According to what Francio had told him, the senator had surviving relatives, and doubtless in turn they would challenge the church.
It was a legal labyrinth.
What seemed like hours later he was again speaking to the glum Perigenes in his cubicle of an office on the ground floor.
“And what about this man?” Anatolius paused to consult his tablet. “Bishop Crispin. Senator Symacchus refers to him as his good friend and esteemed colleague. He left him a collection of pilgrim flasks, whatever they might be.”
“I’ve had to search out as many as I could find of those listed in the will. Such a vexatious task! I recall the bishop, of course. He resides in the Hormisdas.”
“A monophysite?”
“I suppose he must be, if he’s living there. Everyone knows Senator Symacchus was among those sent by Justinian to preach orthodoxy to Theodora’s crowd. Don’t be surprised that the senator left something to a heretic. I believe he left a bequest to every soul in Constantinople.”
“Except for yourself?”
“Not at all. To me he left the hellish task of administering his damnably generous will! Do you know, he left a jeweled cross to a one-legged beggar with a residence whose address is given as somewhere along the Mese not far from the Augustaion?”
Perigenes sounded on the verge of tears.
“I can help you out with one task at least,” Anatolius said.
“Do you think so? Then I’ll lower the cost of my position to eighty-five nomismata. You won’t find a better legal job, not at that price.”
“I can’t accept your offer, but I’d be happy to deliver the pilgrim flasks to Bishop Crispin.”
Perigenes drooped. “I suppose at least that would be one less thing to worry about. I’ll draw up the appropriate authorization to obtain them from his servants. Do you know where to find the senator’s house?”
Before Anatolius could reply, a ruddy-faced young man strolled into the office.
“Working early, Perigenes? I just got in myself. I’m afraid Bacchus kicked me in the head again last night. Have you heard the dreadful news? It’s all over the-” Noticing Anatolius, the newcomer stopped abruptly.
“Never mind him, he’s just a lawyer,” said Perigenes. “What dreadful news?”
“Oh, well, if you say so. It’s dreadfully dreadful. You know Francio and his recreation of Trimalchio’s feast? The one everybody’s been invited to?”
“I wasn’t!” Perigenes sounded hurt.
“Never mind. You won’t be missing anything. No one will be missing anything, except poor Francio, that is.”
“What do you mean? What will Francio be missing?”
“No, no. I meant we’ll all be missing Francio, but now that you mention it, Francio will be missing everything too.”
“What are you talking about?” Anatolius demanded. His tone was sharp. “What’s happened?”
The visitor looked startled. “Then you have not heard? Francio’s been murdered! Strangled with an eel!”
***
“Soup?” said Anatolius.
“That’s right, eel soup. If you spill a bowl, don’t step in it. It’s slippery stuff, especially after you’ve had a cup or three of wine.”
Francio gingerly patted the bandages swathing his head. He sat on his bed, propped up on huge cushions embroidered with pictures of the geese whose feathers filled them. Compared to his usual finery, his plain, pale green tunic made him appear more naked than he did at the baths.
Felix stood beside the bed. He had been at the house to question Francio when Anatolius arrived. The servant Vedrix lurked at the doorway, looking distraught.
Anatolius explained he had been given to expect much worse.
Francio laughed, then grimaced in pain. “Amazing how these rumors grow, isn’t it? You fall down in your dining room and by the time three people have passed the story on, it’s become a wonder. By tomorrow I shall have risen from the dead.”
He tapped his squashed nose. “Alas, if I’d fallen on this it might have fixed it.”
“You can jest now, but you’re lucky to be here,” Felix told him. “And I don’t mean because you were attacked by a bowl of eel soup.”
Turning to Anatolius, Felix explained. “In the middle of the night, two ruffians got in. Fortunately Vedrix there has sharp hearing, woke up, and sounded the alarm. They departed in great haste.”
“That would’ve been the end of it,” Francio said, “but after all the excitement I felt more hungry than tired. Vedrix brought me the soup and you know the rest. I’ve never had any trouble with intruders before. Do you think they were looking for-”
“Valuables? Yes! What else?” Anatolius interrupted hurriedly, at the same time warning Francio with a glare he hoped Felix didn’t notice. He had made it clear to Francio it would be wise not to tell anyone Thomas had stayed with him. Was it some slip of the tongue by Francio or his servants that had brought the intruders to his house?
“I’ll drop in again tomorrow,” Anatolius said. “Meantime, make certain the doors are kept locked.”
Anatolius accompanied Felix into the atrium. He resolved to say nothing about Thomas to the excubitor captain. Keeping secrets from a friend made him uneasy, yet John must have had good reasons for not telling Felix about Thomas’ presence at the Hippodrome on the night of the murder.
“The city’s gone mad since the plague arrived,” Felix remarked. “Thieves are getting used to finding houses unoccupied. When they discover someone’s at home they go ahead with their business anyway.”
“Have you made any progress in your investigations?” Anatolius asked abruptly.
Felix shook his head. “It’s a complicated affair, Anatolius. Look at it from my position. John was exiled by Justinian. There are hints all is not as it seems. Theodora is involved in this in some way and I’ll tell you why. She ordered me to withhold the funds Justinian intended to provide John when he was sent away.”
“So she forced you to disobey Justinian’s orders? Well, if you’ve done it once-”
Felix gave an exasperated sigh. “You don’t see the point, do you? John can fend for himself. I couldn’t afford to make myself a target for the wrath of the empress.”
“I’m not surprised she interfered,” Anatolius replied. “I told you about my little discussion with Hektor, and wherever he is, Theodora’s shadow isn’t far away.”
Felix laughed. “True enough. She’s had him running her errands since he was knee-high and she heard about him mutilating a dead chicken for the edification of the other pages. I hope I don’t have to remind you to be careful, Anatolius. You never know what to expect with Hektor. However, since you asked, I’ll try to make further inquiries without attracting the attention of the imperial couple.”
Anatolius smiled. “Thank you, my friend. Now, I’ve discovered something you might find useful. The senator had connections to the Apion family, and he also hosted a stream of guests from Egypt. Some were relatives and others apparently came to the city for business reasons. It might be helpful to learn more about as many of these people as possible.”
Felix tugged his beard. “I take it you imagine the senator’s guest list might have something to do with his murder?”
“Well, after all, the country played such a large role in his life, why not in his death as well? Then too, consider that of all the places he could have been exiled, John was sent to Egypt. There could well be a connection, and he may already have found it.”
Chapter Twenty-five
John finished his walk around the barn where Melios’ sheep had died. The sun beat down with such ferocity even the shadows seemed to have taken cover.
He examined the structure’s heavy wooden door, noting its strong, iron bolt. The barn’s window slits were too narrow to admit a person. On the other hand, the roof consisted of a mat of branches. Could they have been moved aside to allow an intruder to gain entrance?