“Oh, yes. I’m certain there’s nothing hidden in any of the guest rooms, let alone my bedroom.”
Felix was obliged to open the doors to a series of luxurious, seldom-used rooms which he never bothered to inspect for months on end. He was half-afraid there might have been something left in one of the rooms, given he’d already found a body in his courtyard. Momentarily he considered pretending there was a valuable object missing, blame the guards, claim they’d distracted him to allow an accomplice to sneak in, create a scene. At least he’d buy himself time. But for what?
“This is your bedroom, sir?” The quaver that had been evident in Blotches’ voice upon his arrival had turned to a tone of mockery. The two youngsters leered at each other. And no wonder. The bed and its sheets resembled the site of an earthquake, the air was thick with Anastasia’s exotic perfume, her cosmetics and a big silver comb were strewn on a bedside table.
However, as they examined the wall hangings, searching to see if they concealed anything Felix found nothing comical about the scene. Because it lacked one important thing.
Anastasia!
She must have fled.
Was it surprising? Why should a woman from the palace who’d only known him a few days let herself be implicated in who-knows-what?
But she did know what. Felix had blurted everything out to her. All about the smuggling and the missing relic. He’d even stupidly told her just now about the dead man.
If she tried to leave through the back gate, as she usually did, she’d be surprised to find her way blocked by a pair of guards.
Or would she?
Who had sent the authorities after him?
What was he thinking? He didn’t suspect Anastasia, did he? After all she was…well…what was she? Except a tireless bed partner? Felix only knew she served at court.
Even if she wasn’t involved in a plot against him, what would she do when the guards blocked her way? The easiest thing would be to tell them she had been going to report a crime.
To report a dead man. A murdered man.
“We’re done here, I said. Aren’t you listening?” It was Blotches.
“Yes. I know. I hope you’re satisfied.” Felix found himself looking frantically up and down the hall as he left the bedroom, expecting more guards to appear at a run. “You’ve seen the whole house now. My servants will be in an uproar all day. I’ll accompany you back to the atrium.”
Blotches looked down the hall.
“That side passage.” He pointed his spear in the direction of the short passage to the bath. “We didn’t check there.”
“Of course you did,” Felix snapped. “That was the first place I took you. Don’t you remember? You don’t think I have time to escort you around the entire house again, do you?”
But the two guards were already striding away.
“There’s nothing there.” Felix’s voice came out in a croak. “Wait, I think the door’s locked. I’ll need to get the key.”
They rounded the corner and came to a stop in front of the closed door to the bath. As soon as they opened the door and stepped inside to where they could see down to the water level, they’d spot the floating corpse.
Blotches tested the latch and gave Felix a meaningful look. “Unlocked. You have a bad memory this morning, sir.”
Felix was certain the youngster was struggling to conceal a grin as he yanked at the latch. Out of inspiration, he could only look on in impotent horror.
As the door swung open there was a heart-stopping shriek that went on and on, echoing around the chamber behind.
The doorway was entirely blocked by Anastasia, who was entirely naked. Arms outspread, hands clutching the opposite sides of the door frame, she made no effort to cover herself but simply screamed and screamed with an effort that made her whole body quiver.
Blotches and his companion backed away in confusion, muttering apologies, faces as scarlet as a couple of abashed schoolboys.
Felix stepped forward, pushed the door shut, and as the screaming subsided turned a thunderous look on the two youths. “Well?”
Blotches licked his lips and swallowed. “Thank you for your cooperation, sir. I believe we’ve seen everything now.”
Chapter Thirteen
Felix shook his fist at Anastasia.
“No!” She shoved the fist away. “No more micatio!”
He shook his fist again anyway, shouted “Three!” and opened his hand extending two fingers, just in case Anastasia relented and reciprocated.
She didn’t. Instead she got up from the dining room table and stared out into the long twilight shadows creeping across the garden. “I can’t bear to play that stupid game again. Besides, unless you’re gambling on it, where’s the interest?”
“There’s the strategy. I noticed you kept showing one finger so I showed two and guessed the total would be three. I suppose you thought I was bound to guess you’d stop showing just the one eventually and-”
“I couldn’t be bothered to lift more than one finger, Felix.” She shook her hand. “My wrist is sore from micatio!”
Felix helped himself to some figs from a platter on the table. “Well, have some more to eat then. It isn’t dark enough yet.”
“I’m not hungry. After spending all that time in the bath, with that hideous thing…I may never feel like eating again.”
“It’s only a corpse, Anastasia. I’m still sorry you had to display yourself to those-”
She turned, her hands balled into fists. “Oh, Felix! I saved your life and you’re fretting over me exposing myself to a couple of youngsters?”
Felix ran a hand through his beard. “Well…”
The grim line of her mouth suddenly softened into a smile. “It is rather touching, my big bear.” Immediately her face fell again. “But you can’t imagine what it was like half expecting to feel a cold, wet hand on my naked back.”
After Felix had shown the flustered urban watchmen out, she had been waiting for him in bed, trembling. They had made love until Felix was worn out. Then they had made plans.
Felix had to dispose of the body, but it would have to wait until darkness, when there was less chance of being observed. Once they decided what to do they had to bide their time. They walked in the garden, Felix ate and tried to encourage Anastasia to do the same. They played micatio. They also listened for a knock on the house door, announcing the authorities had arrived to conduct a more thorough search.
“I often wish I had never come to this city,” Felix said.
Anastasia gave a small lady-like snort of disapproval. “How often have you told me you were thrilled to escape that farm in Germania?”
“True enough. As soon as I could walk, my father had me patrolling the fields.”
“As soon as you could walk?”
“Well, I may have been a little older. He had me protecting our borders from wolves. I was armed with a sharpened stick.”
“What was your father thinking? What could a child with a sharp stick do against a wolf?”
Felix smiled, remembering. “Oh, there weren’t any wolves. Our farm was part of a settlement around a Roman fort. Most of what we grew we sold to the army. My father wished he had led a more exciting life. He had entertained Roman officers at dinner from time to time and I listened to their stories. When I patrolled the fields I imagined I was guarding the Persian border.”
“You did spend some time at the border, didn’t you?”
“Yes, and during the middle of night, staring out over that desolate landscape, I remembered watching for wolves to emerge from the woods. The difference was, there really were Persians among the crags and ravines.”
“You must have left home at an early age.”
“As soon as I was old enough I walked into the local fort and joined the army. My mother cried. She had hoped I would be a farmer like my family had always been but my father had put other ideas into my head.”