Free Seven for a Secret by Mary Reed, Eric Mayer Page B

about the money, you will have to come back next week. I am in the process of selling a few costly items and will pay you then.” He spoke in carefully modulated tones.
    “We’re not here on such business,” John replied. “I wish to ask you a few questions. I am—”
    “Now I recognize you. John, the emperor’s Lord Chamberlain, isn’t it? My apologies. I was not expecting to see someone of your station in such a place.” Menander stepped aside to allow his callers to enter.
    John’s first thought was that he had stepped back into one of the storage areas in which he had spent the days when he worked for the Keeper of the Plate. Menander’s room, however, although it contained gold and silver, boasted a wider variety of precious objects. Glassware, furniture, statuary, wall hangings, and silks were piled in disarray. The congested space was bisected, floor to ceiling, by a loosely packed wall of treasures that sparkled and glinted like the iconostasis of a large church. John realized his filth-encrusted boots were defiling an expensive floor covering but Menander did not appear to notice.
    “Please make yourselves comfortable,” Menander said. “If you don’t mind, we shall remain in my atrium.” He glanced toward an irregular gap in the glittering wall. “My office, in the back there, is rather cluttered.”
    As far as John could tell, the nearest couch sat atop two others. The trio remained standing. Anatolius appeared bemused by the scene while Crinagoras gaped like a child.
    Menander coughed. “As you see, I am blessed with many of the world’s goods. Yet, for all that, I live simply.”
    John introduced his companions.
    “Crinagoras I know,” said Menander. “I found your poetry reading today most satisfying, young man. Your words will stay with me for some while. They provided food for thought.”
    Not to mention food for the stomach, John thought, noting a large wedge of cheese sitting on a silver plate.
    “I’m certain Crinagoras is pleased you took something away from his reading,” John said. “Do I understand correctly that you were, some years ago, removed from the emperor’s court?”
    Menander looked surprised at the sudden change in topic. “That is so, Lord Chamberlain. There is no point in hiding the reason why a former silentiary occupies such cramped quarters.”
    Anatolius murmured polite regrets.
    “It is all too common, young man,” Menander replied. “I was fortunate to escape with my head and this meager portion of my possessions. Not that I had more than a few cart-loads left, by the time I’d paid out enough bribes to get my treasures out of the palace. There was no truth in the charges. I do not blame our esteemed emperor, Lord Chamberlain. I am convinced Theodora’s vile hand was in it.” He smiled sadly. “I was very close to Emperor Justin. You’ll recall that he opposed Theodora’s marriage to Justinian for some time. After all, she was a former actress and hardly fit to wed his nephew, the future emperor. Theodora unfortunately has a long memory. Many of us who expressed admiration for Justin found ourselves exiled from the palace. Is there any foulness, any evil or crime in which she is not involved?”
    Menander was a brave man to say this, or else intoxicated, John thought. Not to mention fortunate. Justinian was utterly unpredictable in his treatment of enemies. One might be summarily executed, the next merely stripped of titles and privilege and often welcomed back into the emperor’s good graces within the year. Those with lives spared by the emperor’s whims, along with families whose property had been confiscated either as punishment for misdeeds or for reasons known only to the imperial couple, comprised a shadowy, dissaffected army.
    “How exquisite,” exclaimed Crinagoras, plucking a small item from the marble curls of an ancient Greek bust. He held up a red, pressed glass icon, displaying the face of Christ no larger than a man’s