“But how, in such a short time?” Arcadia asked.
“There are those who would gladly join him, to use the false will for their own purposes.”
“The monk was in the library many times,” Getorius recalled. “That also gave him access to palace staff.”
“Then Theokritos was obviously involved,” Maximin said. “He and the monk conspired together in the library.”
“Senator, would the librarian sacrifice Feletheus?” When Maximin shrugged without answering, Getorius went on, “If Theokritos knew where the papyri were hidden he would have had to do so, or give himself away. That bow trap was meant to be triggered by a lone intruder. Miniscius—the workmaster—would be the first person on the site in the morning. He would have found the body and disposed of it. Remember, it was only on a whim of Placidia’s that we were in the mausoleum that night and made the discovery. Now I’m concerned about whom else Behan might have recruited in the palace.”
“Heraclius?” Arcadia suggested. “I told you I saw him with Brenos in the garden last night.”
“Last night?” Maximin raised an eyebrow. “What were they doing?”
“Just walking.”
“Walking to where?”
Getorius rescued his wife with a question, “Why would Renatus have been killed if he was part of the conspiracy?”
“I’ve been puzzled by that, too,” Nathaniel admitted, “yet, as archdeacon he controlled a substantial amount of money. The Gallicans needed funds. He might not have known the exact details of the plan, so when he unexpectedly became one of the witnesses, this Smyrna may have been afraid the man would change his mind, or worse, expose the conspiracy.”
“Then he didn’t intentionally poison Sigisvult,” Getorius realized. “Someone must have been able to put the atropa in the wine. That rooster you found on the broken glass, Arcadia, was just a coincidence…a Christian symbol.”
“Renatus was also deceived.”
“Right. And it’s obvious now that the abbot was supposed to arrive much earlier. The report of Behan’s death must have been the signal for Brenos to come to Ravenna.”
“Then Behan was murdered, like I thought!”
“Except, Arcadia, that wouldn’t have served the abbot very well. He needed Behan here to introduce his contacts.”
“But the courier who went to Autessiodurum must have brought Brenos a message from Smyrna that everything was ready,” Arcadia speculated. “He made Behan’s death the excuse for going to Gaul in the winter.”
“Your murder theory does begin to make sense,” Getorius admitted. “The abbot may have been the only one to know the will was a forgery, yet even if he didn’t know who Smyrna was, he had to have been in touch with him, probably through Behan. Smyrna wanted the most important witness to the conspiracy eliminated.”
“Brenos arrived late,” Arcadia continued, “then found—to his horror—that Behan had drowned before he could announce the prophecy. Even worse, that the two papyri had been discovered.”
“The abbot came to Ravenna a sick man, then had, what, three days to contact Smyrna and locate the will before the Nativity vigil? That accounts for the irrational sermon you heard at the funeral, Arcadia. The man was frantic to find the papyrus.”
“Oh Lord, you have destroyed the wicked,” Nathaniel murmured, paraphrasing a psalm.
“I hesitate to say this,” Maximin ventured, “but Aetius could be involved. He might even be Smyrna, the abbot’s accomplice.”
“The last thing the commander needs, Senator, is civil unrest.”
“Surgeon, Aetius could use the riots as an excuse for demanding the powers of a dictator. Later on, like Sulla, or Julius Caesar—more recently Constantine—he might find it difficult to give up supreme command.”
“With respect, Senator,” Getorius went on, “what is frightening is that these Gallicans were willing to destroy communities to institute a rule where people would be forced to believe as they did. Admittedly, Rome hasn’t been much of a republic for centuries, but we’re talking about a group willing to sacrifice our laws—a civilization built up over a thousand years—to their own warped religious ends.”
Maximin tapped the charter against his knee, but did not comment.
“We discovered a rule book in Behan’s hut that suggested these Hibernians are disciples of a leader named Ciallanus,” Arcadia recalled. “Is he part of this?”
“I doubt it, or he would have come here himself,” Getorius replied. “Brenos must have led a few like-minded monks within his order, who then found laymen to recruit. It was risky, yet even Ciallanus would have had to accept the will’s provisions.”
“When religious fanaticism is considered a virtue, it becomes a dangerous one,” Nathaniel observed.
Maximin abruptly stood up and slid the Gallican charter sheets back into their case. “We may never know all those involved. I’ll take this to the Empress Mother. It should convince her that Theokritos was mistaken.”
“She’ll want a magistrate to look into Brenos’ death,” Getorius said.
Maximin looked at him, startled. “Why would she? My guards, who found the abbot’s body, will swear he suffered an unfortunate accident in the commission of a crime.” The senator paused when he reached the door and stabbed at the air with the muddy case. “Brenos was not authorized to be there and laws on trespass and theft are quite clear. You needn’t show me out, Surgeon. I wish you a joyous celebration of the Savior’s birth, my dear. And of the end of your festival, Judean.”
After Maximin was gone, Arcadia commented, “As I’ve said, he’s smooth as that marble table top. I don’t want to believe the senator is involved, but he walked out of here wanting us to think that a visiting abbot from Gaul—a complete stranger to him—somehow sneaked into his well-guarded villa just to steal a statue of a chicken! Of his two missing actors, Jason, at least, had to have a part in this.”
“Who were Jason and the woman he mentioned?” Getorius asked.
“Phoebe. She performed a pantomime with him after supper. My God!” Arcadia gasped, “Jason was painting a mask labeled Smyrna when I saw him. After luring Brenos to the villa, and with Maximin away, he could have impersonated the man—thrown the abbot off guard.”
“Actors mimic conspiracies, they don’t initiate them,” Getorius
