The Medieval Murderers - The Deadliest Sin

His angry diatribe was suddenly cut short by an alarming gurgling sound from his gut, and deep groan that turned into a belch on his lips. He shifted in his seat, and called out for Baia.

‘Wife. For God’s sake, bring me the rhubarb powder at once.’

He winced as he turned in his seat towards me. I knew this, for his foetid breath was suddenly in my ear, and he spoke in low tones. I could hear that his voice was strained.

‘You must not say anything of this to anyone, especially not to that old gossip Theokrastos, Falconer. And now I must ask you to leave, as I am unwell.’

‘Yes, of course. But you should not act until I have checked on the activities of the Florentines and Venetians first.’

Panaretos was in no mood to argue.

‘Yes, yes, yes. Do as you see fit.’

He turned away, and I was no longer drowning in his bad breath. He called out for Baia again.

‘Woman, where are you?’

Baia hurried into the room in a cloud of scent. She clearly had the medicinal preparation with her, for she explained why she was delayed.

‘I have mixed the rhubarb root with some dried figs in order to make it more palatable. Here, let me help you.’

Panaretos was obviously by now in agony, but was not prepared to accept the embarrassment of being ill in the presence of guests, and of having to be assisted to eat.

‘Damn you, woman. Just give the bowl here.’

Philip and I hurried discreetly from Panaretos’ inner sanctum, leaving Baia with her thankless task. As we walked home, arm in arm, I spoke to Philip.

‘It is a shame we did not get a chance to talk to Mistress Panaretos.’

‘Why is that, master?’ Philip sounded puzzled.

‘I should like to have known if there had been any other threats against her husband’s life, or unusual occurrences in the last few weeks. I think Panaretos is reticent about telling me anything more, and even regrets recruiting me to find out about the written threat.’

‘But why should he do so?’

‘Because he is becoming sensitive about his position in Trebizond, and how he appears to foreigners. Perhaps if he appears weak to the Emperor, his position will be in jeopardy. His present malady was also an embarrassment to him.’

Philip’s next comment was censorious in the extreme, coming no doubt from his austere upbringing as a monk.

‘Then he should pay more attention to how much he eats. Even in the few months we have known him, I can assure you he has got fatter and fatter. Now he reaps the reward of his gluttony.’

Thinking of the mistress of the house, and her desire to please her glutton of a husband, I had an idea about how I might gather information about any possible further threats on Panaretos’ life.

‘Philip.’

‘Yes, master.’

‘Do you think that, when you shop tomorrow, that Mistress Baia might be shopping, too?’

Philip’s response was all too quick, and betrayed something of his feelings for Panaretos’ wife.

‘Oh, yes, sir. She is always in the square. I often…’

The young monk paused, realising what he was admitting to. And I was certain that he was beginning to blush to the tips of his ears. He was cautious in his next enquiry.

‘Why do you ask?’

‘Because I want you to ask her if there have been any other threats since the parchment was sent.’

The relief in his voice was evident, and he must have been glad that his revelation had not resulted in my censuring him.

‘Ah, yes, master. I am sure I can do that.’

I bet you can, I thought, imagining it was a perfect opportunity for the love-struck young monk to engage the Circassian beauty in conversation with good purpose. But that was for tomorrow. For now, I was glad of a brisk walk to work off the excessive amount of good food that I had consumed.

The next morning, Philip was eager to carry out his task, and rushed me off to the Emperor’s library as soon as we had broken our fast. Once seated in the marble hall, I could tell he was champing at the bit. So I arranged for Theokrastos to read to me instead of Philip.

‘Go, Philip, and use your wiles on the lady.’

He coughed nervously at my words, and hurried out, his sandalled feet slapping on the floor. Theokrastos laughed quietly.

‘Did you know that his ears get quite red when he is embarrassed?’

‘Indeed I do. It has been observed by others. Now, what do you have for me?’

The librarian settled in his seat, and I heard him opening a heavy tome. I could even smell the dust of lack of use rising from it. I sneezed.

‘This is the treatise of Cyril, Bishop of Alexandria, entitled Against the Blasphemies of Nestorius . It is in five books.’

I sighed, thinking of Sauma, the Nestorian monk in far-off Cathay, who had given me an introduction to Theokrastos. His heretical form of Christianity was about to be ripped apart, and I was about to be bored stiff. I leaned back, and closed my sightless eyes.

Philip took an inordinate amount of time shopping, and I became a little annoyed that he left me so long with the monotonous voice of Theokrastos. In the end, I suggested that the librarian might like to wet his throat after such exertions. He took the hint, and brought us both some very nice sweet wine from the island of Kition, sometimes known as Alashiya or Cyprus. The wine must have loosened his tongue somewhat for I learned a few things about Trebizond that I didn’t know before. And some interesting news about the matter I was investigating.

Eventually, Philip did return full of apologies. As he spluttered his tale of woe, Theokrastos whispered in my ear, ‘His ears are bright red. In fact, they are as red as the wine we have been drinking.’

I brushed aside the young monk’s apologies, and thanked Theokrastos for his hospitality.

‘Come, Philip, we must leave George to his duties, and return home.’

As we left the library, Philip began to tell me what he had learned. As he guided me through the crowds that thronged the narrow streets of the lower town, he explained.

‘Mistress Baia was most co-operative, master, and even invited us to eat with Panaretos tonight. But I fear she did not have much to tell concerning the campaign of intimidation against her husband. She said that the letter we have already seen was the only threat that her husband had received.’

I frowned, and wondered what this meant in the light of what Theokrastos had told me. Philip’s news, from the lips of Lady Baia, needed some consideration. In the meantime, I needed him to accompany me to the warehouses of our various suspects to enquire more closely into the pressures they were being put under by their employers. Even with hundreds of miles separating Belzoni, Ricci and Finati from their home cities, and letters taking months to travel between them, they must still have felt the heavy breath of their employers on their neck. Each trader would have been sent on the long journey to Trebizond with orders to achieve certain goals, and to return without reaching them could prove disastrous. A good reason to employ threats as well as cajolements.

I didn’t want to play my hand with the Genoan, Finati, too soon, so I decided to drop in unannounced on Alessandro Ricci first. With Philip leading me along the unfamiliar streets that dropped down from the top of the lower town to the harbour, I began to smell the odour of fish. It got stronger and stronger, until we must have been close to the quayside. I told Philip what to look out for.

‘The Venetians’ warehouse will be painted with the sign of the Lion of St Mark. You will not be able to miss it – it rather fancifully has wings.’

‘I know it, sir. It was a familiar sight in Byzantium. If you recall, it was I suggested we seek it out when we arrived in Trebizond.’