“I have to set that snare, Getorius. There’s not much time and you’ll have to trust me.”
“No!” he objected. “I mean, what are you going to do?”
“Where are the papyri now? Would Theokritos still have them?”
“Theokritos? You haven’t heard, have you? Placidia is keeping it quiet, but he died yesterday.”
“What? How? He succumbed to the fever?”
“Charadric told me palace gossip says it happened after that Hibernian abbot heard his confession.”
“Confession?” Arcadia scoffed, “with that Gnostic amulet Theokritos wore?” She stood and came over to hug her husband for a long moment, then looked at him and brushed at the gray strands in his black hair. “Getorius, we two and the Gothic Queen may be the only witnesses left. I must have the Secundus Papyrus and Peter’s letter today, by the time it gets dark outside. Can we pay Charadric to let me stay here tonight? We haven’t made love in…in too long a time. Tell him we don’t want to be disturbed.”
“I like that last part, but not the other. Why do you want the documents? We don’t even know where they are.”
“Theokritos stored them somewhere in his office or room.” Arcadia smoothed the lines in her husband’s forehead with her fingers, then looked directly into his eyes. “I said you’d have to trust me.” She reached into the basket and took out the golden case that Nathaniel had returned. “I’ve had this locked in your study. I…I want to put the two papyri inside the case again. As Rabbi Zadok pointed out, if this is of the Lord, then it will succeed no matter what I, nor anyone does.”
“I don’t believe God is involved.”
“Nor do I,” she agreed, “but I don’t want us to end up murdered like Sigisvult and Renatus. And if that abbot is part of this conspiracy, Theokritos may have been another victim. Will you do what I ask?”
“But we don’t know where the documents are. And to steal them from under the noses of—”
Arcadia shushed him with a finger against his lips. “Would there be any copyists working in the library now?”
“I don’t think so. They told me they were let off early because of the Nativity vigil tomorrow.”
“Then the library shouldn’t have anyone in it.”
“True.”
“Theokritos was working on the experiments in his office,” she recalled, “but after he became ill he stayed in his room. The will could be in either place. I’m sorry to say this, but the confusion right now may help us. Placidia is probably occupied with bonuses for the Scholarians and Nativity gifts for the palace staff—to say nothing of her concern over Aetius’ intentions.”
“So…what are you suggesting?”
“Charadric lives in one of the barracks rooms like this one, with his wife. He can move around the palace without arousing suspicion.”
“And you want him to search for the papyri? Hades, woman…” Getorius took a deep breath and exhaled, resigned to not arguing with his wife any longer. “All right. Charadric is indebted to me for saving his hand, and probably his wife’s leg. I’ll tell him to look in Theokritos’ room first, then his library office.”
“Can Charadric read?”
Getorius shook his head. “I’ll describe what he’s to look for.”
Arcadia took a small piece of vellum from her purse. “There’s one more thing…that snare I mentioned. Have him leave this where he finds the documents.”
Getorius looked at a sketch on the vellum. “A red cockerel? All right, but we don’t know that the conspirators haven’t already found the papyri. Or that Theokritos wasn’t in on the plot and gave the documents to this abbot.”
“And, Getorius, we could speculate until the General Resurrection. I need to act now.”
“I’ll go find Charadric.”
Charadric had already heard the latest barracks talk about Getorius being released, and saw no problem in letting Arcadia stay the night. A gold tremissis persuaded him to search for the documents that Getorius described. Palace security was lax at this time of year. Guards were in a festive mood, anticipating the Nativity and New Year celebrations, where they would reaffirm their oath of loyalty to the emperor and receive gifts of equipment and money.
Using his guard’s passkey, Charadric entered Theokritos’ room. Because of the palace confusion that Arcadia had anticipated, no orders had been given about the librarian’s funeral, and he was still laid out on the bed. His shrunken jaw had dropped grotesquely, and his thin body barely made a bulge under the bedclothes.
Charadric assumed that the desk cabinet was the only place in the room where documents could be stored. Inside, in a cedar box, he found only one sheet with writing on it, but it did not match Getorius’ description. He left it in place.
The library was not deserted, as Charadric had been told it would be. A copyist working on the text of Valentinian’s New Year address to his Scholarian guards nodded to him in recognition—the guard had taken Getorius through the copy room to read every day for three weeks. Charadric told him that Getorius wanted writing materials from Theokritos’ office.
Behind the curtain the old librarian’s worktable was still littered with the dishes and jars he had used in his experiments. Getorius had described the two papyri as being flattened out on cedar boards and held in place with golden ribbons. They were not on the table, or on Theokritos’ desk, but there was a wall cabinet above it. Charadric silently forced its lock with his dagger blade.
Inside, among manuscript scrolls, the glint of gold caught the guard’s eye. Theokritos evidently had taken the documents off the boards, rolled them up again, and held them in place with the golden bands. This had to be what the surgeon wanted.
With the papyri concealed under his cloak, Charadric had reached the book stacks before he remembered Arcadia’s scrap of vellum. He went back and placed the red rooster drawing inside the wall cabinet.
It was almost dark by the time Charadric headed back to Getorius’ room. In the garden he passed Heraclius, who was headed for
