“You were strong enough to fend off the young woman’s attack, I presume?”
“As you well know, a weaker force sometimes prevails against a stronger when it is allied with surprise. On the other hand, perhaps it was more an enchantment than an ambush,” Felix replied.
The big captain picked up a leather exercise ball lying in one of the puddles left on the concrete by the previous day’s downpour. He eyed the oblong ball suspiciously. “This looks normal enough but you never know, it might suddenly burst open and birds fly out. You can’t take anything for granted on this estate.”
He heaved the heavy ball at the Lord Chamberlain, who caught it and threw it back with a grunt of effort.
“That at least doesn’t work automatically,” John noted.
“Probably because Zeno hasn’t thought of it yet.”
The two men tossed the ball back and forth in silence for a while. When in Constantinople, John habitually spent an hour or so daily in the gymnasium at the Baths of Zeuxippos, determined to avoid any hint of the softness that the ignorant typically associated with those whom they carelessly lumped together under the name of eunuch.
The early morning sun had not risen far, but although the enclosure was still in cool shadow, the back of his tunic was soon damp from effort. The sharp cawing of crows roosting nearby formed a raucous counterpoint to the regular thump of the leather ball.
“I should not have to warn you about the dangers of becoming entangled with anyone even remotely close to Theodora,” John eventually remarked.
Felix pointed out that Bertrada was merely a nursemaid.
“But she is nursemaid to a child who is a future queen, and a child, moreover, who is an imperial hostage.”
“Perhaps you’re right, John,” Felix admitted. “Even so, Bertrada is so like my Berta…”
“But only like her,” John reminded his friend. “And how is Bertrada so like her? Close to her age? Similar hair color? You might as well say that Sunilda is like my daughter at the same age.”
Felix stepped swiftly forward to catch John’s short throw. “I’ve seen the wistful way you sometimes look at your young charge, John. I knew you were thinking of Europa. As to Bertrada, she looks exactly like Berta. The face, the hair, they could be twins.”
“To your eyes, perhaps.”
“She has the same enthusiastic temperament,” Felix responded with a grin.
“But didn’t we all when we were her age?”
Felix looked exasperated. “She is my country-woman as well!” he declared. “We’re of the same blood!”
John began to reply but the velocity with which the heavy leather ball hit his chest convinced him that there was no point in saying anything further about Bertrada. He decided to change the subject. “Have you had any other thoughts about where Barnabas might have gone, Felix?”
“He’s probably in Egypt by now, John. Or Crete. Who knows where he’s fled? Now, what about this? Everyone is convinced that Poppaea was poisoned, but if the murderer’s also a poisoner, then why didn’t he poison Gadaric? No, I’m not entirely convinced that Poppaea’s illness was an attempted murder.”
“I’ll bear that in mind, Felix.”
The flush of exertion visible above Felix’ thick beard suddenly deepened. He failed to intercept the ball on its next return, and it splashed into a puddle.
“You think that I’ve revealed weakness, don’t you, John? You have my oath that I haven’t been that weak. Not yet, at least. How often do we get a second chance? Even if she is not Berta, she is as near to her as I will ever meet again.”
John remained silent.
“I’m extremely tired of being a glorified guard!” Felix snarled.
The statement took the Lord Chamberlain by surprise and he said so.
“I don’t mean just this particular assignment. I’m a fighting man, or at least I used to be one. When I was given the opportunity to join the excubitors, to have the honor of serving directly under Justinian, stationed inside the palace at the very heart of the empire-how could I have refused? Besides, I was tired of campaigning.”
“You certainly made the best of your opportunity, Felix. Few have risen so quickly to be captain. There’s no doubt it was as a result of your heroism during the riots. You are a powerful man now, my friend, and many must envy your success.”
“Powerful? Where is my power? Unless I were to rally my excubitors to place me on Justinian’s throne-as more than a few military men have done in their time-I’m nothing more than a bodyguard, and one with Theodora’s venomous gaze on him at all times at that.”
John had never heard Felix voice such sentiments before, even when the gruff captain was intoxicated. “If you truly desired more power, you’d be seated on the throne already or, what’s much more likely, your bones would be crumbling away in the earth. What is it that you really desire?”
Felix said nothing at first but walked over to retrieve the wet exercise ball.
“To be with Belisarius in Italy,” he finally admitted slowly. “Or even to be Belisarius, camped with my troops outside the gates of Ravenna. If I’d remained with the army, I might be there in his place. Instead I let myself be enticed to Constantinople, to breathe the perfumes of the court. They’re like an enchantment, putting a man to sleep.”
John said that he suspected that it was not so much the perfumes of the court but rather the one worn by Bertrada that had affected Felix.
The big man glared at him. “We sometimes lose sight of the road Fortuna has laid before us, John, and sometimes our friends do the same.” He put all his weight behind his throw. John stopped the ball but its force drove him back a step. As he recovered his equilibrium, Felix whirled and stalked away across the wet concrete.
John thought of calling after him, but the captain had no sooner vanished around the corner of the bath house than Anatolius appeared, accompanied by Zeno.
“What’s the matter with Felix?” Anatolius asked immediately. “I greeted him in a perfectly civil manner and he practically knocked me down.”
“He’s suffering from an enchantment, or so he says,” John informed him. “And what are you doing here at the first hour of the morning, Anatolius? You bring important news perhaps?”
Anatolius shook his head. “I fear not. I couldn’t sleep at all, thinking about Lucretia, so I thought I might as well ride out here immediately.” Looking shamefaced, he recounted what had transpired during his visit to Balbinus’ home.
“You shouldn’t be risking life and limb on the road in the middle of the night just to bring a report, although I appreciate your efforts on my behalf.” John did not care for the sound of Lucretia’s name on Anatolius’ lips, nor the way he said it, but made no comment. One argument with a friend about a woman was enough before breakfast. He would broach the topic tactfully later, when he could speak to Anatolius in private.
“Speaking of enchantments,” Zeno put in suddenly, “I got up with the sun also and I have wonderful news, John. You need no longer concern yourself about Barnabas.”
“I do wish you had mentioned that on the way over here, uncle,” Anatolius chided him. “Why, I was positively gripped with fear every time we passed by a bush tall enough to hide a dwarf.”
“That’s rather a startling statement, Zeno,” John observed in a mild tone.
Zeno beamed. “But quite true, John. I just consulted Minthe. I left a question for the goats, you see. You’ve all been working so terribly hard, searching everywhere for Barnabas and patrolling the estate and so on, and everyone in an uproar and terribly worried that he might be creeping about waiting to strike again. I know you blame him for poisoning Poppaea, but all the children doted on him. He was wonderful with them, too. So I decided to ask the goats if we would ever find out his whereabouts.”
Anatolius suppressed a grin. “Don’t tell me they’ve told you where to find him?”
“No, but they’ve done almost as well. The searching and patrolling can be called off now. Barnabas definitely isn’t here.”