Mary Reed: Two for Joy

“My apologies, captain,” he said quickly, “but these men are under my command and like you I am under the command of the Master of the Offices. Our orders are to arrest the Lord Chamberlain, believed to be in this house.”

“Some of you won’t live to see him arrested,” Isis promised grimly, raising the sword she was clutching in both hands. Its weight caused her arms to tremble with the effort.

“Don’t be foolish, Isis,” Felix admonished her. “You couldn’t manage to inflict a scratch on any of these men, even by accident.” He turned his attention back to the matter at hand. “Carry out your orders, then. But be certain you do so without damage to the house.”

The search was swiftly concluded, despite the size of the building. The servants’ quarters on the third floor, the second floor’s bedrooms, kitchen and study and the first floor storerooms, unused dining room and offices, even the garden they surrounded, yielded no-one else apart from an irate Hypatia.

“It seems your informant was incorrect,” Felix remarked sharply at the conclusion of the search. He had remained leaning on the wall at the top of the stairs, unable to step down any further. Peter had sat down on the bottom step, temporarily as incapable of climbing up as Felix was of walking down. The two of them were, Felix thought with grim amusement, pitiful excuses for fighting men.

“It seems the Lord Chamberlain has escaped this time, but the authorities are aware of his return and the streets are being searched,” the younger captain remarked before he and his men left. “He will not get very far.”

Some distance away, another armed detachment had almost reached its destination, although not swiftly enough for Hektor.

“Hurry up,” he urged them shrilly, “or he’ll escape. You hobble along like old women!”

Varus, who commanded this group of excubitors, glanced down at the boy loping along beside him, taking two quick steps for every stride taken by the marching soldiers. The man’s eyes narrowed. “You may be a favorite of the Master of the Offices, child, but you do not give me orders!”

“And who was it told the Master of the Offices that the Lord Chamberlain would be found at the senate house?” the boy sneered back.

Passersby stopped to gape, perhaps wondering what poor unfortunate was about to be struck down by the emperor’s lightning. Clearly these were men intent on extremely urgent imperial business, notwithstanding the garishly clothed creature flapping along beside them like some strange, exotic bird.

“What makes you think the Lord Chamberlain would be foolish enough to allow himself to be seen there?” Varus asked in return, intrigued despite himself.

“I caught him there once, plotting with that treacherous Senator Balbinus.” Hektor’s red-painted lips formed a knowing smile. “Who else can the eunuch go to for help now that he’s a hunted man? I watch and I listen. I know things. He’ll be there.”

They emerged into the Forum Constantine. The throng already gathered there drifted out of their path. The power of the emperor was something the general populace preferred to appreciate from a distance.

Despite his protestations at their slow pace, Hektor was beginning to grow breathless keeping up. His flushed face prickled uncomfortably under its layer of chalk. A few men stood by the door to the senate house, but he did not recognize John or Balbinus. Perhaps that was just as well, he thought. Yes, they could be confronted inside and then arrested in full view of all the senators. How humiliating that would be! And as for what would befall the pair once they were imprisoned…

Hektor was so engrossed contemplating this pleasing prospect that he almost overlooked the figure emerging from the senate house.

Lucretia? Senator Balbinus’ wife?

He had no time to speculate on why the woman would have come here. He’d spotted John.

Hektor yanked at Varus’ arm. “There he is, skulking by the colonnade, look, will you? The one next to the senate house!”

Varus ordered his company to halt and his hard gaze raked the spot Hektor indicated.

“Are you blind?” the boy shrieked. “He’s slouched down behind that group of Blues, trying to hide! You fool, now you’ve let him see you! He’s getting away!”

Varus pulled his arm roughly from Hektor’s grasp and shouted an order. The excubitors broke into a run. Slow or not, they crossed the expanse of the forum faster than Hektor. By the time the boy ducked into the columned arcade they were already half way down it, gaining rapidly on the fugitive.

Many of the merchants whose shops lined the back wall stepped outside to stare after the chase. Hektor had to fight his way through them. Even as he fell further behind he could see that the excubitors had nearly caught up with their quarry. But as that jubilant thought crossed Hektor’s mind, the prey suddenly darted to one side, as if to seek refuge in one of the shops. Instead, an amphora smashed on the colonnade’s marble floor, closely followed by the leading excubitor who crashed down, cursing, sliding in a pool of olive oil that was almost instantly suffused with a light rose tint. His bared sword had slashed open his leg.

And the Lord Chamberlain had vanished.

Hektor was first to understand.

A second row of shops sat directly above the first.

Hektor turned and ran back. Reaching the foot of the steep, wide stairway that allowed access to the upper row of businesses, he raced up, panting, his lungs burning. Echoing shouts from below announced that the excubitors had also discerned their quarry’s intent to escape by taking one of the staircases to the second story and doubling back above them.

As Hektor reached the top of the stairway, the hunted figure burst into view and turned, as if to run down the steps. Hektor leapt forward, unbalancing his prey and dragging it down to its knees.

He would kill the eunuch himself!

The sharp pain of wrenched muscles exploded in his shoulder as his intended victim jerked away from his grasp.

Hektor tore a bejeweled dagger from his belt and swung it wildly, shrieking curses. The blade met brief resistance and then penetrated deeply, sinking into yielding flesh as sweetly as cutting open an aromatic melon on a warm summer night.

Hands fastened about the boy’s throat. He tried to roll away from their grasp, dimly aware of fast approaching footsteps and shouting. Suddenly, shockingly, he was staring into a face.

A demon’s face!

A dead, milky orb glared at him from a pool of melted flesh.

Terror gave Hektor enough strength to break the grasp of the hands on his throat.

Then he was cowering against the stairway wall as an excubitor helped the demon to its feet.

It wasn’t a demon, Hektor realized, just some miserable beggar woman with one side of her face burnt away. He wished desperately that he had managed to kill her, but although she was weeping and clutching her bleeding shoulder she did not seem to be too badly hurt.

Before Varus could say anything, Hektor scrambled up and demanded of the woman what she was doing wearing the Lord Chamberlain’s cloak.

“Good sirs, I came by it honestly,” the woman protested, pulling her head covering back over the disfigured half of her face. “It was lent to me by a friend. He found it lying in the street.”

“Lying might indeed be the right word,” Varus replied curtly, “but I don’t care if it was stolen or not, since we’re not here to do the Prefect’s job. Go and get a poultice put on that wound.”

The woman wordlessly vanished down the steps.

Varus picked up Hektor’s dagger. The decorative weapon looked absurdly small in his big callused hand. He held it out to the boy, laughing.