The trail came to a final halt beside one of the doors that lined this stretch of the partition wall. I went forward and looked down another corridor. Yes, it had ended. I went back and looked at the door. Now all over, I was shivering again in the cold. My throat was dry. I could hear the rapid beating of my heart. I can’t say how long I stood there like a bloody scared fool. I might have been taking lessons in courage from poor Martin for all I was inclined to reach out for the handle. I laughed again and pulled myself together. I snatched at the handle and pulled it down. With a harsh click, the door swung open inwards. There was a chill and gentle breeze that took something away from what had become an overpowering smell of damp. I pushed it fully open and held up my lamp.
This had once been one of the chancery offices. The high desks were covered in dust. The ink pots were still uncovered, as if everyone had been called out suddenly and then prevented from going back. I could see a sheet of papyrus on one of the desks. Curled up and cracked from however many years of damp, it may have been half covered in writing. There was no ceiling window. Even so, a puddle had gathered somehow on the floor. It reflected the dull gleam of my lamp. There was a side window that I supposed looked out into the courtyard. Against this the rain drummed loud and rhythmically, and I could hear the distant moaning of wind.
I took a step into the room. ‘Fuck!’ I snarled as I nearly dropped the lamp. I’d stubbed a toe on some piece of clutter. ‘Fucking dump!’ I added as I sat down on the cold mosaic floor and nursed my toe. If it wasn’t broken, that was no thanks to that silly bastard Heraclius and his scheme of sending me to this awful place. ‘Fucking, fucking shitty dump!’ As the pain faded and I began to see the funny side of things, there was a flash of lightning through the side window. This was followed by an endless peal of thunder that I thought for a moment would bring the ceiling down on me. I sighed and got up. Where puddles hadn’t been able to gather, the floor was covered in dust and little bits of ceiling plaster. I brushed what I could from my bottom. From what I could see on my hand, I was probably as white behind as the lead that Priscus used to smooth out his pockmarks.
The lightning had shown me there was no dust sheet or any other covering in the room. Since I had no plans to sleep here, there was no point in staying. I went out and carried on walking along one of those endless corridors. In the last unlocked office before another turning, there was still no dust sheet. But I did find a rolled-up carpet. If I could shake the worst of the dust out of this, I might play at Cleopatra till I could get up with the dawn and kick some notion of service into the few slaves who served the civil and military ruler of Athens.
The rendered brick wall that had been made to partition a larger room cut the window in half. If you squeezed your face against it and looked right, you might be able to see into the next room. No need for that — but there was a handy ledge that was unlikely to tip over or give way. I was putting my lamp there, so I could try shaking dust out of the carpet, when I looked through one of the little panes and, far off, saw the glow of another lamp.
Chapter 16
I did think at first it was just the reflection of my own lamp. The little panes were both opaque and uneven. No surprise, then, if they were, by night, to play funny tricks. But I picked at the crumbling lead framework with a fingernail, and managed to poke out one of the smaller panes. I felt the damp and chilly blast as I pushed my face close to the gap and looked out. Yes, there was definitely someone else sitting up late in the residency. This window looked out into the main courtyard. From the other side of this, there was a gentle gleam in one of the upper windows. Like Priscus and me, Martin and his family had their rooms on the ground floor of the main block. So, I believed, had Nicephorus. The slave quarters were also on the ground floor, and took up one of the side wings of the palace. I thought back to the hasty tour of the building that was all I’d been able to manage with Martin before hunger had sent us off in search of that awful dinner with Priscus. We’d found an unlocked door that revealed a staircase leading to the upper floor. By common agreement, we’d left all further exploration till the next day.
There was another flash of lightning, and more thunder. I waited for my eyes to adjust from the dazzling flash. Yes, it was a lamp in one of the upper windows. I could keep looking for somewhere dry to sleep, and see who else was in the palace come the morning. But who could have slept now? I reached for my folded sheet and took up my lamp. The carpet could stay where I’d found it. In all those corridors, I’d gone all the way round the main block of the palace. I was now only about half a dozen rooms away from my own quarters. If I remembered correctly, the staircase I wanted was through one of the undivided rooms that lay the other side of a second cluster of deserted offices. I thought of going back for a pair of sandals and some clothes. Even wet clothes might be an improvement on nudity in this chill. But I wasn’t sure how long the lamp would hold up. Shivering in a draught that at least took away the horrid smell of damp, I set out along yet another corridor. In one of the partitions of what had been a very large room — an art gallery, perhaps? — I found myself looking at the cupboard where we’d earlier found the locked door — the locked door, that is, of my dream.
‘I’ll not be going through that!’ I said firmly. My complacent laugh was drowned out by more thunder. The preceding flash of lightning, though, had shown another door that I’d somehow overlooked in our daylight tour. It hung wide open, and led up a staircase of what might once have been fine marble. I paused and looked back at the cupboard. I laughed again and pulled the door open and walked in. The door at its far end was still locked solidly shut. I’d have that open soon enough, I thought. We’d see then what was behind it. I gave the wood a hard tap. No answering echo: it must have been inches thick. I laughed, now gently. With dreams like this, I asked, who needed opium? I turned and walked from the cupboard. I took care to close the door behind me.
I felt a trickle of cold water down my back. I thought for a moment someone had touched me, and fought for much longer than that with a fit of the shivers. I tried to ignore how cold it was all about. I stared into the lamp flame, and tried to forget how, beyond a few yards in all directions, I was in pitch dark.
I told myself I’d made a mistake when I found one of the doors I had to go through to get to that staircase had been locked shut. All the doors in question had been unlocked earlier. I didn’t see why the few residency slaves should have bothered with locking any of them. More likely, I’d taken a wrong turning. But I hadn’t. Everything looks different at night. But I was in the right place. I had to go through this door, and then through another, before I got to the staircase. I was hurrying down another of the corridors — I thought this one might lead into the left side block of the residency — when I saw the faint glimmer from beneath a closed door. I stopped and tried the latch. This door was only shut, not locked. Better still, it opened on to a flight of stairs that led up to a room that seemed moderately well-lit. This wouldn’t be the light I’d seen from the office window. But, since I was investigating one, I might as well investigate another.