“Indeed? Then I should like to offer my assistance.”
John shook his head. “I appreciate your offer, but I’m afraid what I have in mind isn’t a philosophical task. I’ve already consulted Felix. He’s the excubitor captain and knows the Prefect well, not to mention that he has a horde of well-paid informants in all parts of the city. Between them, they’ll discover what is to be found soon enough.”
“I thought the excubitors’ duty was to guard the palace?” Philo displayed some surprise.
“Yes, but as Felix often says, the defense of the palace starts with control of the streets. So I’ve asked that he make inquiries about suspicious activities in the forums where the deaths occurred. I’m also rather hoping that the backgrounds of the dead will shed some light on how they came to meet their fate.”
Philo pointed out that the trio of stylites would surely have long since lost contact with anyone from their past.
“Many would doubtless say the same,” John replied, “but I think you will agree that our pasts have an exceedingly long reach.”
Philo appeared eager to pursue questioning his former student, but was interrupted when Peter tapped at the study door and hesitantly entered the room.
“Forgive me for intruding, master, but it is almost dark. I kept food warming near the brazier for you.” His gaunt face was pallid.
“Thank you, Peter, but I fear today’s duties have upset my humors. Perhaps I shall eat a bite later, but meanwhile please bring us wine. Then, if you wish, go to bed.”
Peter left and returned carrying a jug, a good ceramic cup for Philo and the cracked clay cup that was John’s favorite, for it reminded him of the woman with whom he had shared it, some years after he left the Academy, the woman with whom he might even now be sharing his life had fate not intervened. He noticed Peter’s hand trembling as the servant measured out first wine, then water. A few drops splashed on Philo’s board and Peter wiped them away, murmuring apologies and knocking several of the carved pieces over as he did so.
As Peter turned to leave the room, Philo lifted his cup and asked loudly, “Why do you keep such a useless old man as your servant?”
John waited until Peter had shuffled out before replying. “When I asked you earlier how he had been today, Philo, you told me he was going about his duties. You neglected to tell me the effort it was costing him.”
The sharpness in his tone seemed lost on the other. He had turned his attention back to his game, idly fingering first one piece, then another.
John said nothing more. His old mentor had described Peter as a useless old man, but it was clear that he might well have been thinking of himself.
Abandoning his study to Philo, John sought solitude in the garden. He sat on the marble bench beside a pool whose rippled water was replenished by a slow trickle from the mouth of what had once been a splendidly sculpted creature, but was now worn down into a shapeless mass of lichened stone. There was to be no rest there either. The single olive tree near the pool insisted upon reminding him of groves of its ancient kin, which ringed around the Academy. Before he could shake the memory, Anatolius appeared.
“John,” his friend called cheerfully as he approached, “Why are you lurking about out here? It’s getting chilly. It’s going to be a good night to be indoors.”
The emperor’s secretary was one of a very few allowed unquestioned access to John’s house-the emperor himself would have been another in the unlikely event that he ever appeared at John’s door-but this evening the Lord Chamberlain was in no mood for visitors. His dark gaze swept down from contemplating the sky above the colonnades surrounding the garden to scour Anatolius’ face. He murmured a half-hearted greeting.
Anatolius plumped down beside him. “You look as if your humors need balancing, John. Has Justinian been particularly difficult today?” Before John could reply, the younger man rushed on. “My day was difficult indeed, I may say. I had an extremely trying interview with my father, who trotted out all his usual complaints. What’s worse, though, is that he has arranged for my transfer to the quaestor’s office.” He sighed heavily. “I am hoping I can persuade him to change his mind, but meantime he has at least entrusted me with the final arrangements for a banquet he is holding shortly. I thought I’d consult you for appropriate guidance on certain matters relating to that, John. The matter of the entertainments, for example.”
John nodded, relieved that Anatolius had not arrived to share the latest gossip concerning the spectacle of the stylites. He preferred to avoid that subject for a while if at all possible.
“I trust that you weren’t contemplating anything too flamboyant, Anatolius?” he said. “Officially it’s your father giving this banquet and I imagine many high officials and courtiers will be present. You should therefore be thinking of the less lively sorts of entertainment, if you take my meaning-as I am certain you do.”
Anatolius evinced no surprise at John’s statement. He was familiar with the Lord Chamberlain’s uncanny ability to be aware of every event connected with the palace, not to mention much of what was occurring outside its walls.
“As it happens, I received a personal invitation from your father this morning,” John went on, unwittingly destroying at least part of Anatolius’ admiration of his powers. “So it will have to be a rather sober affair, I fear, if I am to be present in my official capacity, which I surmise is the intent.”
“Well, it certainly won’t be as lively as some banquets we could mention,” the other grinned, tossing a pebble into the pool. “Now, I have in fact already planned part of the entertainment. It’s a presentation certain to please those whose taste is refined, not to say stodgy. In short, it’s a tribute to the Muses-singing, flute playing, recitation of poetry, that sort of thing.”
“Yet doubtless there will be a few who will frown at a senator inviting actresses into his home,” John pointed out with a slight smile.
“No need to worry about that. These aren’t actresses. I’ve engaged Isis and some of her girls,” Anatolius replied airily. “Their performance will be perfectly decorous, of course. After all, you know how Isis fancies herself a patroness of the arts.”
“True enough. No doubt she’ll be happy for an opportunity to show off some of her girls’ more refined skills. Still, Anatolius, I must admit that I really don’t think that your father would have engaged such entertainers himself. What else did you have in mind? Nothing too outrageous, I trust?”
“No, of course not. There’ll be your usual mimes, jugglers, dancers, that sort of thing. But I was trying to think of something a little more unusual that would not shock the guests, and I though you might have heard of some troupe new to the city.”
John’s recent contretemps with Philo was still fresh in his mind. “Here is one suggestion,” he replied. “As you know, my old philosophy tutor is currently my guest. He has been tormenting me with a new game he brought back from Persia. Shatranj, he calls it. It’s something to do with trapping your opponent’s king. The elephant moves this many squares in one direction and the ship so many in another. I’m afraid I’ve not shown much inclination to learn to play, so I’m vague about the details, but as it happens he just mentioned the idea that he might eke out a living teaching the game at court. Now, if you were to engage him to entertain at your banquet by demonstrating it to your guests, at the same time that might perhaps assist him in finding employment. And what’s more, I do think it could be quite the talking point, without a hint of scandal attached to it. That would certainly please your father.”
Anatolius leaned forward intently. “And nobody has seen this game yet, you say? That would certainly weigh heavily with the guests, wouldn’t it?”
“The court always appreciates novelty.” John hesitated before continuing. “I should caution you, however, that it’s possible Philo may not feel inclined to accept your offer. To be blunt about it, he approached your father for assistance and was rebuffed.”
“Well, my father might turn your old friend away but I shall certainly talk to him,” Anatolius said firmly.
“If he hesitates, you might also consider mentioning that since many powerful men will be present, he may well meet someone willing to provide him with other sorts of employment. I’m certain he’s chafing at depending on my hospitality for a roof over his head-that of course is how he sees the situation, not the way I view it. I’m happy to provide him with a home for as long as he wishes, although it’s true that we do not always see eye to eye. In fact,” John concluded, “he upset Peter with a very unfortunate remark hardly an hour ago.”
“He upset Peter yesterday too,” Anatolius told him in an interested tone. “Peter was just telling me about it when he let me in. For a man of philosophy, Philo can be very tactless, I must say. Apparently he was complaining
