Read Online Seven for a Secret by Mary Reed, Eric Mayer - Free Book Online Page B

call her by her real name now that you know it?”
    “The girl in my mosaic has always been Zoe to me.”
    “I’ve often wondered how—”
    “Anatolius! Lord Chamberlain! An attendant tells me you wanted to speak to me?” A short, muscular man approached. His black, cropped hair glistened wetly. His lumpy features might have belonged to a beggar, but not his green, pearl-embroidered robes.
    Anatolius rose to greet his friend. “Francio! The Lord Chamberlain was asking about a courtier I had never met and I thought of you. After all, you know everyone at court, including those who have fallen from favor!”
    Francio tapped the side of his nose, which had been horribly squashed in an accident—what sort varied with its owner’s mood and his listener’s credulity. “Let us keep that under the rose, Anatolius. But you flatter me even so. I don’t know about everyone. Only those of importance. I don’t have any gossip about the palace guards and servants and such, unless the servants are sleeping with someone important. Why, I could tell you…but perhaps I’d better not.”
    John mentioned the departed tax collector.
    “Glykos? I seem to recall some mention of the name. You say this fellow died about ten years ago? I was only a youngster at the time.”
    “What about his family? I have reason to believe the mother and daughter remained in the city,” John said.
    Francio shook his head. “It’s possible. Those who are banished from court might as well have sailed away across the seas.”
    John knew that many who fell into disfavor fled for their own safety. The lucky ones—landed aristocratics who were allowed to retain any of their holdings—retired to what remained of their country estates, or to the estates of relatives. But most at the palace owed their wealth and privilege to their positions and any palace official, even one as powerful as the Lord Chamberlain, held office at the whim of the emperor. With a few words, Justinian could turn a rich man into a beggar. Even the sentatorial class was not immune to having all they possessed confiscated.
    Francio had screwed his face up in thought. “I do see some former courtiers at the Bathos of Zeuxippos from time to time,” he said. “Anyone can get in for a copper coin or two. I suppose it’s a way for them to enjoy the sort of surroundings they left behind, as well as an opportunity to talk to old friends.”
    “Or at least those who will still acknowledge acquaintanceship,” Anatolius put in.
    “Perhaps one of these fallen courtiers would know something that would assist me?” John said.
    “Indeed. And now that I think of it, I know exactly the man. His name’s Menander. He was a silentiary. He fell from favor a long time ago so he’s well connected to those who are no longer well connected. He knows everyone who used to be someone. What’s more Fortuna has favored you, because I saw him right here not an hour ago.”
    “Where can we find him now?” John asked.
    “He told me he was going to attend a poetry reading. He expected there would be plenty of wine, and his hearing isn’t that good anyway. You know the poet, I believe. Crinagoras.”
    John suppressed a grimace. “Yes, he’s a friend of Anatolius. Every time he visits my house the walls ring for days afterward.”
    Francio chuckled. “He does enjoy hearing his own verse. When I saw him this morning he was declaiming samples, to entice passersby to commission a work or two. His performances are always comical, even if it’s not his aim. Last time he surpassed himself, because he recited at the very foot of Demosthenes there and mumbled even more than usual.”
    Anatolius remarked it was not surprising the orator’s bronze brows were furrowed and his lips tight. “I suppose we’d better go and seek whatever lecture hall Crinagoras is using,” he went on. “He’s bound to chide me for abandoning my muse for the law.”
    “Crinagoras is going to entertain at my next banquet,”