“Your father must have been happy. You certainly have led an exciting life.”
“A farmer might think so. My mistake was excelling as a soldier. I was eventually sent to Constantinople and brought to the attention of Emperor Justin. I became one of his bodyguards.”
“But soon you will be fighting in Italy.”
“Provided the corpse in the bath doesn’t end up blocking my way.”
“Everything will turn out all right. Tell me more about Germania.”
“But I’ve already told you about all that.”
Felix felt the weight of his predicament pressing in on him and grew silent.
After a while Anastasia said, “I can’t bear it, sitting here, waiting and waiting. I have things to attend to at the palace. I’ll be missed. I’ll come back before dark.”
Felix had taken hold of her arm, gently but firmly. “Stay. Please.”
She stared at him. “Do you think I’d betray you to the City Prefect?”
He looked away, ashamed. How could he doubt this woman who shared his bed? And yet a woman about whom he knew nothing? “Perhaps I should go for a stroll to calm my nerves.”
She gave him a grim look. “No. I would prefer you didn’t. It feels like rain. The breeze has a chill in it. I wouldn’t want you to get wet. It’s best that we both stay here.”
So, they understood each other. Both feared the other, and with reason, given both might be found equally guilty. Those who unthinkingly trusted others, those who were never afraid, did not survive long at the palace.
Anastasia must have guessed what Felix was thinking. She grasped his hand and led him back to the bedroom.
The day passed slowly. There was time for speculation. The corpse remained a mystery. In death the courier had been empty-handed. If he had carried a package to the house someone had taken it. Had the man been robbed and killed in the courtyard upon his arrival or had he been left there? There was no way to tell. Anastasia did not recognize the dead man as anyone she had seen at court. The discolored and contorted face bore little semblance of humanity and she could barely bring herself to glance at it.
At some point Felix decided how to deal with his unwelcome visitor. He would not resort to lawyers or the authorities. Laws were unreliable allies. He would handle the matter himself.
After an eternity, when a single invisible bird sang from the darkness pooled in the garden, Felix instructed Nikomachos to order the servants to remain in their quarters for the night.
“I will summon you later to refresh the bath.”
Nikomachos’ face exhibited its usual vaguely supercilious expression.
How much had he observed apart from the obvious fact that two of the urban watch had searched the house? Had he seen the body? Had he overheard anything of their conversation?
“And you will remain at the house until I give you further orders,” Felix added.
Nikomachos offered one of his bows, little more than a peevish twitch, and departed.
“He knows,” Anastasia said.
“Why do you think so?”
“He’s always hovering nearby, listening, peeping. And the other servants must know. They must have realized something illegal was going on, with this courier constantly arriving in the middle of the night.”
“Not at all. I dropped hints to Nikomachos that I was buying silk at less than imperial prices. These days, who doesn’t?”
He took the last fig, stuck it into his mouth, and wiped his fingers on his tunic. “But now I have work to do.”
Chapter Fourteen
Less than an hour later Felix was cursing the narrowness of the alley behind his house.
He hadn’t driven a donkey cart since he’d left the family farm in Germania to join the legions. He might have felt a pang of nostalgia under different circumstances, ones that didn’t involve secretly disposing of a strangled corpse. The cart’s wooden sides scraped brick walls as he urged the donkey through semi-liquid drifts of discarded vegetables and other slippery detritus better not investigated in the dark, or for that matter in such light as straggled down into the narrow way even in daytime. The stubborn beast refused to follow a straight line. Apparently donkeys were much stupider than they used to be.
Felix would have slung the body across the back of one of his horses but he feared drawing attention. Lying in the bottom of the cart, wrapped in a blanket, the corpse would pass for a sack of grain if anyone took any notice. Or so he hoped.
He kept expecting a contingent of urban watch to materialize in the alley mouth to block his way. When he had managed to maneuver the cart out of the alley and the wheels rattled over the street cobbles he began to feel easier. The further he could get from the house the better.
His relief lasted only a short time until he discovered the cart was too wide to be driven through the slit between the buildings opposite the mouth of the alley. He would have to travel in more public places than he had planned in order to reach the seawall, where his burden could be tossed into the water to become a plaything for Poseidon’s children, as Anastasia had delicately put it.
He had left her behind. If she wanted to betray him this was her chance. He’d know whether she was loyal or not when he got back.
His house was located on a side street off the Mese, conveniently near to the Great Palace and not far from the water. Tugging clumsily at the reins, he convinced the donkey to turn down the thoroughfare. The beast continued to plod slowly but erratically, veering from side to side. Torches outside shops shut for the night intermittently illuminated the street. A gust of wind blew grit into Felix’s face. Moon-silvered clouds raced through the sky.
The cart rolled into an oblong of light spilling from a doorway.
“Felix! Stop!”
What the voice stopped was Felix’s heart. Discovered? Already?
He raised his whip, ready to urge his reluctant animal forward, then he saw a familiar figure reeling out of the tavern, one Felix too often frequented. Or had until he met Anastasia.
“Felix, my friend, come and share a cup with me! How long has it been since we’ve saluted Bacchus together? You’ve been away as long as Odysseus.”
“I regret I’m off on urgent official business, Bato.”
To Felix’s chagrin the donkey decided to halt dead in its tracks, allowing Bato to stroll over to the side of the cart and lie against it.
“Official business, is it? That’s why you’re taking the imperial carriage?” Bato looked bleary-eyed into the cart.
“It’s a matter that calls for discretion.”
“Ah.” Bato exhaled pungently, leering up at Felix. “You are off to see a lady, aren’t you? Come my friend, are we not men? There is no need for prevarication. You have fallen under Circe’s spell.”
“Mithra!” Felix muttered under his breath. “I admit it,” he said loudly, “I’m on way to visit a woman, who is waiting impatiently.”
Bato made no effort to push himself away from the cart. Instead he banged the side. “And with such a conveyance? Do you expect to be so exhausted you’ll have to be carted home?”
“Hardly. I just decided to…to show her how things were back in Germania when I was growing up.”
Bato ignored his excuse. “I have it. You’re going to pretend to be bringing the cart back after repairing it, so her husband will be misled if he hears of your visit.”
Felix sighed, winked, tapped his nose, and flapped the reins. He didn’t like the way Bato was staring into the cart. The donkey started to trot with a jerk, almost jarring Felix from his seat.
Relieved of his support, Bato crumpled to the cobbles and sat there in the tavern light, waving after Felix. “Go sail the wine dark seas into the arms of your sorceress, Felix! When she grows bored, you know where to find your loyal old friend Bato.”
Glancing back over his shoulder Felix saw his inebriated friend shooing away a dog which had come to investigate the interesting offal in the gutter. Fortunately the street was otherwise deserted.