Getorius knew that Stilicho had allowed himself to be executed rather than provoke civil war. Galla Placidia did not like or trust Aetius. She resented the fact that her regency guardianship over Valentinian was now over, yet she needed the commander’s military expertise. Aetius, in turn, depended on the continuation of his victories to maintain his position and avoid Stilicho’s fate.
“Well,”—Aetius glanced around the room—“I see they gave you Cassian’s quarters, but the tribune seems to have taken almost everything with him to Rome.”
“I’m comfortable enough.”
“I was told of the charge against you, Surgeon, so I’ll aim directly for the target. Did you dissect that monk’s body?”
“No, sir.”
“I’m inclined to believe you, but…well…my men report that about three weeks ago you went out in the direction of the stream where the corpse was kept.”
So Aetius was informed about our journey to Classis. What else does he know? Perhaps he’s not that sure of the target, or how many others might be involved in this.
“Surgeon?” Aetius asked.
Getorius tried not to sound defensive when he replied, “I had business in Classis.”
“Mind telling me what kind of business?” After Getorius hesitated, Aetius came over and put a hand on his shoulder. “I said I believed you, but the charge was brought by the bishop. The Augustus wouldn’t interfere even if he felt like doing so. Do you know why someone would want to implicate…to dishonor you this way?”
“I don’t.” Getorius did not elaborate. If Placidia was correct and Aetius was involved in a palace plot involving the will, the worst he could do would be to tell the commander that he knew about the existence of the two papyri. “I have no idea, I only know I wasn’t involved.”
“All right.” Aetius rubbed his eyes and sat back down. “There’s something going on, but it’s well hidden. My men have heard only a word here and there…not enough for me to make any sense of anything. But perhaps my comment at dinner that night about a secret document wasn’t a total jest. Has someone ‘discovered’ a testament of Constantine that wills the Western Empire to the Bishop of Rome? Shall I put the Scholarian Guards on alert?”
“I…I couldn’t say, sir.” Now Aetius is mentioning a will. Is the man toying with me about what he already knows, like a cat with a wounded bird? Does he hope I’ll drop my guard and then tell him something?
“In the name of Hades, Surgeon, talk to me!” Aetius burst out. “Do you want to be exiled with your wife to some gull-dung-spotted rock off the Dalmatian coast? What were you supposed to have done? What part of the monk’s body were you charged with…mutilating…as the indictment reads?”
“Arcadia told me the deacons said it was the abdominal area.”
“Neither of you has seen the corpse?”
“No. Bishop Chrysologos wouldn’t allow it.”
Aetius ran the fingers of one hand along his dagger sheath a moment. “The bishop’s tribunal won’t hold your trial until after the new year,” he predicted. “Chrysologos has decided that the monk will be buried on the twenty-fourth of December. In three days.”
“Literally covering up the evidence. That won’t help me, but I suppose the bishop will be glad to have the matter laid to rest, as it were, even though nothing has been heard so far from Behan’s monastery.”
“You don’t know? The monk’s abbot arrived here from Gaul yesterday.”
“His abbot?”
“Yes, a churchman named Brenos. I’m just as astonished as you that he would make that long a journey in winter. I had enough trouble getting back over a much shorter distance.”
Getorius barely heard the comment. The arrival of the head of the monastery to which Behan belonged had to be connected to the revelation of the will. He wondered how much it was safe to tell Aetius, but the commander was still talking.
“…And not a single galley from the Egyptian grain fleet would risk a winter voyage, despite the fact that we offered the captains a handsome bonus in order to help avoid a food crisis.”
“Egypt? I’ve been reading about the country in Euterpé, the second book of Herodotus…” As Getorius reached over the bed to show the volume, a sudden thought came to his mind. “Of course, Egyptian priests! Sigisvult had mentioned something about embalming Behan’s corpse.”
“What are you talking about, Surgeon?”
Getorius held up the old historian’s book and waved it at Aetius. “Commander, don’t we have an Egyptian colony in Ravenna?”
“Yes, a small one, in the port area…commercial offices, a temple to Isis, little else. Why do you ask?”
“I’ve been reading about embalming. This may be an impossibly long throw of the javelin, but if I could tell you exactly what organs had been excised from Behan’s corpse, would that help my case?”
“Hardly, Surgeon,” Aetius replied softly. “If you were responsible, of course you’d know what parts had been removed.”
“If I told you where to find the organs, in a place where I couldn’t possibly have had access?”
“Then there probably wouldn’t be a case.” Aetius chortled. “Except, perhaps, a new one for practicing sorcery!”
Aetius seems pretty honest. If I want to find out if my hunch is correct, I don’t have much choice but to trust him. “You owe me nothing, Commander,” Getorius said, retrieving a wax note tablet and stylus from the table, “but if you think I’m innocent, take a few men and, well, ‘raid’ is probably the wrong word, but if you could go and inspect the sanctuary of Isis in that Egyptian temple…”
“What are you getting at?”
“Not only does Herodotus mention embalming rites,” Getorius explained as he wrote in the wax, “but I found a Latin translation of a Coptic manuscript in the library about ancient funerary rites for someone named…I think, Nes-Nekht.”
“And?”
“Have your men try to locate four small jars, probably made of alabaster. They would have the
