Mary Reed: Nine for the Devil

She rushed downstairs. She could hardly see for the tears of joy blinding her.

What wonderful news she would have for the Lord Chamberlain when she let him in. She had forgotten their argument.

Blinking back tears, stifling sobs, she fumbled with the bolt and finally threw the door open.

The caller was not the Lord Chamberlain.

***

It was later that morning before Hypatia learned what had happened to John.

He gave her a hurried summary of his meeting with Justinian as they stood in the atrium.

His first question upon entering the house had been about Peter.

“He’s sitting up and having something to eat, master. Complaining I undercooked the eggs.”

John had braced himself for bad news. “He sounds like his old self,” was all he could think to say.

“He’s entirely himself. He really has recovered. It’s a miracle. Isn’t it wonderful?” Hypatia smiled. “His god has decided to grant us some time together, or so Peter says. And how can I not believe him?”

For Peter’s sake John accepted Hypatia’s tearful apologies for her outburst and reinstated her in the household. Hypatia worshiped the gods of Egypt as John knew. He wondered if Peter would seek to convert her to his own religious views. “I am happy for both of you, Hypatia.”

He and Hypatia had exchanged their news in a rush. There was no time to waste. No time for John to visit Peter.

He put his hand on the door and looked around the atrium, wondering if he would see it again, half expecting it to dissolve like a dream. He was enveloped by a sense of unreality. If he were to reach out his hand it might pass through the scene as it would pass through the reflections in the water in his impluvium, or perhaps come up against a hard, cold, mosaic.

He had experienced this sensation after his mutilation by the Persians. Surely, he had thought, it must be a nightmare. The world could not have changed so much, so abruptly and inexorably. But he had never awakened, and gradually he had stopped waiting.

“I’m leaving immediately for Zeno’s estate to find out what has become of Cornelia,” John told Hypatia.

“That won’t be necessary,” said a familiar voice.

He turned, startled. Cornelia came down the stairs. Her clothing was mud-spattered.

“I arrived back not long ago,” she said. “All that rain delayed us right from the start of the trip. The roads were flooded. We got stuck in mud, then a bridge had been washed out. It was my fault, ordering the driver to try a side road. We ended up in a ditch with a broken axle and had to stay at an inn waiting for the carriage to be fixed. By the time we got to Zeno’s estate a messenger had already been sent asking when I would arrive. I turned right around and came back immediately.”

She put her arms around John.

“I may as well not have bothered to go,” she said. “I was no help at all. Our grandson was being born as I arrived. He is named John.”

“You really should have stayed,” John said, holding her tightly.

“Europa and Thomas and John are doing well. I knew you would worry and I didn’t want you to be distracted from your investigation, and given I could get here as quickly as another messenger, well…” She kissed his cheek.

Over Cornelia’s shoulder, John saw Hypatia looking uncertain if she was free to go, trying to remain unobtrusive.

Cornelia put her head on John’s shoulder. “Why does it all need to be so complicated?”

John gave a thin smile and put his arm around her shoulders. “It doesn’t have to be, not any more. We have always talked about living in Greece. You can start to pack, Cornelia. I am free to leave the city at last. The emperor has relieved me of my position.”

Early morning sunlight poured into John’s study, warming him as he stood looking out the window, waiting for Cornelia to finish packing.

Today they were leaving for Greece, to be followed in due course by Thomas, Europa, and the infant John.

Turning, John smiled at the mosaic girl Zoe.

“Yes, Zoe, Peter and Hypatia will be with us too. They at least are constants in a time of great change,” he informed her.

He resumed pacing back and forth across the empty room, as he had been doing off and on since Cornelia had banished him while she was making the final preparations for departure.

“It will go faster if you aren’t looking over my shoulder,” she’d told him.

The house was even more bare than it had been. So John had gone to his study, where there was no longer a chair, and looked out the window and paced and talked to Zoe.

“A time of great change,” he repeated. “Not just Theodora’s death, though Mithra knows how that will affect the empire. Felix is still talking of converting to Christianity. And Anatolius is convinced he was saved from death because he took sanctuary in the Great Church and says he is thinking along the same lines.”

He gazed at the mosaic girl with whom he had spoken so often. “Gaius is gone and Isis is running a refuge. The world is certainly changing, Zoe.”

He resumed pacing.

“And speaking of Gaius, it’s strange Peter would believe he saw him climbing the heavenly ladder before anyone knew he was dead. Then there’s Peter’s holy oil. Did it really heal him as he believes? Gaius once claimed fate was just another competitor of his. I should have liked to have heard Gaius’ thoughts when he learned Alba, who swore by white food, choked to death on the black olives Gaius presented him.”

He took another turn around the sunlit room and continued. “I was not paying as close attention as I should have to what I heard during my investigation, Zoe. I overlooked more than one nudge in the right direction. Pulcheria pointing out the same jar can contain wine or poison, for example, and Gaius mentioning the same plants can be used for good or ill, to kill or cure. Then there was Antonina’s servant, who believed the goblet Theodora held in her mistress’ wall painting foretold the blessing of the ending of her agony.”

He paced back to the window and looked out across the palace grounds. Seagulls wheeled and squawked over treetops and the familiar tramp of military boots announced the departure of a company of excubitors.

“I shall miss you, Zoe. We have shared many confidences over the years.”

“And now it’s time to say goodbye, John,” Cornelia said from the doorway. “Everything is packed and loaded.” She came to him and put her arms around him. “It will be a new life and a better one, John. You no longer serve Justinian. You are free.”

They left the study. The thud of the house door closing quivered upstairs through the hot air. Cloud shadows briefly dimmed the sunlight pouring across the mosaic girl’s face, seeming to animate her features and creating a brief, sad smile on her glass lips.