He paused and looked around the gloomy surroundings. “I should not be saying this within the hearing of young ears. Children will creep down here to play, no matter how often I warn them not to do so. The other day I caught two of them testing the sanctity of Flavian against that of Gorgonius, or so they claimed. To me it looked more like a sword fight. Well, as much as you could recreate one when your weapons are a bit of thigh bone and a mummified forearm.”
John remarked that the incident sounded even more blasphemous than joking lewdly beside a deathbed.
“I would certainly agree, except the relics kept down here are those whose authenticity has been doubted even though their donors were perfectly sincere in their belief they were indeed what they purported to be.”
John asked him why such dubious items remained in the church.
“An arm or a thigh bone once belonged to some poor soul even if he wasn’t a saint or a martyr, Lord Chamberlain, and therefore should rest on sacred ground. Then too, we may at times be mistaken. For example, the Patriarch recently ruled our finger of St. Luke is authentic after all and ordered it put on display because of Luke’s connection with the healing arts. Heaven only knows where we stored it, though.” He poked forlornly at another bundle.
“About this holy fool…?”
“If you must insist on hearing the sordid details, Lord Chamberlain, after that the disgusting fellow began to sing a filthy song about the empress and a number of ecclesiastical dignitaries! I will say he seemed to have a fair grasp of the church hierarchy. Then, and I shudder to relate this, he actually seized my elbows and pulled me around Nereus’ room in a horrible sort of dance until I managed to shake him off. Dreadful, just dreadful. I practically fainted between dizziness and the sheer horror of his blasphemous behavior.”
John expressed sympathy.
Palamos shook his head. “And then this unspeakable fool finished his performance by leaping up on Nereus’ bed and bouncing up and down! I thought we were in the presence of Satan himself. Yet what can you expect when time is of the essence and you are forced to drag rascals in off the street?”
“Certainly you could anticipate they would not be models of courtiers’ behavior,” John observed. “Are you certain the man you mention is the one claiming to be a holy fool?”
“Definitely, Lord Chamberlain. He invaded this very church not long ago and tried to make off with our fragment of the Column of Flagellation.”
John mentioned he had seen several boys and two men pursuing the would-be thief. “They did not catch him?”
“No. However, I’m glad to say we haven’t seen him since.”
“What about the cart driver?”
“I regret I cannot tell you who he is. Light!”
John heard running footsteps and another urchin emerged from the shadowy stairway to hand a clay lamp to Palamos.
“Have you seen the finger of St. Luke?” Palamos asked the boy.
The boy reddened. “Oh no, sir. I haven’t touched it and neither has anyone else.” He nervously licked his lips. “What good would an old dried-up finger be in a fight anyway? It would probably break soon as you poked anyone with it. If anyone did, I mean. But nobody broke it because we didn’t have it, you see.”
“Yes, I think I do see.” Palamos shooed the boy away and led John to a table standing in a corner. In the lamplight, beneath thick cobwebs, glinted what might have been the eyes of malignant spiders. Drawing closer John saw several jeweled reliquaries.
“They hold several pieces of the leg bone of John the Baptist,” Palamos explained. “From their size and number it would seem he was twice the height of an ordinary person. Very convenient for river baptisms, wouldn’t you say? I’m certain he would forgive me for saying that.” He gently brushed cobwebs from the reliquaries.
John described the witnesses he had already identified: Crinagoras, Gregory, and Cador. “With yourself and the holy fool and a cart driver that makes six. Do you know who the seventh was?”
“Aristotle of Athens,” Palamos replied immediately. “He tried to pawn off some questionable relics on me whenever I happened to meet him at Nereus’ house. He presents himself as a dealer in antiquities and oracles.”
Palamos coughed. Was he choking on the cobwebs he’d stirred up or the thought of the dealer of antiquities?
“Did Nereus transact very much business with this Aristotle?”
Palamos nodded. “I regret to say it of a good friend who is now gone, but Nereus exhibited a certain gullibility at times.”
“Where is Aristotle’s establishment?”
“I’m afraid I can’t tell you. I never ventured there myself. His regular discovery of ancient oracles struck me as highly suspicious. In fact, on one occasion I questioned him most closely about it. And do you know what he said, Lord Chamberlain? He claimed he was born on the fifth day of the fifth month and as Virgil observed, when gamblers wager, Fortuna favors uneven numbers! Thus, he said, he trusted to Fortuna that the antiquities and oracles he bought and sold were as represented and since he has not been prosecuted so far, obviously that proved his wares were genuine.”
“It’s extraordinary how many are placing their trust in Fortuna these days. Her name seems to be on everyone’s lips.”
“True enough. We should rather be praying to the Lord, but there are those, I am sorry to say, who are reluctant to trust one whom they believe responsible for the pestilence. In fact, many say we have brought the plague on ourselves.”
“Do you know the lawyer Prudentius?”
Palamos had picked up a small, exceedingly ugly reliquary which resembled, no doubt quite by accident, a jeweled toad. He looked up from it in surprise. “I do know Prudentius. Very well, in fact. Another pious man full of charity. He was another orphan like the boy you just saw and again like him brought up in the church. Now he not only donates regularly to our charities, he also takes outcasts and dear children into his own home. As you see, Prudentius’ kindly nature and actions prove that charity begets charity. If you’re thinking about the will, though, Nereus formed his own opinions about that.”
John asked what he meant.
“Recently Nereus mentioned to me he’d consulted the law on the matter. I think he meant he had been leafing through that set of the Institutes he obtained a while ago. He consulted them as often as he did those oracles in his garden. Well, as far as the latter goes, superstition isn’t a sin, but what sense he could have made of something as confusing as the Institutes, I can’t say. One needs suitable training to disentangle the entrails of the law.”
He tugged at the tiny door of the reliquary. “You haven’t told me why all this interests you, Lord Chamberlain, not that I have any right to ask. It isn’t about his generous gift to us, is it?”
John assured him that no one was thinking about confiscating the church’s legacy and then briefly explained Gregory’s fate.
Palamos looked distressed. “Gregory was another of our benefactors. And he’s been murdered, you say? I didn’t know him too well, although I’ve occasionally seen him here. He’d come in now and then and just stand silently for a time, contemplating our relics of John Chrysostom. I did not think it unusual to see him at Nereus’ house. People who worship at the same church tend to get to know one another, conduct business together, and so forth. Have you spoken to his widow?”
“There was no one at his house when I called.”
“I believe her sister lives nearby. She may be staying with her.”
Palamos finally managed to pry open the reliquary and extracted from it a finger with a cracked and blackened nail. As he held it up, it appeared to be pointing at John.
Palamos smiled. “The finger of St. Luke!”
***