Mary Reed: Nine for the Devil

Anastasius did not.

The tall, skinny young man appeared from an inner chamber, straightening his tunic, black hair rumpled. “What do you think you’re doing harassing us in the middle of the night?” he shouted. “We’ve had enough of this!”

“I am here on the emperor’s business.”

The young man clenched his fists.

“Anastasius! Stop!” Joannina, emerging from their room, placed a restraining hand on his arm. “What do you want at this hour, Lord Chamberlain?”

“Direct me to Vesta’s room. I wish to speak to her.”

Before Joannina could answer, her lady-in-waiting emerged groggily from another room

“I heard raised voices,” she said. “What…” Seeing John she fell silent.

John noted Vesta wore the same kind of light blue tunica her mistress was wearing. “Why are you here, Vesta? I thought you lived with the other attendants?”

“The excubitors turned her room into a shambles,” Joannina said. “Besides, she’s too uneasy to stay there, since they’ve violated the place. I gave her one of our spare rooms.”

“Only until we find her a more suitable place,” Anastasius said, sounding petulant. “She won’t be staying here long.”

John wasn’t surprised Vesta was upset, considering what she had been through. “Do you have any idea where Kuria might have gone?” he asked her.

“Kuria? She was ordered to leave the palace after-”

“Did she tell you where she intended to stay?”

Vesta shook her head.

“Did she ever speculate about what she might do if she had to leave? Did she mention friends in the city?”

“I…I don’t remember, excellency.”

“Are you satisfied?” snapped Anastasius. “If so, we’ll return to our beds. If you want to pursue this, come back tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow will be too late. The emperor seeks to arrest Anatolius. Your lawyer.”

Vesta let out a small cry of distress.

“What do mean our lawyer?” barked Anastasius. “Who is this Anatolius?”

Vesta drew her clasped hands up to her face in a gesture of prayer.

John addressed Joannina. “Please take Anastasius back to your room. I must speak to Vesta alone.”

Anastasius’ took an angry step forward but Joannina’s hand tightened on his arm and she gave it a tug. “Come, Anastasius. The Lord Chamberlain is working for Justinian. We don’t need to anger the emperor.”

Anastasius glared at John long enough to preserve his dignity, then relented and followed Joannina away, grumbling and throwing venomous looks back over his narrow shoulder.

Vesta began to blubber. “Where is Anatolius? What will happen to him? Is he safe?”

“For now. He’s taken sanctuary in the Great Church. But I must find Kuria. Justinian believes she poisoned Theodora on Anatolius’ orders.”

Vesta shook her head wildly. “Oh, no. He would never do that, never! He had nothing to do with Kuria! Not for years and years.”

“He was telling me the truth? He hadn’t been seeing her recently?”

“No. And I would know. Kuria and I were friends.”

John detected coldness in her tone. “You weren’t going to Anatolius’ house for legal advice on behalf of your mistress, were you, Vesta? You were trying to gain Anatolius’ attentions.”

She caught her lower lip under her oversize front teeth and nodded morosely.

What he had already guessed had become certain to John when he saw Vesta wore the same sort of blue tunica to bed as Joannina. Vesta had come to the palace from a relatively modest background and being a naive girl, idolized her mistress. She considered the relationship between Joannina and Anastasius the height of romance. She wanted to emulate Joannina in every way, not just in dress. Anatolius had somehow drawn her attention. He was a romantic figure-not the grandson of an empress perhaps, but the son of a senator and a handsome man whose poems still circulated at court. That he was too old for Vesta simply added a spice of impropriety to the sought-after affair, giving it the same illicit savor as her mistress’ romance.

“Anatolius did not return your attentions?”

She said nothing, but the tears that welled up in her eyes answered for her.

As John crossed the Augustaion and approached the Great Church he saw light pouring from the baptistery. He pushed through the excubitors in the Warriors’ Vestibule, sensing tension among the men. Muttered conversations were too loud, lances and swords were grasped too tightly.

All the lamps in the octagonal chamber where Anatolius had sought refuge were lit. It was as bright as midday. A variety of churchmen had congregated and stood in a double ring around the font.

The diminutive figure of Narses emerged from a knot of excubitors near the doorway and moved in John’s direction, a shadowy demon sliding along the floor amidst the coruscating mosaics and glittering jeweled crosses adorning the baptistery. One might have thought such a creature would be banished by the blazing radiance.

“Lord Chamberlain, I am glad to see you. Please advise your friend Felix of the consequences of disobeying a direct order from the emperor.”

“Explain yourself, Narses.”

The eunuch treasurer simpered up at John. “Justinian has sent me to take over here. I am ordered to seize the murderer.” His dark, serpent’s eyes glanced over the assembled churchmen. “I don’t think they will offer much resistance, do you?”

Felix strode over. “I won’t have the blood of any clergy on my hands. My men take orders from me, and I don’t intend to relinquish my command.”

“Justinian was right to suppose you cannot be trusted,” Narses sneered. “In fact, you and that miscreant cowering in here are probably both involved in a plot against him.”

Now John understood the reason for the tension he had sensed. The guards by and large were Christian. They would be torn between their loyalty to the empire and their religion and fear of Justinian’s wrath. It was ironic their captain Felix, who ordered them to honor their sacred place, was himself a pagan.

Or at least had been hitherto.

“Anatolius is not going anywhere,” John told Narses. “So there is no need to be in a hurry. Can you imagine what the reaction will be if you have the priests protecting him slaughtered in the church? Perhaps it is you who has an eye on the throne and might like to see the city set on fire?”

Narses brushed the insinuation aside without raising his reedy voice. “Do you think I am a fool, Lord Chamberlain? I cautioned Justinian a rash act might cause riots. In the end, however, I can only advise and then must carry out his orders. You are Anatolius’ friend, which means you are in the best position to prevent bloodshed. Convince him to surrender.”

John looked toward the font but could not see Anatolius, hidden behind the massed clergy. Some stared defiantly in their direction, others prayed.

None were armed.

“Why are you hesitating, Lord Chamberlain? Is your allegiance to your murderous friend stronger than your allegiance to the emperor?” Narses said.

“Don’t interfere, John,” Felix growled. “Anatolius has made his choice. I have made mine.”

“And your men?” Narses’ asked mildly, “What choice will they make when I directly order them to seize the criminal?”

“I will speak to Anatolius,” John said.

Those surrounding the font allowed him to pass. Anatolius was still sprawled uncomfortably on the steps leading down into the dry basin.

“Do you think I should just ask them to bring in the holy water?” Anatolius asked. “They could baptize me and then administer their death rituals. I’d be all set then to fly straight up into that heaven of theirs, where Justinian is sure to send me as soon as I leave here.”