Mary Reed - Ten for Dying

Sunset had bloodied the sky. Darkness, assassin of daylight, had fallen upon the city’s cross-decorated roofs sheltering commoner and courtier alike. The dome of the Great Church spilled a radiant halo of light. The fires of furnaces in the copper smiths’ quarter were banked down. Ill-lit narrow streets filled with humanity hurrying back to their homes. In darker areas under porticoes and in the angles of church walls the homeless settled down for another restless night. In the houses of the rich, guests began to arrive to pick at exotic dishes, over-indulge in wine, and complain about the state of the empire. The pious worshipped while the profane gathered in smoke-stained taverns, drank, and wagered on knucklebones.

Felix strolled toward the stable. It seemed unlikely now that Anastasia would appear and there had been no message to say what had detained her. Perhaps he should do his duty and consider the best way to continue his investigation into the theft of the holy shroud.

What did he have to go on? The witnesses claimed it had been stolen by two demons who in some fashion had worked evil magick incapacitating those within the church.

He could hear the horses moving about in their stalls and the skittering of a rat through straw. Laughter emerged from the servants’ quarters at the rear of the house. The humid air lay unpleasantly against his skin, heavy with the odor of horses and the sour tang of garbage in the alley beyond the back gate.

A dark figure looked in through the bars of the gate.

Had the messenger Felix was anticipating with dread arrived so soon? Usually he called in the middle of the night.

Why was he skulking around the back, drawing attention to the house, rather than entering boldly by the front like any casual visitor?

Felix walked to the gate. As he approached, the figure whirled around and ran.

Someone was afraid of being caught!

In his haste Felix fumbled with the bolt. By the time he stepped into the alley the man was vanishing into the darkness.

Felix sprinted in pursuit. The winged feet of panic could only partly make up for lack of visits to the gymnasium. Luckily his prey ran like an injured crab, lurching wildly from side to side. He was small, perhaps only a child.

Puffing and wheezing, Felix caught the intruder at the mouth of the alley. He grabbed a wrist resembling a fleshless bone and yanked hard. The emaciated figure fell on its back with a gurgling whimper that barely sounded human. A torch in front of a closed shop across the way illuminated the end of the alley.

Felix could make out a hunched, hooded form.

The thing wriggled and gasped, a fish flopping on the dock.

Felix shook his prey fiercely. The hood fell back and Felix looked into a grotesque demonic face.

No. Not demonic

Worse!

He dropped the thing’s arm.

“Please, master. I meant no harm,” the monstrosity gurgled at him. “A bit of food for the love of Christ was all I wanted…”

The face before him was covered with lesions.

Felix backed away in horror.

He had just manhandled a leper.

***

Felix was still soaking when Anastasia came flying into the bath chamber without warning. She appeared agitated.

“Felix…” She faltered, then stopped.

He pushed stray wet hair back off his forehead and ran a hand through his dripping beard. “Has your husband become suspicious?”

“What? What husband? Certainly not. What makes you say such a thing?”

“Considering the disasters that have been seeking me out, it seemed a reasonable guess. What’s scared you so badly?”

“Is it obvious?”

It was. Her face looked paler than usual despite the stifling heat in the cramped, circular room. Steam swirled up from the water in the basin that occupied most of the space. The fine silks Anastasia wore were already wilting.

“You wouldn’t have burst in here unless there was something wrong. What is it?”

“I saw a demon as I was approaching the house. A dreadful, twisted thing, loping through the shadows under the colonnade. I got into the house as fast as I could.”

“The city seems to be infested with demons. Everyone’s seeing them.”

“It’s true. They’re skulking about everywhere. The servants spotted them!”

“My servants?”

“No. Servants at the…palace…where I’ve been all day.”

Felix let his head fall back against the edge of the basin and stared up into the foggy cloud gathered in the small dome overhead. “I can assure you that what you saw wasn’t any sort of evil spirit. I encountered the creature myself earlier tonight. It was a leper.”

“A leper!” Anastasia gasped. “How do you know?”

“By its disfigured face. Claimed to be looking for something to eat, but how often do honest beggars creep around in dark alleyways? No, they go to the house door and ask for charity and refuse to leave until they get it or the urban watch happens to go by on patrol. Then they scuttle off fast enough.”

He heaved himself out of the water. “I’ll make sure he’s removed from the city tomorrow if he’s still around.”

Anastasia had her hands up to her face as if suppressing a scream.

“Don’t worry, my little dove. I’ve had the garments I was wearing burnt and I’ve been scrubbing myself raw. You need not fear being close to me.” He tried to smile.

He thought it best not to mention he had actually touched the leper, particularly since he was trying to forget that himself.

John stood an arm’s length from the rail at the stern of the Leviathan , his back to the captain’s cabin, and watched sunrise over the Marmara.

As sky and sea lightened, clustered sails replaced twinkling constellations of shipboard lights. Vessels beyond counting streamed toward and away from Constantinople, now vanished into the distance. Long warships, oars churning the flashing water in mechanical unison, arrowed past ponderous merchants and flocks of smaller boats. The decrepit coastal trader carrying John and his companions groaned and complained, an old mariner trying to get out of bed.

The Leviathan was due to follow the Thracian coast of the Sea of Marmara, through the Hellespont strait southwest to the Aegean, calling at local ports. It would reach John’s destination, Megara, near Athens and not far from where he had attended Plato’s Academy, when the vagaries of commerce decreed. Not an ideal mode of travel but the best available given Justinian’s impatience.

The ship had made two stops during the first day of sailing and then anchored for the night at the mouth of a tiny noisome bay where ancient walls had collapsed into the scummy water. John reckoned they had not traveled as far as he could have ridden.

Cornelia brushed by him to lean out over the rail.

“Be careful,” he told her. He feared deep water. Long ago he had seen a colleague drown.

“How long have you been on deck, John?” Annoyed, she spoke without turning around. “Waking up alone gave me a start.”

“I meant to be back before you were up but my mind wandered.”

Also, he had not been able to descend again into the cramped cubicle the two well-paying passengers had been granted, away from crates and amphorae and the bunks of the crew where Peter and Hypatia had been relegated, so terribly near to that eternal night of the sea depths.

“You must stop fretting about Felix,” Cornelia said sternly. “I’m sure he can take care of himself. How could he possibly get into trouble over the theft of a relic?”

“Perhaps you are right,” John admitted.

Cornelia peered into the mist shrouding the shore. “Will we be able to catch a glimpse of Zeno’s estate?”