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Philo? Surely he knows other people here that he could stay with until he is able to get an establishment of his own?”
    “I don’t believe Philo knows anyone else in Constantinople. He spent most of his life at the Academy in Athens and then in exile in the east. To tell the truth, Anatolius, I owe more than you realize to him, for it was he who taught me reading and writing and instilled some philosophy in me. Extending him hospitality for as long as he needs it is the least I can do, for while one cannot repay a kindness, one can at least pass it along by helping someone else.”
    Anatolius agreed that that was so. As Justinian’s secretary he certainly understood the value of literacy. “For after all,” he continued, “had it not been that you could read and write, when you arrived at the palace as a slave all those years ago you would not have had the opportunity to put your foot on the ladder that eventually led to your being appointed Lord Chamberlain.”
    “There is more than that,” John said quietly. “Let me explain. You know how I was captured by the Persians.”
    Anatolius nodded. “The gods should be ashamed for allowing such a fate to befall a young man seeking only to buy silks for his lover.”
    John gave a grim laugh. “Or at the very least the gods might have given me a map showing the location of the border, so that I would not have strayed over it. But then again, quite a few others had also been caught, between ambushes and skirmishes. But we became a burden and would have been killed except that Fortuna at least decided to show some kindness and sent a band of traders, to whom we were of some value if properly prepared. And thus was it done, and I became…a eunuch.”
    He had paused before spitting out the last two words. Now he sighed. Why was it so difficult for him to name the reality with which he lived every day, one that could never be changed?
    “That part of the story you know,” he said, forcing himself to continue. “But I have not told you what happened after we were sold to the traders. We set out for a large settlement, a long march away. But when we arrived, already half starved because supplies were not always easy to come by in that wild country, it was discovered that a contingent of captives from an overrun border city had just arrived. So there was no shortage of slaves for sale.”
    John paused and directed his gaze up to the sky, where bright stars were peering through high, wispy clouds. He continued to gaze at them as he resumed speaking in a near whisper. “We were assembled at the edge of the encampment and forced to kneel in the dirt. The leader of the traders addressed us, saying that since they could neither sell us nor feed us, we were to be freed. First, however, we were to sign an official acknowledgment of our debt to their merciful and magnanimous ruler and so on and so forth.
    “He then made his way with kalamos and parchment along our ranks. Thanks to Philo I was able to sign my name. Almost all of the others, being illiterate, made only their marks. When the charade was done, all who could not write were beheaded on the spot.”
    He heard Anatolius’ quick intake of breath.
    “Those few of us who were literate were of course extremely valuable, so well worth the bit of gruel necessary to keep us alive until we were finally sold,” John concluded quietly. “So as you see, Anatolius, I owe my life to Philo’s tutoring.”
    ***
    Darius, doorkeeper for Madam Isis, hurried along a marble-floored corridor in his employer’s establishment. It led from an entrance hall where the gold leaf decorating the capitals of Corinthian columns gleamed almost as brightly as the many coins that changed hands during commerce within the house.
    He could not help feeling anxious now that darkness was drawing in. True, nightfall meant an increase in business but it also heralded more dangerous possibilities. Thus the bullish man bit back alarm when he knocked on the