“Romantic fantasies, you mean. It really is embarrassing, John. A pity, too. I understand Calyce’s family had considerable holdings in Italy but they’ve all been lost to the Ostrogoths. Apparently Theodora magnanimously granted Calyce the privilege of remaining at court in order to serve as one of her ladies-in-waiting. Theodora’s gifts always come with a heavy price.” Anatolius gave a rueful laugh.
The last of the light stole from the sky. One of the torches flanking the doorway flared briefly. Startled, John looked quickly around. His reaction made him realize just how exhausted he had become.
“Being lady-in-waiting to Theodora might be even more perilous than you think,” he said.
“Especially when the two of them dislike each other intensely,” observed Anatolius. “You may think Livia looks like a dove but she’s got a vulture’s temperament, according to Calyce. It seems that Livia has made it plain to her on more than one occasion that she’s convinced that Calyce is one of Theodora’s favorites. You know how women go on about these things, seeing even the slightest comment as a deliberate slight and half the time it’s all unfounded.” He heaved a sigh at the strange ways of the other sex. “However, so far as I can tell the acrimony seems to have arisen mostly because Livia is the one who’s always being ordered to get Theodora sweetmeats at ungodly hours or clean out her carriage or run errands here and there. Livia objects to being forced to be continually fetching and carrying-like a common servant is how she puts it.”
“And how does Calyce view it?” John asked with a slight smile.
“Oh, she agrees it’s true. She says it’s because Livia has no real skills or talents. She can’t cook tasty tidbits or arrange Theodora’s hair or embroider as beautifully as Calyce does. Personally I think Theodora keeps Livia running about so much because the poor plump woman’s just not suited for physical activity. She gets out of breath and red in the face and so on. With her nasty sense of humor, it would be just the sort of thing Theodora would delight in.”
“Judging from all this information, I gather you were not entirely successful in evading the romantically inclined Calyce?”
“Sadly, no.” Anatolius’ expression clouded. “You mentioned peril, John. What did you mean by that?”
“Apparently Theodora also kindly decreed that Livia’s daughter serve as a playmate for the twins and today someone tried to poison her,” John said, quickly describing the attempt on Poppaea’s life.
“She was definitely poisoned? It couldn’t have been over-ripe fish or green fruit, that sort of thing?”
John shook his head. “It’s unmistakable. She’s sleeping now but it isn’t a natural slumber.”
“And here I was, putting aside my labors to see how my uncle was coping only to find out it appears he has yet more worries on his hands.” Anatolius looked at John with concern. “Will Poppaea recover?”
“That remains in Mithra’s hands. Gaius has been sent for and will no doubt have some notion of what needs to be done.”
“Perhaps you could also consult Hypatia,” Anatolius suggested. “She has considerable knowledge of herbs.” He suppressed a sneeze. “I’m starting to think I should seek some remedy from her for this dreadful affliction. It always seems to come upon me as soon as I venture beyond the city walls.” He paused as a new thought struck him. “John, is it possible that Barnabas could be behind this new attack?”
John replied that he had initially dismissed the possibility since he had been convinced Barnabas had fled. ”However,” he went on wearily, “now I’m not so certain he’s gone. Yet we cannot find him even though we’ve looked everywhere on Zeno’s estate.”
“Have Felix’s men searched Castor’s estate next door?”
“Castor? He attended Zeno’s banquet, didn’t he?”
“Yes, he was seated on the other side of Theodora. I’m surprised you noticed him, John. She has a way of overshadowing everyone in her vicinity and Castor is not the sort who calls attention to himself. In fact, I suspect he would have preferred to be communing with a volume from his library rather than chatting with the empress.”
John observed that there were many who would prefer not to get into conversation with Theodora. “I intend to pay Castor a visit as soon as possible,” he added.
“I don’t think he’s in residence right now. There were only one or two lights visible in his villa when I passed by his gate a little while ago.”
“Isn’t that unusual?”
“Not for Castor. He always dismisses most of his servants and leaves the place practically deserted while he’s off on one of his business expeditions. He’s almost as careless in his own way as Uncle Zeno although at least he’s had the sense to surround his estate with a good high wall.”
John’s fatigue was suddenly suffused with anger. “Zeno didn’t mention Castor was away! If the place is as deserted as it sounds, Barnabas could easily be hidden somewhere over there without the estate manager’s knowledge.”
“Zeno and Castor have been friends as well as neighbors for a couple of decades, John. I saw a lot of him during my visits here when I was a boy because he was always dropping in to hear about Zeno’s latest enthusiasms. But even so, I do think that with everything that’s been happening, Zeno wouldn’t have realized he’d gone off on one of his trips.”
John agreed tiredly that Anatolius was probably correct. The young man turned to go into the villa but John hesitated at its entrance, staring into the darkness in the direction of the neighboring estate.
“There’s no point searching in the dark, John, and especially not after all the time that’s passed,” Anatolius pointed out. “We can pay the place a visit tomorrow morning.”
John agreed reluctantly, realizing that raising a fresh commotion would only serve to warn the mime-if indeed he was hiding on Castor’s estate-while giving him the opportunity to escape under cover of darkness.
He wearily followed Anatolius into the treacherous vestibule in which he had been trapped that morning. As he stepped through its small space he thought he heard the grinding of gears and paused as Anatolius entered the atrium.
Anatolius looked back over his shoulder in puzzlement. “What is it? Is something wrong?”
“No,” the other replied. The odd sound must have existed only in his imagination. “Nothing’s wrong, Anatolius. We’ll visit Castor’s estate tomorrow. If it holds any secrets, they will doubtless wait until then.”
Chapter Eleven
“A banquet for the mind.”
According to Anatolius, that was how Zeno had described his neighbor’s library. Briarus, the manager of Castor’s estate, threw open the room’s plain wooden doors with a flourish as if he were indeed ushering John and Anatolius in to sample a feast of rare delights.
The room itself was attractive enough although not impressive, at least to those accustomed to the palace. The library’s furnishings were simple. Chairs surrounded a long polished table in the center of the room and a single richly upholstered couch sat beside the wall where tall, latticed windows looked out over a garden smaller but more orderly than Zeno’s overgrown grounds. Bright morning sunlight streamed in across an equally tidy array of flowers and foliage depicted on the tiled floor and along the lower portion of painted walls which were otherwise a subdued blue and punctuated by niches at waist height.
It was what filled the wall niches and lay scattered on the table that might have brought a word of admiration to the lips of Justinian himself.
Codices and scrolls, the largest private collection John had ever seen.
The library might have belonged to Briarus, to judge from his expression of pride as he led his visitors inside. He was a thin, dark haired man with a brisk air and, until now, what John suspected was a perpetual scowl.
“As you can see,” Briarus told them, “the Greek texts are kept on one side of the room and the Latin on the other.” Although his sharp features softened somewhat as he proudly described the contents of his master’s library, his disapproval of their unannounced visit remained obvious in his tone.