“I’ve tried to. She just flies into a rage.” He glanced toward the water bubbling in the basin beside him. “It’s better for her to rage against the world than throw herself off the sea wall.”
“She doesn’t strike me as the sort to kill herself. Too headstrong.”
“I worry that she may have been taking advice from Antonina rather than from her mother and me.”
“Do you think Antonina is offering more than advice?”
“You mean her potions? I’d rather Julianna took a sleeping draught once in a while than follow her uncle’s example and turn to Bacchus. Besides, I doubt they do more harm than some of Rusticus’ foul smelling concoctions.”
“Julianna mentioned that Antonina has an interest in the races, naturally enough since she comes from a family of charioteers. Did Julianna meet Hippolytus through her?”
“Not at all. She met him at the palace. Riding at the polo field. He was a scholare. Used to dressing up and parading around at official functions.”
“An aristocrat?”
“Of course. But a ruffian nonetheless. He was wealthy, from a good family. He might have passed his time studying the philosophers or writing poetry or hunting. He preferred to go out to the taverns with low-born charioteers. And they only humored him because he paid.”
“Putting on a show at ceremonies is hardly the same as racing a chariot.”
“Exactly. You and I and any charioteer knows it. But all Julianna saw was horsemanship. And he was a racing patron. Belonged to the Greens but he supported Porphyrius as well. Many of the Greens do. They think they can convince him to race for them again. I suspect Hippolytus helped her get into the Hippodrome from time to time.”
John remembered the brilliant green robes she had been wearing when he found her in the garden, supposedly clearing brush away from the sculpted horses. He supposed the outfit was her own version of the green tunics worn by the faction, yet the hue differed from any common green as purple differed from blue.
“Did she ever meet Porphyrius?”
“If so she would not tell me.”
Hypatius bent to pick up one of his hunting bows. He pivoted, raised his weapon, and aimed an imaginary arrow at a Greek vase in the corner of the room. He pulled the string back and released it, making a loud twang.
“I never liked that vase,” John remarked. “Ostentatious. I’ll wager it would be in pieces now if you had an arrow on your string. Do you want to take the vase back to your house as a trophy?”
Hypatius shook his head and lowered the bow. “I would not have long to enjoy it. In fact, I may have taken my last shot. Julianna hunted with me all the time. She enjoyed riding mostly. She always missed the shot, no matter how easy. Couldn’t hit a rabbit if her horse had a hoof on its tail. Yet, when we practiced at the estate she hit the target every time.”
“She got her love of horses from you.”
“I’m afraid so. It always pleased me that I had given her a love of something that gave her so much pleasure. But you see how it turned out….”
In response to further questions, Hypatius told John where Hippolytus’ family could be found. John feared he would not have time to speak to them. Of any friends Hippolytus might have had, beyond anonymous charioteers, Hypatius knew nothing.
“Is there anything else you can tell me?”
Hypatius shook his head. “I wish there were, if it would help keep Julianna safe. I thought her…her…infatuation with Hippolytus would be a revelation but you don’t seem surprised. Then again, you work with Justinian so there isn’t much that would surprise you.”
“You have been closer to emperors for much longer than I have, Hypatius. Are you sure you aren’t ambitious? Can’t you see yourself wearing the purple, as your uncle did?”
Hypatius stiffened visibly. For a moment the weakness in his aristocratic features was not apparent. He looked every inch a member of an imperial family. “I spent my whole life avoiding that fate. One might as well wear a noose as a crown. The emperor may look down on the rest of us but he never knows when the trapdoor is going to open up under those red boots of his.”
“Yet, you seem remarkably composed this evening.”
“Do I? Yes, I suppose I probably do. Cowardice can make a fine shield, you know. That and mediocrity. But the best defenses eventually fail. At least there’s an end to it now. It is very tiresome, being afraid all the time.”
Before John could reply, Felix’s voice rumbled out of the corridor. “Must be more difficult than staying inebriated every hour of the day.”
Two excubitors followed Felix into the atrium, dragging Pompeius between them. The excubitors were husky young men but John could see the strain in their faces as they struggled to support the bulky and seemingly boneless man who flopped listlessly in their grasp.
They got him to the fountain and lowered him into a sitting position on the edge of the basin, holding his arms to prevent him from falling into the water.
Pompeius managed to turn his head toward Aphrodite. “We have met before,” he said thickly. “I fear we shall not meet again.”
John could smell the stale wine on the man’s breath from an arms-length away.
Felix eyed Pompeius with disgust. “I’ll wager it’s been a long time since a man in your condition has had anything to do with the goddess of love,” he growled. Then his face darkened. “Count yourself lucky. Aphrodite doesn’t seem to get along with Fortuna.”
Hypatius walked over to Pompeius and hunkered down so their faces were level. “Can’t you muster up a scrap of dignity, even at the end? Don’t look away from me, brother. Is this how you want to be remembered? What would our Uncle Anastasius have thought?”
It was hard for John to believe that Hypatius, the very image of a ruler, could be the brother of the bleary-eyed man to whom he was speaking.
Pompeius mumbled unintelligibly.
“You suppose the mob doesn’t want a drunk as emperor, don’t you?” Hypatius said. “Who would seek to raise up a flaccid sack of humanity like you? But perhaps you have miscalculated. Justinian is abstemious, isn’t he? And the mob hates him. Perhaps they are ready for a stumbling sot. They might decide one such as yourself would denude every vineyard from here to Egypt but leave the rest of the empire alone.”
Pompeius’ mouth moved like that of a fish hauled out of the water, but no sound emerged. He looked ready to cry.
From the vestibule came the sound of voices.
Hypatius stood up. “Good. The sooner it is over the better.”
Enough armed excubitors to subdue a contingent of Persians flooded into the room followed by Gallio and Narses.
Hypatius addressed Gallio. “We are ready to go. Although my brother may need some assistance to return to his house, if any of you are brave enough to venture beyond the palace walls.”
“I’ll be happy to accompany him,” Felix put in before Gallio had a chance to respond. “With your permission, Captain Gallio.”
“Let those two who have hold of him carry him home,” Gallio said. “You are relieved of your duty at the chamberlain’s house, Felix. You are no longer an excubitor. I am sparing your head because you are as brave as you are stupid.”
Felix’s mouth tightened into a grim line. He said nothing. John could see it was a struggle for him to remain silent.
Narses threaded his way through the excubitors. Compared to the big, mostly youthful, military men, he more than ever resembled a performing dwarf. He peered around with ill-concealed glee.
“Why are you here?” John snapped. “Don’t you trust the captain to carry out orders? Or do you just want to gloat?”
“You are most inhospitable, John. I would think you should be pleased to have these serpents out of your home. Your life depends on Justinian’s safety, as much as mine does. Do you think the rioters will hang the emperor and let his chamberlains go free? Unless you have come to an understanding….”
The excubitors gathered the brothers’ belongings. One of them picked up an intricately carved hunting bow. “A fine piece of work,” he remarked.