Death of the Son, Episode Four: At the Court of the King
[Episode One; Episode Two; Episode Three]
Day had dawned before he was even aware he had been asleep, and when he awoke the priest Apollon was waiting by his cot, his old face drawn and worn, as if he had slept even less than Theodotus. Such hours suit me; the soldier and the deacon alike. Less sleep means less time for dreams.
Surely the old confessor must have similar dreams? For a moment, as the sleep cleared from his mind, he toyed with the idea of asking him about them. I saw so many like you, old man. Do you dream of the walls and the chains that held you? Or the men in fine robes who questioned you, day after day, always the same question, over and over again? Or the soldiers who held you by the arms and struck you on command? Or do you merely dream of the day they put out your eye? But the first words he spoke were more to the point:
"My investigation of the palace is proceeding well. Today I must interview the clerics of the court."
Is it the deacon or the soldier that gives me such unwavering dedication to duty? And is there a difference?
He shook himself. Such thoughts had not come to him since the first days he had stayed with the old man, when he sweated and strained night after night in the little rickety bed while the old woman watched over him in silence, listening to the tramp of feet outside and expecting every moment the knock upon the door.
He passed a hand over his face, felt the drops of sweat in his beard and the few that had gathered in his empty right eye socket. Sleeping less means fewer dreams; but it also makes those dreams greet you in the waking world.
With a start he realized that Apollon had advanced even closer, and was now wordlessly holding out a rich chlamys of black brocaded with gold and silver threads. In his face was something that might have been amusement, but after a second he realized it was only weary irony. He feels the same as I.
But as he took the robe his brain began to clear, just a little. It is not just the lack of sleep; it is all that I saw and heard last night, and all we have both seen and heard since the day Eusthatius woke me in my room in Antioch.
He shook his head one more time, as if trying to shake out cobwebs. This was foolishness. The murder of martyrs by pagan Emperors was one thing; the murder of a son and wife by a Christian Emperor was entirely different. The former was of divine moment; the latter was merely politics, or at most one more sin to investigate for his bishop and the Episcopal Court. Why should one bring to mind the other?
He stood up with decision, and in only a few minutes, he and Apollon were entering one of the gathering rooms of the Palace, clad alike in brocaded silk, two courtiers indistinguishable from the throng surrounding them save for their bare heads and the crosses woven down the fronts of their garments.
To his shame, Theodotus felt oddly comforted; the chlaymys fell in a familiar way from the broach at his shoulder, and the anonymous press of bodies around him quieted his mind as sleep had not. It was noticeably warm this morning, and the air was scented with the perfumes of olive oil, frankincense, cinnamon, and sweat. I feel like merely one of them, as I have not felt since the arena.
Apollon, however, seemed as tense as ever, and his shoulders were squared as he led them across the hall to a small throng on its outside edge. As they approached, Theodotus noted that they, too, were bare-headed, and that the eclectic but rich garments they wore--chlamys, paenulae, himiations, without much consistency--were likewise decorated with crosses. He has followed his instructions to the letter: the clerics of the court.
As the two Antiochenes approached, the clerics turned and began to study them discreetly; all were bearded men from the East, Theodotus noted, and not one was missing an eye or a hand. No martyrs at court, of course.
"Apollon." A man with barely greying hair and a broad face--a priest--turned stiffly to greet them. "We heard you arrived last night. It has been too long."
Theodotus turned to look at the old man, and saw with amazement that the tension he had shown a few moments earlier had vanished. The old priest walked now with an easy, measured gait that kept his cloak hanging in a straight line in front of him, and when he stopped and stood it was with the relaxed stance Theodotus had seen so often, and marveled at from a distance, in magistrates and higher officers. He was painfully conscious as he did so of his own uneven gait, which caused his chlamys to swing wide with each step, exposing the tunic underneath. The Roman nobles say you can tell a man's character merely by how he walks: but surely you learn more of skills as an actor?
The priest's transformation had taken him by surprise, though, and troubled him more than he could easily account for. It took him a few moments to understand why. Thus far I have investigated only those who show all that they think and feel clearly in their bodies. Now I will be investigating those who have learned from birth to lie with them.
Apollon smiled, showing his teeth as Theodotus had never seen him to do before, and raised one hand slowly towards him. "This is Theodotus the deacon, a most trusted official of the bishop, who accompanied me from Antioch."
The other priests did not even spare him a glance; and Theodotus again awoke to the obvious, unpleasant realization that all the clergy at court were likely to be of the sort that, as the old man had once said to him ruefully after a long day at the Cathedral, were so used to deacons "ministering" to them that they thought no more of them than of the chairs on which they sat. Which of course makes my interviewing them directly at all, as I did with the slaves, more or less impossible. No doubt this was why the old priest had smiled at him when he had made just that demand this morning.
Clearly Apollon was a smarter man than he had given him credit; and so was Eustathius. This is what he intended from the beginning; that I should be all but invisible, and so able to observe without raising any suspicion at all. And this is why he sent Apollon with me; so that we might, together, question invisibly all who needed to be questioned, him speaking innocuously as only he can, and me discerning the truth as only I (as Eusthatius believed) can.
He shook his head involuntarily, causing his chlaymys to shake again. No burden he had ever borne, from the duties of a soldier to the guilt of a torturer to a deacon's endless unthanked labors had ever made him quite so uncomfortable as Eustathius' trust.
Apollon was speaking again, slowly and easily and with a modulated warmth. "It was a long and terrible journey, full of hardships, from the East to the land of the setting sun. But it is exceedingly pleasant to see your faces again, and it will be even more pleasant to see our great King." As he spoke, Apollon took a small, almost imperceptible step backwards; inviting the other priest to join him for a private conversation, Theodotus realized, fascinated despite himself. There was not only an etiquette, but almost an entire language contained in the movements of these curials, one he had never learned in his dealings either with the Roman soldiery or the people and clergy of Antioch. Before I can do any of the good Eusthatius desires, I will have to learn this language.
The other priest took a single step towards them in reply, easily laying a hand on Apollon's shoulder as he did so. The other priests had turned back and were talking among themselves as before, in a low pleasant hum that echoed off the stone arches above their heads. Out of the greying priest, though, came a quiet voice that blended easily into this background murmur.
"Hosius is waiting. He expected a letter months ago. Others have arrived from Antioch. There is trouble." The hand rested easily for another long moment, then was withdrawn, and the priest stepped back again and spoke in a voice, not louder, merely modulated to be heard above the hum of conversations around him.
"You know there will be no great assembly today; the Most Just Emperor is grieving his beloved Empress, and will not appear. As is fitting."
Apollon shook his head slowly and sadly, but Theodotus thought he could detect a slight tremor in the movement that betrayed the deeper emotion the priest had shown the night before. But he has been away from court for many months; could those who have spent whole their lives in such places even tell the difference themselves between sincere and insincere emotion? Even with his whole mind fixed into the rational, dispassionate mode of investigation, his heart was sinking ever lower as, moment by moment, he came to realize the enormity of the task he had accepted.
A moment more, a few sad words, and Apollon had bowed his way away from the greying priest and was heading slowly but discreetly out of the room. Even as he did so, though, his feet traced a stately, meandering path among the groups of clerics and officials, greeting men by name, grasping a hand here or an arm there, and with a few exchanging the kiss of peace. At first, Theodotus did his best to memorize the names and faces as they came up, and at least begin to discern the deeper significance of their words and gestures, but the rapidity of the social exchanges, the ache in his head, and his own need to bow stiffly to each one distracted him. After ten minutes, all had begun to blur together into one indiscriminate impression of gold, silver, jewels, crosses, rich fabrics, polite words, indiscernible gestures, and inscrutable faces. Carterius, Hermes, Ammonius, Cornelius, Theodorus, Olympius, Draconius, Taurus...a few he remembered from Apollon's explanations of the personalities of the court during their travels, but most were entirely new to him. And any one of them might be relevant to his investigation and to the murder of an Emperor's son.
Apollon's task, though, was proceeding as smoothly as Theodotus' was not. Only once did it seem to go wrong. As the two drew near the exit, they passed near a small knot of clerics somewhat apart from the main throng. For a second, one of them, a middle-sized man in a rich but untidy clerical robe, with a greying, carefully-groomed beard and a somewhat pinched expression around his dark eyes, caught sight of them, and took an immediate and rapid step towards them. Apollon's first reaction was to recoil almost physically, turning his whole body sharply to the right; then he stopped, and for a long moment, both the cleric and Apollon seemed to hesitate, frozen in position. The other cleric was the first to speak, in a deep, rich voice with just the hint of a quaver: "Apollon of Antioch."
Apollon voice was as controlled and warm as ever, but his manner remained unwontedly stiff, and neither man made any further movement toward the other. "Your Holiness." He bowed respectfully. "You honor me with your regard."
The other cleric seemed torn between surprise, satisfaction, and amusement at the priest's respectful tone. Fascinating; he is almost as bad at hiding his emotions as Eustathius. For an uncomfortable moment the strange cleric hesitated, visibly torn between alternative ways of proceeding; then finally began speaking in a slow, relaxed drawl belied, however, by the nervous glances he was shooting at Apollon out of the corner of his eyes as he spoke.
"I presume you brought some of your Lord's latest books with you...hardly a day goes by where Hosius does not pass out one or another of them here. Even the slaves seem to have their own copies. I envy the efficiency of his scriptorium." A slight, hard smile appeared on his face, and he took a step towards them, thrusting his chin forward as he did so in what Theodotus supposed was intended to be a confidential manner. "I have sent him my latest as well...I would be happy to provide you with a copy. You will find it informative, as your fellow priests in Antioch have. They have sent me many letters of late."
Not a muscle in Apollon's face or body moved, but to Theodotus, who had been watching him easily gesture and bow for more than half an hour, this stillness was more explosive than a blow. The strange cleric, in contrast, now seemed quite openly agitated, shifting his weight from foot to foot but smiling the whole time. "There is no need, Lord." Apollon replied, still not moving the fraction of an inch. "Our bishop teaches us everything about the Divine Essence, and tells us all we need to know about the affairs of the Church."
The other cleric's smile broadened, and for the first time his body seemed to relax. "Everything about the Divine Essence! Such piety! But of course, what could the humble skills of Pamphilius add to the knowledge of the bishop of Great Beroea? I hang on his expositions like a catechumen on his bishop." He bowed for the first time, mockingly.
He raised his head, still smiling, and fixed his gaze on Apollon's face, clearly waiting for a reply. There was a long, uncomfortable pause in which neither man moved or spoke, and in which Theodotus held his breath, hoping not to attract attention. Then, abruptly, the strange cleric turned his back on them both. "And please, now that you are going to see him, tell Hosius that I would be happy to receive him in my chambers, or indeed in the public halls, if he does not feel my presence would be too polluting. You are dismissed."
For a long moment, Apollon remained rooted in place. Though he did not move a muscle, Theodotus discerned that he was struggling between the desire to accept the dismissal and ending the unpleasant interaction, his own anger at the conflict obviously lurking beneath the surface combined, and his wounded pride at being dismissed like a servant. Finally, expediency won out, and he turned with decision towards the door. To any ordinary man on the streets of Antioch, the whole interaction would not have raised even the suspicion of conflict.
Just as the two (finally!) reached the threshhold, Theodotus felt himself suddenly shouldered aside, and turning his head saw the old priest being grabbed roughly from behind by a short man with a large, unkempt beard. If it was an attack, it was a clumsy one, as the man nearly tripped over his own cloak in doing so, barely managing to save himself by grabbing onto Apollon's arm again, and talking all the time:
"Apollon! What a pleasure...how good to see you again! How have you been? How is Eustathius? Of course I send him my regards...tell me, what brings you to court...episcopal business, episcopal business, no doubt, no doubt. I've missed our conversations on theology so much...though you can tell your bishop that I've changed my mind on some things since last he spoke to me! Naturally, naturally...growth in knowledge, always learning, and what a splendid place to do it! So many brilliant minds, and the Emperor himself! What an intellect! And what a surprise it must be for you to see me here! I must introduce you soon to Leonas, a fine man, and a Christian. He has been helping me, and I'm sure...oh you have to go? Of course, say hello to good old Hosius for me. Poor man...what a shock he has had! Give him my condolences...wonderful to see you...talk again soon, and..."
For the old man, as soon as he recovered from his initial shock at the assault, had turned again and practically raced across the threshhold, paying the strange bearded man no more than a single glance. Theodotus, after a brief moment of indecision, followed, and a few second later, found himself once more in the cool, remote corridors of the Palace, seemingly a thousand miles from anyone.
Apollon stopped, suddenly, and wheeled on him. "Well...what did you think? The clerics of the court, as you requested..." His face was once again open and twisted with the same inner grief and irony he had seen that morning.
Theodotus laughed, surprising himself more than the old priest. I have been under more pressure than I realized. Apollon smiled in reply.
"They seem...a remarkable group. But who was the bishop you argued with?"
Apollon's smile vanished. The anger he had so successfully suppressed during the conversation now shone out plain to see. "That is....Eusebius. The so-called bishop of Caesarea." He shook his head, and Theodotus noted that the hands at his side had curled involuntarily into fists. "It has been nearly two years since our Lord Eustathius condemned him for heresy and stripped him of his office, and still he dares to wear the trappings of a bishop and pour out his poison like vomit to all he meets. At the Great Council, though our Lord used every method he could to make the bishops see through his deception, the Emperor--" he broke off abruptly. "And now, he is here, pretending to be a bishop and a Christian, basking in the respect and honor of all, of the Emperor, while day after day he writes books full of poison against our bishop, declaring him a heretic, and sending them far and wide. Even to the people of Antioch, our people! Fishing always for allies of his perversity, so that he may take his revenge. He is our great enemy, the enemy of the whole Church. And if what I believe Eustathius suspects is true, not only a heretic, but the agent also of the murder of the Emperor's son. What could be more fitting for a man like that?" He paused, almost breathless. "He is a slave of the devil, a liar and deceiver. He defiles this Palace and the whole Church with his mere presence. It would...someone who killed him would be committing no sin."
Theodotus was stunned despite himself; he had heard some of this in Antioch, and some on the journey, but had never before seen such naked hatred in a cleric, not even against the Persecutors. I know nothing of theology; but if it can raise such passions in a man like Apollon...
"It is my task, given to me by Eustathius, to determine who is responsible for these deaths." He was surprised at the warmth in his own voice. "Eusebius may be a heretic, but..." He paused, and realized with shock that his own voice was shaking. "It is not only heretics who commit murder."
Apollon's shoulders slumped, and he looked down wearily at the ground; but there was respect in his eyes when he looked back at the deacon. "Come; Hosius is waiting for us. And as you may have gathered, he is not the most patient of men."
As they resumed their walk, Theodotus asked casually, "Who was the little man who ran into you at the door?" He had expected more anger, but was even more surprised when the priest merely laughed, in totally unaffected delight.
"Ah...that is Eudoxius." And he continued chuckling to himself.
Eudoxius. That name had been going the rounds of the clergy of Antioch for the past year, ever since reports had come in of the arrival of a strange man from Armenia, a man who had claimed expertise in theology and evangelization and held orations and lectures and public debates in the marketplaces and a few of the outlying churches, where poor priests were always looking for men to preach for them. Such men were not uncommon, but what had made Eudoxius a ten-day's wonder among the clergy of Antioch was the unprecedented fact that when he was finally summoned to the bishop to give an account of his activities, he had immediately and summarily requested ordination to the episcopate, without any embarrassment at all. Deacons who had been present at the scene would nearly double over in laughter describing the little man's breathless anticipation, Eustathius' shock, the bishop's stumbling attempts to respond, and the preacher's shamelessly reiterated proclamations of his own expertise and theological knowledge and return to the same request, over and over and over again, until even Eustathius had lost his patience and dismissed from the diocese, but even then having to physically flee from the room and shut the door in the man's face before he would stop talking.
An amusing man perhaps; but if Apollon believes him harmless, he is mistaken. Such men hold grudges; and if he is at court now, he must have powerful connections. He made a mental note to watch him carefully, and question him if possible. At least there is one man who will talk to me willingly...
They had reached the door of what he assumed was Hosius' chambers, and Theodotus distractedly did his best to smooth his chlamys and assume a proper composure. Apollon had spoken to him much of Hosius on the journey, but that information was very secondary to what he had heard of him in Antioch. This ageless, experienced bishop from Spain, a confessor several times over, who had somehow won the heart and the ear of the Christian Emperor, and who upon his arrival in Antioch as the Emperor's envoy had both selected Eustathius as his candidate and ensured his successful election within a matter of weeks. And then spent the months leading up to the Great Council in constant contact with Eustathius, coming and going and summoning bishops as he pleased. Such a man must be not only forceful and proud, but enormously skilled at politics--another difficult subject for his faltering investigation.
He drew himself up.
"Thank God!"
To his surprise, he was suddenly and without warning enfolded in two massive arms, kissed on both cheeks, and dragged into the room. As his head cleared, he found himself across from a huge man with straggling grey hair, of the sort that might equally have meant 50 or 70 summers, and with a huge, forceful face, cleanshaven in the Roman manner, and now looming over him with an expression of utter delight.
"A martyr! Eustathius sent me another martyr! You would not believe, in this God-forsaken place, how few of us there are...everyday I stare at these verminous clerics, and wonder to myself: how did you escape the soldiers? Eusebius, now, practically in Diocletian's back yard, and describes with great eloquence in his accursed books the Blessed Martyrs' suffering...but not a scar on him! Barely a wrinkle! Did he spend his whole life in that library of his?"
The man spoke in a huge, booming voice, and with the intense animation of a fish-seller in the marketplace. Another second, and he had reached out and grabbed Theodotus' hand, and was kissing it with great devotion.
"Ah, kept your hand, I see...but not your eye! It was the other way for me...the bastards, they knew an old man like me would have to learn to use my other hand to eat my porridge! I suppose a young man like you, they wanted to stop you from enjoying the sight of women!"
A moment later, and he had rounded on Apollon and grabbed him as well. "Of course, this old martyr...perhaps they let him take his pick! But where is my letter? Where is Eustathius' letter? These two months I have been waiting and tearing my hair out, sending letter after letter on the cursus to him, hearing nothing...does he know that there are Antiochenes here, priests, telling stories about him to the Emperor? And whispering with Eusebius day and night! Of course they waited until after Crispus was dead. May God rest his soul." His face fell and he seemed to slump forward, becoming in the twinkling of an eye almost a foot shorter.
Apollon had already carefully unwrapped a scroll sealed with Eustathius' ring that he had somehow been carrying in the folds of his chlamys. Hosius grabbed and read it rapidly, muttering the words to himself so that Theodotus could almost make them out.
"Great danger beloved son the Emperor blood guilt our enemies Incarnate Son Ariomanics the end of restrainer I the deacon chosen by God letters spies deceivers moving against me you salvation death the end of the age judgment path tell me have heard Flavius rumors reports against you withdraw cannot give to listen to me counsel do not be afraid Moses David holy men and women sufferings of the martyrs Peter Paul trust the bishop remember the chair against us all Emperor great kings persecution..." He fell silent, his lips still moving. A second later, he rolled the letter up again and handed it to a deacon at his elbow. The man took it with his left hand--and with a start, Theodotus noted that his right was missing. A cleanshaven priest stood by the door, and had apparently opened it for them--and he had only one eye. Two more deacons were standing at the back of the room awaiting instructions; and they too bore the telltale marks of Roman torturers. The chosen friends and servants of Hosius...
"So you are Theodotus." Hosius' voice was still loud, but slower and more measured now. He followed Theodotus' eye and laughed. "Yes...you see? In these days, it is only martyrs I trust, and allow to be near me." He shook his head. "At least they are free from blood guilt."
He stood in silence for a long moment, watching the deacon. Then he seemed to come to a decision, and took a step towards him. "Follow me."
He held up a hand. "Not you, Apollon. You stay here, and speak to my deacons. They will fill you in on everything."
Wondering despite himself, Theodotus haltingly followed, stumbling a little over his chlamys as he did so. "Where are we going?" he asked, almost stuttering. This day has been far too full of surprises.
Hosius did not reply at once. "Since the son's death..." There was a silence filled only with breathing and the sound of footsteps and fabric on skin. "I have not left my chambers. Not even to see the Emperor...at least, after--" He sighed. "We both saw far too much blood during the Persecution, didn't we? But worse than that, far worse, the guilt, the shame of so many, and the face of the Devil gloating over his prey. But then, I had my duties to attend to; I could fight the Evil One, protect the Bride, as much as I could...even in prison...but this time, I did not know what to do. I did not know why the Emperor had done it, who had driven him, and I confess, I saw nothing but pollution everywhere, nothing but demons in the faces of my fellow clerics, and even...the only thing I could think to do was to shut myself up in prison again, with the martyrs, as I was then, and pray for God's deliverance, pray for him to show me a way to fight."
So he too, like me and like Apollon, has been reminded of his memories of the Persecution by this murder. I wonder...
Hosius swung suddenly around, fixing Theodotus with a harsh, overpowering glare. "But Eustathius has sent me to you now. He says you have the gift from God of uncovering guilt, even where it is buried deep and denied and forgotten, and so bringing the guilty to confession and repentance. I do not know if he is right; but if he is, then you are what I have been waiting for these past months. A way to fight."
Theodotus was again overcome with a wave of shame, of fear, almost of panic so strong that it nearly drove him to his knees. If you knew who you were putting your faith in...
But to his final surprise, he heard merely his own voice, as if at a distance, speaking to the old bishop with perfect composure, as if they were both back in Eustathius' chancery. "Yes, that is what my bishop sent me for; and that is what I am going to do. So where are you taking me?"
For a long, long moment, Hosius studied the deacon's face, scanning the deacon's features slowly as suspicion, shame, guilt, fear, sadness, anger played across his own face. At last, though, his eyes rested on Theodotus' missing eye-socket; and the glint of battle came into his eye. He turned and began to walk again.
"There is one in this palace who is not a martyr, but who once, at least, I put my trust in almost as much. Now, I am not sure; I am not sure this person is not the most responsible of all for what has happened. And for these months, I have been tormented by this thought, and like a coward I have not so much as spoken of it to anyone. Least of all to her. And so I am taking you to her first, so that you may tell me whether she is innocent, and I must trust her again as I have longed to do; or whether she is guilty, and I must do all in my power to make her confess and expiate."
Theodotus nodded, and a lump came unbidden into his throat.
"I am taking you to the Emperor's mother--to Helena."
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