Three for a Letter (20 page)

Chapter Twenty-six

John rode with all haste back to Constantinople.

Anyone who met him on the highway would have realized at one glance that he was absolutely furious.

Something akin to the black fog a young mercenary would allow to smother all civilized behavior on the eve of a battle had grown in him as he had read the incomplete family lineage scrawled in the back of Castor’s history.

After a few quick words with Felix he had stamped off to leave immediately. Even Zeno, who had glimpsed him as he strode across the stable yard, could see by the set of his shoulders that the Lord Chamberlain was in no mood for polite conversation.

By the time he passed through the city gate, however, he had regained control of his emotions and presented his usual expression of quiet attention, honed through years in a court where one wrong look or gesture could cost a man everything.

Now after a journey marked by his steady stream of cursing under the regular clatter of hooves, the taste of a salty breeze in his mouth and sunlight flashing off water into his angry eyes, he was finally pounding on Balbinus’ door to demand entrance.

John met the senator in the atrium. The gem-encrusted embroidery at the collar of Balbinus’ unseasonably heavy dalmatic attested to the fact that he had been about to set out to attend to official business. John made it just as plain that the senator was going to have to change his plans.

“Lord Chamberlain, what a pleasant surprise,” Balbinus began but noting the grim set of John’s lips, his smile froze in an expression not unlike that of a malfunctioning automaton with faulty gears.

“Indeed?” John replied in a level tone. “I rarely find surprises to be pleasant but I’m glad you mentioned it as I wish to talk to you where we will not be surprised.”

Wordlessly, Balbinus led him to a reception room whose walls were frescoed with mythological scenes.

“You have lied to me, senator,” John stated without preamble.

Balbinus raised his eyebrows in an exaggerated expression of offended astonishment that would have been visible across the Senate’s assembly hall before protesting that he could not even recall when they had last spoken.

“You lied to Anatolius, who informed you that he was seeking information on my behalf.”

“Surely, by lie you cannot mean—”

“I do not care to be lied to,” John broke in.

Balbinus’ tone hardened. “Do you have proof of what you claim, Lord Chamberlain?”

“I don’t need proof. I need only to speak one word to the emperor and that would be sufficient to condemn you. However, I wish to be fair. You will explain yourself.”

Balbinus’ shoulders drooped as he finally met John’s gaze directly. “There are times when family responsibilities outweigh one’s civic duties, do you not agree?” he began hesitantly.

“You may have to debate that statement with Justinian. I am not here to argue points of philosophy. What is the truth concerning your nephew Castor—or should I say the man you call your nephew?”

“So far as I’m concerned, Castor is my nephew,” Balbinus replied with a defeated look in his eyes. “I’ve always considered him such and so have done my best to help him.”

“Then you confirm Castor is not, in fact, your nephew?”

Balbinus nodded wordlessly.

“I see,” John said. “He is, however, a great maker of notes, leading the reader to suspect that his is a lineage of Ostrogoth rulers.”

Balbinus emitted a massive sigh. “Castor! That’s just like him! How careless can a man become? At least he doesn’t have his father’s wild streak nor his eye for the ladies—and always other men’s ladies at that.”

He helped himself to wine from the green flask that sat on the table beneath the fresco depicting the judgment of Paris and drained his goblet, seeking courage from it.

“Concerning my older brother Bassus, Castor’s father,” he continued, his normally hearty, booming voice subdued. “As you know, the great Theodoric, who became king of the Ostrogoths, was a guest of the emperor just as his great-grandchildren are today. Or at least, as the surviving twin still is. A very sad business, that, Lord Chamberlain. At any rate, it has been over half a century now since Theodoric finally left Constantinople to return home.”

He was silent, staring at the fresco, no doubt imagining a more recent past than that depicted there, and then filled his goblet again. “Theodoric was eighteen when he went back, Lord Chamberlain. A man. So it will hardly surprise you to know that he fathered a son during his time here.”

“That would be Bassus?” John said immediately.

“Yes. Bassus was the product of a very unfortunate dalliance. It happened during the reign of Emperor Leo, ten years before I was born. Soon after Theodoric returned to his home land, it became apparent he’d left behind a woman pregnant with his child. That the child would be a bastard was of little consequence, since Theodoric himself was also one. However, it was expected that he would appoint his first born son to succeed him so it was decided that my family would unofficially adopt the royal bastard and raise him, knowing it was entirely possible that eventually he would be called upon to rule in the west.”

John made no reply.

Emboldened by the wine, Balbinus continued. “I have been told that the story put about at the time was that my mother was experiencing a very difficult pregnancy, which took her to one of our country estates for an extended period for the sake of her health. Thus when she returned with a newborn child, it was not remarked. No doubt Theodoric’s mistress developed some sort of similar affliction and left court for a while in order to keep the child’s existence from public knowledge.”

“In that she was certainly successful,” John commented, thinking that Justinian must surely have known about the affair. Since it was obvious that an unknown heir to Theodoric’s throne touched upon his orders regarding the safety of Sunilda, it seemed extremely odd that the emperor would have kept such a secret from him. Yet, he reminded himself, it was fruitless to question Justinian’s withholding of important information. He was fortunate in that he could, and would, continue to interrogate Balbinus.

“Bassus did not live long enough to go to Italy,” Balbinus confirmed in response to John’s questioning. “He died young and in rather odd circumstances. It troubles me to say this of the man I still regard as my older brother but Bassus was a foolish and dissolute young man. He did not, I fear, bring honor to the family name for he too fathered a bastard, though it grieves me to term my nephew so.”

“Therefore Castor is Theodoric’s grandson and heir to the kingship,” John remarked quietly.

“As you say, Lord Chamberlain.” Balbinus took another hearty swallow of wine.

“Why didn’t Castor come forward when Theodoric died? He could have claimed the kingdom rather than allowing it to be ruled by his aunt Amalasuntha.”

Balbinus shook his head in puzzlement. “Possibly Castor did not desire to rule? After all, not all men lust for power. Perhaps Justinian did not wish it. Who can say? Castor has never been an ambitious sort of person. He’s more of a dreamer, a scholar. Then there is the manner in which his father had died. Perhaps that made him very cautious about revealing their relationship.”

“Under odd circumstances, you said?”

“Even for this city, Lord Chamberlain. Now it’s true enough that soft young aristocrats who frequent places where they do not belong will often find themselves embroiled in deadly brawls. But drunken louts do not usually insert a blade quite so deftly between a man’s ribs and then disappear down an alley in the wink of an eye while everyone in the immediate vicinity is immediately struck blind, even the young woman who enticed the dead man down that very same dark byway. It was fully investigated and a huge reward offered for information, of course, but despite that the culprit was never caught. Not but what it might have been only a fortunate blow, as you might say. Yet, given his lineage….”

“A fascinating history indeed, Balbinus. However, more importantly, where is Castor now?”

Balbinus looked down into the remaining wine in his goblet, studying it for an answer. “I will not reveal that, Lord Chamberlain,” was his surprising answer. “Except to tell you that he has fled to a monastery. He intends to live out his days in obscurity so that they may be longer than otherwise.”

He set the goblet gently down on the table. “He arrived here in a state of terror the morning after Zeno’s banquet and asked for my help. He didn’t explain the particulars of his predicament nor did I ask for any. Often it’s often best to know nothing. I couldn’t refuse him assistance, but there were certain arrangements to be made before he could be on his way to safety. That was why I didn’t reveal anything to Anatolius. As I suggested to you earlier, Lord Chamberlain, there are times when family responsibilities outweigh one’s civic duties, although I do not expect you to agree with me about that.” He paused. “I intended to inform you about this in a day or so.”

John did not reply. He was certain that Balbinus had not intended to do any such thing, but he also had no doubt that the senator had not questioned his nephew further about the reasons for his flight. In fact, there would have been no need. There were only two people in the empire who might frighten a very rich man like Castor so much that he would panic and go immediately into self-exile. Given the obvious origin of the threat, the circumstances were immaterial.

Balbinus filled the silence with another nervous burst of conversation. “Surely you don’t suppose he is your murderer? It’s been thirteen years since Theodoric died. The grandson he appointed to succeed him died a few years ago and although the boy’s mother had been ruling as regent, she’s now dead as well. As you just pointed out, Castor could have advanced his own claim long ago if he’d wished to do so.”

He gave a grim laugh. “I seem to be speaking of my nephew in the past tense, Lord Chamberlain,” he continued, “as if he were dead rather than merely gone to a monastery. Are you certain you won’t have some of this wine? After the third go around it starts to taste as if it’s Falernian.” He tipped the decanter over his goblet again.

“And the identity of Castor’s mother?”

“I don’t know,” Balbinus replied shortly. “However, thanks to Bassus’ royal blood, Emperor Leo aided my family in setting up suitable financial arrangements for him. Fortuitously enough, at just the critical time, some poor fellows apparently failed to validate their wills correctly in just the sort of oversight one sees happening more and more these days. So although their original heirs found themselves without some very attractive holdings, Bassus suddenly gained a house here in the city and an estate on the other side of the Marmara as well as the one next door to Zeno. Of course, Castor inherited them in due course but apart from the estate where he lives, the original properties have long since been sold at very handsome profits.”

John remarked that Castor had been fortunate indeed to be able to arrange matters so that he could live in the obscurity he seemed to crave. “Although his father would doubtless not have been happy to see so much property sold away within one generation, even though he was heir to an entire kingdom,” he concluded.

“I wasn’t close to my brother, Lord Chamberlain, so I cannot say. Remember, I was barely fifteen when he died and I had interests other than estates and inheritances. Then, too, my family owned a number of properties that I rarely visited. Now they’re all mine, since my parent’s wills were all correctly witnessed. Or should I say that at the time the emperor was not interested in finding some pretext to prove otherwise.” Balbinus reached unsteadily for the wine decanter and looked surprised to find it empty.

The voice that came from the doorway was not loud but it was it was nevertheless firm. “Balbinus, guard your tongue and put away the wine before it makes you hand your head to the Lord Chamberlain.”

Lucretia was standing there. Balbinus looked abashed but set down his goblet.

“I was passing down the corridor and overheard some of your conversation,” Lucretia went on, addressing John rather than her husband. John wondered how long she had been listening to their conversation, just out of sight along the hall.

“My family and Balbinus’ have always been close friends,” she was saying. “We often visited each other’s estates and our marriage entwined the two families even closer together. As it happens, my old nursemaid Nonna is still alive and might possibly recall something from those long ago days that would be of assistance. She lives in a street just off the Forum Constantine.”

***

Nonna fluttered around her tiny apartment in a state of voluble agitation, apologizing for the humbleness of the surroundings, the coarseness of the bread, the age of the cheese, and the dent in the silver plate holding the food. She fanned at rays of sunlight slanting in through the window and decried the dust motes they revealed descending inexorably toward the chair where her important visitor would have to sit.

John smiled and tried to put her at ease by complimenting her furnishings which, although few, would not have looked out of place in a fashionable villa. The old woman, looking pleased, explained they had been gifts from her former owners upon her manumission and retirement.

John convinced her, finally, to sit down. She looked at him apprehensively. Her skin was wrinkled as a dried apple, but through a wispy halo of gray hair her scalp looked as pink as a baby’s.

“And how is my dear Lucretia?” she asked. “I haven’t seen her for what seems like years. Young people think nothing of time, sir. They do not realize how little of it they have to fritter away.”

“Lucretia is very well.” John detected a tinge of sorrow in Nonna’s tone and felt certain she would much rather be entertaining her former charge, regardless of how honored she might be by the possibility of assisting a Lord Chamberlain. He quickly explained the reason for his visit.

“Oh, I see,” Nonna replied. “Yes, we often went for long visits to Master Bassus’ estate. It was across the Marmara, a lovely place indeed.”

“Do you remember anything unusual?” John suggested “A scandal? A regular visitor from court who suddenly stayed away for a few months?”