Eight for Eternity (20 page)

“You can’t believe the Lord is over there?” John said. “Surely the city is more like the pits of hell.”

“Perhaps. If that is the way you are inclined to see it. People concoct their beliefs to cure what ails them. A pinch of earth from subterranean Hades. A few drops of fiery torment from the gospels. And why not mix in some demons, since pagans and Christians both believe in them?”

“You don’t believe in hell?”

“Hell is not a place. When we die we enter into the presence of the Lord. Those who love the Lord are joyful to be eternally in His presence. For those who hate the Lord, His presence is an eternal torment. But it doesn’t really matter how people picture these things. They are beyond human understanding anyway.”

“People can understand fire and demons easily enough.”

“Can they? Did you know that Saint Conon could command demons? Demons are part of creation too. They are perfectly able to serve the Lord. In fact—”

John cut the abbot off. “I don’t have time to discuss theology.”

“No. Of course not. You might want to return when you do have time.”

“You have nothing to tell me?”

The abbot met John’s steady gaze. “Rest assured, the monks of Saint Conon’s are not involved in any plot against the emperor.”

As the two men spoke a crow dropped out of the wind and alighted on one of the garden trellises. Several companions flapped down to join it. The black glass beads of their eyes seemed to stare at John and the abbot. It wasn’t hard to imagine they had been dispatched as spies by some demonic master.

“Eight crows,” John said. “When I was in Bretania the peasants had a fortune-telling rhyme. One crow meant sorrow. Two was for joy. But it only went up to seven—for a secret. Perhaps eight crows foretell nothing. That many are devoid of sense, like a mob.”

The abbot laughed softly. “Superstitious beliefs are even more varied than religious ones. During my own stay in that dreary land I learned a different rhyme from an old village woman who performed auguries. She said that seven was for heaven and eight for hell.”

“So those eight black harbingers are foretelling hell.” John looked away from the crows and toward the burning city. “That is more an observation than a prognostication.”

“Not to mention inaccurate. I tried to explain to the old woman, about heaven or hell not being places but simply the ways we experience the everlasting presence of the Lord, according to our natures. Seven and eight should both mean eternity. I could not convert her to such belief. It would have ruined her rhyme.”

“A bad rhyme, but better augury. Eight crows will always be right, in some sense.”

“Yes, we all face eternity. We are all a part of it, living and dead.”

“But perhaps we don’t always want to be reminded.” John clapped his hands. The crows rose in a flurry, circled once, and flew away from the city.

Chapter Thirty-Three

“Hypatius told me he was going to the kitchen.” Felix sat on a stool at the entrance to the corridor leading to the quarters John had lent to his aristocratic guests.

“Is Julianna in her room?” John asked.

“You can be certain of it. That’s why I’m here. So there’s no doubt she’s safe.”

“Is she sleeping?”

“I couldn’t say.” He turned his head to look down the hallway. “Her door’s stayed shut. I’d notice if she tried to leave. Do you want to speak with her?”

“No. It’s her father I need to see.”

Felix shifted uncomfortably on the stool. His legs stretched across the corridor. “Being on watch for wayward girls doesn’t suit me. I can’t risk any further mistakes.”

“If anyone made a mistake.”

“I have no reason to mistrust any of my excubitors. But with the state the city’s in, for some it’s every man for himself.”

“Understandable if not commendable. Perhaps Belisarius will ask Justinian for your services and rescue you from my household,” John remarked with a smile.

He made his way to the kitchen at the back of his house, an area somewhat less familiar to him than Alexandria but currently as hot. Hypatius was bent over a steaming, copper pot set on one of the long braziers. “Eggs,” he explained. “I decided to cook myself some eggs.”

“I realize my servants have deserted but the storerooms are full of—”

Hypatius waved his hand. “No. No. Eggs are exactly what I want.” His face was red from the heat. Sweat beaded on his upper lip.

John peered into the bubbling water. There were at least a dozen eggs sitting on the bottom.

“That isn’t much a meal.”

Hypatius licked his lips. “Yes, well, but…I found the eggs…and…the shells weren’t cracked…so….”

“Ah. I understand. It’s difficult to poison an egg inside the shell. A good choice, Hypatius. Now if the shells were poisoned—”

“The poison would be boiled off and….oh…well…that is to say…” He wiped the sweat off his face. “You think I’m a coward. I can see that. Men in my position need to be cautious.”

John could see the eggs bobbing slightly beneath the bubbling surface of the boiling water. One of them had cracked and emitted a thin rope of white. “There is a thin line between cowardice and caution. We all have our fears.”

“I’m glad you understand.” Hypatius fished the broken egg out of the pot with a pair of tongs and tossed it aside. He studied his remaining charges carefully.

“Young people are often not as cautious as they should be,” John said.

“Very true.” Hypatius looked away from the pot and toward John. “You’re talking about Julianna, aren’t you?”

“Apparently you have reason to suspect her of being incautious to jump to that conclusion.”

“How many other young people are there in this house? You’re not a man who seeks others out in order to speak in generalities.” He lifted the pot off the brazier and sat it on the long wooden table behind him. “Julianna is the same as any other girl her age. A bit of a dreamer. Careless at times. We all had our heads in the clouds at that age.”

“I take it she loves horses.”

“Don’t all girls?” Hypatius transferred the cooked eggs to a plate and tapped one delicately with a long spoon to break the shell.

“All girls may indeed love horses, I’m not an authority on the matter. Some, however get into the Hippodrome to watch races, or so I hear.”

Hypatius looked startled. “Not Julianna. She’s a well bred young lady. Related to an emperor, remember. You’re not accusing her of any such thing, are you?”

“Yesterday I saved her from being raped in the Augustaion, Hypatius. Do you have any idea what your daughter was doing out there? An assignation perhaps? You don’t have to worry about her reputation. Anything you tell me will remain private.”

Hypatius’ face was no longer red. He looked as pale as his eggs. “I have no idea why she left this house. I will speak to her severely. She’s a dreamer. An innocent though. Just a child.”

“You don’t trust me, do you? Maybe I am treacherous. Your daughter’s life is at stake, Hypatius. Are you going to cook eggs for Julianna too, or risk having my staff preparing her meals?”

“I…I…No one’s trying to kill Julianna…are they? If she’s in danger it’s because of because of me and Pompeius. We’re the targets. Julianna would be safer back in our house with her mother. Then anyone trying to…to…kill me wouldn’t….”

“If you want to protect Julianna you must tell me what you know.”

Hypatius looked away from John. He pushed the eggs around on his plate, then brought his spoon down on each, too hard, sending pieces of shell flying. “There’s nothing I can tell you. Nothing. I wish there were.”

Chapter Thirty-Four

January 17, 532

Felix opened his eyes a slit but remained otherwise motionless on the stool where he’d spent most of the night. He was sure he had heard a sound.

A footstep?

Grey, pre-dawn darkness filled the hallway leading back to the rooms where Hypatius and his family were staying. Why wasn’t the wall torch burning?

He slid his hand stealthily toward the hilt of his sword. He hadn’t been sleeping, only dozing, he assured himself. It would have been impossible to fall asleep sitting on the three-legged wooden stool.

He remained with his back to the wall, legs extended into the hallway, and strained to see into the darkness. A hazy phantom floated into view and moved slowly down the corridor.

He blinked, trying to clear his vision. Then the figure suddenly darted in his direction.

Felix sprang forward. His arm shot out and his hand fastened around a slender wrist.

Julianna uttered a string of oaths an aristocratic girl should never have had the opportunity to hear, let alone commit to memory.

“At least you have the sense to curse quietly enough not to wake the household,” Felix muttered.

She tried to pull away with more strength than he would have expected for such a slight thing. Felix refused to release his grip. “I’m glad I insisted on taking most of the watches here. I had a feeling you’d try to creep off again.”

“I didn’t intend to do that, Felix. I need to see Antonina. I was about to ask you to accompany me, but you decided to try and break my wrist before I had the chance.”

“That explains why you put the torch out, and that dark cloak you’re wearing.”

“Don’t you want to come with me? You seemed very keen to visit my friend the other day, when I saved you from making a grave mistake.”

Felix took his hand off her arm. “You claim you saved me. I’m trying to return the favor by saving you. Which is to say by making sure you stay safely inside.”

Julianna made a show of rubbing her arm. “Safe? With rioters baying at the palace walls? Nowhere’s safe. Besides, you can guard me as easily walking to the Daphne as here. You do want to see Antonina….”

She was right. Felix had to admit it to himself, although not to the girl. He hadn’t been able to banish Antonina from his thoughts except for when he’d been fighting. She’d been whispering in his ear all night long while he guarded the corridor. “I’m sure Antonina wonders why I haven’t paid my respects.” Felix got to his feet. “You did go out of your way to help me. I’ll come with you, it’s the least I can do.”

He sent the guard in the atrium to take his post. The man gave him and Julianna a curious look as they went out but Felix offered no explanation.

The cold outside made him catch his breath. The rising sun turned ice-filled ruts in the muddy yard outside the stables into an orange embroidery. Ice-glazed marble walkways and frost glistened on grass and shrubbery.

Felix was happy to enter the Daphne Palace, which wasn’t much warmer. The silentiaries hardly glanced at Julianna. They didn’t seem concerned that she’d brought a companion.

“You’re a frequent visitor,” Felix observed.

Julianna nodded and led him along a bewildering series of hallways. He half expected to see the Eros he’d treated so cruelly during his previous visit but no one else was about at this early hour.

By the time they reached the tall double doors at the entrance to Antonina’s quarters, Felix was breathing hard, not the result of exertion but rather in anticipation of seeing Antonina again.

A servant answered their knock.

“Eugenius,” said Julianna, “I have brought a visitor to see Antonina.”

The servant ushered the two into a cramped vestibule where more silentiaries stood shoulder to shoulder with life-sized Greek sculptures. Another set of doors opened onto a warm, humid atrium graced by potted plants.

Felix felt his heart pounding. He glanced around, expecting Antonina to appear. How would she receive him?

He followed Julianna past low hanging palm fronds and into a room filled with cushion-strewn furniture. Frescoed seascapes covered the walls. Three golden cherubs flew above painted waves in an ascending line. Tables and alcoves displayed a welter of enameled boxes, ivory figurines, and elaborate glass vessels.

“Don’t look so surprised, Felix. A lady of the court is bound to accumulate expensive gifts and it’s only polite to display them.”

Felix realized he must have looked as awestruck as a peasant on his first visit to the capital.

The air felt warmer than in the atrium and heavy with unidentifiable scents, a mingling of perfumes, spices, and strange herbs. His breath caught at the sight of Antonina. No, only a small marble statue. He spotted at least two larger than life bronze busts.

Julianna tugged at his hand, leading him deeper into Antonina’s abode, down a short hallway, and then into a room lined with shelves crammed with bottles and stoppered clay pots. A pan steamed on a brazier and dried herbs hung from the ceiling.

Finally, he saw her. She stood at a marble table, working a mortar and pestle. She looked up, pushing a loose strand of hair away from her eyes. Beads of perspiration glistened on her forehead.

“Felix,” she said.

Was she surprised to see him? Happy? Annoyed? To his dismay, her tone conveyed absolutely nothing.

She wore a plain silk tunica, almost immodest. Her pale hair dangled to her shoulders in disarray. He could make out faint wrinkles at the corners of her eyes.

“I needed to see you,” Julianna said. “Felix agreed to accompany me, for safety.”

Antonina put down the pestle. “Very wise. I’ve nearly finished the charm I promised you. Everyone at court wants my services. I’ve already supplied Theodora with the magickal devices she requested, along with several philters.”

“It wouldn’t be necessary if the excubitor’s would fight like men,” Felix said. “Sharp blades are all the charms the emperor needs.”

“Spoken like a soldier,” Antonina replied, without looking at him. “Now, Julianna, if you will go and wait in my reception room, I can complete your charm.“

“Maybe a potion to make the excubitor’s fight is what’s wanted,” Julianna said.

“I’m not sure that’s within my power.”

“I thought we might visit for a time,” Julianna told her.

“Yes. Surely. But you must allow me to finish first.” She looked directly at Julianna.

Clearly she was avoiding looking at Felix.

“Antonina,” he blurted. “Did I somehow offend you the other night? If so…I…I apologize. I had to see you again.”

Felix realized she was staring straight past him, over his shoulder.

He turned his head.

In the doorway stood a rumpled and sleepy-eyed Belisarius.