Mary Reed - Ten for Dying

He chided himself for overreacting as he continued on through the wing of the house housing the private bath where he’d cleansed himself so assiduously.

The noise of hammering was louder in the back courtyard and he could hear workmen shouting to one another. He suspected laborers often chose to make excessive noise in the vicinity of wealthy abodes, a safe way to exact a small revenge on those born luckier than themselves. Felix surveyed the deserted courtyard. He’d apparently beaten his servants out of bed. They had been getting lazy recently. Probably they realized that the master, being strenuously occupied most of the night, would not be expected to make an appearance until late morning.

He was making a mental note to speak to them about being at work at the proper time when he noticed the man lying near the stables, face turned to the back wall.

The leper.

That was his first thought. The leper had crept in. Why hadn’t Nikomachos made certain the gate was secured? But as he forced himself to approach he saw the intruder wasn’t dressed in beggar’s rags. Far from it. The richly embroidered robes were those of a courtier.

Some aristocratic young carouser then, too intoxicated to get home, taking advantage of the first unlocked gate. Not that Felix hadn’t bedded down in similar circumstances.

He didn’t like being reminded of such follies-and not all of them youthful-so he gave the fellow a boot in the ribs. “Wake up, my friend. Time to let the devils in your head have their due.”

The body shifted like a sack of wheat and the head lolled over far enough for Felix to recognize the anonymous courier who regularly delivered illicit packages to the house. The broad ruddy face was bluish now, the mouth no longer wore a sneer. The bruises circling his neck made it obvious he’d been strangled.

“Mithra!”

Felix’s first thought was to regret that John was somewhere at sea now and unreachable. As a military man Felix was expert at creating corpses, not in handling ones that turned up unexpectedly. What about their mutual friend Anatolius, the lawyer? Lawyers were always dealing with inconvenient unpleasantries. True, he and the younger man had had their differences.

He stood there unable to move as if the corpse had grasped his ankle. He tried to calm himself down. What did the captain of the excubitors have to fear from the discovery of yet another murder in the city? He might well fear for his life if it was the captain himself who found the body of a smuggler in his own courtyard, particularly if the captain was working with smugglers and one of the most valuable relics in the empire was involved.

He commanded the excubitors, but not Justinian’s spies.

Felix gave the body another kick, freeing his leg from an invisible grip. “Bastard! Why didn’t I find out who you were?”

He could hear horses moving around uneasily in the stable. Was that a voice from the house? He looked around in a sudden panic. The courtyard remained deserted. But for how long? Nikomachos or one of the other servants was liable to appear any moment. Then what?

He had to get the body off his property.

Oddly, the gate was still bolted but there was no time to ponder that. Felix glanced up and down the narrow passage. To his horror two armed men came round the corner where the alley met the street.

The urban watch!

A routine patrol?

He couldn’t take the chance. He slammed the gate shut and ran back to the corpse. He could drag it into the stable for concealment.

No, too accessible.

He grabbed at the corpse’s garments, stiff with embroidery and jewels, and tugged. The courier had not been a small man. The body barely moved.

Cursing silently Felix managed to get the carcass over his shoulder. It was a skill he’d learned as a young man on the days after battles. Then he had been too glad to be among the survivors to feel the revulsion he now experienced as he staggered toward the house, the dead man’s soft leather boots dangling against his thighs, limp hands flopping at his back.

He managed to reach the back hallway and leaned against the wall, catching his breath. His burden weighed as much as he did. It was as if he was carting a side of beef. He had no notion what to do next and he could clearly hear Nikomachos giving orders to the cook in the nearby kitchen.

The bath.

He forced himself a few painful steps further down the hallway and pushed the door open, keeping his load precariously in place. He felt the burden start to slither off his shoulder. Then the dead man’s hair became tangled in the door latch.

“Mithra!” Felix muttered yet again. He twisted awkwardly and forced himself to tear the longish brown strands loose, animating the lifeless head, making it bob up and down as he tugged at its hair.

Finally the hair came away and the head lolled backwards.

By now Felix was half carrying the corpse in his arms. The glazed eyes stared at him. Just when he began to lower the body, the purpling lips emitted a last hideous sigh.

He let go and the corpse fell and slid down the three steps leading into the water. Felix was certain the splash was audible in the inner sanctums of the Great Palace. Wiping water from his face, he exited the chamber and rushed back to the bedroom.

Anastasia sat up in bed as Felix raced into the room.

“What is it?” Her words were almost drowned by a thunderous knocking on the house door.

“Urban watch! And there’s a dead man in the bath,” Felix gasped. “Stay here. I’ll get rid of them. We’ll worry about the body later.”

He raced out of the room and ran along the passage into the atrium where Nikomachos was arguing with a pair of the urban watch. Felix was certain they were not the same men he had glimpsed coming down the alley. Which meant there were guards at both the back and front.

He didn’t like the implication.

Nikomachos blocked their path, gesticulating violently with his one arm. The two visitors, who were youthful and pink-faced, looked taken aback by the spectacle.

“What is it?” Felix snarled. “Why did you wake me up at this hour?”

The one apparently in command turned a startled face toward Felix. The skin which appeared pink from a distance was, up close, a mass of red blotches. The result of youth, not leprosy. “We…we have orders to search this house…sir.”

“Search my house? Hasn’t anyone explained to you boys that I am captain of Justinian’s excubitors? What possible reason can there be to search?”

The blotchy guard licked his lips and stammered. “Trouble has been reported.”

“Trouble? Do I look as if I need a pair of fools wet behind the ears to deal with trouble in my own house?”

It was probably not the best choice of words since Felix himself was still literally wet behind the ears from the bath water into which he’d dropped the body.

The guard banged the butt of his spear on the tiles. “Stand aside, sir. We must follow orders.”

Nikomachos stepped over to Felix’s side. “If I may speak to my master in private-”

The point of the spear immediately prodded his chest.

“No, you may not! Get back to your quarters.” Blotches evidently found it easier to order a servant about than an excubitor captain. But just as obviously he intended to carry out his mission. He addressed Felix, his voice firmer than before. “The orders of the City Prefect take precedence in this situation, sir.”

Nikomachos made a slow exit while Felix desperately tried to think of a way out of his dilemma. What would happen when they discovered the corpse? Was that what they were looking for? Or was it the stolen relic? Or hadn’t they been given any hint of what they were supposed to find?