Jester Leaps In: A Medieval Mystery Page 17

  “Where’s Claudius?”

  “How should I know?” she said, shrugging. “I just got here.”

  “How did you get in without their seeing you?”

  “It’s not the first time I’ve come into a man’s bedchamber through the window,” she said. “Not the first time I came into yours that way, now that I think of it.”

  I looked around the room. Viola’s jester bag was gone, along with the saddlebags containing the rest of her belongings.

  “Looks like he pulled out,” she observed.

  “She wouldn’t do that,” I muttered.

  “She?”

  “He. He wouldn’t do that,” I said. “I’m not awake yet. What’s going on downstairs?”

  “One of your neighbors isn’t awake yet either. Probably because he’s dead. The landlord isn’t letting anyone leave until he sorts things out.”

  “Simon? How is he keeping them in?”

  “With a really big sword,” she said, grinning her old grin. “I should introduce him to Euphy. She likes men with big swords.”

  I gave the room a quick once-over. There were no bloodstains where Asan had fallen. His cloak had absorbed everything. Good. Nothing to tie us to him.

  “You stay here,” I said. “I’m going downstairs.”

  I staggered down, the very picture of a hangover, and stared sleepily at the assembly.

  “Good morning,” I said. “Is there some holiday? Why isn’t anyone working?”

  “Good morning, Fool,” said Simon, completely filling the doorway. He held a two-handed longsword in front of him like it was a feather. “Someone’s killed Asan.”

  “Killed?” I gasped. “When? Where?”

  “In his room last night,” said Simon. “Where’s Claudius?”

  Damn, I thought. Bad timing all around.

  “He rose early,” I said. “He’s out.”

  “Out where?”

  “I don’t know,” I admitted. “He didn’t say. I overslept. When I awoke, he was gone.”

  “There’s your murderer,” said Michael.

  “Impossible,” I said. “He couldn’t have killed Asan.”

  They turned to look at me.

  “Why not?” asked Simon.

  “Because he was with me the entire time,” I said.

  “Until you fell asleep,” said Stephanos in an ominous rumble.

  “And how do you know when Asan was killed?” demanded Simon.

  “I don’t,” I said.

  “Claudius killed him,” said Michael.

  “He doesn’t seem the type,” protested Peter. “Why would he kill him?”

  “Does not matter,” said one of the Russians. “Was thief. Deserved to die.”

  Stephanos stood up with a roar, the bench tumbling behind him. He took a step toward the Russians, ready to fight them all at once.

  “Stop,” said Simon quietly.

  Stephanos turned toward him. “Asan was my friend,” he bellowed.

  “There will be no fighting in here,” said Simon. “You sit down, or I’ll kill you myself. I swung this blade for Christ. I can swing it against the Devil if I have to.”

  Stephanos stared at him, then looked down at the blade that was pointed at his chest. He picked up the bench and sat down meekly.

  “Now, we don’t want the Vigla poking around our lives,” said Simon. Everyone in the room nodded in agreement. “Right now, it looks like Claudius may have done it. But he’s skipped. As long as he stays skipped, that’s fine. If he comes back, I’ll deal with him. On the other hand, it may be one of you. Asan may very well have had it coming, but that’s not how we do things at the Rooster. You want to kill someone, you take it outside. Otherwise, you will have me to answer to. Am I understood?”

  “What about him?” asked Michael, pointing to me. “His companion did this. Are you going to let Feste stay here?”

  “He’s paid in advance,” said Simon. “I have no problem with him. Do you?”

  Michael looked at the sword, which was now pointed toward the floor.

  “No problem,” he said, shaking his head.

  Simon stepped away from the doorway.

  “Have a productive day, gentlemen,” he said pleasantly. “Dinner tonight will be rabbit.”

  They filed out quickly, leaving me with Simon. He looked at me.

  “I don’t think Claudius killed him,” he said. “You, on the other hand, seem more than capable.”

  “So is Claudius,” I said. “Who do you really think killed him?”

  “Most likely someone here,” he said. “No one else went upstairs last night, or I would have heard them.”

  “What are you going to do with the body?”

  He went back into his room, then reemerged with a large, burlap sack.

  “Do you need any help?” I offered.

  “Sure. Get a bucket of water and some rags.”

  By the time I came back up, the late thief had been unceremoniously bundled into the sack, along with his belongings. In the daylight, I could see that Asan’s room was larger than mine. It also featured an actual door in the doorway, with a plank that could be dropped into place behind it. I cleared my throat, and Simon looked at me.

  “I was wondering, since this room is now available . . .” I said hesitantly.

  Simon began laughing.

  “You’re a cold-blooded fellow,” he said. “The lad’s barely dead, and you want a better room. Maybe that’s a reason for killing someone.”

  “Hardly.”

  “All right, it’s yours as long as you don’t fear ghosts. Hard to let out a room where someone’s just died. Murdered men tend to prowl around a bit.”

  “So do murderers,” I said. “I like a door I can bar. Especially since I don’t have a sword like yours. You were very imposing down there.”

  He snorted. “Once you’ve faced a Saracen army, a barroom seems tame by comparison.” He threw me some rags. “Here, you clean up. I’ll take care of the body.”

  I took the rags and began mopping the floor as Simon hauled the sack downstairs. I didn’t ask him what he was going to do with it. I preferred not knowing.

  I rinsed out the rags in the bucket. There was a small amount of blood on the floor, barely coloring the water. I took the pail out back and emptied it. Then I remembered Thalia and went back to my room.

  She was still there, staying out of view from the hallway.

  “Where is everyone?” she asked.

  “The other inmates have gone to work,” I said. “Simon is lugging the body away. I have the feeling he’s done this before.”

  “At the Rooster? Very likely. So, we’re alone at last. I’m glad the little fellow’s not around.”

  She had that look going again, a smile dancing in her eyes.

  “Give me your knife,” I said.

  The smile vanished.

  “Why?” she asked.

  “To satisfy my curiosity.”

  She reached inside her cowl and pulled it out.

  “And the other one, please.”

  A second slid into her other hand. She gave them both to me. I held them up to the window and inspected them carefully.

  “No blood,” I said.

  “My hands and nails are clean, too,” she said, holding them out for me to see. “Of course, if I were a killer, I’d be smart enough to wash up afterward. Curiosity satisfied?”

  “Not completely,” I said. “You said you would return two nights ago. What happened?”

  “I saw Father Esaias come in with a rough-looking bunch. I thought it would be impolite to join the party, especially since he and I showed up wearing the same outfit.”

  “And last night?”

  She was silent.

  “In the last three nights, I have returned to my room to find someone who should have been dead, someone who looked like Death, and someone who actually was dead,” I said. “Were you here last night?”

  “I thought he was found in his room,” she said slowly.


  “Claudius and I put him there after we found him here,” I said. “But someone killed him here thinking he was Claudius or myself. Were you here last night?”

  “No,” she said. “I was detained.”

  “Who detained you?”

  “I can’t say.”

  I held up her knives.

  “You’re unarmed, my dear. And you’ve been holding out on me. I want to know who you’re working for.”

  Her face turned livid.

  “How dare you!” she spat. “After I nearly died for the Guild, you question my loyalty?”

  “But you didn’t die,” I said. “That makes you the only one so far.”

  “You don’t believe I was attacked,” she said, shaking her head. “Oh, Theo, I had expected better of you after all this time. You need proof. Very well.”

  She pulled off the monk’s garb. Underneath she was still in man’s clothing.

  “And I’m not unarmed,” she said, dropping two more knives to the ground. “That’s the first token of good faith. Here’s the second.”

  She started to pull off her tunic.

  “Wait,” I protested.

  “Come, Theo,” she said. “You’ve seen this body before. Don’t play shy with me.”

  Thalia stood half-naked in front of me, still seeming for all the world the eighteen-year-old fool I once knew.

  “Bring back any memories?” she said mockingly.

  Before I could say anything, she turned around.

  The smoothness of her skin was broken by grotesque scars covering her lower back. I reached forward and touched them lightly. She shuddered violently and clasped her arms tightly across her chest.

  “So, Theo, I can come hither and still make myself alluring to a man,” she said in a broken voice. “It’s the going thither that repels them.”

  “Get dressed,” I said roughly. I handed her back the two knives I held.

  She was back to holy anonymity in seconds. Then she turned to face me.

  “Do you believe me now?” she asked.

  “Believe, somewhat. Trust, no,” I said. “Did you know Zintziphitzes was killed?”

  Her shock looked genuine.

  “When?” she cried.

  “Two or three days ago,” I said. “We found what was left of him in his room, providing a funeral feast for his four-legged neighbors. Now, someone’s coming after me. Any ideas on the subject?”

  “No.”

  “Then get out. Come back when you have something useful to tell me. I have to find Claudius and perform before the Emperor, and I haven’t had anything to eat.”

  “I thought you were going to save me,” she whispered.

  “That wasn’t part of my mission,” I said. I started packing my gear.

  When I looked up, she was gone.

  I tossed my bags into a dead man’s room, then went to the stables.

  “The short fellow with the beard?” said the stableman. “Came here just after dawn. Collected his horse and left.”

  “Did he say where he was going?” I asked, my heart sinking.

  “No. But he was headed out of town. Rode toward the Rhegium Gate.”

  “And he left no message?”

  “None.”

  Viola had left me. There was no getting around it. I didn’t think it was the attempt on her life that was the last straw. She had more mettle than that. Maybe it was finding herself in league with Esaias that drove her away.

  Or maybe it was me, pure and simple. I had been too much the teacher, not enough the husband. Too many restraints placed upon her. She had left Orsino to flee a restrictive role, only to find another one with me.

  Live and learn, Theo. Next time you’ll get it right. If you ever merit a next time.

  I went to visit Zeus. It had been over a week since I had seen him. He had no further information on the subject. I tried to give him a carrot, but he snapped at my fingers so sharply that I had to drop it in self-defense.

  Fine, I thought. Yesterday I had three friends in a city of four hundred thousand. Today, it seemed, I had none.

  I arrived at Blachernae earlier than expected, but the Emperor was up, lunching and listening to his advisers argue with each other. He saw me and waved a chicken leg.

  “Here, boy!” he said, whistling.

  Oh, dear, that tiresome routine that emperors do when they think they’re being funny. No choice but to turn dog for the moment, scampering about on all fours, sitting up and begging while he held the leg just out of my reach. Finally, he turned to one of his advisers and said, “I’ll wager you a bezant he can do a somersault and catch this in the air.”

  “I accept the wager, Your Majesty,” said the man.

  Guffawing, Alexios tossed it high, shouting, “Fetch!”

  I not only caught it, I caught it with my mouth. Hell, I was hungry, and I was damned if I was going to eat it off the floor.

  I sat by the foot of the throne, eating quietly, watching the proceedings. The elder son-in-law, Alexios Palailogos, was there, lounging around in a gold tunic and leggings. Someone who I later learned was Michael Stryphnos, Euphrosyne’s brother-in-law and the Grand Duke of what was left of the navy, sat by him, reaching constantly into a bowl of figs between them. George Oinaiotes, the Grand Chamberlain, was standing at a table, pontificating, while Philoxenites watched everything from a seat nearby. Some lesser bureaucrats were scattered about. And, at the rear, stood Captain Stanislaus and two of his men. The captain was watching Philoxenites.

  “All I am saying is that the raids on the Black Sea merchants would be much more profitable if we used our own ships,” Oinaiotes was saying as I munched away. “Hiring pirates to do the job cuts into our take. They just aren’t reliable enough.”

  “How many ships do we have?” asked the Emperor.

  Stryphnos looked a bit blank.

  “Can’t say, exactly, Your Majesty,” he replied vaguely.

  “It would help if you would stop selling them,” said Palailogos, elbowing him.

  “Now, now,” said Stryphnos. “I only sold a few. Needed the money. Birthday presents and such. Anyhow, the pirates have been working out just fine. Lovely folk. Give ’em a few titles, a nice sash, and they think they’re just like us.”

  “We have gotten some complaints about these raids,” interrupted Philoxenites. “Some of the merchantmen were our own. Imperial piracy is usually directed at other countries’ goods.”

  “Is it?” exclaimed the Emperor, bursting into laughter. “Well, we had better stop doing it then. Robbing Peter to pay Paul, eh, Fool?”

  “Aptly put, milord,” I said.

  “I still say we should restore the navy,” resumed Oinaiotes. “It’s just more comfortable when they report directly to us.”

  “Make you earn your keep at last,” said Palailogos to Stryphnos.

  “But Your Majesty,” protested Stryphnos. “Building more ships would necessitate cutting down that lovely forest. Where will you hunt then?”

  “He has a point, you know,” said the Emperor to the Chamberlain. “It’s so convenient when you can go out, kill a few deer, and be back home by sunset. If we chop all that down just to build a few boats, then I’ll have to travel an extra day to hunt. And you know how I hate riding that long. Makes my legs hurt even more, eh, Fool?”

  “We certainly wish no pain to the royal limbs, Your Majesty,” I said. “If the Emperor cannot stand, then the empire must fall.”

  “Hah! Well spoken, Fool,” exclaimed the Emperor. He turned to his flutist, who was standing by the throne. “You see, my dear, it’s a play on words, because I am the empire, of course, and . . .”

  She looked at him blankly.

  “Has to work on her Greek,” he confided to me. “Knows enough to know what I want, but that’s about it.”

  “Sounds like the ideal woman,” I said.

  “Watch this,” he said, grinning lewdly. He turned to her. “Nap!”

  She smiled, picked up her flute, and he
aded toward the Imperial Bedchamber.

  “Is she a treasure or what?” he said, sighing. He made as if to get up.

  Philoxenites rose and cleared his throat. The Emperor looked at him irritatedly.

  “What is it, Eunuch?” he said.

  “Your Majesty, there is the question of your nephew,” Philoxenites said quietly.

  There was a slight rustle among the rest of the advisers. The Emperor sat back in his throne, his hands resting on the arms in an attempt at a regal pose.

  “What of him?” he said.

  “We have received word that he has made his way to Hagenau, and is under the protection of his sister and the German court.”

  “That little whore Irene,” said the Emperor. “Quite the operator. Like a cat that keeps landing on its feet.”

  “Or on its back,” I said.

  The Emperor gave a quick bark of laughter and patted me on the shoulder.

  “He has also made contact with the Crusaders,” continued Philoxenites.

  “Well, what of it? Let him go on a Crusade. Do the boy some good. Make a man of him at last.”

  “What if he is seeking an army to turn against Your Majesty?”

  “He wouldn’t do that!” declared the Emperor. “The boy owes me his life. I could have had him killed. I could have had his eyes put out. Did I? Did I?”

  The advisers shook their heads.

  “I was too soft with the boy, I admit it. But I had hopes for him. Thought he might come around, see the light. Didn’t think he had any loyalty to my brother after all this time. So, he escaped. Does it matter? Let him hide behind his sister’s skirts, or play soldier and get killed by the infidels. Why should he be of any interest to me now?”

  “What if he brings the Crusade through here?” persisted Philoxenites.

  “Then we’ll stop him,” said Palailogos confidently.

  “Yes! We’ll stop him,” agreed the Emperor. “The people won’t have him here. They don’t know him. He’s just a runaway boy. What hold does he have over Byzantium? Are there any here who would support his claims? Captain?”

  “None, Your Majesty,” said Stanislaus.

  “Well, then. You are wasting valuable time, eh? Time that I could be spending in my, er, nap.”

  “Then there is the question of your brother, Isaakios,” said Oinaiotes.

  The Emperor looked at him through half-closed eyes.