But he hadn’t, and I couldn’t blame him. He explained at length how hurt he was by the accusations made against his honour and his alleged abuse of diplomatic status.
‘I hear you will be leaving us,’ he said at length, untensing his abdominal muscles. I waited for the continuation. It came: ‘Do you think we can settle any matters outstanding before then?’
I reached into my cloak and pulled out the draft I’d earlier arranged at the Lateran. He gave it a close inspection, looking up with a benign smile. ‘The God Who Reigns in Supreme Majesty – always allowing for the status of His Son, which precise status is best not discussed with those who accept the formulations of Chalcedon – will surely bless your honesty.’
He looked over at the sun, now coming low through the toilet window. ‘Do you know when the bank closes?’ he asked.
‘Late, I think,’ I replied.
He rapped an order to his slave that sounded halfway between a gargle and a vomit. There followed a frenzy of wiping. The diplomat stood up. ‘I do hope this is not to be the end of a wonderful and productive friendship,’ he said. ‘But you will forgive me if I neglect the formalities, bearing in mind how urgently I feel drawn to the Lateran.’
He stopped and looked back at me. ‘Do not on any account try writing to me,’ he said, coming back to speak in a low voice. ‘However, if anything regarding those letters should come to your knowledge, I shall be happy to receive a messenger from you.’
We briefly shook hands. Then he stopped again and looked back. ‘Remember, Aelric,’ he said, ‘the Evil One takes many forms. This has not always been the city of God. Take care to put yourself in God’s hands.’
He went off towards the stables. Some advice he’d picked up from Maximin? Who could tell? I shook my head.
I sat alone, trousers around my ankles, and wondered what was to become of me.
40
Just as the last rays of the sun faded and the sky turned to purple, the slave escort arrived from Lucius. I received them in my rooms, where I’d been hard at work packing. In just a week, I’d managed to accumulate about ten times as much as I’d brought through the walls on that first morning. Nearly all of this I’d have to leave for the moment. I’d paid Marcella a month up front for the rooms, and she agreed to keep them free in case I should make a sudden return. Lucius could arrange at his leisure for the collection of whatever I left.
Gretel had folded and packed the best clothes. Then we’d had a long parting fuck. She’d come close to ruining this with a sobbing fit over my departure, as if she’d not be hopping into another bed the moment my back was turned. But it did somewhat recover me from the stresses of the day. Still, I felt decidedly low as I looked over the rooms that I’d entered in so different a mood and in so much happier circumstances.
The biggest slave bowed low before me. ‘Sir,’ he said, ‘my orders are to dress in your own most distinctive clothes. I will then walk with three other slaves down towards the financial district, where I will spend the evening examining the illuminated frescoes in the church of St Diabathrarius. I will then make a very slow return here by way of a brothel run by a reliable associate of the master.’
He repressed a lecherous smile and handed me a bag. ‘You, sir, must put on these miserable but clean rags of the master’s household. Together with Antony, you will carry two of your bags back to the master’s house. Antony will know if you are followed, and will advise you on the necessary evasion.’
Antony led me to the house of Lucius by a route I’d not yet taken, down very long, quite empty streets. The building was apparently still sound, but looked abandoned. But for the joyous squealing of the rats, we walked together in complete silence. Every so often, Antony stopped to listen for any sounds, however faint. Each time, he shook his head. Only once did he look worried. But there was no other sound.
For my first time in Rome, I could be sure I wasn’t followed.
The house when we arrived looked empty. We entered though a small door at the back, and passed along a musty corridor to the main living quarters. I could see hardly anything, but I felt the wood flooring crumble beneath my feet.
Dressed in black, Lucius received me in his library. The books had already been replaced. On the far wall hung an icon of Saint Peter, a silver crucifix placed on a table beneath it. All was now as any priest might have wished.
He darted a look at Antony, who shook his head. ‘We came alone, master,’ he said. Lucius waved him out of the room so just he and I remained.
‘Look, Alaric,’ he began, omitting the usual epithets, ‘you know that I’m counting on your total cooperation in this matter. You know the usual pattern of a sacrifice to the True Gods. But this one will be slightly varied from the norm. We shall be opening a direct communication with beings of unimaginable power. They can give you whatever you seek, or can blast you dead on the spot.
‘You must promise me you will not step out of the sanctified zone of protection, and that you will say nothing unless called on to speak. Have I your assurance?’
‘Yes,’ I said, trying not to appear too sceptical about the outcome of this latest ceremony.
‘Then let us begin.’
I dressed in the black suit of clothes Lucius had prepared for me. As I stood naked before him, he stepped forward to embrace me, but pulled back, muttering something about the need for purity of heart and body. He led me across to one of the smaller book racks against the wall. He pulled at it, and pulled again. With a gentle creak, it swung into the room on concealed hinges. There was a narrow doorway opening to a flight of steps that led down. Every few yards, a lamp shone dimly in its recess.
Lucius made a gesture of antique devotion and stepped through the doorway. I followed into the darkness.
We descended about fifty much-worn steps, our feet crunching as we walked on the unswept dust of many ages. The temperature fell and the air became damp and oppressive as we went. The lamps glimmered more and more dimly, and guttered as we passed.
At the bottom of the steps, a narrow corridor stretched forward into the darkness. Lucius took up one of the lamps and walked confidently forward with me close behind. The flame of the lamp was reflected back from the dripping, concreted walls.
At last, we came to the end. As before, Lucius knocked gently on the door, giving his name. The door opened. We stepped into a low but wide chamber of vaulted brick. At the far end was another doorway, locked and barred. In the middle stood a small brazier, burning low in the stale air. Before this, together with his assistants, stood the priest I’d first met in the Colosseum. He was dressed in black, arms folded and head bowed.
‘It is all as you have commanded, O Great Lord Basilius, most noble servant of the Ancient Gods,’ he said, looking up. His resonant voice filled the chamber. I shuddered.
‘As ancient custom requires,’ he went on in a voice still deeper, ‘I ask if you are truly prepared for this most certain yet dangerous consultation?’
‘I am prepared,’ said Lucius, his voice dry and nervous.
‘Then let it commence, according to the ways of our ancient fathers.’
The priest waved his hand over the brazier. It suddenly flared up, filling the room with white, acrid smoke. At the same time, the room turned still colder. No breeze accompanied this. It was as if someone had uncovered a block of hidden ice.
Lucius stepped back, a panicky look on his face. I resisted an urge to burst out laughing. I hadn’t been able to see what the priest had concealed in his hand. But I’d seen this trick any number of times in Kent. Maximin had been quite adept in scaring audiences into conversion. The cold I couldn’t explain. But every trickster has his own way of exciting wonder in the gullible. Where miracles are concerned, you need know only the part of how they’re produced to dismiss the whole effect as a fraud.
I looked on with set features, now resisting the conditioned reflex to cross myself in a pretence of pious wonder. I tried not to think the worse of Lucius for his now clutching at my sleeve with an evidently rising terror.
