John did not like to think about it. He was relieved to reach Porphyrius’ mansion, so he could turn his mind to something else.
The building could barely be glimpsed through the nondescript barred gate in the archway under the colonnade. Only when John had satisfied the guards that he was truly on business from the emperor, had walked down the alley between the brick walls of several surviving shops and stepped into the graveled courtyard, did he see what hundreds of racing victories could buy.
The facade of the house reproduced almost exactly that of the emperor’s box in the Hippodrome, right down to the carved images of Pegasus on the capitals of the towering columns supporting the portico. Inside, frescoes in the entrance hall depicted Hercules cleaning the Augean Stables. A waterfall poured down the far wall of the atrium beyond. Heroic sized statuary occupied massive pedestals strewn around the enormous space. John waited in front of a gilded quadriga which would have accommodated a cyclops.
Porphyrius came to meet him. At home, in contrast to the peasant’s tunic he wore at the stables, he had outfitted himself in a jeweled blue dalmatic. The straps wrapped around his muscular calves in charioteer style appeared to be woven with golden threads.
“You have an impressive house,” John remarked. “The four bronze horses in front are particularly fine. You might have spirited them out of the Hippodrome. They look identical.”
Porphyrius smiled. “Mine of course are copies, whereas the emperor’s are the originals, cast by Lysippos himself, or so it is claimed. The old Greek created beautiful equine portraits, even if he didn’t get the ears quite right.”
“Some of the many equine ears in the stables must have heard things I would like to know. If only horses could speak. They might be more forthcoming than the people I talk to.”
“I hope you aren’t implying that I wasn’t honest with you. A horse will obey the whip. I’m not a horse.”
“A man will look out for his own welfare. A few days ago you spoke to the Syrian traveler Haik. Your patron Hippolytus was present. Now both are dead.”
John studied the charioteer’s homely features as he told him how Hippolytus had been hung, rescued, and subsequently killed and how Haik had been poisoned. Did the nostrils in the squashed nose flare slightly? Did the lips tighten all but imperceptibly? Was Porphyrius trying to remain impassive?
“When you’ve been around the track as many times as I have, nothing surprises you. One instant you’re headed to the finish line. The next, you’re being dragged to death, tangled up in your own reins.”
“Under the circumstances, are you sure you aren’t tangled up in your own reins, or something equally deadly, right now?”
Porphyrius reached into his dalmatic, pulled out a vicious-looking curved knife, and waved it in John’s direction.
John stepped back quickly.
Porphyrius chuckled. “I’ve found myself caught in the reins more than once and used this to cut myself loose every time. I admit on one occasion I owed as much to my physician as to my blade.” He put the knife back in its sheath. “I carry it even when I’m not racing. It makes me feel safer.”
“Whoever killed Hippolytus and Haik might not be afraid of a charioteer’s knife. And whoever it is may be exceptionally adept at getting into places where one would feel safe.”
“But there is no connection between Hippolytus and Haik. Haik simply happened to be present when Hippolytus arrived, unexpectedly. I never saw your friend in my life. I’m positive Hippolytus never met him before. Haik had just come from Syria.”
“And you insist that you didn’t know Hippolytus was among the condemned faction members or any of what followed?”
“Not until you told me just now. If I’d known I would have said so the first time we spoke.”
“It is hard to believe no one thought to inform you that one of your wealthy patrons had been murdered.”
Porphyrius shrugged. “I have more wealthy patrons than I can count. Hippolytus wasn’t a major supporter. He was trying to convince me to return to the Greens. I belong to the Blues. If the Greens knew he was dead they’d have no reason to give the news to a Blue.”
“My impression is that both the factions respect you.”
“I’m the enemy of the Greens.”
“We can respect our enemies.”
Porphyrius crossed his arms. He didn’t raise his voice when he spoke but John could see the sinews in his huge forearms tighten. “What else can I say? The city’s in turmoil. Many people have died already. I’m sorry to hear about Hippolytus and your friend Haik. But the deaths have nothing to do with me. Do you think I spend my time collecting gossip? I’ve been exceptionally busy the past few days preparing for the races. And thanks to the commotion in the streets, I’ve had no new callers, aside from yourself.”
“I might be able to accept that you did not withhold from me knowledge of Hippolytus’ death. However, my friend informed me that he came to see you about a document. You never mentioned that.”
“He wanted me to put in a good word for him respecting a business venture. There weren’t any documents involved.”
“This was not a commercial document. It was a written undertaking by which Emperor Justin agreed to adopt the Persian Chosroes.”
Porphyrius was silent. John felt the charioteer staring at him, as if trying to gauge how much he knew. He was deciding what course to take. Did he dare drive his horses toward the inside of the track? Would his opponent give him room or precipitate a collision? Or should he cut between the chariots ahead? If they continued to draw apart there might be room. “Yes, I admit,” he said after no more than an instant. “Haik did mention such a document. It was idle gossip. Small talk. He thought the foolish rumor he’d heard back in Antioch would interest me, since I spent so many years in the area. I didn’t think it worth mentioning. As I explained just now I am not one for gossip.”
“I cannot believe a man would spout idle gossip with his dying words.”
Porphyrius shook his head. “Men say strange things in their last breaths, when their senses are deserting them. Long ago I knelt in the sand of a racetrack cradling the head of a colleague who had been crushed by his horses. I could feel his blood pooling around my knees. He told me to look at the waves, how they sparkled, and to observe the whale. The whale was coming. What a magnificent sight. Now what do you suppose that meant except that the poor fellow’s skull had been cracked wide open?”
“I hope you are right, Porphyrius, that it was just a rumor. But if so, why was Haik murdered?”
Porphyrius uncrossed his arms and sighed. “Life is full of mysteries, isn’t it?”
***
John walked slowly back down the Mese.
As far as he could see, the problem before him was growing more complicated rather than less.
Haik had been found dead in John’s well-guarded house, inside the palace grounds. The Blue and the Green had been found murdered in a guarded room in the Church of Saint Laurentius. Had the same person managed to find a way to the victims? A person who could go wherever he wanted, at will, gaining access to guarded rooms? A person seemingly adept at magick?
On the other hand, there was no proof Haik had been poisoned at John’s house. It was more likely he had been poisoned elsewhere simply because it was so unlikely that a murderer could have managed to get into both the palace grounds and a guarded house within. Haik had died in his room, but he could have been poisoned anywhere in the city, or the palace. John had no idea where his friend had gone, aside from the Hippodrome.
And what about the mysterious visitor who had discovered the murders at Saint Laurentius? The old commander, Sebastian, claimed the man had an official seal. He could have been mistaken. Documents can be forged. Or Sebastian might have lied to cover his incompetence.
Then again, the visitor might have been sent by Justinian for purposes the emperor did not care to reveal. It was impossible to be certain what the emperor thought, or what his aims really were.