Nine for the Devil Read Online Free PDF

empire from Bretania to Egypt and Persia. He had spent almost three decades in Constantinople. He carried a map of the city in his mind. He knew the most intimate details of the imperial court and its intrigues. Even so, he did not feel he belonged.
    “I don’t remember you mentioning nine for a devil before. Is it the last verse?”
    “In some versions of the rhyme.”
    “Are there many versions?”
    “Probably as many as you care to make up. Julius was fascinated by fortune telling. He was the friend who introduced me to Mithra. We served together in Bretania. He used to talk to the natives whenever he had a chance. At night, in camp, he’d explain to me, for instance, how I should check the colors of the caterpillars to see if we’d have a cold winter. I’m not so sure some of the peasants weren’t just amusing themselves at his expense.”
    Cornelia leaned forward attentively. “You remembered all the rhymes about crows?”
    “Some of them. The rain reminded me.” John turned back to the window. Crows still stalked across the cobbles but he didn’t count them. “We had had downpours for a week. If you have never been to Bretania you can’t imagine what it is like. The bitter chill, the icy fogs. Despite the cold, Julius returned from his patrol full of enthusiasm. He had struck up a conversation with an old farmer who recited this new rhyme. Others Julius knew went to seven, or to ten or eleven. This one, he said, had nine for the deofil’s own self and wasn’t that strange since there was another rhyme that had nine for a kiss. Not that women don’t sometimes turn out to be devils.”
    “And did he see ever nine crows after that?”
    “No. The next morning we forded a swollen stream. We must have done that a hundred times. This time he lost his balance or maybe a devil grabbed his leg and dragged him down. Before I could do anything he was carried away in the current and drowned.”
    He heard a soft footstep and then Cornelia’s bare arms encircled him. He felt her warmth press against his back.
    “Come back to bed, John. The carriage won’t be here for a while.”
    ***
    Cornelia left for Zeno’s estate before the sun had warmed the air. John had requisitioned one of the imperial carriages used to transport foreign dignitaries. Mist rose from cobblestones in pearly columns. John turned away before the carriage clattered out of sight beyond the corner of the barracks across the square. He did not like farewells. Under the circumstances he was glad to have Cornelia out of the city and not within easy reach of the emperor should things go wrong with the investigation.
    Peter served John bread and boiled eggs, his lips drawn tight in unspoken disapproval.
    “I know what you’re thinking,” John put his cup of Egyptian wine down on the scarred table. “If the mistress were here we would be having a proper breakfast. But when I was a young mercenary without a nummus to my name I would have been happy for such excellent fare.”
    “It would have been a proper breakfast indeed for a young mercenary,” Peter replied. “When I was a camp cook we usually made gruel.” He refilled John’s cup. “I intend to visit the market, master. I’m going to see if I can get a really fresh swordfish to grill.” The look he gave John was almost challenging.
    “Swordfish would be excellent, Peter.” John suspected his servant had recalled his fondness for the dish and thought it would cheer him with Cornelia away.
    As soon as Peter limped downstairs and shut the door with an echoing bang that emphasized the emptiness of the house, John went his study to contemplate the Gordian knot he had been ordered to unravel. He wished he could solve his problem by waving a sword at it.
    He glanced up at the little girl in the wall mosaic and sighed. Years ago he had named the solemn, dark-eyed child Zoe but now knew her real name had been Agnes and she was no more alive than the cut glass from which her double and the