“Certainly, if it will help you to find him.” Brontes jumped down from the stage. “And if you do find him,” he rumbled loudly enough to be heard all over the theater, “tell him that Brontes needs his help in thrashing a pair of fools into shape! For even though he’s small, he’s stronger than a blacksmith. That’s very useful in our profession, as you can imagine.”
***
Barnabas’ lodging was a modest second floor room in a solid brick building on the opposite side of the square dominated by the theater. Brontes produced a key, explaining that Barnabas allowed him to use the room when he was absent.
“It’s closer than my place and boys can be so timid once they’re offstage. They often need instructing in the profession, you understand. No more than that,” he added quickly. “We’re all aware of the emperor’s exhortations against unnatural lust. I hear he says it’s the sort of thing that causes earthquakes and pestilence. We certainly don’t want any of those, and in any event none of us would even think of flouting his laws to begin with.”
“No, none of us would.” John stooped slightly to enter the room. City apartments were not built on the grand scale of the palace.
The apartment had the appearance of the home of a person who was rarely at home. There were no coals in the brazier sitting in an alcove nor did any pots hang from the hooks on the wall behind it. The walls were whitewashed and plain. The theatre’s colonnaded front could be seen from the room’s small window.
“You would be able to hear the audience if you opened the window,” Brontes remarked. “Especially when it’s a particularly good performance. Or even sometimes when it isn’t and our patrons are making their displeasure known.”
The room was sparsely furnished with a chest, a table with a pair of stools, and a bed with a bright red coverlet. A tall cupboard stood against one wall. Evidently Barnabas did not feel the necessity of gathering together a large number of the world’s riches, although he was certainly paid extremely well for his frequent work at the palace and elsewhere. John said as much to Brontes.
“I believe he’s a frugal man, and he’s putting as much as possible aside towards his retirement. He’s a wonderful acrobat but we all get older. There’ll come a day, not too long from now perhaps, when his body just won’t do his bidding any longer.”
It was true, John thought. He wondered if Brontes was also referring to himself for though he was not yet old, he was not a young man either.
John looked around again. One corner of the room was stacked with theatrical props, among them ecclesiastical garments and several large, obscenely stuffed phalluses.
“Barnabas uses those for one of his acts,” Brontes confirmed John’s surmise nervously. “It’s very popular at the palace.”
Suppressing a smile, John remarked that Barnabas was a particular favorite of Theodora’s.
“Very true. What a wonderful jest! The little actress being entertained herself, rather than entertaining others. I would never have prophesied such a future for her.”
“You have met Theodora?” John concealed his surprise.
“I knew her in the days when she was working in the theater, and behind the theater as well if I dare say it,” Brontes replied boldly.
“Everyone dares say so but not within her hearing, Brontes.” John was examining the line of erotic amulets hung along the window frame.
“Oh, I could tell you some tales about Theodora,” Brontes went on confidentially. “I worked with her on more than one occasion. Yes, the empress herself and Brontes are old friends. But now she’s a very great lady, all turned out in silks, gold, and jewels. Her ladies-in-waiting put more clothes on her every morning than she wore in all her years in the theatre put together! Not that I knew her except as a colleague, you understand. Of course, if you’re from the palace, you’ll have caught a glimpse of her.”
“From time to time,” John agreed. He hoped Brontes was not about to relate how he had personally witnessed Theodora remove her clothing and lie on the floor while geese pecked grain from her naked body. It sometimes seemed there was not a single person in all Constantinople who had not been present at that alleged performance, including many at the time unborn. “Did Barnabas also know her during her theatrical days?”
“I shouldn’t think so, since he’s somewhat younger than I am.”
John opened the chest, revealing nothing more than several neatly folded tunics and other garments.
“Everything here’s in its usual place as far as I can tell,” Brontes volunteered.
“Have you used this room in the past week?” John dropped the lid on the chest.
Barnabas said that unfortunately he had not been so fortunate.
If Barnabas had returned here in his flight from Zeno’s estate, John concluded, there was no evidence of it. The room was clean and neatly arranged, just as a meticulous person would leave it before departing for a few days.
There remained only the contents of the tall cupboard to be examined.
Expecting it to contain clothing or more theatrical props, John found instead at least part of the answer concerning what Barnabas did with the money he obviously did not spend on material comforts.
The cupboard was filled with dozens of codices and scrolls, neatly arranged in specially made racks.
John pulled out a scroll, which turned out to be Vitruvius’ work on architecture. There was a codex of Plotinus’ Enneads and much more besides. Any one of them would have cost more than a laborer’s annual wages.
“Barnabas was always quite the reader,” remarked Brontes, somewhat superfluously.
John produced a coin, twin to the one he had given the Egyptian at the docks, and handed it to Brontes with the same instructions concerning his interest in acquiring information about Barnabas’ whereabouts.
As he emerged into the square, John wondered what other surprises the missing mime had in store for him.
Chapter Six
“Barnabas isn’t hiding under one of the pallets here, I can assure you of that, John.” Isis’ smile took the sting from her waspish denial of any knowledge of the elusive dwarf.
The plump Egyptian had greeted John in the reception hall of her establishment. Its semi-circular courtyard was discreetly screened from the busy square beyond by a portico housing several shops, many of which she was part owner.
“You know I would never accuse you of harboring a criminal, Isis,” John protested with a smile. “However, the theater isn’t too distant from here and you’ve often said that half the world passes through your door. Or perhaps more than half now, given that your girls stroll up and down the courtyard all day?”
“And a fair bit of the night as well, John. It does entice a few of the more timid sort of patron to venture past the little gilded Eros at our door. Once they’re inside my house, few are dissatisfied with our services.”
John knew that Isis took considerable pride in her new house, which had replaced one burnt down during riots a year or two before. “Yes, I can imagine it might be difficult to leave your excellent establishment before parting with a few coins.” John’s gaze skimmed over the closest of a number of mosaic plaques set beside the doorways along the wide corridor leading from the reception hall. The plaques depicted the particular expertise offered within each room with graphic specificity.
“Stay and talk for a little while,” Isis said. “You look as if you’ve had a grueling morning. While I really can’t help you find Barnabas I can at least offer you some wine.”
John followed her down the corridor and up the stairway to her private apartments.
“Just as a matter of interest, Isis, how is it that you can be so certain you can’t assist me?” John settled down on an overstuffed couch in her sitting room and took the proffered goblet of wine.
Isis, about to bite into a large honeyed date selected from a silver tray on the inlaid wood table beside her couch, drew her full lips into a pout of displeasure. “So, John, is this chat to be devoted only to business matters after all? You know how much I love reminiscing about the old days in Alexandria!”