Before long the sails billowed and the Leviathan began to move with much groaning of timbers, like an old man trying to get out of a chair.
John had spent hours after Peter’s rescue interrogating the crew without the slightest result. Even when he expressed his gratitude and offered them coins as a reward, they remained suspicious and close-mouthed. Not surprisingly. On board the only person they needed to fear was the captain and it seemed clear to John he had ordered them to remain silent.
He talked to the other passengers.
The farmers, as John supposed they were, spent most of their time below deck, sitting in the shadows, sullenly throwing knucklebones. Both apparently lost with every throw, to judge from their sour expressions. It strengthened John’s impression they had traveled to Constantinople to petition the emperor on a matter involving land or taxes, and had not been satisfied with the answer.
“We might’ve heard a yell, then feet stamping around overhead,” one of the farmers admitted. “But after staying two weeks in that inn behind the Hippodrome we were so used to hearing fights in the alley under our window we thought nothing of the noise.”
Cornelia, Peter, and Hypatia had been intent on making charms. None of them could say whether the farmers had, truly, both been occupying their usual dark spot at the time. The pilgrim and her companion claimed they had been on deck and had heard and seen nothing.
“You were nearer than I was to where Peter went overboard,” John had noted.
“But we were on the opposite side of the cabin, contemplating the sunrise. As it says in the Scriptures, the sun emerges to run its course with joy.”
“That would be the eastern side of the ship, where Peter went overboard.”
“Don’t you remember, Egina?” the companion put in. “The sun was well up by then and we had moved around to the other side to see if it was clear enough for us to glimpse the shore.”
“Oh, that’s right. She is correct, sir. I had forgotten that. All this excitement has been too much for me.”
As for the nameless passenger, he haughtily informed John that although it was none of his business, he had been making a round of the ship but had seen nothing. “Consider with whom you are dealing. The boys who crew this ship are nothing but the lowest of ruffians. One saw that old scarecrow leaning out over the rail and thought it would be a good joke to introduce him to the fishes. Boys like that don’t think past their impulses.”
The speaker was nothing but a boy himself, John noted, though he certainly did not give evidence of being prone to impulses. At least not the impulse to talk out of turn.
“I don’t like that young man, whoever he is,” John told Cornelia when he found her standing in the prow, contemplating the sparkling wavelets rippling past the moving hull. “Not that he would have any reason to drown Peter. This journey must be very hard on Peter, although he will never complain. The sun beats down so strongly, exhausted, coming out of that dim cabin into the sun, he might have become dizzy-”
“You know that’s not the case.”
John shrugged. “No one on this ship has any reason to hurt Peter.”
Cornelia looked in the direction of the as yet invisible coast. “Did you consider whoever did it wanted to hurt you?”
“Hurt me? Are you imagining an assassin again? Surely he would target me, not Peter?”
“But only after you have watched your family pay, murdered one by one, for whatever your crimes are supposed to be.”
“But…who could be that full of hatred? Except one person we both know is lying dead in a mausoleum at the Church of the Holy Apostles.”
Chapter Thirty-nine
“A team of laborers unloading a grain ship say they heard Tychon yelling about demons. His screams carried all the way down to the docks. When they looked up they saw him come flying over the sea wall. Not that he flew far. It took a while for someone to get up on the roof of the warehouse, but judging from the shape Tychon was in he must have died the instant he hit it. Antonina is extremely upset.”
Anastasia let her silk tunic drop onto the tiles beside the bath and stepped down into the water to sit beside Felix, Aphrodite, descending into the sea. Looking at her made Felix ache in a way that almost drove the ache of his injuries out of his mind. Almost.
“Why should Antonina be upset? You told me she’d drugged the wine to teach the thief a lesson. So she not only did that, she also executed him.” Felix leaned back against the rim of the basin and watched tendrils of steam climb up toward the round patch of sky visible through the aperture overhead. He had ordered the water be made much hotter than usual. Anastasia’s skin had already turned rosy.
“She didn’t want anyone to die! The potion is supposed to cause visions. She meant to give the culprit an unpleasant experience. She suspected Tychon. An unruly sort. Ran with one of the racing factions at one time, she claims. Capable servants are difficult to replace.” Anastasia shifted, pressing her hip against his.
“Perhaps Antonina wouldn’t have been so upset if the culprit had turned out to be one her less capable servants?”
“That’s unfair, Felix.”
“Didn’t it occur to her that the victim might have visions, might even see fiends? From what you’ve told me, most of the household already imagined they were besieged by them.”
“Perhaps they are.”
Felix shook his head. “As I already told you, that was probably the leper who was lurking around here. I mistook him for a demon, but only for an instant.”
“Turn around and let me see to that back. What a nasty purple mess it is!” She splashed some water onto the wounds. “Does that hurt?”
Felix grunted and Anastasia replied with little sounds of sympathy. “It’s my belief the evil spirits came out to do mischief as soon as my sister died,” she continued. “When the world’s not right, when everything is turned upside down, they see their chance.”
She gently kneaded his sore muscles and Felix began to relax. Could she be right? The workers at the church swore they had seen demons fleeing with the relic. Perhaps the supernatural was, in fact, involved. What about the frogs in the mausoleum? There was something unnatural about that. And the doorkeeper said he’d seen an ape or something resembling one. Still, Mithrans knew there were forces of darkness at work in the world. “It’s not that I don’t believe demons exist. Demons of some sort, somewhere, some time. But right here? Right now? I don’t expect to see any.”
“Why not? Devils are everywhere. Look at how many Jesus cast out. He drove two thousand from one poor soul into a whole herd of swine.”
“At that rate there wouldn’t be enough swine in the world to dispose of the demons inside the Great Palace alone!”
“Oh, Felix, I’m serious.” Anastasia slapped the back of his head, lightly, but hard enough to make him wince, given the lump there.
“So am I. There’s evil in the world, but it works though human beings. There’s no need for demons to get involved. Well, most of the time anyhow.”
Yet what if such beings really were involved in a matter with which he was inextricably entwined? Better not to think about it. Then again, every new possibility that occurred to him was just as puzzling as the previous ones. “What about your friend Antonina? Tychon was her servant. If he was seeing demons, could it have something to do with the stolen shroud? Might Antonina have an interest in relics?”
She stopped stroking his back and slid away from him. “How can you say that? Why don’t you accuse me of involvement too?”
He turned to face her. “I’m just trying to think of all the possibilities.”
“And you think that’s a possibility?” Her face was flushed and not just from the hot air which had beaded her face with perspiration.
“I’m just trying to follow the trail of-”