For an instant she dangled at arm’s length from the rim of the aperture in the ceiling, until her feet found the head of the statue.
With a final despairing push she pulled herself out into moonlight and slid down the far side of the dome, hidden from anyone in the garden.
She could not linger. Her pursuers would doubtless now be racing back through the atrium and around to that side of the house.
She dropped to the ground and ran through shadows to a stand of firs some distance away, from which she surveyed the cobbled square separating the house and the excubitors’ barracks.
Anatolius usually took the path leading around the corner of the barracks.
How could she warn him?
It seemed strange that none of the excubitors were investigating the disturbance at the Lord Chamberlain’s house, hardly a spear’s throw from their lodgings.
But then Hektor was known to be Theodora’s creature. No doubt orders had been given no notice was to be taken of anything that might happen that night in the Lord Chamberlain’s dwelling.
Making a quick decision, she slid away into the deeper concealment of the confusion of shrubbery behind her.
***
Anatolius let out a sigh of relief as he finally came within sight of the barracks. He hadn’t intended to be away so long, and doubtless Europa would be getting anxious about him.
All the way back, as shadows massed under colonnades and spread out into the streets, he had felt nervous. Every beggar in a doorway had been lying in wait for him, only pretending to be asleep.
Now he was safely back on the palace grounds.
As he approached the barracks, a figure leapt from the bushes bordering the path.
His blade was in his hand before he recognized a familiar face.
“Europa!”
“Quick,” she whispered. “Into the bushes. Hektor and his men are waiting to ambush you at the house.”
Anatolius grasped the situation immediately. “There’s no point calling the excubitors out if he’s involved. We’ll have to go to Francio’s house.”
They ran through deserted imperial gardens, taking the most direct route to the Chalke. As they loped along, Anatolius prayed Hektor had been over-confident and had overlooked stationing any of his men there.
Soon they slowed to a walk and approached the great bronze gate of the palace. The guard on duty looked them over and then stood aside to let them pass.
Suddenly, he lowered his spear into their path, barring their way.
“Anatolius! It’s you!” The guard grinned broadly. “You’re panting as hard as if you’ve just run twice around the Hippodrome. After the thief who stole your hair, were you? All the ladies will ignore you now!”
He laughed and raised his spear.
Then they were safely out of the palace grounds and moving swiftly along the Mese.
Anatolius led Europa into a series of alleyways and narrow spaces between buildings, through squares too small to allow a cart to turn around, and along decrepit, roofless colonnades. Their route twisted and turned.
“Are we lost?” Europa wondered.
“Don’t worry. I’ve been this way plenty of times. Besides, you can never really get lost in the city at night. Not with the Great Church for a beacon.”
Anatolius looked up toward the slice of night sky visible between the brick warehouses pressing in on either side. “See, just over there the sky’s brighter. That’s the glow from the windows in its dome.”
There was no sign of pursuit.
When they reached Francio’s door, Vedrix ushered them inside.
Francio had recovered sufficiently from the attack of the eels to be up and about again. He clucked sympathetically at the sight of the blood-bedaubed Europa.
Anatolius explained the situation.
Francio tapped his nose in annoyance. “So, it seems my visitors gathered together a few of their friends and paid a call on you. They are going to start a fashion for swathing the head in strips of white linen.” He ran a hand over the wrappings still adorning his head. He was dressed, uncharacteristically, in matching white.
“We’ll get that attended to right away. You’ll be as stylish as I am in no time,” he told Europa. “Might I suggest you adopt the same sort of headwear, Anatolius, until your hair grows back?”
“We don’t want to put you in danger, Francio,” Anatolius said. “But if we could-”
“I’ll hide you in the servants’ quarters.”
“Felix has given me some useful information. I’m going to risk paying Bishop Crispin another visit. I think I can change his mind about talking to me.”
Chapter Thirty-seven
From the flat roof of the guest house the oasis appeared as a choppy sea of palm fronds, interrupted by fields outlined by irrigation ditches and the few dusty streets of Mehenopolis. Beyond, dun-colored desert sands shimmered in the heat.
“I was happy we slept up here last night,” Cornelia said to John. “The stars were magnificent. We’ll have to continue sleeping on the roof. It’ll be like old times, lying together beneath the heavens.”
“Not exactly like old times.” John had turned on his stool to face the upthrust cliff of the Rock of the Snake.
“We can only be what we are. If we spent our time regretting the endless things we’re not, we’d never do anything else. I found this philosophy most helpful when Europa was difficult to manage.”
John stared fixedly toward the ruined temple. “Our daughter is the best reason we have to return to Constantinople as soon as possible.”
“Thomas can take care of her.”
John turned his gaze away from the rock outcropping. He had erred in not explaining the situation to Cornelia immediately, when he spoke to her on the ship. His first thought had been to protect her peace of mind. It had been a misjudgment he had not been able to bring himself to correct. Now it was time.
She listened in silence while he told her how he had followed Thomas, discovered him in the Hippodrome next to the senator’s body, instructed him to flee, and then drawn the excubitors away.
“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you everything,” John concluded. “I thought it would be simpler, for all of us, if I kept it to myself.”
Knowing Cornelia, John feared she might be angry.
“Why would Thomas kill a senator?” was all she said.
“He didn’t. The matter was deliberately arranged to make him appear guilty.”
John explained how he had seized the opportunity to create a pretext for the emperor to exile him without raising undue suspicion.
She leaned over and kissed him.
He looked at her in surprise.
Cornelia laughed. “Now, John, admit it. Your first thought in the Hippodrome was to save Europa’s husband, wasn’t it?”
“Thomas is a reckless fool!” John paused and then smiled faintly. “Then again I was a reckless fool once myself. If I’d not insisted on seeking out silks for you and thereby strayed into Persian territory, if I hadn’t been captured and taken away…”
“We would have long since quarreled bitterly and gone our separate ways, young hotheads that we were,” Cornelia said firmly.
John was silent. Again his gaze went toward the ruins atop the outcropping thrusting up into the brilliant blue sky. “Melios is frantic over this latest death. He’s now talking about using the banquet he planned to officially announce that he’s entering a monastery.”
Before Cornelia could reply, Peter climbed up through the trapdoor to the roof, bearing a platter of fruit.
“I apologize for the meager fare, master. I fear tonight I’ll only be able to serve the remains of yesterday’s evening meal, as it’s difficult for me to cook right now.”
As Peter put his burden down on the rooftop beside them, they saw his hands were covered with huge blisters.
“Did you burn yourself?” Cornelia asked with quick concern.
Peter reddened. “I was careless while preparing a meal, mistress. I’ve obtained a healing salve from Hapymen. He also kindly provided this fruit for you. Hypatia often claimed melons are plumper and grapes more succulent here than anywhere else, and going by these examples, I believe she’s correct.”