize you, Lord Chamberlain.” Despite being half-dressed, she regarded him as unselfconsciously as a child. Or, John amended his thought, a much younger child than she actually was.

“Joannina, I wish to speak to your attendant Vesta. Afterwards, I will require a word with you.”

“Certainly.” The girl spoke as if conferring an honor.

John compared the two young women, mistress and attendant. At first glance Joannina resembled her mother. She had Antonina’s strikingly pale hair, the same brilliant blue eyes, the strong chin. A closer look revealed the differences, partly due to age. Less of her smile needed to be painted on. Her skin was not layered to rigidity with powder. But she was naturally slighter of build. Her fingers were long and slim, not plump. Facially she favored her father. She had Belisarius’ longer, narrow features, his straight nose and gaunt cheeks.

Vesta was a poor sketch of her mistress although about the same age. Joannina was willowy. Vesta was gangly. Her hair was light, but a mousy brown. Her straight nose was too long, her cheekbones were high but overly prominent. Her strong chin jutted forward a little too far, as did two front teeth when she smiled at her mistress. John had no doubt she avoided smiling as much as possible.

“We will speak outside,” he ordered, a precaution ensuring they were less likely to be overheard.

Vesta led him to an interior courtyard filled with a bewildering variety of vegetation registered by John’s nonbotanical mind as possessing interesting foliage and bright flowers. At the far end, several tiers of wide steps led down to an ornamental pool. He wondered whether it was meant to evoke the terraced gardens descending to the sea. No doubt this served as a concealed garden for the residents of Theodora’s quarters.

He and Vesta sat on a bench beside a marble table shaded by a red and white striped awning. The table was long enough to accommodate a banquet.

Vesta sat very straight as John questioned her about Theodora’s final days.

“Only two of us were favored to attend our dear empress. Myself and Kuria.”

“You brought Theodora fruit?” John asked, remembering what Kuria had told him.

“I did. The empress couldn’t digest it but Joannina-my mistress, that is-she insisted on sending it every day.”

“But you and Kuria ate the fruit?”

Vesta bit her lower lip. “What could I do, excellency? Bring her gift back? She would have cried if she knew Theodora was too ill to eat, and it breaks my heart to see my mistress cry.”

“How long have you attended Joannina?”

“Years and years. Since we were mere children.” The affection in her voice was evident.

“Where were you born, Vesta?”

“Why, Constantinople. My father is in the prefecture.” She gave her head a little toss, which perhaps she thought looked haughty. John imagined an aging, petty official, long stalled in his advancement, thrilled for his daughter to get closer to the imperial family than he ever could, if only as a lady in waiting to the daughter of the empress’ friend.

“You have been visiting the lawyer Anatolius.”

The girl’s eyes widened. “Please don’t tell my mistress, excellency.”

“Your mistress did not send you?”

“Well, yes. But no one is supposed to know. If my mistress finds out someone saw me…”

“You’re fond of your mistress?”

“We are very close, Lord Chamberlain.”

“She must be concerned about her betrothal now that the empress is gone.”

Vesta bit her lip again. “I cannot speak against my mistress’ parents. A great lord and lady to be sure. But, oh, she is so vexed, she’s beside herself.”

“She is afraid her parents will stop her marriage to Anastasius?”

“She’s certain they will. It would be a tragedy, excellency. There’s never been another love like it. If you saw the two of them together…with Joannina and Anastasius it was love at first sight. She confessed that to me herself. They were made for each other. And he is so handsome. It breaks my heart to think about it.”

She pawed at her brimming eyes. John noticed her painted fingernails were badly gnawed. She suddenly burst into a torrent of passionate speech. “Let old dried-up women wag their nasty tongues about my mistress’ situation! I wish someone would imprison me with a wealthy and handsome aristocrat!”

John noticed a sparrow had built a nest where the striped awning was attached to one of the marble pillars holding it up. He watched the bird perched on the side of its nest while he gathered his thoughts.

He wasn’t surprised that young people might find it romantic to be forced to do what was usually forbidden. At their ages, he had been a wandering mercenary. He had grown up fast after he’d run away from Plato’s Academy and his philosophy studies. On the other hand, court youngsters were usually mature beyond their years in the ways of intrigue.

He would have taken his leave of Vesta but Joannina suddenly appeared, dressed in a seagreen stola, her hair coiled at the sides of her head with silver chains. She dismissed Vesta with a nod and the attendant scurried off.

“How can I help you, Lord Chamberlain?” Her voice was supercilious. She gave a toss of her head.

As John began to speak he was interrupted by another voice. Querulous. A man’s voice.

“What’s the eunuch doing here?”

Joannina turned. “Oh, Anastasius! It’s John, Justinian’s Lord Chamberlain. You must recognize him.” She looked sternly in the direction of the newcomer but John could detect the hint of a smile fighting to escape her frown.

“Is that who it is?” The man who strolled into the shadow of the awning-boy, rather-was exceptionally tall. If not for a pronounced slouch, the no doubt temporary result of recent, too rapid growth, he would have towered over John. His thick hair was sooty black, as black as Anatolius’ hair had once been, and his skin had a dusky color which reminded John of Hypatia, but was not as burnished as hers. Like Joannina, he had narrow features and a straight nose, although one that was more pronounced. In fact, he looked like a taller, darker version of his betrothed. He was painfully thin and still moved with youthful awkwardness. John guessed within a couple of years he would fill out and mature into a striking figure.

Already he was a striking figure to his betrothed. Joannina went to his side and raised her head to kiss his cheek, then put her arm around his waist and leaned against him. Anastasius looked down at her fondly, as a child might look at a prized toy. He put his arm around her and let his hand trail downward.

“Why are you dressed like that?” He asked her in the same grating whine he’d just used. “We were supposed to go riding. You promised.” He wore a short tunic over leather breeches.

“I didn’t expect to have an important visitor.” Joannina’s gaze darted to John.

Anastasius managed to take his own gaze off Joannina and stared at John as if he hadn’t really seen him up until now. “Sorry, sir. I thought you were just…well…there are so many around here…all tall and thin…or short and fat…”