Assuming his neck was spared.
His hand went to his neck, finding only the sore spot where Anastasia had nibbled.
He looked at the wine cup. Suddenly he was dizzy. Were the wine and potions he’d taken warring or was it the lingering effects of kicks to his head? He pushed the cup away and shouted for his servant again and at last heard a footstep at the doorway.
Turning he growled his displeasure. “About time. You do at least have two legs, if you’d choose to use them!”
“True enough, captain.” The speaker was a short, bent, almost dwarfish man, as bald as a vulture. His plain looks were emphasized by their contrast to the sumptuously embroidered silk garments he wore.
“Narses!” Felix stared at his visitor. From the atrium came the clatter of boots and raised voices. Armed men appeared in the doorway beside Justinian’s trusted official. By rank Narses served as imperial treasurer but in practice, as had been the case with John, he carried out whatever duties the emperor ordered.
“I bring you greetings from the emperor,” Narses went on in a reedy voice.
Despite the wine, Felix’s mouth had gone dry. “He wishes a report of my investigation so far?” he managed to say, trying to feign a hope he did not really feel. “I regret I have not yet discovered much of assistance, and-”
Narses made an impatient gesture. “You will be able to report personally to Justinian on your way to the dungeons, although not as captain of the excubitors. You are relieved of your command. Guards!”
Two men stepped forward and yanked Felix to his feet.
“On what grounds?” Felix demanded with a scowl.
“You question imperial orders?” Narses snapped.
“There is always the possibility of misunderstanding.” Felix contemplated the distance between himself and the door and wondered if surprise might give him a small chance of escape. Was it worth the wager? The palace dungeons were escaped as frequently as the grave.
His captors evidently sensed his thoughts or noticed the direction in which his gaze had flickered. He felt strong fingers dig more tightly into his bruised arms.
Two more guards entered the study. There were others nearby. Felix could hear voices and the slap of boots on tiles. They were probably searching the house. Luckily, this time, there was nothing to find.
Narses smirked up at him. “Hardly a misunderstanding, Felix. You see, the courier you murdered was not a complete fool. He left a note saying where he was going and when he didn’t return his wife sent a servant to inform me. It’s well known I do like to keep a keen watch on court matters.”
More like watching for the next fly to blunder into a web of intrigue so you can benefit in some way, Felix thought. Narses was so close he could smell the cloying perfumes with which the eunuch official drenched his heavy robes. The years had not wrinkled his face like that of a natural man but rather seemed to have worn it as smooth as the face of an ancient sculpture.
“If you believe every schemer who tries to bring down his enemies with lies you must be very busy, Narses. I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“No? It was another big, bearded fellow who deposited a naked corpse behind a statue of Aphrodite?”
“What are you talking about? What statue is this?”
“We have a witness. The streets are full of witnesses. No crime goes unglimpsed.”
“You mean beggars will gladly agree to see anything you want them to see to avoid a beating.”
Narses chuckled. His vulturine head bobbed up and down as if he were feeding on a carcass. “The wife of the victim, and I am sure I do not need to name him for you, identified his body. You had stripped the man but the corpses one finds on the street are rarely well fed, healthy, and clean, so the connection was made immediately.”
“What connection? What makes you think he was here? The Blues have been allowed to roam the city like hungry dogs. No doubt they robbed the fellow and disposed of his body.”
An visibly excited guard came trotting into the study and handed Narses a short jeweled cloak. “Found it in a servant’s room, excellency.”
“Ah!” Narse’s thin, colorless lips curved into an imitation of a smile. “Yes. His wife said he was wearing a cloak exactly like this one.” He held it out for Felix’s inspection. “Familiar? Isn’t this what your visitor had on when you killed him?”
Felix stared dumbly at the cloak. He remembered the dead courier, crumpled against the courtyard wall. An aristocrat obviously, judging by the richly embroidered robes. But a jeweled cloak? “No. It’s a lie. He wasn’t wearing-I mean — ”
“Ah, you did see him then. So you admit your guilt?”
Felix said nothing. He could make no sense of it.
Narses signaled the guards and they yanked Felix in the direction of the door.
“Wait! You’re not going to drag me off with bare feet, are you? If I have to die, let me die like a soldier with my boots on.”
Chapter Twenty-eight
Felix fumbled with his boots. He hadn’t had such a difficult time getting them on since he’d learned to dress himself as a child, but then he wasn’t in a hurry to begin his long march to the dungeons. He had sent enough miscreants there to have wondered what it must be like to make that last walk through the city, seeing the sky for the final time, hearing a burst of laughter from a tavern, catching the rich odors of fruits and spices and the tang of the sea, before descending into the dim, dank, stinking underworld beneath the palace, never to emerge.
“Be quick about it!” Narse’s voice was the bark of a small, bad-tempered dog.
Felix rose. And saw Anastasia appear in the doorway behind the guards. She carried a metal bucket gingerly, almost at arm’s length.
Noticing Felix gaping over their shoulders, Narses and his men began to turn.
Anastasia swung the bucket.
Felix understood what was happening an instant before his visitors.
They roared with pain and shock as a torrent of glowing coals from the kitchen brazier pelted them.
Felix dodged to the side and was out the door and racing down the hall while they cursed and slapped at their hair and the smoldering spots on their clothes.
He realized he was abandoning Anastasia. But what could he do? He had taken off his sword when he arrived home. He was unarmed. Clearly she had wanted him to escape.
The guard left at the back gate must have left his post when he heard the commotion. Running across the courtyard he looked startled to see Felix barrel out of the house. He barked out a warning and raised his sword, and looked even more startled when Felix rushed forward and bulled into him, knocking him to the ground.
Then Felix was out the gate. He ran down the alley behind his house until he reached the street. On the far side lay the passage which had been too narrow to admit a donkey cart bearing a corpse. For a man fleeing on foot it offered a dim, inviting refuge. Once into the noisome maw, Felix risked pausing to peer down the street. Guards had emerged from the house and were shouting at a couple of passersby who were going through the usual ritual of shaking their heads and averring they had seen nothing. Nothing at all. Less than nothing if you insist on pressing the point.
Unfortunately, a cadaverous ragged man lounging against a nearby wall eating a piece of bread was apparently less learned in city ways or else hoping for a reward.
The man nodded and pointed a skeletal finger, akin to the finger of Death, directly at the alley’s mouth.
Felix whirled around and fled. He splashed through puddles of green-scummed water and leapt over piles of refuse whose foul smell suggested much worse then rotting vegetables. Coming to a cross alley, he glanced up and down before veering left and increasing his pace.
The pounding of his footsteps drowned out any noise of pursuit but he was certain the guards could not be far behind.