Chapter Forty-seven
It was one of those late-season nights when summer reasserts herself and insists in hot and humid tones she is going to prolong her stay indefinitely. Cornelia lay beside John on the bed, the covers down, waiting hopefully for any hint of a breeze from the open window. His skin next to hers was cool. It was always so. On the hottest days his hands felt cold. He described his visit to Saint Stephen’s.
“Why would Alexis conceal your mother’s presence?” Cornelia asked. “He should have taken you to her immediately when you arrived the first time. And Stephen must have known who she was, even if nobody else did.” Her voice trailed away.
“It was not for Stephen to disobey his superior by revealing she was there. Alexis was extremely upset and begged me to forgive him. He told me he realized it was wrong but he had fallen into the snares of ambition and could not extricate himself.”
“Ambition?” Cornelia was incredulous. Churchmen were not supposed to be ambitious, were they?
“Not only for himself, you understand, but also for the monastery.” John replied. “The account of the sack of Corinth that Theophilus possessed must have been taken from Alexis’ collection of documents. Valuables buried at the temple of Demeter would enrich the monastery, and therefore the church, and would enhance Alexis’ hopes of being appointed bishop in due course.”
“How did Theophilus find out about this document?”
“As I just learned, he visited my mother at the hospice and not only that, he carried out occasional tasks for Alexis, according to Petrus. No doubt on one occasion he was working in the library, came across the document looking into boxes he should not have been examining, and took it.”
“Then Alexis must have read it before Theophilus stole it?”
“Yes. It seemed to him, as well as to Theophilus, the writer was saying the treasure was buried at the temple, so his plan was to wait until my mother died and then produce her will and claim the farm, for that was where the temple was located. For it seems she went to him for advice when she received the letter from my father and realized her second marriage was not legal. He advised her to be penitent and do good works, but meantime to say nothing about what was essentially a private matter. At that time she gave her will into his care. The document I possess is a copy.”
Cornelia speculated on whether this advice had caused Sophia to begin preaching in the streets.
“It may have been. I understand she was failing even then,” John replied. “When she was reported as dead by Theophilus, she was actually alive and living in the hospice. I suppose it was not exactly a lie, for she was dead to the world and never left the monastery grounds again. But Theophilus had to claim she had died in order to inherit the farm and sell it. The main point is that since Alexis knew the marriage was not valid and the sale of the farm was therefore illegal, the provisions of the will still applied, and if I did not return before my mother died, the monastery would inherit the farm. So he was willing to bide his time.”
“Was he? What about the excavations your overseer was making at the temple? According to the slave Julius, Diocles was seeking the treasure but trying to hide the fact by claiming it was necessary work on the foundations. Is it possible Alexis engaged him to direct the estate slaves to carry out that work, given an abbot can hardly go out digging in the middle of the night? It seems to me Alexis has not revealed the entire story.”
“There again, Theophilus knew about the treasure and he and Diocles were cooperating in at least one other criminal enterprise. I am thinking here of the shipment of iron.”
Cornelia rolled over, putting her arm across John’s chest. She could feel his heart beating. “But supposing Alexis was involved and visited the site occasionally to see how the work was proceeding. On one particular night he finds Theophilus investigating the temple. In the darkness he thinks it is you looking around. You stand between him and what he wants, so-”
“You are still afraid I was the intended victim? If I were dead Alexis would still need to sue the estate for the farm on the grounds it had been obtained through an illegal sale, hoping the authorities would side with the monastery, which is not a certainty. That hardly seems a basis to put a knife into someone’s back.”
“Oh, John! Alexis wasn’t thinking as if he was in a courtroom! He wasn’t thinking at all! Don’t you ever stop thinking?”
“It is true Alexis has extremely bad eyesight,” John admitted. “He may have mistaken Theophilus for me, if only because he wouldn’t have expected him to be there at that time of night.”
“How can you know? How many years is it since you knew him?”
And even then, Cornelia thought, how well do we ever know anyone? She was not even certain what John was thinking most of the time, what turmoil lay behind his tightly controlled demeanor. Why was he lying in bed pondering his investigation when he had just unexpectedly seen his mother, a shade emerged from the underworld? Why, except to avoid thinking about his mother and his past?
“Besides,” John said, “my reappearance in Megara might not be permanent. Alexis wouldn’t need to kill me. He could hope Justinian changes his mind and has me executed or that the City Defender succeeded in convicting me of killing Theophilus.”
“What comforting thoughts! So much more pleasant to contemplate than worrying about you being killed! And it’s all very well for you to be searching for a murderer in all this tangle of illegality you’ve discovered, but who will bring him to justice? Not the City Defender!”
“I am not certain what he would do if he were confronted with inescapable evidence,” John admitted.
“John, you simply don’t want to admit your old boyhood friend has grown up to be a cold-blooded murderer. You’ve all but proved Alexis is the culprit. He had a lot to gain, he knew about the hoard, he was already plotting to take ownership of the farm, the monastery is not too far from the temple, and he blatantly lied to you to further his schemes.”
“I am afraid you may be right, and yet it’s difficult for me to accept that Alexis intended to kill me.”
Cornelia leaned over and kissed John’s cheek. “So much crime and misery caused by the anonymous writing on that scrap of parchment. Perhaps it is as well your mother has retreated into her girlhood, decorating her hair and knowing nothing of terrible events happening not far from her.”
“She is happy, and that is all I would ever wish for her,” John replied.
Chapter Forty-eight
“Peter and Hypatia don’t seem to be around.” Cornelia came back upstairs from the kitchen with a bowl of boiled eggs.
“Is something wrong?” John wondered. “Peter never fails to have breakfast ready.” He rubbed at the crick in his neck. Eventually he and Cornelia had fallen asleep in each other’s arms, which was good for the soul but hard on the neck, at least at their ages.
Cornelia put the bowl on the table and sat down beside John. “Everything seems quiet. Nothing’s on fire. The City Defender isn’t at the gate. Maybe Peter mistook the time. It’s easy enough out here in the country with nothing going on and no water clock.”
“We’re fortunate nothing is going on…”John shelled an egg slowly and took a bite.
Cornelia placed her hand over his. “I know this is difficult, John.”
“It shouldn’t be hard to bring a murderer to justice. You’re right, I no longer know this Alexis.” He shook his head. “An abbot…then again, the City Defender might not be so ready to see justice done.”
“Surely when you explain it all to him…?”
“Unfortunately, I have explanations but little evidence. Granted, once Georgios knows what happened, he could probably find the evidence easily enough with the resources he has, if he wanted to.”
“What about the basket, John? Alexis wanted to make the murder look as if it had pagan overtones by leaving that basket at the temple. That’s something you could take with you.”