“True, provided anyone would be prepared to believe your story.”
“I have found that a war wound tends to corroborate one’s testimony, sir. But in fact, I offer my story in case it might encourage you to unearth other witnesses.”
“Did you recognize the dead man?”
“I recognized him as a man who came to the house on occasion, delivering packages. I did not know who he was and I never heard him addressed by name.”
“And you happened to observe these meetings?”
“At my job, one needs to be alert. But I am also discreet.”
Anatolius made a few more scribbles, pondering on what he had been told. He suspected Nikomachos was interested in saving his employer to save his employment. His actions hadn’t been reasonable. Then again most of the distressed clients Anatolius met in this office were there because they had acted without reasoning things through carefully. “Did you by any chance relieve the courier of a package as well as a cloak?”
“I did not, sir. I took a few coins, I admit. And a small dagger. He was not carrying a package.”
“Are you certain?”
“I searched the young man well enough to know he did not have a package on him. The dagger was well hidden beneath his garment.”
Felix’s haughty servant departed without revealing anything else of value. He was hiding at a friend’s but wouldn’t say where.
Anatolius picked the parchment up and studied it. So Nikomachos had confirmed Felix wasn’t the murderer and the courier had only arrived in the courtyard after he was dead and the package had been taken from him, if indeed he had been carrying it in the first place. If, that is, one were to believe Nikomachos.
Was that useful?
Would anyone of importance believe a thieving servant?
If nothing else, it reminded Anatolius of his promise to Felix to investigate the matter.
He laid the parchment down. There was nothing on it but a detailed sketch of a grinning skull. Yes, he was definitely getting better at drawing that skull, although he still hadn’t got the toothy grin right.
***
The grin of the dead man who was stretched out on the concrete floor of an underground room at the City Prefect’s offices wasn’t right either.
The face had been torn away, leaving a partially fleshed skull framed by dark hair. The ravens hadn’t got far with the neck, which still exhibited an indentation akin to a necklace, the gift of the hangman in the Hippodrome.
Anatolius straightened up, keeping his sleeve pressed over his nose and mouth as Flaccus, the attendant, yanked sackcloth back into place, covering the horror. Flies immediately descended and started searching for an entry.
A dozen or so shrouded heaps were scattered over the floor of the chamber. The humid air was alive with flies, several of which crawled across Flaccus’ bald, sweating scalp. He appeared to be oblivious to them.
“No one’s identified him?” Anatolius asked.
Flaccus’ extraordinarily wide, toothless mouth, curled into a gum-revealing grin almost as hideous as that of the faceless corpse. “You just seen him. What do you think?”
Anatolius had had reason to speak with the short, corpulent attendant before. This was where the urban watch brought unidentified bodies-a crop Constantinople produced in abundance-on the small chance that someone might claim them.
“What kind of man was he? Are there any indications?”
Flaccus’ puckered his lips in thought. “He weren’t carrying nothing. His tunic was coarse, unbleached cloth, but fairly new. Calloused hands, but only slightly. A man who worked but not one who done hard labor. A house servant, I’d say. His owner will come inquiring about a missing slave eventually but we’ll have to bury him sooner than that for obvious reasons.” He sniffed, not without a certain air of enjoyment, the way one might sniff at a fine, ripe cheese.
“If you find out anything more let me know. I’m really more interested in the fellow found naked in the embrace of Aphrodite.”
“He’s gone home, he has.”
“And who was he?”
“Ah now, there’s a deep, dark mystery for you. The Prefect himself come down with the widow. Ordered me out before she identified him.”
“All the more reason for you to have ascertained his identity, Flaccus. Where there’s secrecy there’s usually gold to be had. People overhear conversations, they happen to see official reports, word gets around.”
“Word might get around, but we’re duty bound not to let it get out, if I may say so respectfully. As I’m sure you understand, working for the Prefect’s office I am a representative of the law, sir, just as you are.”
Anatolius watched a fly make its stately procession across the glistening dome of the representative of the law. “I realize there’s murder involved and that it might involve a sensitive matter, Flaccus, but I’m not interested in any of that. My only interest is the widow.”
Flaccus leered at him but said nothing.
“I’m not thinking of romance! I’m a lawyer. Widows usually need legal assistance. There will be an estate to handle, various formalities to attend to, that sort of thing. As a matter of professional courtesy, naturally you’ll be entitled to a fee.”
The grotesque grin stretched across Flaccus’ face from pink ear to pink ear. “I understand now, sir. It hurts to think of unscrupulous legal cheats lying in wait for a poor young widow. I’d be doing a good turn sending her an honest man such as yourself.”
Chapter Forty-two
“So the traitorous Lord Chamberlain is still plotting against me with the captain?” Justinian dropped the parchment onto his desk.
“Former Lord Chamberlain and former captain, Caesar,” said Narses.
Justinian sat at his document littered desk in his study deep inside the imperial residence. He had barely emerged from this sanctuary for days.
“Are you sure it is authentic, Narses?”
The eunuch’s bald head bobbed up and down, catching the fitful lamp light. The stark shadows gave him a devilish appearance. “I have had Felix’s home under surveillance. We intercepted a private courier leaving.”
Justinian pushed the parchment away from him with a forefinger. “Yet it appears to be written in a feminine hand.”
“Dictated, naturally. And practically as soon as he returned home.” There was no reason for Narses to say aloud that Justinian should have heeded his advice and kept Felix in the dungeons. The plain fact hung almost palpably between them in the airless room. It angered Narses that the whim of Theodora’s sister outweighed his own good judgment. But what else would one expect?
“He asks John for assistance in his investigation of the theft of the Virgin’s shroud.”
“Do you believe that is all he wants assistance with? He also suggests John return to Constantinople in secret.”
Justinian released a sigh akin to a death rattle. “I do not wish to distress Anastasia. I expected Felix’s visit to the dungeons might dissuade her from this particular little adventure. If only Theodora could speak to her! Anastasia was always wilful and insists on going out in the city without attendants even though she knows how dangerous it is.”
That was the least of her transgressions against good sense, Narses thought, while maintaining a respectful silence.
“Returning to the matter of the relic,” Justinian went on. “We are in the grip of evil, Narses. Where will it lead? I must study the problem further and pray for guidance. You have my authority to take what steps you think best.”
***
At least he was out of the dungeons, Felix thought as he approached the street where the Jingler had his lair. He ought to be grateful for that. Grateful that Anastasia had saved him.