“Whatever truth there might be in what you say, you would be well advised to return to Egypt before anyone else knows you left. You won’t be safe here.”
“You are offering to allow me to leave unmolested. Is that what you’re saying?”
“I am giving advice.”
“We have much in common, Lord Chamberlain. We both know what it is to be hated by Theodora, to be persecuted and plotted against, for no reason beyond her envy, her dread that anyone except her might have Justinian’s ear.”
John observed the same applied to many people.
“But the two of us, she hated us specially, hated us for years. You know how she had me exiled to Cyzicus and ordained a deacon against my will, how she forced Justinian to confiscate my estates.”
“He allowed you to retain enough to live comfortably,” John pointed out.
The Cappadocian’s dark eyes narrowed and he drew his lips into a tight, plump line, the first signs of anger he had shown. “Live comfortably in the middle of nowhere as a deacon? Even that was not enough for Theodora. When the bishop of Cyzicus was murdered she contrived to have me accused. I was not convicted, because I did not kill the bishop any more than I killed the empress. Yet I was stripped, scourged, and put on board a ship bound for Egypt. In order to survive I had to beg at every port. Think of it. I was reduced to begging.”
“Count yourself fortunate. I was once reduced to slavery, although not by Theodora,” John replied. “She treated countless people unjustly. I have been thrown into the dungeons. But, like you, I survived. That is all past. Theodora is gone.”
John saw the Cappadocian’s florid face ran with rivulets of sweat. “You think the past vanishes? Has your long ago encounter with the Persians vanished? Do you think I can forget being thrown into an Egyptian prison? And how, a few years later, she tried to convince two young members of Cyzica’s Green faction to testify I had indeed been involved in the bishop’s murder? Only one refused even under torture, so she had the hands of both cut off.”
John was well aware of the story and did not doubt its veracity. He said nothing.
The Cappadocian ran a hand over his shaved head. The hot sunlight had turned his scalp a fiery scarlet. “You know what is the worst of it, Lord Chamberlain? She used my only child, my innocent young daughter, to lead me into a trap. Think about that. You have a daughter yourself. What if Theodora and Antonina deceived her in order to destroy you?”
He scowled and continued. “Yes, it was Antonina who assisted her. She convinced my daughter Belisarius desired to overthrow Justinian and needed my support. But when I went to the appointed place and spoke to Antonina about the matter, I discovered Narses had been listening with an armed guard. I was seized and sent into exile. Now my poor daughter will carry until the end of her life the burden of what she inadvertently did to her father, simply because she was an unsophisticated young girl.”
“Those who hold positions of power can’t help but subject their families to the dangers of court intrigue.”
“You know that yourself, Lord Chamberlain. I know you suspect me. But when you discover that I am innocent, you will realize we are natural allies, having suffered the same injustices. I remind you that I only know how to cook the sort of nourishment those in holy orders consume. I learned that skill after I entered on my religious career.” He smiled and spread his arms, calling attention to his monkish garb. “Antonina, on the other hand, knows how to cook potions and poisons.”
“You hid in the kitchens because you could pass for a cook?”
“And also because it is a good place to hear what’s going on in the palace. When meals are delivered people are often in the middle of conversations, and servants are regarded as furniture, totally deaf. An hour after the venison in honeyed sauce is placed on the banquet table everyone in the kitchen knows that a certain senator is having an affair with the wife of a prominent official in the prefecture. I had good reason to be in the kitchens, but poisoning Theodora wasn’t one of them. Antonina, on the other hand-”
“You aren’t the first to point out Antonina dabbles in potions. But then you have as much a grievance against her as you do against Theodora. It would doubtless please you if she were executed or hauled off to the dungeons.”
“Certainly. You see, I am frank. Not that Antonina will wield any influence a month from now. How long do you think Belisarius will keep his position without Theodora blocking the ascent of Germanus? A changing of the guard is coming, Lord Chamberlain. I have no grievance against Germanus, nor he against me. The two of us have never opposed one another. In fact, we have much in common.”
John directed a thin smile at the fat man. “So you agreed to meet me here to make an offer?”
“No. Not yet. I am merely indicating that I will be willing to make you an offer when I am in a position to do so. But first, you will clear me of wrongdoing, Lord Chamberlain. I have every confidence in you.”
Chapter Forty-two
John returned home to find Gaius in possession of both his study and a wine jug. The physician’s slurred speech made it plain he had stormed the territory and commandeered the wine some time before and was ready to continue campaigning, given the opportunity.
Already chagrined over the Cappadocian’s brazen claim on his services, John was not pleased to find his hospitality had been seized as well.
“What do you think you’re doing, Gaius? Did you come here to treat Peter or treat yourself to my wine?”
“John,” Gaius said with a hiccup, “I was hoping to find you in residence. Been waiting a while.” He laid a finger alongside his red nose and winked. “As you have no doubt deducted. Good at that, John, always have been. But you’ll need Mithra’s help this time.”
“So do you, my friend.”
Gaius ignored the remark. He peered around the room as if eavesdroppers were concealed behind its sparse furnishings, “At least I have good news about Peter. He’s out of danger. I wish I could say the same thing about myself.”
John sat down at his desk and raised interrogative eyebrows at the physician.
Gaius leaned forward and continued in a whisper. “I am not so intoxicated as I appear, John. I can see clearly how Justinian’s madness is growing. I hear the head gardener was arrested this morning. A man who has done nothing but served the empire all his life! The talk is he was heard railing about the empress in a fashion he should not have done, but if people will raise their voices in inns, what can they expect? And he knows his plants. Knows which are poisonous, you see?”
“If railing about Theodora were the real reason for his arrest half the city would have been arrested by now. Besides, how could he introduce poison into Theodora’s food? He never sets foot in the kitchen.”
“Could have had an accomplice,” Gaius pointed out.
“And paid him with what to risk his skin? A lifetime of free cabbages, all the roses he likes? However, I can put your mind at rest. I saw him not an hour ago on the palace grounds hoeing the vegetables and looking the same as ever.”
Gaius gave a grimace rather than a smile. “Rumor has many heads, cut one off, two grow in its place. You never know when the excubitors will knock at your door, or kick it down, more likely, and you’ll be dragged away. It isn’t so much death I fear…I’ve seen enough of death…but the dungeons. As a physician I am too aware of the body’s capacity to suffer. I have been summoned to keep alive the poor wretches the torturers weren’t yet done with.”