Read Online Five for Silver: A John, the Lord Chamberlain Mystery by Mary Reed, Eric Mayer - Free Book Online Page A

impression was of a miniature farm. Several large fish stirred the water of a shallow pool, an iron grate barring their escape into a channel leading to the bull’s enclosure. A quartet of brass plates hung in the tree shadowing the animal’s pen. Beyond that, chickens in a large cage scratched contentedly in the dust.
    Trees and tall shrubs had been planted around the garden’s perimeter, all but concealing the peristyles. It would have been easy to gaze up into the blue square of sky and imagine oneself in a secluded country setting.
    Apis, standing at the fence of his pen, angrily tossed his head and emitted another bellow. It was a prime specimen of the animal sacred to Mithra, John thought. A long chain attached to a ring circling one of the bull’s legs ran back to another ring set in a sturdy granite post. Nereus had apparently taken precautions to ensure his house wasn’t invaded by the bull, sacred or not.
    Sylvanus began to fork straw into Apis’ enclosure. “Well, sir, I know many have wondered why Nereus would keep such odd company in his town house. The fact of the matter is” —he paused to wipe his brow—“he set great store by Apis and the other oracles, and his visitors were always fascinated as well.”
    “I see,” said John. “Nereus’ oracles were for the purpose of entertainment?”
    Sylvanus shook his head. “To some extent, yes, but chiefly because he was a man of business. His business was shipping and that’s an enterprise more prone to the whims of Fortuna than most.”
    John agreed it was so.
    “Yes,” the other went on with some pride. “I’ve cared for a number of different prophetic beasts over the years. You’ll have noticed the fish—the very same species were consulted in one of Apollo’s temples. Their swimming to and fro predict what’s in store for the inquirer.”
    John suggested that if such oracles foretold the future as accurately as the ancients claimed, the knowledge provided would indeed have been most useful to Nereus.
    “That’s right, sir!” Sylvanus set aside his pitchfork. “Now it’s true that occasionally the Dodona oracles—” he pointed to the four thin brass plates jingling gently in the breeze “—kept us awake on tempestuous nights, but the master would not hear of them being taken down. Set great store by them, he did, although we never knew how he found out the way to interpret the sound the leather strips make slapping against the plates. He often used to say the Dodona oracles can foretell the future, but who can foretell the wind?”
    “An interesting thought,” John observed, not entirely certain how to interpret Nereus’ comment.
    “These are not the actual Dodona oracle, needless to say. But of the same vintage, or so he was assured. Not that cost ever deterred him. He was about to receive a new oracle and was very excited about it. An antique statue of Hermes, inspired by the one at Pharae. He told me seekers after knowledge made an offering, asked the statue their question, and then covered their ears until they left its presence. The first words they heard when they uncovered them were said to answer their question.”
    Evidently, John thought, an auricular oracle.
    “It wasn’t just statues and animals, though, sir,” Sylvanus continued with a fond smile. “Our cook complained more than once he had to keep a secret store of eggs and poppy seeds since the master would occasionally take them for purposes of divination, although neither of us know how they could possibly be used to foretell the future. You’ve perhaps noted the laurel bushes are a bit bare? The master would sometimes burn their leaves for the same purpose.”
    Sylvanus sighed. “Only last week the house steward mentioned one of the master’s dinner guests had spilt wine and the master immediately prophesized the future from the shape the puddle made.”
    “Was he correct?”
    “I can’t say. However, no one can deny that Nereus thrived in his