Mary Reed - Nine for the Devil

“I’ll find some men somewhere,” he went on. “I wish it were a war. With a real enemy we could come to grips with. How are excubitors supposed to defeat phantoms in Justinian’s mind? I wish I’d made my career in the army. I’d be a general now, rather than the leader of a bunch of bodyguards.”

“The Captain of the Excubitors ranks above most generals,” John reminded him. “If you really would prefer a military command, you might yet have the chance. Now that Theodora is gone, Germanus might take over from Belisarius. Justinian has always wanted-”

“And what makes you think Germanus would favor me? I don’t know the man. And, now, I need to go. Urgent business. All the emperor’s business is urgent these days. I will see that Anatolius’ house is kept under watch but I can’t believe you would try to catch him at something he shouldn’t be doing.”

“If he is doing anything he shouldn’t, or being tempted to, it would be better if I caught him at it before the emperor does.”

Felix grunted. “I suppose so.”

Then John was looking at his friend’s broad back receding down the corridor.

He seemed as impatient to get away from John as Anatolius had been. John thought of Peter, sick, and Cornelia gone to Zeno’s estate and silent. Theodora’s death had shaken John’s whole world.

Why should he be surprised that the world changed? That people grew older and died? Why did he notice the gray in Anatolius’ hair and the white in Felix’s beard? What did those details tell him that he didn’t already know? How much time did people spend making meaningless observations that only confirmed what they already knew?

They weren’t observations but distractions, just as his interviews of the previous day had been. What had he learned except that most of the court had reason to want Theodora dead? If he interviewed everyone who wanted Theodora dead he would need to talk to most of the population of Constantinople just for a start.

What was more important than motive was how Justinian’s theoretical murderer had reached the empress. The question was not merely who had access but who had access to those who had access. The lady-in-waiting Vesta, for example, was in contact with Antonina, Joannina, Anastasius, and, unfortunately, Anatolius.

Thinking about Vesta reminded John of the other young woman who had served Theodora, the girl the empress had plucked from Isis’ brothel, Kuria.

He thought he should talk to Isis again. The former madam had remembered Kuria as being a favorite of courtiers.

Now that a day had passed-a day that felt more like a week-perhaps Isis would be able to remember more about her former employee.

John’s route to Isis’ house for penitents took him through a nondescript square bounded on one side by a porticoed warehouse. As he approached it, the heap of gaudily hued rags piled in one corner moved. A dainty hand waved a greeting.

“Pulcheria!” John replied.

The beggar turned the good side of her face toward her visitor. It was an attractive face. Middle-aged now. Like everyone else John knew she was showing her age. Or at least one side of her face was attractive. The other side, ruined when a dissatisfied client had thrown a burning lamp at her years before, had not aged at all. It was still a melted mass of flesh, the visage of a demon caught in the act of changing into human form.

“You are enjoying our warm weather, Pulcheria?”

“Oh, yes. Those of us who live outdoors prefer the heat. But it has been so hot lately that people are staying inside, and so I have had fewer coins tossed my way. If you had a job for me, I would be pleased.”

Before John could reply there was a loud hiss. A mangy feline resembling a worn-out sack on three twisted sticks wobbled out from the sheltering rags, hissed at John again, and wandered away with all the grace of half a spider.

Pulcheria looked fondly after the cat. “Poor Tripod. He’s feeling his age in all three of his legs.”

“I am amazed he is still with you.”

“Oh, he’s tough. Nearly twenty now as near as I can tell. Thank the Lord. I know he can’t go on forever, but I try not to think about it. We all need a companion. I can almost feel sorry for the emperor.”

“I noticed you in the crowd watching Theodora’s funeral procession.”

“We must all pay our respects to our rulers whatever our stations in life.”

A generous attitude, John thought, for a woman who had been forced to make a living as a prostitute until disfigurement turned her into a street beggar. She showed no signs of bitterness. He saw she still bound her dark hair with countless colored ribbons, matching the wild arrangement of brilliant rags which formed her clothing.

They spoke for a while, then John pressed several coins of a denomination rarely glimpsed by beggars into her hand. He turned as if to leave, paused, exchanged a few more words with her, and added another coin. Finally he continued on his way.

***

John shouldn’t have been startled to see Isis poring over the Christians’ holy book at her desk, but he was and admitted as much. “I realize people don’t believe I could possibly take religion seriously, but I do,” Isis told him. “It is my business to take it seriously. Would you care for one of these honey cakes?”

John shook his head. Although he had hardly eaten all day, his empty stomach rebelled at the idea of the rich, sweet cakes which were normally favorites. He sat on the couch.

Isis wiped a few crumbs from her white linen robe. “Christ was a troublemaker. I never knew that. Patriarch Menas would not have liked him very much.”

“You think not?”

“Would the patriarch like me if I walked into the Great Church and started telling him he had got his religion all wrong? It seems to me he was just asking for trouble.”

“My understanding is that he was well aware of the danger and knew what was coming.”

“Have you made a study of it, John? After all, Justinian is always immersed in church controversies.”

“I take an interest in religions. They are too important to the empire to ignore. I’m not a theologian. Justinian looks elsewhere for advice on theology.”

Isis licked honey off her fingers. “A haughty sort, this Christ, or so I originally felt. Arrogant. Demanding. But a brave man and at times gentle. Reading the story for myself is giving me quite a different impression of him.”

John sighed. “Man? Or God? Or both?”

“What do you mean? Oh, I know. What do they call it, the Three Chapters argument? I haven’t got to the part yet where they explain all that.” She gave him a playful smile.

She was just bantering as always. He carefully broached the subject of Kuria.

“That wretched girl! Did I look fierce when you reminded me of her yesterday? I must learn forgiveness.”

“Do you recall any of those men you said were attracted to her? Officials, patricians?”

“I don’t know, John. So many girls and so many men. I tried not to notice the men, or remember them. And the girls…you’d think I would remember. Maybe it’s my age. I only recalled Kuria because she wounded one of my girls.”

It was understandable, John told himself. Though a visit to the brothel might have been a memorable experience for each individual, for Isis it was simply a business. Would a vendor remember who she’d sold a couple of melons to years earlier? And as for clients from the imperial court…most of the court had probably crept past the gilded Eros that once stood outside Isis’ hospitable door, if they hadn’t slunk in through the back door instead.

He wanted to believe Isis was not concealing anything from him as everyone else seemed to be doing.