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blessing to all. I would not be surprised if in due course he succeeded me as abbot.”
    â€œI wish to ask a favor on his behalf,” Peter said. “Stephen said he should not have been indulging his curiosity when he found me. I hope you will not be too harsh with him.”
    To Peter’s surprise the abbot chuckled. “I will refrain from exacting punishment altogether. His curiosity about such matters might be partly my fault because I too have an interest in the ancient religions.” He waved a hand at the tottering stacks between them. “It is remarkable how many and various are the delusions we humans have believed at one time or other.”
    Delusion? Was the abbot reading Peter’s mind? Peter stared at the other, anguish suddenly etched on his face. “I am afraid.”
    â€œAfraid?”
    â€œI have deluded myself. Because of this, I have committed a terrible sin.” Peter drew a trembling hand over his face. The physical aches from the crown of his head to the soles of his feet were nothing compared to the pain he felt in his heart, or was it in his soul?
    â€œIf it would help you to tell me more?” The abbot’s voice was kindly.
    Peter took his courage in his hands. “I married a young woman, an Egyptian. We have both served the same master for years. She is barely half my age, and at the time I was ill. Perhaps she felt sorry for me, but I have come to realize it was not fair to her. I succumbed to pride and covetousness and lust. How can I complain now she prefers someone younger? How can I rectify my error?” To Peter’s horror tears began rolling down his cheeks.
    â€œRemember, Peter, a husband and wife become one flesh. The marriage union is sacred.”
    â€œBut I have noticed she talks to a young watchman on my master’s estate a great deal. Do you think she is miserable, waiting for me, an old man, to die?”
    â€œYoung persons talk to each other but it means nothing. Try to conquer your jealousy, Peter. As for being old, you are as vigorous as a spring lamb compared to the sad state of some of our hospice residents. My advice is to talk to your wife quietly about your concerns and pray for the health of your marriage.”

Chapter Twelve
    The City Defender had departed, four of his men carrying the body of Theophilus in a blanket. Cornelia sat in the bedroom, staring at Cheops as John came in, a cylindrical wicker work basket in his hand. He sat down beside her. “I hid it in the barn after sending word to Megara to notify the City Defender of Theophilus’ death.”
    â€œWhy? Is it important? It’s just a shabby old basket.” Cornelia’s response betrayed both exhaustion and exasperation.
    â€œIt could be very important. There’s nothing unusual about the basket but when I found it next to Theophilus it was decorated with these.” Reaching into the neck of his tunic, he pulled out several strips of dark blue cloth.
    Cornelia looked at them and then at John.
    â€œThey were tied to the basket,” he explained. “Strictly speaking they should be purple ribbons but I suppose these were as close as could be managed at short notice.”
    â€œScraps of blue cloth? Baskets? Do you mean we have to worry about someone with deranged humors lurking in the bushes and popping out now and then to leave gifts for us?”
    John gave a thin smile. “This is hardly a gift, Cornelia. It’s a sacred basket, a cista. It resembles those used during the rites of Demeter.”
    â€œYou mean the City Defender was correct and Theophilus was murdered during a pagan ritual?”
    â€œThat’s what the basket would doubtless suggest to many.”
    Cornelia’s jaw tightened in anger. “Or would have suggested, if the City Defender had found it with the dead man. I see why you removed it.”
    â€œLeaving the basket with the body was an inspired act of malevolence. So I brought it