Secrets of the Dead

‘I’ve been meaning to find you,’ he says.

‘I could say the same.’

‘I’d like to get Alexander’s books back. Someone should finish his history.’

The Chronicon – the true compendium of all the history of the world, illuminating the pattern of God’s purpose. Except it was a myth, a benevolent past that never existed.

‘I went to the docks this morning to see Aurelius Symmachus on to his ship,’ I say. ‘He didn’t come.’

Simeon’s surprise seems entirely natural. ‘Did something happen?’

I’m still waiting for him to betray himself. But there’s nothing – only a mirror reflecting my curiosity back at me.

‘Don’t you know?’

Exasperation hardens his face. If he does know, he won’t give it away.

‘Aurelius Symmachus died last night.’

His reaction is exactly what you’d expect. Eyes wide, mouth open – a picture of surprise. Maybe a hint of satisfaction – but perhaps I’m looking for it.

‘I’m sorry,’ he says.

‘I thought you’d want him dead.’

‘I prayed for him. Christ came into the world to save sinners.’

It’s a strange thing to say. I’d dismiss it completely, if I didn’t remember Porfyrius saying something similar about Alexander – how he never bore a grudge for Porfyrius’s role in the persecutions.

But I don’t have time for his pieties. If he’s saying prayers for Symmachus, he’s more likely giving thanks that the old man took the blame for Alexander’s murder. I look up at the high church behind him. Scaffolding sticks out of the roof like birds’ nests; workmen crawl over the dome, applying gold leaf. I remember the crowds who gathered here when Eusebius came to preach the day after Alexander’s murder.

‘Are you working here now?’

A nod. ‘Bishop Eusebius found me a position here before he left for Nicomedia.’

‘A promotion?’

Another guess – and right again. Simeon can see the drift of my questions and is starting to look uncomfortable.

‘You’ve done well out of Alexander’s death.’

‘If you want to be malicious.’

‘Didn’t it feel wrong?’ I push him. ‘Taking the patronage of your dead master’s enemy?’

‘Alexander and Eusebius had a quarrel that went back to Nicaea. It was none of my business.’

‘Alexander was going to stop Eusebius becoming Patriarch of Constantinople.’

‘It’s a free vote among the clergy, and he was one voice.’ Simeon shakes his head in frustration, wanting me to understand. ‘It’s not like your world. We argue and debate, but with humility. We don’t have to obliterate our opponents to win. God is the only judge we recognise.’

We don’t have to obliterate our opponents. Was that aimed at me? He’s so young, so earnest, I could almost believe he doesn’t know my past.

I stick to my line. ‘Alexander did get obliterated,’ I point out. ‘It could hardly have been more convenient for Eusebius – the last obstacle removed from his path. He won.’

‘You’re seeing patterns where they don’t exist.’

‘Am I? Researching his history, Alexander dug deep. There was plenty of scandalous material in that document case. Some of it concerned Eusebius.’

‘He never let me see what was in it.’

I step closer. ‘You were at the library with Alexander – probably the last man to see him alive. Then I found you at his ransacked apartment, looking through his papers. You brought the message from Symmachus’s slave that set up the meeting where he handed over the case, and you were there to make sure he was caught.’

He isn’t afraid – I’ll give him that. He’s looking at me as if I’m mad: as if the only person I’m condemning by carrying on is myself.

‘Symmachus had the documents,’ he reminds me.

‘You were spying for Eusebius all along. When he realised what Alexander knew, he had you kill the old man in the library. You used the bust of Hierocles to make it look as if Symmachus had done it, and when that wasn’t enough, you gave his slave the document case and arranged the meeting to set him up. And when even that wouldn’t do, you broke into his house and faked his suicide.’

There’s a strange look on his face, but it isn’t guilt or fear or even anger. He’s preternaturally calm. I think he’s pitying me.

‘I had the key to Alexander’s apartment,’ he points out. ‘If – as you say – Eusebius wanted me to get rid of Alexander, why would I do it so violently in a public place? Why would I go to such elaborate lengths to provide a scapegoat? Why not just go into his room one night and kill him there? Especially if I’m so adept at faking a suicide?’

Give the Christians credit: they know how to argue. Was he always like this? He seems different from before –