Anyone else who’d dared say that would already have been picking his teeth off the pavement. But this was the Lord Fortunatus, Dispensator of the Universal Bishop. No — forget the title and office — this was Fortunatus. The Emperor himself would have shrunk before that withering stare. I set my face into a smile and suggested that we might care to make a start.
‘My own very words,’ he replied. He stared at the scowling, dark little men who’d followed him out of Athens. He frowned and looked back at me. ‘You will forgive my lateness,’ he said with icy control. ‘The one person in the monastery where I have been lodged who speaks Latin was absent. On his return, he answered my request with an impertinence that has caused both him and my secretary to retire to bed for the day.’
No answer needed to that, nor possible. His walking staff clicking on the stones as he kept pace with me, we set out along the road.
It was undeniably a cheerful day. Birds twittered. A breeze sighed gently in the bushes. I could feel the sun making its way through my clothing. There weren’t many others on the road. But these were all monks or from the better classes, who had largely avoided the degeneration of the rabble. Some of these latter, it was pretty clear, were of barbarian stock. Still, no one recognised me. A few took note of the Dispensator, and bowed to him. Our previous journey along a silent, fog-bound road might have been in a different world. Even if Martin weren’t dragging his own personal cloud a few yards behind us, it would have been nice to walk the whole distance to Piraeus and back. The monuments had much to commend them. It might also have been interesting to sit on the old docks, looking across the bay to Salamis.
But it wasn’t for a stroll in the sun that we’d left the walls of Athens far behind. In bright sunshine, the tomb of Hierocles was much closer than it had seemed two days before. With a muttered apology to the Dispensator, I hurried over the last few dozen yards towards it. Everyone else could follow along at his own pace. Bearing in mind the ghastly, rotting thing that awaited us, it was worth getting this whole business out of the way as quickly as possible.
I heard his faint panting as Martin caught up with me. ‘Priscus was with us when she must have been killed,’ he said. ‘How do you suppose he can be an accomplice to murder?’
I sighed and kicked a stone along the road. This time, there was no mournful echo of its skipping. It made a bright, cheerful sound and sent up a little cloud of dust. ‘Oh, Martin,’ I said, ‘let’s go through this. Priscus knows Nicephorus from his previous visit here. Balthazar spoke of “outrages”. I’ll guess that Priscus tried his own hand at magic in the past. He had nothing to do with this particular outrage. But we may get an accusation out of Nicephorus that allows an arrest. At the worst, I can induce Priscus to a greater prudence in his dealing with our clerical friends.’ I looked at him. He’d not taken off hat or cloak, and was sweating with heat and exertion. His face was taking on the strained look that suggested he was about to be taken short again by those horrid frogs. ‘The body may be still less pretty than it was,’ I said. ‘Can I tempt you to some of my oil of roses?’ I reached into a leather pouch that hung from my sword belt and took out a stoppered glass bottle. ‘It cost its weight in gold in Alexandria. Let’s see if it was worth it.’
The Dispensator now came up beside us. ‘I have been thinking further about the possibly defective grant to His Holiness that you purported to confirm,’ he said.
Anyone who didn’t know the man already might have assumed that this had just happened to cross his mind. For myself, it was a surprise he’d taken so long to come out with it. I doubted he could have entirely lost sight of it even when giving comfort to poor old Felix.
He actually swallowed and had to wet his lips before continuing. ‘I took the trouble, when he came to see me yesterday evening, of questioning Martin about the precise nature of your authority in Athens.’ He paused and licked very dry lips again. ‘As chance would have it, I did bring a fresh grant out with me from Rome. You will see that it is drawn in exactly the right form according to law. It needs only your own seal-’
I smiled and broke in: ‘Naturally, I shall have to take my own legal advice before I can do anything at all.’ I looked at him from the corner of my eyes. He was now sweating very slightly — and not from the heat. ‘Martin’s opinion is always to be respected. But I do remain a little unsure of my authority. All else aside, if the grant made two years ago should turn out to be valid, we need to consider whether a second grant would not simply confuse matters. Can I suggest we wait until the council is over before sitting down to discuss the matter properly?’
I glared Martin into silence and commented on how cheerful the day had turned out. Indeed, it was much improved. I’d walked out of Athens still unsure of myself. Now I was committed to a double arrest, I could appreciate the desperate need for my seal on that very clean sheet of parchment the Dispensator must have been fretting over three times every day since he’d set out from Rome. No one but a fool would have sealed it before the council began. I’d need excellent reason to lift a finger till after the council had finished. I looked up at the sky — still not a cloud in sight.
‘I might add,’ the Dispensator went on, strain evident in his voice, ‘that my summons from the Grand Chamberlain himself did touch on a possible resolution by you in Athens.’
It was my turn to fight for control. I stopped and covered my shock by looking at all that remained of a very old funerary statue. ‘Are you telling me,’ I asked with an unnaturally steady voice, ‘that your summons was sent by His Excellency Ludinus?’ Anyone else would have thought nothing of the fact. It is the job of the Grand Chamberlain to correspond with foreign powers on behalf of the Emperor. But Heraclius was the Emperor. Though he’d devolved them straight to me and Sergius, he had taken all religious matters into his own hands on coming to power. Unless there had been a total revolution in Constantinople since I’d left in the spring, it was unthinkable that a eunuch could be summoning delegates to any sort of Church council.
‘I believe the man’s name is Ludinus,’ came the reply in a tone that showed my own mood had been noted. ‘His communication was most gracious, and even friendly. He said more than once that nothing less than my own attendance in person would be satisfactory to the Emperor.’
We covered the last few yards that separated us from the tomb of Hierocles. In proper light, it looked shabby as well as derelict. The Euripides monument looked more recent, though was a good seven centuries older. That’s what you get when money is saved on a funeral. I turned and waved at the monks, who’d been drifting along far behind. I hid every doubt that had crowded suddenly back into my mind — every doubt, and every new prickling fear. ‘Come, dear brothers,’ I cried cheerfully in Greek. ‘There’s sad work to be done. The sooner it’s over, the better.’
As the monks put on leather gloves that reached all the way up to their shoulders, I opened my perfume bottle. I shook it over a napkin and stood where I could take what advantage might come of the very gentle breeze. The Dispensator ignored my offer and looked down in quiet prayer. Martin was already on his knees and had his arms raised in a prayer of his own. I took my thoughts off Constantinople — they brought no profit — and wondered again what funeral rites Hierocles had been given. The Old Faith wouldn’t have been made illegal till about fifty years after his probable death. Enforcement in a place like Athens would have come perhaps a century after that. The absence of anything specifically religious probably meant, then, that he’d been a Christian. A Christian burial here — or one so prominent — would, until quite recently, have risked immediate violation. Even now, the rabble gave no appearance of more than formulaic devotion.