'It's possible,' Polybius agreed. 'During the Great Persecution and the consequent civil war, many properties out here were left empty. This garden, when I took over the tavern, was uncultivated.'
'But all this doesn't account for the preservation of the corpse,' Claudia insisted.
'Ah well.' Polybius gestured at Apuleius. 'You explain.'
'That young woman,' the apothecary replied, 'was a martyr, a saint. God preserved her body as a sign of her sanctity.'
'I've never heard-'
'Claudia!'
She turned round and groaned. Oceanus stood in the tavern doorway, next to him an imperial messenger, a white wand of office in his right hand, his left hand beckoning her quickly.
'The Empress!' Claudia rose to her feet. 'The dead are not so bothersome as the living.'
Chapter 2
Si natura negat, facit indignation versum.
If nature refuses, indignation will prompt my verse.
Juvenal, Satires
In the Nile Chamber of the Imperial Palace on the Palatine, the Empress Helena sat on a blue quilted stool and forced herself to smile at her visitors. In truth, at that moment in time, she wished she could drown all three of them in the river Nile whose glories decorated the chamber walls. She stared at these marvels in an attempt to calm herself: brilliant frescos glorifying the magnificence of the Great River, the water painted in vivid blue, with light green bullrushes sprouting along its banks in which black hippopotami lurked. Pink flamingos flew overhead shadowing a gloriously decorated barge full of worshippers sailing down to some temple whose gilded cornices peeped welcomingly above luxuriant palm fronds.
Helena shifted her gaze and stared down at her sandalled feet. She just wished Burrus, standing like the figure of Mars behind her, would stop sniffing. He should blow his nose! She had told him that so many times. Beside her Anastasius, her secretary, sat as if carved out of marble, staring across at Cassia, the former courtesan who was now one of the Magdalena. Helena could understand Anastasius' fascination. Cassia was dressed so simply, so purely in white robes, her only ostentation being the beautiful wild flower nestling behind her ear, its pink petals resting against her resplendent curly golden hair. Cassia's dark eyes smiled. Of medium height, with a voluptuous figure, she reminded Helena of an exquisite statue of Aphrodite she'd once owned when living in Corinth, perfect in every detail. She sighed. Cassia fascinated Anastasius not only with her looks, but also because, like him, she was a deaf mute, something which had happened to her during childhood. Ah well, at least Cassia was pleasant and smiling, unlike the Lady Urbana beside her. Helena glanced quickly at the powerful, beautiful wife of the even more powerful former general Aurelian. Urbana was dressed severely, no paint on her face or jewellery; a simple robe covered her Junoesque figure, whilst her raven-black hair was pulled in a tight knot behind her lovely oval face, making her look much older than she really was.
'Your Excellency Augusta.' Urbana leaned forward. 'We have presented our petition. Senator Carinus is prostrate with grief; the Magdalena are at his villa even now comforting him.'
'I know, I know,' Helena murmured, trying to hide her exasperation. Urbana had already said that! She was relieved when Cassia began to make strange signs with her fingers, the eunuch sitting beside her watching intently. Helena, who communicated with her own secretary in a similar way, couldn't understand the signs, and by his growing restlessness, neither could Anastasius. Cassia's interpreter also intrigued Helena. He was of medium height, olive-skinned, a Parthian who'd served Cassia when she was a leading courtesan in the city long before her conversion to Christianity and the Magdalena. He was good-looking, just past his thirtieth year, his dark eyes bright and intelligent, a snub nose above a smiling mouth, his black hair cropped close; a silver earring in his right lobe, a bracelet on his wrist, and beneath the dark green tunic, a gold chain around his left ankle. He sat watching Cassia, then turned and gently shrugged one shoulder.
'My mistress,' his voice was cultured and soft, the intonation correct, 'wonders why the Augusta, who has so many spies and agents, has not discovered anything about the gangs perpetrating these outrages?'
'Leartus,' Helena smiled at the eunuch, 'who said they were gangs?'
She heard a sound and looked up. The door at the far end of the chamber opened and Chrysis, the fat imperial chamberlain, waddled in. Helena suppressed a sign of relief.
'Ladies,' she turned to the eunuch, 'Leartus.' She spread her hands. 'I do understand your deep concerns. However, I must ask you to withdraw for a while, perhaps have a word with the actor Theodore. I do thank you all.' She played with the ring on her finger, fighting to control her anger. To be lectured here in her own palace about the security of the state, in the presence of a Parthian eunuch! Yet her son had been most insistent.
'Aurelian Saturninus was a great general, a friend of my father.' Constantine had glared at her. 'Mother, you've known him for years and so have I. Don't upset either him or his pious prig of a wife. I want you to smile and keep your voice low.'
Well, she had, but the effort had been great.
Helena wiped the sweat from the palm of her hands on her gown. A servant led her guests out through one door whilst Chrysis, beaming from one protuberant ear to the other, ushered Claudia and Murranus into the chamber. The Empress took a deep breath and relaxed, snapping her fingers at Anastasius to serve light white wine and spiced biscuits. Claudia and Murranus made to genuflect, but Helena quickly gestured at the vacated stools. She grabbed a goblet of wine, sipped quickly and bit into one of the biscuits, examining her visitors out of the corner of her eye.
Murranus, as ever, was a handsome man, lithe and tall, all muscle, no fat, his red hair shorn. His face was smooth, surprisingly unmarked and intelligent, betraying none of the stupid aggression of so many gladiators, or worse, the dandified, slightly effete ways of the great champions. Beside him Claudia looked so small, and for a moment Helena thought of them making love. She swallowed quickly. Presbyter Sylvester had warned her against such sexual curiosity and advised her to rein it in. Helena smiled at Murranus, who had now been brought into what she called the Mundus Secretorum, the World of Secrets. Claudia, his beloved, was one of her agents. He'd been told that and warned that to betray her would mean death. The gladiator had accepted the warning, just a shift in his eyes betraying his annoyance at being threatened.
Claudia sat beside Murranus, nibbling at a biscuit and sipping ever so carefully from her goblet. Helena let her shoulders sag. Claudia the little mouse, she reflected, a mere slip of a girl looking much younger than her years with her mop of black hair and ivory-pale skin. Those eyes, large and expressive, were ever watchful, and behind them was a mind that could twist and turn with the best of them.
'Augusta, Excellency.' Claudia swallowed, hiding her mouth. 'It is good to look upon your face, as it is on yours, Anastasius.'
The secretary stared coolly back, only the brief smile in his eyes betraying his own welcome for this mysterious young woman.
'And of course…' Claudia's voice changed, becoming vibrant and voluptuous. She heaved a dramatic sigh and stared in mock adoration at Burrus, captain of the Empress' bodyguard. 'Oh Burrus, I dream of you so often.'
Burrus grinned and bowed.
'And I dream of you too,' he replied, winking quickly at Murranus to show he meant no offence. In truth Burrus was very much in awe of this warrior and certainly smitten by what he called his 'delightful shield maiden'.