“What a shame,” Felix remarked.
“Yes, confirming that a man’s dead isn’t physician’s work. Not usually. Now, just the other day, there were those two faction members who survived hanging. You wouldn’t think a physician would be needed to certify that a man who’s been hung is dead, would you? But when you’ve lived as long as me you see a lot of strange things.”
“Are you referring to the Blue and the Green who were rescued and taken to Saint Laurentius?”
“That’s right. Now there was something I had never seen before although I have a large charioteering clientele who are always injuring themselves, keeping me busy setting dislocated shoulders and limbs broken in collisions or when the men are dragged by their horses halfway round the track before they can cut the reins, spectators crushed in the stands, that sort of injury.”
“You mean the condemned men were charioteers?”
“One of them was a team patron. And the strangest aspect of the affair is that I knew him.”
“Which one?” John asked quickly.
“The Green. Fellow named Hippolytus. He consulted me about a little problem he had with his waterworks. He had a lot bigger problem with the other end once the hangman got hold of him! I’m surprised Pompeius didn’t tell you all about it. I went straight from the execution to his house. Pompeius is a regular patient mostly because he keeps half the wine merchants in the city solvent single-handed. He had over-indulged the night before and there I was, trying to tell him about the executions, and all he could do was groan and order his servants to bring him more wine. Why, the tale I was telling would have gathered me invitations to dine for weeks!”
John thought again of how Porphyrius had denied knowing the identities of either of the men who had survived their hangings. If even Rusticus knew-especially if the loose lipped physician knew-what were the chances Porphyrius didn’t? “Did you know Hippolytus well?” John asked.
“Not at all. I only saw him once, recently, which is why I remembered. I think one of the charioteers I treat sent him to me. He seemed well acquainted with racing. We didn’t talk for long. I gave him a remedy and sent him away. I had no remedy for what ailed him the next time I saw him. There’s no cure for the condemnation of the emperor.”
“Perhaps the botched hanging was intended as a cure,” put in Felix.
“It’s true he was not properly hung. But things were getting chaotic. The spectators were pressing in and making threats. Even the guards were frightened. The hangman was in a panic so far as I could tell. He probably wasn’t thinking clearly and didn’t adjust the ropes properly. There’s no excuse for that. It could have resulted in a very cruel death.”
It wasn’t surprising that Kosmas had not mentioned making such an error, John thought. If, indeed, he had been responsible. The Urban Prefect Eudaemon hadn’t mentioned any unruliness amongst the spectators either. It was possible his guards had tried to protect themselves by not reporting their failure to keep the crowd in check. Or Eudaemon had said nothing in order to protect himself. His men had already failed to protect the two at Saint Laurentius. It would have been understandable if he had not wanted to admit to yet another fiasco.
John turned his thoughts back to Haik. “But as for my friend, is there anything else you can tell me, that might be helpful in finding out who did this?”
The physician glanced at the covered form on the bed. “I fear not. And nothing to be done for him. Considering the horses are out of the barn, and jumped the fences, and vanished into the woods, and died of old age, there’s no point in locking the stable door, is there? Whoever is responsible is long gone.”
“My guards were stationed at every door,” Felix said, his voice rising. “I was at the front entrance myself. No one could have got by us.”
“Guards can fall sleep, or neglect their duties,” John said.
“I picked these men myself, John. I know them. I trust them. Can you say the same of all the servants living in this house?”
“You have a point, my friend. But I see no reason why any of my servants would want to kill a complete stranger.”
“Maybe he made unwanted advances to one of the women. Who knows. I only know that your house has been well guarded.”
Felix was speaking too loudly. John thought he probably realized it could as easily been one of his aristocratic charges who was killed. And, besides, if someone could get into the house to murder Haik, he could return.
It was possible one of Hypatius’ family had been the real target. It was too obvious to need saying.
Chapter Twenty-Four
How are we going to endure staying here, knowing a man’s been murdered down the hall?” Pompeius selected an olive from the plate on the dining room table and popped it into his mouth. The corpulent man was as sober as John had seen him. Possibly the shock of Haik’s death had temporarily cleared his mind.
Hypatius sat across the table, warily eyeing the assortment of snacks but not sampling any. “You’re a fool to eat any of that, brother. How do you know it isn’t poisoned?”
Pompeius spat an olive pit onto the floor. “I’ll find out soon enough. If it’s poisoned my troubles will finally be over.”
“Someone must be after us.” Hypatius’ voice quavered with alarm. “Why would anyone creep into this house to murder a business traveler from Syria? We need more guards. Different guards. I don’t trust that big, bearded German.”
“I can vouch for him,” John said. “He told me he chose the guards himself. Men he knows and trusts. He’s questioned them all separately and compared their stories. There’s no indication any of them left their posts or have any secret connections with anyone who might have wished to do Haik, or your family, harm.”
“Silentiaries are what we need. Men better known to the emperor,” Hypatius insisted.
“Maybe it’s Justinian who wants the relatives of Anastasius out of his way,” muttered Pompeius.
“Haik showed signs of poisoning but there’s no evidence of the poison,” John said. “The wine jug in his room was empty and there was no food. It could have been administered anywhere.”
“It’s true not all poisons take effect immediately.” Hypatius directed a meaningful look toward Pompeius. “How well do you know your servants? Have you questioned them?”
John’s mouth narrowed into a thin line before he spoke. “If I could find them I would. They’ve left.”
“Left? Every one of them?”
“They all came in a rush when Haik was dying,” John said. “They must have talked it over and realized they would all be under suspicion.”
“That’s clear evidence of guilt,” said Hypatius.
“Not necessarily. How could they all be guilty? With the city in chaos it’s a perfect time for slaves to slip away to freedom. I can’t say I blame them.”
“They must be apprehended. Brought back and questioned.”
“And who is available to do that? I doubt the servants were involved. The fact remains that no one was allowed in or out of the house.”
“Until the servants fled,” pointed out Hypatius.
“Yes,” John admitted. “They got out while the guards were searching the house for a possible assailant. But that’s done with. I have to base my inquiries on the resources I have available. Which, at present, is the two of you. Did either of you know Haik previously?”
“Not at all. Why would we?” Hypatius replied.
“You spent time in the Antioch area, didn’t you? Haik was a mercenary there. Now he owns an estate.”
“I was commanding the forces in the east! I didn’t mingle with common fighters and petty landowners!”
“Yet the last word Haik uttered was your name. Dying men do not usually mention people they’ve never met with their final breath.”
“My brother is a very popular fellow,” put in Pompeius. “Emperors seek out his services. Mobs revere him. Dying men call out his name.”