Mary Reed - Eight for Eternity

It was all speculation and would remain so now.

The party reached the next terrace, another step down toward exile. Behind them loomed a high masonry wall, overhung with greenery and lined at its base with trees and shrubbery. The gardens narrowed here and before long they could see the waist high parapet marking the edge of the terrace.

The path to the stairway led through an arbor surrounded by ornamental bushes and shrouded by thick ropes of leafless vines.

As they passed into the semi-shadow John thought he heard a rustling sound. He turned his head. There was no one following them aside from the trailing guard.

He heard a sort of crunch nearby. John peered over the shoulders of the imperial couple. The path ahead was as clear as that behind.

A tiny bit of bark drifted down onto his sleeve. John looked up. The thickly entwined vines overhead were trembling almost imperceptibly.

Someone was moving stealthily along the top of the arbor.

Justinian and Theodora had reached the end of the arbor.

There was no time for a warning. John sprang forward, past the imperial couple, and as he did so, the toe of a boot appeared at the edge of roof. John leapt, caught the intruder’s foot, and brought him crashing to the ground.

The intruder rolled and sprang to his feet. John saw a dark, hunched creature in rags. The demon he had pursued along the spina in the Hippodrome.

“I crave an audience!” cried the demon.

John drew his blade. Justinian laughed and waved him and the guards back. “How could I refuse such an ingenious petitioner?” He smiled at his unexpected visitor. “Speak before you are put to death.”

The demon took a few lurching steps. The rags it wore appeared to be half burnt and ashes speckled its wild hair. It carried with it the sharp odor of smoke. “I have already conquered death and I shall do so again, and therefore I have no fear of dying! But you, my emperor, I see have a great fear of death. Surely you realize that wherever you go, no matter how far across the seas, you will find death waiting.”

“True enough, but your death is much closer at hand. Why do you desire an audience?”

“To tell you how you may be saved.”

An expression of interest crossed Justinian’s face. “Are you here on behalf of your fellow rioters?”

“I bring a message from heaven.”

Theodora laughed contemptuously. “From heaven? You’re the first angel I’ve ever encountered who smells like he’s been smoldering in hell!”

“Not so!” responded the visitor. “For I have seen demons roaming the streets of Constantinople! They are leading loyal subjects astray, whispering lies about our rulers! Encouraging them to kill the old and crown the new!”

John thought it strange that such a demonic creature should be speaking against demons. Yet, peering closely, he could almost make out the features of the young man the thing had once been.

The creature turned its bloodshot gaze to Justinian. “Peace will return, excellency, but to achieve that you must banish the demons.”

“Do you mean by magick?” Theodora asked with obvious interest.

“Not just common magick. Magick far more powerful!” The creature reached into the tattered fabric at its chest and drew out a length of splintered wood with a ribbon dangling from it. “This is a piece of the True Cross! What miracles can be wrought with such a relic! It will banish evil and heal the sick and raise the dead! Am I not a living example?”

Justinian regarded him with an even gaze. “You say you’ve been dead?”

“Oh yes. I was foully murdered. But in heaven we forgive our enemies, so I bring you this….” The creature bent, laid the splintered piece of wood at Justinian’s red boots, and backed slowly away.

Justinian gestured to John to pick up the object. It was cylindrical, with a piece of shredded ribbon from which hung an embossed lead disk.

“A broken spoke from a wheel, probably a chariot wheel,” John said, turning the object around. “And there’s an imperial seal attached to it.”

Theodora leaned over to examine the seal. “Anastasius!” she cried. “It’s one of Anastasius’ seals!” She glared at the ragged creature now slowly creeping backwards. “You’re from the conspirators! You’re one of the traitors!”

Justinian had taken the peculiar talisman from John and was regarding it pensively. “The Lord is free to send whatever sort of messenger he wants. What could be more persuasive than a message authenticated with an imperial seal? In simpler times a burning bush might have sufficed. It may be this is what a miracle looks like in our present age. A spoke from a wheel…or perhaps a piece of the True Cross? Is not our empire being crucified on a cross made by the racing factions? Clearly, the Lord has spoken. We shall stay. Victory will not be given to the mob. It will be ours!”

A hoarse cry drew John’s attention back to the tattered messenger. “His will is done,” the creature shouted.

He scuttled to the parapet at the edge of the terrace. “Now I may fly back whence I came.”

He spread his arms wide and flung himself into space.

***

Rusticus lifted his head to look up from the crumpled body half buried in the thorn bush at the base of the terrace wall. “He’s dead,” he announced, remarking to John in an undertone “but then that’s obvious, isn’t it?”

Justinian had ordered John to send for Rusticus. Was it simply one of the emperor’s strange humors? Did he expect the dead man to rise again? Or was it more a case of wanting reassurance he would not?

Now Justinian’s face was as unreadable as his image stamped into the gold face of a coin. Was he reconsidering his decision to remain in the city, John wondered?

“Apparently our sooty angel was deluded,” Theodora remarked. “He didn’t have wings after all.”

Rusticus turned his attention back to the corpse and pointed out two grooves in the neck. “It looks as if he was half strangled, doesn’t it? In a way he was as I happen to know he was hung.”

“It’s Hippolytus, isn’t it?” John asked.

Rusticus got to his feet with a grunt. “Yes. The Green I saw who was supposed to be executed. He’s finished the job himself.”

“Caesar,” John addressed the emperor. “The fact that this man was alive all the time we considered him dead solves the mystery. Hippolytus was the murderer. He strangled the other condemned man from the rival faction, while they were imprisoned at Saint Laurentius. There was never any plot to kill those two. The opposition is not as organized as-”

Justinian interrupted. “Yes. I see that. Explain later. There isn’t time now. We will return to the palace at once.”

The noise from the Hippodrome was different this time. Before, heard from the palace grounds, it had been a roar, the voice of the city, inarticulate and monstrous. Now it was a wail, the death cry of some incredible beast.

When John reached his house Felix was standing outside and it was clear from his grim expression that he also was listening to the dreadful sound.

“I’ve just come from Justinian,” John said. “He’s ordered Belisarius and Mundus to the Hippodrome to confront the mob.”

“I wish I were out in that battle. They were fools to assemble in one place. So much easier to kill the lot.”

“It isn’t a battle. That’s the sound of a slaughter,” John said. “Have you seen Julianna? She was supposed to come here for her belongings.”

“She isn’t here.” Felix did not have to add what he feared, that she had gone out into the city again and been caught in the bloodshed.

“It occurred to me that Julianna might be able to talk her father into ordering the rioters to make peace with Justinian. Perhaps she had the same thought.”