Seven for a Secret Page 20

  “You do remember such a boy?”

  “I would have to ask the empress if I do,” Kyrillos smirked.

  John offered a grim smile. “I understand you are in a difficult situation. I appreciate that you are loyal to the empress, but as I have explained, the safety of the emperor is involved. Would you choose to betray him?”

  Kyrillos pursed his lips. “Lord Chamberlain, I believe we both know while the emperor may forgive those with whom he becomes angry, once we attract the enmity of Theodora, she will pursue us straight through the gates of heaven, and indeed often arrange for them to be opened for us.”

  “Would the empress fault you for helping to preserve the throne?”

  “I have only your word that the throne is at stake. If it is not, I could be—”

  “I could order you executed myself,” John cut in. “I am the emperor’s Lord Chamberlain, whereas you are merely chamberlain to the empress.”

  It seemed to John that Kyrillos trembled. “I will give my life for the empress if necessary,” said the eunuch all but inaudibly. “But where is your sealed order written in purple ink? If Justinian had sent you, you would be able to show me such a document.”

  John’s heart had begun to pound. “And what if your fine mistress had sent me, to see whether you would put the emperor to death by your own treacherous folly and insubordination?”

  “If you have approached me in the emperor’s name without his knowledge, both he and the empress shall know of it.” Kyrillos’ faint voice quavered. “But if I do you a service by saying nothing of this visit, there will be a reward, will there not?”

  So even abject terror could not allay such a creature’s greed.

  John felt his muscles tense. He was aware of the weight of the bronze statuette he still held. He restrained himself from lashing out in a fury, striking the repulsive eunuch with the satyr, knocking him backward into the fountain, watching the puffy face gaze up from beneath scattered rose petals on the surface of the water. The thought reminded him of his discovery of Agnes.

  The image brought him to his senses. He set the satyr down. “I will see you have a reward.”

  Kyrillos slumped down into the chair in front of his desk. He looked exhausted. “Thank you, Lord Chamberlain. Now that I think about it, I believe I may indeed recall the boy you mentioned. He was brought into my office by one of my slaves. The child had been wandering around the palace asking after his mother, if you can imagine that. He was questioning a servant when my slave overheard him. How he slipped into the palace I don’t know. A large number of guards were executed afterward for dereliction of duty.”

  John asked for a description of the boy.

  “He was a child and children all look the same. I don’t pay much attention to them. They aren’t important at court. Strange that he said his name was John.” A sly smile flickered over his face. “There was nothing to his claim, but he had been searching from one end of the palace grounds to the other. The empress would doubtless hear about it so I wished to tell her first. To my surprise, she ordered me to send him to her at once.”

  “That must have suggested to you that his story was genuine?”

  “Not necessarily, given Theodora’s strange humors. I thought it was possible she was bored and looking for amusement. Afterward I knew the boy was not her son.”

  John asked how Kyrillos could be certain.

  “Because…” Kyrillos paused and dabbed his suddenly bright eyes, unable to control his emotions like all of his kind. “Because no mother would slaughter her own child, Lord Chamberlain.”

  “Theodora killed the boy?”

  “Not with her own hands. But…I heard about it later, you understand…I was not present. My slave escorted the boy off to a private audience with Theodora and that was the last I saw of him. No one knows what passed between empress and child. After a short time, she summoned a favorite of hers, a rough, illiterate brute. No better than a beast, but as loyal as a cur. She placed the child in this monster’s hands. John has never been seen again.”

  “And you believe Theodora ordered the boy killed?”

  “What other conclusion can one draw? The brute, Theodoulos, could be trusted to carry out the task. It is well known he had done so on other occasions.”

  John suppressed an oath. “And Theodoulos?”

  Kyrillos shook his head and stared at the floor. “You doubtless expect him to have been executed? But no, there was no reason to do so. He would no more betray the empress than a dog betray his master. And, as I told you, he was her favorite, a pet, like that bear she used to keep caged…

  “Theodoulos is a dwarf and you know how she dotes on them. Why would she destroy a plaything like that? No, she merely had his tongue cut out. I doubt a beast like him even misses it.”

  And yet the grim story had traveled on other tongues from the palace grounds into the city, thought John.

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  As he strode through the narrow white-washed hallways of the servants’ lodgings, John’s head throbbed with pain, more, he suspected the result of his infuriating confrontation with Kyrillos than any lingering effect of the street ambush.

  No splendid tapestries, mosaics, or frescoes decorated this dimly lit palace warren, only crosses provided by a benevolent empress as a reminder of the greater riches waiting in another world.

  There were as many eunuchs here as in Theodora’s own quarters. They made way nervously for the tall man with a military bearing and a dark look in his eyes.

  “Where can I find Theodoulos?” John demanded of one servant after another.

  He was directed this way and that and eventually upon turning a corner nearly tripped over a bow-legged, barrel chested little man with massive arms.

  The dwarf’s coarse features contorted when he saw John. Theodoulos must have been warned by someone who had made a swifter way through the maze of corridors ahead of John.

  Theodoulos put his shoulder down and plowed it into John’s stomach, then barged past and raced down the corridor, scattering eunuchs as he went.

  “Stop him!” John ordered. The eunuchs, useless creatures, merely gaped and cried out.

  Cursing, John set off in pursuit.

  The clamor brought more servants into the hallway. Theodoulos dodged and ducked between them. John shoved bodies aside and increased speed.

  He closed ground, flung a hand out, and almost grasped the back of his prey’s tunic.

  Theodoulos veered through a doorway.

  John followed and burst into a kitchen.

  Theodoulos scrambled onto a table and kicked a covered wicker basket toward the long brazier. The lid flew off as the basket and the chickens it contained tumbled onto the hot coals.

  There was an explosion of feathers and flaming fowls, accompanied by a cacophony of screams from the cooks and the outraged cackling of prematurely roasting chickens. John knocked one of the burning chickens out of the air. Another flapped against his legs and scrabbled at his robes, shedding sparks.

  John loped across the long room but it was too late.

  Theodoulos had already exited via a door leading into the kitchen gardens.

  John raced across herb beds to a covered walkway and down to its end.

  Theodoulos was nowhere in sight.

  No doubt he was familiar with every part of the grounds of the Great Palace, a vast, bewildering confusion made up of paths, plantings, buildings, courtyards, pavilions, colonnades, pools, and fountains laid out on terraces descending to the sea. A beggar had once got into the grounds and managed to elude guards for two months while living off scraps of food and an occasional loaf stolen from an unattended kitchen.

  If John did not locate Theodoulos immediately he would never find him.

  Glancing around, John saw an opening in a high wall of bushes. It was the way Theodoulos must have taken.

  The gap led to a sculpture garden, a frozen crowd of deities, in whi
ch stood every god and goddess imagined by the classical mind.

  There was no time to catalog the collection.

  Movement drew his gaze to the back of the garden.

  Theodoulos was creeping away between Mercury and Jupiter.

  John went after him, narrowing the distance between them as the two emerged from the garden and began pounding along a wide mosaic walkway depicting mythical wildlife.

  Theodoulos suddenly left the path and plunged into a stand of thickly interlaced bushes pruned into domes.

  John lunged after him but whatever opening beneath the bushes Theodoulos had found was too small to accommodate John. Branches ripped at his face as fought his way forward.

  His foot came down on air.

  John grabbed at the surrounding branches as he started to slide over the edge of the parapet. He felt his hands sliding down, ripping off twigs and skinning his flesh.

  His forward motion stopped and he pulled himself back from the edge.

  Some distance below leaves fluttered toward the flag stoned courtyard on the next terrace.

  Theodoulos scrambled along the low parapet over which John had almost fallen and leapt onto the steep stairway at its end.

  Cursing, John followed.

  His prey had increased the distance between them.

  The pain in his head had become almost unbearable. Every footfall as he ran down the stairs communicated itself directly to his skull.

  By the time he reached the lowest of the terraces Theodoulos had already crossed most of the equestrian field laid out there and had almost reached a line of yews through which the sea glittered.

  He intended to throw himself into the sea.

  The realization hit John with a sickening, hopeless certainty.

  He tried to call out, to promise protection.

  As if anyone could be protected against the wrath of Theodora.

  The dwarf vanished between the trees.

  Blackness flickered at the edge of John’s vision by the time he had followed Theodoulos to the path between the yews and the parapet wall.

  He stopped.

  Impossibly, Theodoulos stood in front of him. His coarse features, wide lips, and squashed nose were scarlet with rage as he strained futilely to escape from the grasp of the two excubitors who held him.

  Felix put a hand like a bear’s paw on John’s shoulder. “Are you all right, my friend? It’s fortunate I happened to be passing by just now.”

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  The single, narrow window in Felix’s office offered a view of a courtyard with a fountain which had been dry for years.

  John, Felix, and Theodoulos sat at the table which served as a desk. The plaster walls were bare except for a silver cross, the required decoration of every administrative office.

  John reflected that no doubt some prosperous metal worker in the Copper Market was even then hammering out another crateful of pious artifacts.

  A visitor might wonder why the religious symbol in the excubitor captain’s office had been allowed to tarnish, but such a person would not know that, like John and Anatolius, Felix was a secret follower of Mithra.

  Felix had stationed two guards outside his office door. Theodoulos appeared resigned to his fate. He perched silently on his stool, giving his captors angry looks.

  “So our mistress has removed your tongue,” Felix said. “I hope she was kind enough to have it cut off rather than ripped out.”

  John thought he looked more nervous than Theodoulos.

  “You can answer my questions by nodding yes or else shaking your head no,” John said.

  The dwarf made a guttural, growling noise.

  Felix frowned. “You have no choice but to cooperate with us. I can use the same torturers as the empress. You are already missing your tongue, but they are talented men and can find plenty of other body parts to remove.”

  Theodoulos’ hands unclenched. He opened his left hand, turned it palm upward, extended the stubby forefinger of his right hand, and began running it across the palm. Then he growled again.

  “He wants a kalamos.” John said.

  Felix grunted. “Likely to stab you with. I thought he was supposed to be an illiterate brute?”

  Theodoulos shook his head.

  “Well, there’s two of us and only half of him.” Felix got out of his chair, opened a chest beside the table, rummaged through its contents, and pulled out a roll of parchment. He glanced at the writing covering one side and slapped it down on the table. “Request for extra supplies from six years ago. The other side’s blank.”

  He brought an ink pot and a kalamos from a shelf, hesitated, and then handed the sharpened reed to Theodoulos.

  The dwarf dipped it into the ink, carefully marked the parchment, and turned it around so John could see what he’d written.

  “‘Thank you, excellencies,’” John read out. “I notice you write in Latin.”

  The kalamos scratched across the parchment again. ‘I was taught by a bishop. A friend of the empress.’

  “One of those monophysites she’s got lodged in the Hormisdas, I’ll wager,” Felix grumbled. “You learned to read and write after your tongue was removed?”

  Theodoulos nodded.

  “Does the empress know about this unexpected talent?”

  A shake of the head indicated she did not. He wrote again. ‘Every man needs to be able to tell his story if necessary.’

  Felix grinned. “You’re right there. So you’re not the beast you’ve been made out to be.”

  Theodoulos’ thick lips curved into a broad, grotesque smile as he scratched out his reply. ‘I would gladly kill you both were I able. I am a literate beast but a beast nonetheless.’

  John handed the parchment back. “And an honest beast, I see. How was it you came into Theodora’s employment?”

  It took the dwarf some time to frame his answer. ‘My father was a baker,’ he wrote, ‘and a good Christian. When I was born he thanked the Lord for blessing him with a son. When I did not grow like other children he prayed to the Lord to make me whole. When his prayers were not answered he cursed me as the spawn of demons and sought to cast me into the street. But I was stronger than him, and that is how I came to the attention of the empress. She can always find a use for a boy who strangled his own father and hung him from his own bakery sign. The fact that I was a monster amused her.’

  “You have killed for Theodora?” John asked.

  ‘More times than I can recall.’

  “He enjoys it.” Felix’s voice was thick with disgust. “Soldiers kill but few enjoy it.”

  The pen moved furiously, leaving blots of ink. ‘Do you know what it is like to be mocked as an abomination, to be loathed by your own father? The bishop taught me that mankind was evil. And so it is. I am happy to punish mankind for its sins.’

  “Indeed,” Felix observed. “And you are punishing mankind one victim at a time.”

  “Why did you flee when you discovered I wanted to speak to you?” John asked.

  ‘I guessed what you wanted to know,’ Theodoulos wrote. ‘Too many people have been asking questions about the same matter.’

  “What people?”

  ‘Ask the excubitor captain.’

  Felix glared at their captive. “I made inquiries after you mentioned a certain matter to me, John. I instructed my men to be discreet. It would appear they were not.”

  “And you really intended to throw yourself into the sea, Theodoulos?” John asked.

  ‘Rocks and waves are kinder than the torturer. I am already a dead man. If I can, I intend to dispatch that eunuch chamberlain before I go into the next world.’

  “A journey you will not be taking any time soon unless Theodora realizes you can tell your story. What is your story? You must remember the empress’ son?” John said.

  Theodoulos dipped the reed in the ink pot and stared down at the parchment for some time before he began to w
rite again, slowly and pausing now and then to think. When he was finished he pushed what he had written across the table to his interrogators.

  ‘I recall the boy named John only because I did not kill him. He was alone with the empress when I was summoned to the most private of her reception rooms, a room hung with heavy tapestries which allow no sound to escape. The tapestries depict scenes from the Bible and these are often among the last things visitors to that secret chamber will ever see…

  ‘On this occasion the empress did not seek entertainment. She instructed me to take the child away and show him the usual courtesies. By this she meant I was not to inflict more pain than was necessary. He looked at me most haughtily, and then asked the empress if a mother could not spare her son a more presentable servant?…

  ‘I was not surprised by his words. I could tell you where to find the bones of others who thought to present themselves as heirs to the throne. I was, however, offended by the insult and resolved to show the boy less courtesy than he could have otherwise expected…

  ‘I took him by the arm and led him out of the palace through a corridor known to few. We emerged in the gardens. There is a secluded spot near the sea, surrounded by wind bent olive trees. It has served my purposes well…

  ‘Darkness had fallen. I took the path that runs behind the banquet hall, along the parapet, because it is little used…

  ‘I was thinking how best to accomplish my task, whether to break his neck or smother him. Or perhaps a little blade work beforehand would be an enjoyable interval. The boy chattered on like a mindless bird or a prelate. He gave the impression that he thought I was taking him to be measured for an imperial crown. He was shrewder than I realized.

  ‘Suddenly he twisted out of my grasp and flung himself over the parapet. I heard his scream as he fell.

  ‘I cursed myself for inattention. I rarely get the chance to dispose of children. I hurried to the nearest stairway. There was no question of anyone surviving a fall to the next terrace but I feared someone might come upon the body.