Again the laugh, and the singsong repetition: "The righteous are vilified and the vile are exalted."
"I don't know what you mean. You must speak more directly." He knew that he was challenging a venerated person who could have him imprisoned for little more than the tone of his voice. He could not stop himself from speaking. "Tell me."
"You do not want to know. You embrace your ignorance. You would not know honor if Hagios Gavrilos himself announced it to you." The old woman's wheezing words came more quickly, as if she were trying to speak her last message on a single breath. "You wallow in corruption as if you partook of the manna of Paradise. The Word of God is a whistle in the rising wind."
Panaigios glowered at the stones that separated him from the famous old anchorite and wished he had the strength of body and character to pull them down and demand that she explain herself. Instead he leaned his forehead against the stones. "Do you speak against the Emperor?"
"I speak against no one," she answered. "I speak only what God sends me to know. Leave me. You are deaf to Grace." With this condemnation she fell silent.
"Thekla." He waited and when no response was forthcoming, he repeated her name several times only to be met with silence.
"I say nothing against any man," the arid voice said as Panaigios started away from the battlements.
He paused, uncertain if he had imagined the last sounds or not, but decided at last that they were the parting words from the old holy woman. He looked up toward the walkway where the Guard patrolled, and saw two soldiers standing some distance away, apparently deep in conversation. How much had they overheard and who would they tell? he wondered.
In a short while Panaigios had reached his two Egyptian slaves who stood beside his chariot. He signaled them both to follow him as he stepped into the vehicle and took the reins from the younger slave. "I have much to think about," he told them in his most important voice.
"There was a messenger from the Censor," said the older slave. "His master wishes to see you before you return to your house."
This was a summons that Panaigios dared not ignore. "Of course," he said as if it were the most natural thing in the world that he should be sent for in this unusual way. "I intended to report there before I went home in any case."
The two slaves exchanged glances; neither was fooled by this show of sangfroid. They fell into step behind the chariot, though the crowding on the streets was sufficient to keep their progress to a slow walk.
At the house of the Court Censor—which was a palace in everything but name—Panaigios turned his horse into the courtyard and waited while one of the armed private guards came and took the chariot in control.
"Where am I expected?" Panaigios asked, doing his best to keep the shudder he felt out of his voice.
"My master will see you in the room adjoining his chapel." The guard regarded Panaigios with an expression that was very near pity. "He has a few questions to ask you."
"Excellent," said Panaigios with an enthusiasm that he was far from truly feeling. "I have a few matters to discuss with him and this will make it possible for us to cover a number of matters now." He strode into the house, praying that his knees would not give way.
The antechamber to Athanatadies' chapel was oppressively small, with high walls and only two lunette windows well above reach. There were frescoes of the hideous death of the Thirty Virgin Martyrs who had been partially flayed and then left in the sun to die. Panaigios stared at the depiction of the blessed suffering and wished he had the courage to run.
Kimon Athanatadies emerged from his chapel some while later, his dusty dalmatica and disarranged pallium revealing that he had spent part of his time at prayers prostrate. He looked sharply at his secretary and indicated the door that led into the private part of the house. "I must speak with you."
"I am pleased to have it so," said Panaigios, lying heroically.
"Are you?" Athanatadies shrugged indicating that Panaigios' opinion made no difference to him.
"Most certainly. I have wanted recently to have more opportunity to speak with you, but there has not been the occasion, and therefore—" He broke off before he became completely lost in his sentiments.
"In here, if you will." He indicated a small reception room where an armed guard waited. "Melisandos, wait at the door," Athanatadies said to the man and closed the door so that he and Panaigios were alone. "Sit. In a while I will order refreshments."
"That isn't necessary," said Panaigios, anxious not to make his social ambitions too obvious.
"I'm hungry; I've fasted since last night." He had already taken the most comfortable chair leaving two small benches for Panaigios to choose between. "I've been busy with the matter of expunging the heretical writings of Eutyches and his followers. The Monophysitism heresy is more insidious than the Nestorian heresy, for it is easy to fall into the error that Christos partook more of the divine than humanity, and that is the grossest and most pernicious error. Anyone can see the error in thinking that Christos partook more of humanity than divinity. I have never feared the Nestorians."
Panaigios knew better than to enter into any religious debate with the Court Censor; he decided to respond safely. "I have never read suspect texts."
"Very wise, although the time may come when it will be required so that you will be able to identify heresy in its most subtle disguises, that of true faith." He leaned back. "What did you want to say to me?"
This direct question took Panaigios by surprise and he stammered as he answered. "I have taken the liberty of approaching Thekla to see if I might discover who near to the Emperor is the most dangerous."
"Thekla!" exclaimed Athanatadies. "You have been busy."
"I have been worried," Panaigios countered, not wanting to appear that he had usurped any privilege of the Censor himself. "I have spoken to officers of Belisarius in the hope that they might reveal treason or the intention to act against the Empire and I have yet to get any of them to reveal themselves."
"And so you went to Thekla. Most ingenious. And what did the venerable old witch have to say?" He laughed at his secretary's scandalized expression. "The woman might be holy but I fear she is also quite mad most of the time. And she is clever enough to say nothing that would jeopardize her situation. She is wholly dependent on the bread and water left her by religious men and women who offer charity. She will say nothing that might end that charity." He folded his hands and gazed at Panaigios apparently enjoying the man's discomfort.
"I… I wanted the benefit of… of…" He could no longer define what he had sought. He decided the whole day had been terribly unsatisfactory.
"Oh, I know you were hoping for some clue that might give you the key to the silence of the officers. But did it ever occur to you that perhaps the reason for the silence is that there is nothing to reveal?" He sighed. "As little as I wish to believe it, and as little as I am prepared to believe it, there is no evidence yet that there was ever a rebellion planned, or that Belisarius ever hankered for the purple. Still, he will be kept under house arrest and his men watched. They are clever men who have learned the virtue of waiting. They may wish to lull us into inattention and then act."
"Yes!" burst out Panaigios. "And that is what I have been trying to puzzle out. Thekla had a few things to say, and little as you may wish to believe them, I think there was substance in her warning."
"And what was that?" Athanatadies asked with very little curiosity.
Panaigios was driven to answer, convinced that he might still hold the answer to the mystery that had confronted them since Belisarius had returned from Italy. "She said that the vile were raised up and the righteous were cast down."
"So the Prophets have said, over and over. That's safe enough." Athanatadies clapped his hands and when Melisandos opened the door, he requested that fruit and bread be brought. "Bring something for this man as well," he added as an afterthought.
"I have assigned Yaspros to the matter," Panaigios went on. "I think that if anyone can penetrate the secret, he is the one. I have also enlisted a few slaves within Belisarius' house so that if there is anything that might require our attention we will know of it at once."
"Yes; sensible." Athanatadies smoothed the front of his garments. "I have a request to make in that respect."
"Yes?" said Panaigios, grateful for the interruption.
"Find out what poison it is that is being used on Antonina and how much longer it is likely to take." This was said so bluntly that Panaigios had to bite his tongue to keep from crying out in astonishment.
"Poison?" he forced himself to ask.
"What else? She was not ill until recently, and now she can no longer hold her food and often complains of burning in her vitals. That is very like poison. Her physician hasn't been able to relieve it as he might have if it were merely an aggravation of the gut." He sighed and shook his head sadly. "If that woman had not tried to press the advantage of her friendship with Theodora then she might not have had to endure what torments her now."