“That would certainly be so.”
Peter’s eyelids narrowed in their nest of wrinkles. “Master, I suddenly remembered something! But now I’m sorry I did.”
“What is it?”
“The pot I was using to cook honey and poppy seeds. I forgot to cover it before I left.”
***
Cornelia was in a difficult humor. John had tried to question her about Thomas, but she could not enlighten him.
“If I were you, John, I’d have already read that letter of introduction.”
John looked down at the document tucked in his belt. Addressed to one Melios, headman of Mehenopolis, the scroll was tightly tied by a linen ribbon with the gold seal of the emperor clamped over the knot. He had been waiting to explain his mission, uncertain what, or how much, to reveal. “Perhaps so, but you know quite well it is my duty to deliver it intact.”
Cornelia perched on the rail of the Minotaur, her bare feet dangling above the deck. Just seeing her precarious position made John uneasy. A short length of rope was tied around her wrist and he wished she’d used it to tether herself to the ship.
“I would give a great deal to know what it says,” Cornelia replied. “Particularly since if Theodora had had her wish, you’d be carrion by now.”
“Even so, bearers of imperial letters with broken seals are seldom received in a friendly manner.”
Cornelia scowled. “It might be best if we don’t arrive at our destination at all. For all you know, that letter instructs the man Melios to have you killed on the spot. You have to admit it would be perfectly in keeping with Justinian’s notion of a jest, sending you half way across the world to meet your end in some Egyptian backwater!”
There were creases around Cornelia’s eyes now, but the fire that flared up in them was as hot as it had been years before, when John first knew her. “Yet if Egypt holds the end, remember it also saw the beginning!” he said.
They had met in Egypt under unlikely circumstances. John was Greek, Cornelia a native of Crete. As a young man, John had run off from Plato’s Academy to see the world and subsequently become a mercenary, while Cornelia had abandoned her home to take ship with a traveling troupe.
Both had eagerly thrown away the settled lives awaiting them. They had had that in common when their paths crossed.
Thieves and cutthroats, pirates and kidnappers for the slave trade stalked roads and seaways. The band of performers and musicians to which Cornelia belonged had use for a man whose talents lay with the sword, so John joined the troupe and stayed at Cornelia’s side.
Cornelia’s displeasure seemed to vanish as swiftly as morning mist on the Bosporos. “It was a long time ago, wasn’t it?” Her tone was wistful.
John smiled at her. “Indeed it was, Britomartis.”
Her hand went to her eyes, as if to wipe away sea spray. “The Lady of the Nets. Who but you would’ve chosen such a name? Not my little thrush or sweet cake.”
“I could never quite think of you as a little thrush.”
“And you always remembered me?”
“Of course I did.”
He did not add that he had tried to forget, during hundreds of nights, over all the years after he had strayed into enemy territory and his Persian captors had robbed him of his future. Reduced to slavery, he managed to catch the emperor’s eye, win his freedom, and rise to a position of power.
Years after his forced abandonment of her, he and Cornelia met again, unexpectedly and briefly. Then he had sent her and his daughter away. The capital was a dangerous place, particularly for the family of a Lord Chamberlain.
He had never expected to see them again, but seven years later, they returned. He had not had time to send them away again before exactly what he feared had happened. Thomas, that supposed knight from Bretania, had become entangled in some sort of trouble and dragged John’s whole family into it with him.
Annoyed, Cornelia tapped her fingers on the rail. “What is this you tell me about sheep killing themselves? What explanation can there be for something that must be nothing but a traveler’s tale? What do dead animals have to do with a murdered senator?”
“I don’t know if there’s a connection.”
John was being truthful. His investigations into amorphous rumors of a plot connected with Egypt had uncovered nothing. The only suspicious behavior he’d noticed belonged to Thomas, who seemed unusually thoughtful, and more guarded in his speech than usual. Then too Thomas had made more than one foray at an odd hour on what struck John as flimsy pretexts.
Finally John had followed him. He did not know what he expected, but it was certainly not to find Thomas standing over the body of a prominent senator.
“Besides, why should you be serving Justinian when he’s just exiled you?” Cornelia went on.
“There’s more to the situation than it appears,” he told her. “The emperor could have sent someone from Alexandria to inquire about the livestock, but the fact is that he has discovered there is something of great value in the settlement, something connected with the matter I’ve been investigating. The problem is that to gain an advantage, he must keep his knowledge of the existence of the plot secret. Unfortunately Justinian, or rather his informant, doesn’t know exactly what this valuable item might be. In a word, while I know nothing about what it is I am seeking, I have not been exiled. Which is not to say it may not be my lot if I fail to accomplish what I have been ordered to do.”
She peered at him as if she might be able to see his thoughts if she stared hard enough. “So your exile is nothing but a story intended to throw smoke in the eyes of…who?”
John hesitated. “Everyone at court. The emperor can’t be certain of the identities of those he needs to deceive because he doesn’t yet know who might be plotting against him.”
“But in that case why were you asking me about Thomas? Is he involved in this plot?”
“I cannot say,” John replied, “although he and Europa are involved indirectly. Why do you suppose those really exiled do not need to be accompanied by guards or confined by bars? Because usually they have families who will serve as hostages.”
“I see. Well, I hope you’ll at least put Peter’s fears to rest, not that I feel any better about the situation. I don’t trust Justinian, and as for Theodora…”
Cornelia turned to look in the direction of Constantinople. When she spoke again, it was to change the subject. “Nikodemos has been showing me how to make different knots.”
She undid the short length of rope looped around her wrist. Frowning in concentration she tied the rope into an intricate knot and displayed her complicated handiwork to John. “It’s a sailor’s skill I thought might have some entertainment value for those who never venture near the sea.”
“And how did you happen to get into conversation with the ship’s captain?”
“He’s from Crete too, and naturally we got to talking. You’d get along well with him, John, since he’s a former military man like yourself. He’s given to wagering, I discovered. Not surprising, though, is it? As he observed, every sailor wagers his life on winds and tides.”
“True enough,” John replied uneasily. So far as he was concerned the knucklebones were rolled the hour he stepped aboard a ship, and kept rolling with the waves until his boots trod dry land again.
“I placed a wager with him myself. It hinged on whether or not he could extricate himself if I were to tie him up.”
“Using that knot he showed you? Perhaps it’s easily undone despite its elaborate appearance?”
“No. I was to tie him any way I wanted.”
John looked thoughtful. “So you’ve been busy tying up the captain?”
Cornelia laughed. “Indeed! When he mentioned this trick had won him more than a few coins, I thought it would be useful to learn. An incantation or two and the captive is free. It would be most impressive. Magick is always popular.”
John smiled to himself. They had only been at sea a few hours and already Cornelia was making plans. “You’re thinking you can resume your old career, and Peter and I might join you? If only it could be so! And what happened with Nikodemos?”