Free Six for Gold by Mary Reed & Eric Mayer Page B

with the general impression of stark Christianity.
    Light spilled down from the compluvium and through the open entrance to an inner garden, visible beyond an austere office.
    The light accentuated the heavy powder on the young man’s face. Anatolius now remembered where he’d seen the servant before. It was in the halls of the Great Palace a few years earlier, among the band of similarly made-up and ubiquitous court pages.
    Now, however, Diomedes was too old to serve as a decorative object.
    â€œFirst, I wish to talk to the senator’s head servant,” Anatolius said.
    â€œAchilles? I fear he is not here.”
    A faint smell of herbs and flowers filtered into the atrium.
    â€œThen we shall talk in the garden.”
    Anatolius selected a bench shaded by a stunted fig tree. The location had the benefit of keeping their conversation private as well as allowing it to be conducted out of sight of most of the crosses sprouting from flower beds set around the edge of the green, quiet space.
    He indicated they should both sit. “My understanding is that the senator lived alone, apart from his servants?”
    Diomedes confirmed this had been the case. “His wife died many years ago. She was Egyptian, and distantly related to the Apions. You may have noticed the household still reflects her influence.”
    He directed Anatolius’ attention to a statue of the jackal-headed god Anubis which squatted in a patch of herbs.
    â€œThat explains the crocodile in the atrium,” Anatolius observed. “And so the senator had connections by his marriage to a very influential family?”
    â€œIndeed, sir. The master also had extensive holdings here and in Egypt.”
    â€œIn view of his death, presumably you will be looking for other employment and lodgings?”
    â€œOh, I shouldn’t think so! The senator had no children, but he had an estranged brother, not to mention a half-brother, and a number of more distant relatives. More than a few of them live in Egypt, and doubtless they’ll all journey to Constantinople to pay their respects now that he’s gone. The Quaestor’s office is overseeing the estate until everything is straightened out. They’re moving as fast as the law allows. Since the senator’s family will be staying here while they visit, and many visits may be necessary, I might well grow gray here.”
    He brushed a stray curl out of his face. “Not that I care to go gray.”
    â€œWhat was it you read for the senator? Religious works? I understand he was widely known as a devout man.”
    â€œHe was of the opinion it was one’s duty to read the scriptures oneself, sir. To commune directly with the Word, as he described it. No, I read the classics for him. He loved Homer especially, and especially the way I read it. He used to say my voice could bring the dead back to life. If only it were true…”
    Anatolius wondered whether master and servant sometimes sat together on this bench for such readings. Sheltered from all sight of the symbol of their faith, it would have been easier to hear the voices of those writers who believed in the old gods. “Can you think of anyone who might have wanted to kill your master? Had he lately quarreled with anyone, for example?”
    â€œNot a soul, sir. For all his wealth and power my master was as upstanding a Christian as any desert hermit. Everyone knew of his charitable works, although he forbade any of us to speak about them. It was not just a question of monetary donations, either. For instance, he often took in court pages who had outgrown their usefulness.”
    â€œYou were once a page yourself, I believe,” Anatolius said.
    â€œYes, sir, I was. The senator gave many of us work and shelter. Otherwise we would have been on the street when we were turned out after becoming men. He was much-loved.”
    Anatolius asked the servant for a description of the