Felix’s broad features darkened as he continued with his story. “When he saw me, Hektor gave that unpleasant laugh of his. His breath absolutely reeked of wine. He gave a low bow that was an insult in itself and then informed me that he called the bear Felix.”
John inquired if Hektor had revealed his reason.
“Indeed he did. ‘Because it’s fat, hairy, and smelly, just like you!’ was what the insolent fellow said. Naturally, I laid him flat on the straw before he’d finished smirking at his own joke. Didn’t look so cocky then, especially as the filth positively ruined his finery. Not to mention I rubbed his face in the dung.”
Felix roared with laughter, good humor restored, at the memory. “You’d think he would have found some old rags to wear for a job like that. Perhaps he thought one of the ladies of the court would stroll along to visit while he worked. Now I find myself wondering why he was ordered to perform such labor in the first place.”
“Knowing that young man, it was doubtless punishment for some misdeed or other. Whoever ordered it would have plenty to choose from. It’s only a couple of months since he was caught stealing from the Master of the Offices, and he’s been picked up from the gutter intoxicated to a state of unconsciousness several times as well. That’s dangerous behavior for a man at court.”
“Even more dangerous for someone like Hektor. He’s at a perilous age for a court page, being now more use to the ladies than to the lecherous old aristocrats his livelihood depends upon. Perhaps he was attempting to blot out the shame of his misdeeds by blistering those dainty hands with some hard work. What with the hand of God descending on sinners, as I’ve heard many warn, people are starting to watch their behavior. You don’t think that’s why Theodora’s decided to release the bear, do you? At any rate, Hektor’s been avoiding me ever since. I haven’t had a glimpse of him for days.”
Felix stood. “Speaking of beasts,” he continued, “I have an appointment with the Master of the Offices. He’s arranging transportation for the bear. Carts are hard to find right now, so he’s lending me an old imperial carriage.”
***
John did not accompany Felix to the door. He didn’t care for good-byes at any time. At the moment any departure might tempt Fortuna.
When he judged his friend had gone, John decided to go out to walk. To his annoyance, he had barely left his doorway when Anatolius intercepted him.
“John! Thank Mithra I caught you! I’ve just had a terrible shock.”
The younger man’s smooth features, those of a classical Greek statue, were flushed. Black ringlets of hair clung damply to his forehead, as if he’d been running.
“Why is that?”
“Senator Balbinus is ill!”
“The plague?”
Anatolius nodded grimly. “I heard talk of it, so I went to his house to see if I could do anything to help.”
“You saw Balbinus?”
“No. He’s taken to his bed. Lucretia told me.”
“She received you?”
“Certainly. Well, after I made it clear I wouldn’t leave until we had spoken.”
John sighed and invited Anatolius to accompany him on his walk, although he would have preferred to be solitary. His long stride forcing the younger man to labor to keep pace, they began traversing the palace gardens.
They soon passed under a vine-covered archway and down a flight of flagstone steps to a grassy terrace planted with exotic shrubs and flowers. Squat administrative buildings were barely visible on the slope above them, all but concealed by poplar trees whose leaves fluttered like so many tiny hands waving goodbye. Dark groves of cedars lined retaining walls from which an occasional artificial waterfall gurgled down into a marble basin on the next level. Below them, more green terraces dotted with buildings, flower beds, and trees descended toward the sparkling Marmara. The peaceful view was marred by the sight of a burning ship sitting beneath a column of greasy black smoke some way offshore, one of Justinian’s waterborne crematoriums.
“You are well aware you should not be visiting Lucretia under any circumstances.”
Anatolius licked his lips nervously. “I know. I know. But that’s all past, John. How many years has it been since she and Balbinus were married? Mithra! I haven’t even set eyes on her except from a distance for almost a year.”
“Your memory fails you. You mentioned you saw her coming out of the Great Church several days ago. A week or so before that you noticed her purchasing perfume from-”
His companion smiled ruefully. “Well, that’s true. Despite the time that’s passed since we, well, she looks just the same as she did…”
“That shows she must be very happy with Senator Balbinus.”
A cloud passed over Anatolius’ face, as dark as the smoke rising from the blazing vessel. “I suppose you’re right. She’ll always be beautiful to me, however careworn she looks. She only just stepped into the atrium for a brief word. I think she was afraid to talk to me in case it should bring back memories.”
“Or perhaps she did not wish to speak to you? It was foolish to go there, my friend. When Balbinus recovers, you’ll certainly hear about it.”
Anatolius stopped walking and stared out to sea. It was impossible to say whether he was contemplating the ship, the soaring gulls, the far shore half hidden by a blue heat haze, or something not of this world. His eyes held a feverish gleam. “What are the chances, do you think? Some recover. Many die. The knucklebones have been thrown. How long before they rattle to a stop?”
“I hope you haven’t made a wager you can ill afford on the outcome.”
“What do you mean? I’m concerned about Lucretia. That doddering old blowhard is her husband, after all.”
“You believe she would be better off without him,” John corrected him sharply. “Are you only thinking of yourself?”
“John, I-”
“The plague has turned everything upside down, but eventually it will depart. For those of us who remain, the world will right itself again. Remember that. Don’t do or say anything you will have cause to regret when things return to normal.”
“You’re right. I won’t.”
They resumed walking. Sunlight played brightly across an ornamental pond like liquid fire. A fragrant stand of pines offered cool shadow.
Anatolius picked up a cone and hurled it toward the Marmara. The sea looked much nearer than it actually was. The cone vanished into a huge rhododendron on the next terrace down. “When I heard about Balbinus, I first came to you to ask if you knew anything about it. Then, since you were out, I went to his house. Not that I’m blaming you for not being home,” he concluded hastily.
John explained he had been investigating the background of a friend of Peter’s and then related how Gregory had died and Peter’s vision.
“Felix and Gaius are both certain it was nothing more than street violence, and I’ve found nothing that would indicate otherwise,” he continued. “However, Peter has got it into his head that the murderer can be found. Frankly, I’m at a loss about where to go next, angels or no angels.”
Anatolius looked thoughtful. “‘Gregory. Murder. Justice.’ Not a very eloquent message, coming from an angel. Still, we live in strange times. It’s almost enough to make one believe in miracles. Do you remember when I visited you with Crinagoras not long ago?”
“How could anyone easily forget his recitation of his Ode to a Granary?”
“I’m sorry about that,” Anatolius grinned. “The sight of Hypatia in the garden set him off. His poetry inevitably flows as soon as he glimpses a pretty woman. Well, I can understand that, but what I forgot to tell you is that as we were leaving we ran into Peter and his friend Gregory returning from one of these weekly visits you’ve just told me about. It was right outside the excubitor barracks opposite your house, as a matter of fact.”