“Can’t you at least try to stop drinking?” Hypatius shouted. “The city’s going up in flames. Justinian thinks we’re spies. Someone’s quite possibly trying to murder us. It might help if you could think straight.”
Pompeius shrugged and filled his cup. “I don’t see how.” He took a long gulp and then turned to John. “But it seems a strange coincidence you should mention Porphyrius. He spent years in the east, in Antioch, and not just racing chariots either. Twenty-five years ago he led an attack on the synagogue there. Plundered and set fire to it, massacred every Jew he could lay hands on. Then in a final insult he set up a cross on the ruins. A fine man, is Porphyrius. Just the man to stir up trouble, too.”
Chapter Twenty-Five
January 15, 532
Felix picked Eros up by his gilded wings and shook him.
“Don’t kill me,” screeched the costumed boy. “I’ll tell you how to get to Antonina’s apartments.”
Felix dropped the little godlet. One of the wings crunched against the tiled floor. A cloud of powder shaken off the boy’s clothing and face hung in the corridor.
Felix struggled not to cough.
The boy scrambled to his knees, the broken wing dangling pathetically from his narrow back. He was one of the court pages who decorated certain inner sanctums at the great palace. Only now he was not so decorative. Tears ran down his face and the rosy makeup on his cheeks was blotched. “Just turn right at the next hallway.” The boy snuffled. “Then right again. Not that you’ll be admitted.”
“I’m sure I’ll be admitted.” Felix felt for the sword at his belt.
The page got to his feet and wiped at his eyes. “You’re not going to put your sword into her, are you?”
“Of course not. I’m a friend of hers.”
“But not so good a friend as to put your sword into her?” The smeared lip coloring accentuated the boy’s leer. He started to back away.
Felix reached out and grabbed a scrawny arm. “I’m not letting you run off and alert the guards. Show me the way.”
He pushed the boy in front of him and drew his sword.
Suddenly the floor seemed to lurch beneath his boots, nearly throwing him backwards. He was almost overcome by dizziness. Why he could not say. He put his free hand out to the wall, steadying himself.
How had he managed to make his way so far inside the Daphne Palace? He couldn’t quite recall. A fog kept swallowing up the immediate past, as it had two nights ago, when he had been running around the gardens attacking statuary. Apparently the trained excubitors who usually watched these precincts had been sent to secure the palace walls against the rioters. It might also be that the emperor didn’t want the excubitors so close to him, given Captain Gallio’s practically treasonous stance. Whatever the reason, the usual guards had been replaced with doddering old silentiaries used to posing ornamentally at doorways and scholarae who normally paraded on horseback when the emperor required spectacle.
So far they had all been willing to let Felix pass on the basis of the orders from Gallio-orders intended to allow him to move freely enough to carry out his duties toward the Anastasius family. They didn’t give him the right to wander around the Daphne Palace, but Felix’s blade and demeanor discouraged any of the hangers-on from daring to actually read what was on the parchment beyond identifying Gallio’s official signature.
“Go on,” Felix told the boy gruffly. “Don’t try running away. My blade will move faster than you do.”
The boy went slowly down the corridor and turned left.
“I thought you told me to turn right?” Felix said.
“I didn’t, did I? You scared me so. I don’t know what I was saying.”
“No tricks, Eros. No one will care much about a dead page. They’ll be more concerned about the bloodstains on the floor.”
The boy emitted a faint whimper and continued on, his broken wing dragging on the floor.
Felix followed warily. It was all very strange. It occurred to him that he should be at his post at John’s house, particularly since John’s friend had been murdered a few hours ago. Possibly by an intruder. Poisoned? Had Felix been poisoned too? Had the intruder found his way into the kitchen? Was that why Felix felt so peculiar? What exactly had he eaten at John’s house most recently? He couldn’t recall. Oddly enough, it all seemed unimportant.
He may as well have been lying in bed, dreaming. How foolhardy could someone be, not only to abandon their post at a time of peril, but to do so to visit the imperial quarters to pay a surprise call on a woman friend of Theodora’s? It must be a dream and since it was only a dream-and a most entertaining one-he did not want to wake himself. Besides, he felt a compulsion that overrode reason. Just as he had in the gardens the other night.
After all, Antonina had invited him to meet her in secret. Now it was he who was arranging the meeting. She would surely be delighted and it would be as it had been in the Hall of the Nineteen Couches. However it had been there. He could not remember anything about it, except that it had been very, very good, until he woke up hacking at Emperor Constantine. That hadn’t been so good.
Another wave of dizziness hit him.
How odd. He had felt fine since John had hauled him out of the gardens after his tryst with Antonina. Until he woke up this morning. Then he had felt almost drunk, although he had not been drinking. It wasn’t surprising that he felt peculiar, though, since clearly he hadn’t really awakened yet.
The boy vanished around a corner and Felix lurched after him.
“Stop! Don’t go any further!”
Felix blinked. He had fallen into a daze. He swung his sword. The figure blocking in his path leapt out of harm’s way.
“You stupid man! Can’t you see? It’s me, Julianna.”
Felix gaped in horror at the slight girl dressed in blue, dark hair coiled on either side of her face.
Julianna’s eyes blazed with fury. “Not only did I just save myself, I saved you from a horrible death in the dungeons. What’s the matter with you? What are you doing here?”
“I need to see Antonina,” Felix stammered.
“Did she send for you?”
“Yes. Or, rather…not exactly.”
“Look at me, Felix.” Julianna stared into his eyes and gave a sniff of disgust. “I can see what the problem is. I should have guessed.”
“I’m not drunk.”
“No. You’re not. You’re…well…never mind.”
The haze that kept closing in on Felix dissipated a bit. He could suddenly see his surroundings more clearly. “Where’s the boy? He’s run off. He’ll fetch the guards.”
“Don’t worry,” Julianna said. “I’m appointing you to be my bodyguard. In case anyone questions why you’re here. Which means you use that sword on anyone who comes after me. Not on me. Put it away.”
Felix slipped his blade back into its scabbard. “But what are you doing here?”
“I’ve been to see Antonina. She’s a good friend.”
“Then you can take me to her.”
“I hardly think so. Belisarius’ men are protecting her, as they are the imperial couple and a few others. They aren’t traitors like the excubitors or incompetent cowards like the court fops who’ve taken their places.”
“But…I’m your bodyguard.”
“Believe me, Felix, Antonina doesn’t want to see you right now.”
Felix shook his head, trying to clear it. His ears buzzed. His surroundings were beginning to seem more solid, less dream-like. “But I am your bodyguard. I’m supposed to be guarding you, at John’s house. You shouldn’t be here. How did you get out?”
Julianna stepped past him and grabbed his sleeve. “Let’s worry about getting you out safely.”
“Have my guards been sleeping at their posts? Did you bribe them?”
She tugged his sleeve. “Follow me. It would be best if we weren’t seen.”
She hurried back in the direction from which Felix had come and pushed through some heavy purple draperies, which Felix had taken for wall hangings, revealing an arched doorway. Warm air issued from the narrow hallway beyond.