“Now,” said the City Defender, “about the charges levied against you.”
“Charges against me? For raising demons?”
“For illegal weapons. Specifically a bow and arrows. As you are aware, private individuals are forbidden from making or purchasing weapons, including bows and arrows.”
“They are also banned from purchasing spears and swords, yet the arsonists had both.”
“This is the first I have heard about it. Do you have proof? You could see James was wounded. Do you have an explanation?”
“Yes. You may examine the bow if you wish. You will see it was not privately manufactured but rather bears the imperial seal from the armory at the Great Palace. Nor was it purchased illegally. Justinian authorized Senator Vinius to hunt with it in the parks beyond the city walls. It is a common aristocratic pastime. The senator must have brought the bow to Megara in case he wanted to hunt here. We found it in his residence.”
The City Defender seemed to consider this. “I see. I will allow it to pass. I have noted that your watchmen have been equipped quite legally.”
“Thank you.” John’s tone was acerbic. “Before I leave, Georgios, I wish to consult you on the matter of my property.”
The City Defender frowned. “There will be no compensation, if that is what you wish to argue about. A seller of fish has fewer financial resources than a man who owns an estate, and in this instance he was obviously not responsible for his behavior.”
“The man who owns an estate, in this instance, is twice injured. Once by those who sought to burn his house down and then again by the man who purports to administer justice. But in fact the matter on which I wished to talk to you relates to records applying to my property. I wish to consult them.”
Georgios shrugged. “It is not possible, I am afraid. Many of our land records were destroyed some years back in a fire. Ironic, is it not? However, in that particular case the fire followed an earthquake.”
“An earthquake, as I recall, not long after Justinian ordered more thorough audits of such records, not to mention the resulting fire offered a convenient way to dispose of incriminating documentation,” John pointed out.
“But why wait for a fire or earthquake? It would be simple enough to extract documents from the archives or replace them with forgeries. We have had some difficulties over land holdings since that fire, but, after all, earthquakes respect nobody, not even emperors. Who knows what evidence of malfeasance might have been destroyed?”
Chapter Thirty-two
Helen’s face clouded briefly as she opened the door to John. Then she smiled and welcomed him. “You may have a difficult time getting Leonidas’ attention. When he’s engrossed in one of his models well…”
Her husband sat hunched over the table. A miniature tower, a cylindrical construction circled by a rising stairway, stood partly finished, surrounded by thin curls of wood. “Can you guess what this is meant to be?” He pointed a small, thin-bladed knife at the model.
John examined the construction briefly. “A very fair rendering of the Tower of Babel?”
Leonidas smiled broadly, obviously pleased. “That’s right. I’ve begun working on a series of important buildings from the scriptures. Many interesting structures, to say the least. Solomon’s palace will present a real challenge. It’ll take a vast amount of gilding for a start. And here is the wine.”
Helen set cups and a wine jug on the table. “Other men boast of their large houses and vast estates. But none have anything like the vast holdings of my husband here, even if they are just small re-creations. Still, so long as he is happy why complain?” She gave Leonidas a fond smile, patted him on his shoulder, and disappeared into the kitchen.
“Of course you will stay for a meal?” Leonidas said, putting down his knife and pouring wine. “I heard about the fire. Helen tells me the wag-tongues in the marketplace have it only one of the culprits was caught.”
John confirmed the truth of the rumor, adding he had just come from seeing the seller of fish released and that no compensation had been ordered by the City Defender.
Leonidas swore and gulped down a mouthful of wine. “May those demons bite his backside and that of the seller of fish also! I wish I could do more than just offer sympathy, John. If there is anything I could do…?”
“I think you can assist me. I spoke to the City Defender concerning the land records for my estate and learned they had been lost in a fire sometime since. You work in the tax office and so would know, is it true records were destroyed by fire after an earthquake?”
“You must think Megara is a city swarming with arsonists, but in fact it is true many records did vanish at that time. I suspect officials, who better remain nameless, used the disaster as a pretext to destroy documents they would prefer not to exist, although I have also heard others claim citizens actually set the records office on fire to escape unpaid taxes.”
John pointed out that the administration in Constantinople kept records for tax collection, but he could hardly travel there to consult them personally, and as for any remaining in Megara, it seemed to him if he requested from the City Defender particular records he did not wish John to have, they would doubtless be among those said to have been destroyed. “But what if someone else, someone whose work involved taxes, so had every right to scrutinize the records, were to quietly consult them?”
“You are asking me to copy anything I can find relating to your estate? But why, John? Is there some question of ownership?”
“No. At least I don’t think so. However, I am beginning to fear the authorities will use any excuse to get rid of me, and what easier way than administratively, by confiscating the estate for non payment of taxes?”
“Yes, you’re right. There are endless ways tax assessments and payments can be found to be in error. Occasionally the mistakes are actually honest ones. Certainly, I’ll look into this.”
John could see his old friend’s gaze return to the tower and left shortly thereafter with a plea of business needing attention.
Leonidas picked up his knife and gently poked at his creation. “The problem with this is that I can’t be certain where to stop,” he told himself. “It never reached heaven, but how close did it come, and how high is heaven? I’m assuming for this little tower heaven is the ceiling. Still, one prefers to see a clear end to a thing.”
It was a sentiment with which John would have agreed.
***
After John left, Helen came to the table where Leonidas was working. Instead of taking away the cups and jug she sat down next to him and put a hand on his wrist, stopping the motion of the knife with which he was paring a section of stairway.
“Is it wise, do you think, to be searching through tax records?”
“Why wouldn’t I do John a favor? He’s an old friend.”
“Which is bad enough as it is.”
Leonidas set the knife down. “What do you mean?”
“You know what I mean, Leonidas. It isn’t good to have a friend everyone hates.”
“He’s not hated by me. Or you. Is he?”
“Oh, Leonidas. You’re a good man. Too good. What if it’s discovered you’ve been snooping through city records on John’s behalf? People may think you’re involved.”
“Involved with what?”
Helen gave him a cross look. “With whatever they’re involved with out on that estate.”
“But they aren’t involved with anything.”
“Does it matter whether they are or not? It’s what people will think, what the City Defender thinks. We have a nice life here. A little home that suits us. Our son has taken up an admirable calling. We’re comfortable. We’re happy. Why risk ruining everything?”
Leonidas shut his eyes as if that might make the discussion go away. “If I supposed there was any real risk-”
“Of course there’s a risk.” Helen’s voice grew sharp. “John isn’t the boy you knew. He’s a former Lord Chamberlain to the emperor. Men of his sort are like the wind from the north, they bring storms with them.”