Read Online Four for a Boy by Mary Reed, Eric Mayer - Free Book Online
Authors: Mary Reed, Eric Mayer
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diatribe.
John tugged at Anatolius’ hand.
“No, let him watch if he wants,” Felix said quietly. “Sometimes a lesson needs repeating.”
Theodotus’ voice boomed through the cold air. “That was their plot, to set fire to the oil warehouses.
The flames would spread quickly. By sunrise the city would be ashes with no one’s property spared. This is why I have eyes and ears everywhere. My own, those of my men, and many belonging to other, unseen, helpers. Before you think to harm this sacred seven-hilled city, remember, I have ways of knowing your thoughts almost before you form them.” The bound man squirmed as Theodotus grasped a large clay pot sitting beside the obelisk and hefted it up as easily as if it were a small cup.
“Your plan failed,” he told the man tied to the obelisk. “But since you were looking forward to a fire, I don’t want to disappoint.”
Upending the pot he doused the Blue with lamp oil. The man began to struggle frantically as the viscous liquid soaked into his clothing and trickled down, forming a puddle.
Theodotus stepped away and casually kicked one of the lamps illuminating the scene toward the obelisk. The lamp skittered on its side, rolling in a tiny wheel of flames to come to rest against the man’s oil-sodden cloak. A thin line of red snaked slowly along it and began climbing up the man’s chest.
Then the oil exploded into a ball of flame, inside which a dark figure writhed and screamed.
His agonized cries were drowned out almost immediately by a roar of approval from the onlookers.
***
Felix, John, and Anatolius had placed many streets between themselves and the Strategion before any of them spoke.
It was Felix who finally broke the silence. “Do you really have a home, Anatolius, or are you just playing games and leading us all over the city?”
Anatolius looked around the forum they were crossing. In its center a statue of an emperor, or some lesser, forgotten luminary, appeared to be wading in a fountain basin.
“We’re almost there,” he replied.
“I’ll wager a nummus your father’s a shopkeeper,” said Felix.
Anatolius ignored him. He turned down what appeared at first glance to be an alley, but whose narrow way ended at an enormous gate set in a wall protecting a massive villa. Orange lamp light poured from a window.
Anatolius sprinted forward and the gate swung open as if someone had been awaiting his return. For an instant his slight frame was silhouetted in the gateway, then he was inside the grounds and the gate had banged shut.
John’s ruined cloak lay in front of the gate and as he retrieved it, Felix gazed at the villa beyond, amazement plain on his face.
Chapter Six
Felix squinted down the Mese where wan morning light slanted into the colonnades. He spoke without looking at John. “That boy we rescued last night…he’s the son of Senator Aurelius. A couple of my colleagues knew the villa immediately when I described it to them. They’d escorted Quaestor Proclus there for some meeting or other a few weeks ago. The senator’s known to be a staunch supporter of Justinian. It appears you’ve done your master a service. Maybe we can work together after all without you getting either of us killed.”
“I appreciate your confidence.”
“Yes, well, in such a situation as last night I would have expected you to be more…shall we say…excitable.”
Excitable? Like a woman? Because he was a eunuch? John’s cheekbones darkened with a flush of anger. He pulled his cloak closer around his lean frame and quickened his steps to match the excubitor’s steady pace. He managed to remain silent.
“There may be riots in the streets and murders in churches,” Felix continued, “but it seems that commerce carries on regardless. And begging.” He inclined his head in the direction of a man squatting against a wall. The man extended a dirty hand toward them as a biting wind came rushing down the wide street like icy water through an
John tugged at Anatolius’ hand.
“No, let him watch if he wants,” Felix said quietly. “Sometimes a lesson needs repeating.”
Theodotus’ voice boomed through the cold air. “That was their plot, to set fire to the oil warehouses.
The flames would spread quickly. By sunrise the city would be ashes with no one’s property spared. This is why I have eyes and ears everywhere. My own, those of my men, and many belonging to other, unseen, helpers. Before you think to harm this sacred seven-hilled city, remember, I have ways of knowing your thoughts almost before you form them.” The bound man squirmed as Theodotus grasped a large clay pot sitting beside the obelisk and hefted it up as easily as if it were a small cup.
“Your plan failed,” he told the man tied to the obelisk. “But since you were looking forward to a fire, I don’t want to disappoint.”
Upending the pot he doused the Blue with lamp oil. The man began to struggle frantically as the viscous liquid soaked into his clothing and trickled down, forming a puddle.
Theodotus stepped away and casually kicked one of the lamps illuminating the scene toward the obelisk. The lamp skittered on its side, rolling in a tiny wheel of flames to come to rest against the man’s oil-sodden cloak. A thin line of red snaked slowly along it and began climbing up the man’s chest.
Then the oil exploded into a ball of flame, inside which a dark figure writhed and screamed.
His agonized cries were drowned out almost immediately by a roar of approval from the onlookers.
***
Felix, John, and Anatolius had placed many streets between themselves and the Strategion before any of them spoke.
It was Felix who finally broke the silence. “Do you really have a home, Anatolius, or are you just playing games and leading us all over the city?”
Anatolius looked around the forum they were crossing. In its center a statue of an emperor, or some lesser, forgotten luminary, appeared to be wading in a fountain basin.
“We’re almost there,” he replied.
“I’ll wager a nummus your father’s a shopkeeper,” said Felix.
Anatolius ignored him. He turned down what appeared at first glance to be an alley, but whose narrow way ended at an enormous gate set in a wall protecting a massive villa. Orange lamp light poured from a window.
Anatolius sprinted forward and the gate swung open as if someone had been awaiting his return. For an instant his slight frame was silhouetted in the gateway, then he was inside the grounds and the gate had banged shut.
John’s ruined cloak lay in front of the gate and as he retrieved it, Felix gazed at the villa beyond, amazement plain on his face.
Chapter Six
Felix squinted down the Mese where wan morning light slanted into the colonnades. He spoke without looking at John. “That boy we rescued last night…he’s the son of Senator Aurelius. A couple of my colleagues knew the villa immediately when I described it to them. They’d escorted Quaestor Proclus there for some meeting or other a few weeks ago. The senator’s known to be a staunch supporter of Justinian. It appears you’ve done your master a service. Maybe we can work together after all without you getting either of us killed.”
“I appreciate your confidence.”
“Yes, well, in such a situation as last night I would have expected you to be more…shall we say…excitable.”
Excitable? Like a woman? Because he was a eunuch? John’s cheekbones darkened with a flush of anger. He pulled his cloak closer around his lean frame and quickened his steps to match the excubitor’s steady pace. He managed to remain silent.
“There may be riots in the streets and murders in churches,” Felix continued, “but it seems that commerce carries on regardless. And begging.” He inclined his head in the direction of a man squatting against a wall. The man extended a dirty hand toward them as a biting wind came rushing down the wide street like icy water through an
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