John ducked inside the building, to be greeted by more yelling and the noise of breaking pottery. Between his expression and the blade in his hand those he met in the corridors fell back. Once Felix’s men arrived the place would soon be secured, but his immediate task was to find Sunilda and her nursemaid.
He rapidly made his way to the Ostrogoths’ apartments. Here and there he passed by one or another of Hero’s constructions lying on the floor, making futile repetitive movements like dying men on a battlefield. Several of the mechanical figures had smashed heads. There was no doubt they would never work again.
Rounding a corner he found Hero seated on the floor beside the tilted torso of his wine-dispensing satyr. In his lap was a cloven hoof, in his one hand a goblet. A painfully loud grating emanated from the figure as wine gushed at regular intervals from its wineskin. Hero’s goblet moved mechanically back and forth from the geyser of wine to his mouth. His eyes appeared more glazed than the glass eyes in his creation’s metal face.
John’s quick glance through the Ostrogoths’ rooms showed no sign of the nursemaid or her charge.
The workshop!
He climbed quickly out the broken window and limped rapidly around to the back of the villa where the noise was even more intense.
Crossing the courtyard, he met several villagers, led by the man who had instigated the riot and who would doubtless be parted from his head before too many days had passed. They were pulling the mechanical whale on its wheeled platform.
Zeno, also arrived from the headland, was protesting but to no avail. Standing outside the workshop, he wept at the destruction going on around him.
Another swift search revealed no trace of the missing girls.
Cursing luridly, John made his way quickly through the villa and back to the coast road. He wondered briefly if Theodora was enjoying this unexpected turn of events. By the time he had got back to the headland the rioters had managed to pull the mechanical whale to the edge of the cliff.
He stood well back. Several villagers were clustered near the whale and he was alone.
“Harvest Lord, we have brought another offering,” shouted their leader, who had apparently taken it upon himself to preside over an impromptu ceremony.
As if in reply, the ground vibrated slightly. Its movement evidently upset Hero’s finely balanced machinery, for the mechanical beast’s mouth slowly opened and a watery plume shot up from its broad back.
Then, unexpectedly, a deafening roar filled the air. The whale toppled sideways and a huge crack snaked across the ground as the edge of the headland majestically crumbled away, carrying the beast and its tormentors down to the sea in a black cloud of dust that continued to rise slowly, in a towering pillar, into the clear blue morning sky.
John turned and started back toward the villa.
“Master?”
It was Peter. He emerged from the olive grove, holding Sunilda’s hand. “I found her all alone,” he continued in a quavering voice. “I told her she had to come back to the villa with me but then that mob came running towards us with the whale and we hid so they wouldn’t see us. They were in a very ugly mood.”
The girl regarded John impassively.
“Where is Bertrada?” John asked her.
“Don’t be cross with her, Lord Chamberlain,” the girl replied. “I ran away from her so I could see all the excitement. I was just taking a walk when Peter found me.”
John looked at Peter.
“She was indeed taking a walk, master, just as she says. Right towards the edge of the headland.”
The girl scowled at the elderly servant but said nothing.
“I left Godomar’s service before it concluded,” Peter went on. “He seemed intent on stirring up the congregation and I didn’t want to find myself caught in the middle of a mob. Besides which, well, I wanted to see a bit of the straw man festival. But by the time I arrived, it was over. However, thank the Lord I was just in time for something else, for as I said, I found Sunilda wandering about on her own and who knows what further tragedy might have ensued?”
***
“I must commend you, Zeno. Even the Hippodrome has never seen such thrilling events! The goats were correct after all!” Theodora surveyed the ruined dining room strewn with fragments of painted marine life fallen from its walls. A light coating of plaster dust covered everything, while in the bushes outside the base of a toppled statue could be observed from a window that was no longer quite straight.
“Thank you, highness,” Zeno muttered with a slight bow.
“I expect you to provide a suitable sequel next summer, Zeno. I shall look forward to it.” Although some time had passed since the earthquake Theodora was still flushed with excitement.
She turned her attention to John. “I must also commend you, Lord Chamberlain, for discovering the identity of the murderer. Who would have imagined a crazed old woman could inflict such damage on her superiors? Yet she managed to accomplish two deaths as well as a near-fatal poisoning. One must admire her resourcefulness and ingenuity, I suppose.”
To this strange remark John made no reply.
“My carriage is ready,” Theodora declared. “I shall request the emperor to order the Patriarch to hold a special service at the Great Church on behalf of the village. Justinian will also arrange assistance of a practical nature, of course.” Turning to go, she pointedly remarked to John, “And, yes, I am quite confident that the Great Church will still be standing when I arrive back in Constantinople. The emperor employed only the best architects and the finest building materials.”
After the imperial carriage and its accompanying guards and carts, including one carrying the litter that had unwittingly acted as an oracle, had rumbled away down the coast road, John paced thoughtfully off into the garden. It was an hour or so before Anatolius located him.
“I’ve finally found you, John! Why do you keep running away when people want to talk to you? I have wonderful news to impart!”
“I didn’t see you during the empress’ farewell speech.”
“I wanted to talk to Calyce before she left and managed to persuade her to leave her duties for a while.”
John replied with an inquiring look.
“You’ll be pleased, John. I’ve come to realize the whole notion of any romantic involvement was foolish. Fortunately, Calyce wasn’t too upset.” Anatolius sounded hurt at her implied rejection of his affections. “She tells me that she feels she needs to devote her entire attention to the service of the empress. However, I think the real reason is that she hopes to return to Italy some day whereas I have absolutely no desire to go there. What is Rome these days? Nothing but ruins, so I hear.”
John expressed agreement with the young man’s decision.
Anatolius looked disappointed. “You don’t sound very enthusiastic about my sacrifice, John.”
“My apologies. It’s just that my thoughts are of an exceedingly dark nature.”
Anatolius inquired as to their content.
“It’s a terrible fate for a child to lose a parent, Anatolius,” came the surprising reply. “I’ve been thinking about my daughter. It wasn’t my wish that I never knew her, yet it still saddens me greatly that I didn’t. I can’t help wondering if her life has been poorer for my absence. I hope it hasn’t. And now think of the twins, taken from their family and living far from their homeland. Always moving from place to place, pulled this way and that by servants and ladies-in-waiting, by men of religion, by the emperor and empress. Children without parents need guardians whose first concern is their charges’ welfare, not how to use them to further their own selfish interests and ambitions.”
“I suppose these are the sorts of thoughts you always have after an earthquake?” Anatolius replied in a puzzled attempt to lighten their conversation.