“Fine. And you’ll look in on mother?”
“Yes, tomorrow before I go to see Getorius.”
Maximin stood up and took both of Arcadia’s hands in his. “I…my wife…will enjoy your company, my dear. I’ll send a carriage for you at the fourth hour on the calends.”
“Thank you Senator. I’ll see you out.”
Arcadia returned to the study, already excited about visiting Getorius the next day, but now there was also the carnelian ring to tell him about. And even though Maximin had not pressed his questions about the papyri, her intuition told her he was aware of more than he had let on. He knew about Sigisvult and Renatus even though Placidia had kept the information about their deaths inside the palace. If there were accomplices to the conspiracy, as Zadok believed, Maximin and his unnamed palace contacts could be crucial.
She was somewhat disturbed at the senator’s manner—smooth as the polished marble table on which he had left his empty wine cup. He touched her too often, but his wife would be at the villa, and perhaps she could learn more about Maximin’s ‘business’ dealings there.
The next day was the beginning of the Advent season, a four-week cycle of rituals that prepared for the commemoration of Christ’s birth at Bethlehem over four hundred years ago. Bishop Chrysologos decreed that the time would also mark a transition: including the Lord’s Day, the seven days of the week would now be called by the Frankish names already used by the majority of Ravenna’s citizens. Some of his presbyters felt this was an unnecessary concession to the language of a largely pagan tribe, but the bishop held firm on the matter as a realistic convenience. Besides, the Roman names commemorated the sun and moon, as well as the old pagan gods Mars, Mercury, Jupiter, Venus and Saturn.
Arcadia hurried to the palace after treating Agatha, worried that Getorius might take the Eucharist bread and wine if a deacon brought him the Sacrament.
She found him feeling depressed, and about to read from the Advent psalm in a Mass codex he had gotten from the library.
After a long embrace, she said, “Read the psalm to me, Husband. I was thinking of you when I heard it yesterday.”
Getorius shrugged. “All right. It starts:
To you, Lord, I raise my very soul.
O my God, in you I have put my trust,
Let me not come to shame.
Do not let my enemies laugh at me.
No one who hopes in you will be put to shame.
Let them be ashamed who are perverse and treacherous.”
He looked up. “It couldn’t be more apt, could it, Arcadia?”
“Have faith, Getorius,” she urged. “Have you found out anything more about the condition of Behan’s corpse, or why the bishop is accusing you?”
“I think so, there seem to be no secrets here that can’t be bought. Give Charadric a siliqua when you leave, and one for his comrade at the episcopal palace.”
“All right, but what about Behan?”
“His body was sewn into a shroud before being put inside that cage I ordered.”
“By whom?” Arcadia asked.
“I don’t know who went out there. But after Behan was brought back to the ice room, two deacons were assigned to dress him in a robe they found in that clothes chest we brought back, then lay him in a coffin. When they cut apart the stitches on the shroud, they found that his abdomen had been pretty well disemboweled.”
“What? Could it have been an animal? A ferret or something?”
Getorius shook his head. “The shroud was intact and the body inside the willow-work cage.”
“But why are they blaming you? You weren’t the last person to see the body.”
“The bishop knows of my opposition to his ban on dissection. I’ve certainly pestered him enough to lift it.”
“So? What makes him think you disobeyed his order?”
“Arcadia,”—Getorius brushed at her chestnut hair, then looked into her green eyes. “Arcadia, the deacons evidently found one of my scalpels inside the shroud.”
“Inside? How could they?” she asked in disbelief. “You didn’t examine the body again after we left. And why do they even think it’s yours?”
“Do you recall when I had Charadric punch initials on my instruments, like he did on his knife? They say there was a G A in dots on the handle.”
“Did you see it?”
“No. It will only be presented at my trial.”
“Getorius, how could the scalpel have gotten there? You always have your instruments at the clinic, or with you in your medical case.”
“Could I have left one in the hut? No. Hades, I used it on…ah…Pandora.”
“That still doesn’t explain the dissection. I want to see the body.”
“I’ve already asked and been refused. Behan will be buried by the time of my trial. The only witnesses will be those two deacons…and both are against me.”
Both fell silent at the prospect, knowing that under Roman law the accused was generally considered to be guilty, otherwise magistrates felt the charge never would have been brought forward.
Arcadia voiced a thought, “Do you think this might be connected to the papyri? A delaying tactic until after they’re revealed?”
“Involving the bishop? Cara, that’s just too far-fetched.”
“I suppose you’re right.”
“Oh,” he recalled, “I also heard some barracks gossip from Charadric. Whoever comes from Behan’s monastery should be here by mid-week.”
“That would be…Wodnesdag, no? Yesterday, the bishop made the weekday names that Childibert uses official.”
“You mean Monandag, Tiwesdag, and so on? How barbaric.”
Both laughed at the brief diversion, while Arcadia mentally braced herself to bring up the senator’s invitation. “Getorius. Publius Maximin came to see me yesterday.”
“About his mother? How is she?”
“A little better. I treated her this morning. What I wanted to tell you is that he wears a carnelian ring with a rooster symbol on it.”
“What?”
“He explained that it represented his estate outside Ravenna, where he raises poultry and fighting cocks.”
“I believe him. Many of the wealthy have rather sadistic pastimes.” Getorius reflected a moment. “What finger was this ring on?”
“Finger?” Arcadia thought back. “On the small digit of his right hand. Is that important?”
“Remember that circle of white
