Gordianus The Finder Omnibus (Books 1-4) (143 page)

‘And sensitive, I take it.’

‘Extremely.’

‘Requiring discretion.’

‘Great discretion,’ he agreed.

‘I assume that more than mere property is at stake. Honour, then?’

‘More than honour,’ said Mummius gravely, with a haunted look in his eyes.

‘A life, then? A life at stake?’ From the look on his face I knew that we were talking about a case of murder. A fat fee, a mysterious client, a murder – I had no resistance left. I did my best to make my face a blank.

Mummius looked very grave – the way that men look on a battlefield, not in the rush of excitement before the killing, but afterwards, amid the carnage and despair. ‘Not a life,’ he said slowly, ‘not merely a single life at stake, but many lives. Scores of lives – men, women, children – all hang in the balance. Unless something is done to stop it, blood will flow like water, and the wailing of babies will be heard in the very Jaws of Hades.’

I finished my wine and set it aside. ‘Marcus Mummius, will you not tell me outright who sent you, and what it is you want me to do?’

He shook his head. ‘I’ve said too much as it is. Perhaps, by the time we arrive, the crisis will be over, the problem solved, and there’ll be no need for you after all. In that case, it’s best that you know nothing, now or ever.’

‘No explanation?’

‘None. But you’ll be paid, no matter what.’

I nodded. ‘How long will we be away from Rome?’

‘Five days, as I said before.’

‘You seem very sure.’

‘Five days,’ he assured me, ‘and then you can return to Rome. Unless it’s sooner. But no longer than that. In five days all will be finished, one way or another, for better . . . or for worse.’

‘I see,’ I said, not seeing at all. ‘And where exactly are we going?’

Mummius pressed his lips tightly shut.

‘Because,’ I said, ‘I’m not at all sure that I care to be traipsing about the countryside just now, without even an idea of where I’m headed. There’s a little slave revolt going on; I believe we were discussing it only a moment ago. My sources in the countryside tell me that unnecessary travel is highly inadvisable.’

‘You’ll be safe,’ Mummius snapped with authority.

‘Then I have your word as a soldier – or is it ex-soldier? – that I won’t be placed in tactical jeopardy?’

Mummius narrowed his eyes. ‘I said you’ll be safe.’

‘Very well. Then I think I shall leave Belbo here, for Bethesda’s protection; I’m sure your employer can supply me with a bodyguard if I require it. But I shall want to bring Eco with me. I take it your employer’s generosity will extend to feeding him and giving him a place to sleep?’

He looked over his shoulder at Eco with a sceptical gleam in his eye. ‘He’s only a boy.’

‘Eco is eighteen; he put on his first manly toga over two years ago.’

‘Mute, isn’t he?’

‘Yes. Ideal for a soldier, I should think.’

Mummius grunted. ‘I suppose you can take him.’

‘When do we leave?’ I asked.

‘As soon as you’re ready.’

‘In the morning, then?’

He looked at me as if I were a lazy legionnaire asking for a nap before a battle. The commander’s edge returned to his voice. ‘No, as soon as you’re ready! We’ve wasted enough time as it is!’

‘Very well,’ I yawned. ‘I’ll just tell Bethesda to gather up a few of my things—’

‘That won’t be necessary.’ Mummius pulled himself up to his full height, still weary-looking but happy to be in charge at last. ‘Anything you need will be supplied to you.’

Of course; a client willing to pay four hundred sesterces a day could certainly supply mere necessities like a change of clothing or a comb or a slave to carry my things. ‘Then I’ll take only a moment to say goodbye to Bethesda.’

I was stepping out of the room when Mummius cleared his throat. ‘Just to be sure,’ he said, looking at me and Eco in turn, ‘I don’t suppose either one of you has a problem with seasickness?’

II

‘But where is the man taking you?’ Bethesda demanded to know. (Yes, ‘demanded’; never mind her status as a slave. If her impertinence seems unlikely, that is because you have not met Bethesda.) ‘Who is he? What makes you think he can be trusted? What if he’s been sent by one of your old enemies, just to lure you away from the city where he can slit your throat with no one to see?’

‘Bethesda, if someone cared to slit my throat, they could go to far less trouble and do the job right here in the Subura. They could hire an assassin on any street corner.’

‘Yes, and that’s why you have Belbo to protect you. Why aren’t you taking him with you?’

‘Because I would rather he stayed here to protect you and the other slaves in my absence, so that I won’t have to worry about you while I’m gone.’

Even roused from sleep in the middle of the night, Bethesda was spectacular. Her hair, black with strands of silver, tumbled about her face in unkempt glory. Even pouting, she maintained that same air of unshakable dignity that had first drawn me to her in the slave market at Alexandria fifteen years ago. I felt a shiver of doubt, as I always do at parting with her. The world is an unsafe and uncertain place, and the life I have chosen often courts danger. I learned long ago not to show my doubts. Bethesda did the opposite.

‘It’s a great deal of money,’ I told her.

She snorted. ‘If he tells the truth.’

‘I think he does. A man doesn’t survive in a city like Rome for as long as I have without gaining a grain of judgment. Marcus Mummius is honest, insofar as he can be. Not very forthcoming, I’ll admit—’

‘But he won’t even tell you who sent him!’

‘Indeed, he won’t tell me, but he openly admits that he won’t. In other words, he tells the truth.’

Bethesda made a rude noise with her lips. ‘You sound like one of those orators you’re always working for, like that ridiculous Cicero, saying truth is a lie and a lie is the truth, however it happens to suit you.’

I bit my tongue and took a deep breath. ‘Trust me, Bethesda. I’ve stayed alive until now, haven’t I?’ I looked into her eyes and thought I saw a slight warmth amid the cold fire. I laid my hand on her shoulder. She shrugged it off and turned away. So it always goes.

I stepped closer and put my hands on the back of her neck, sliding them under the cascades of her hair. She had no right to refuse me, and did not draw away, but she stiffened at my touch and held her head high, even when I bent to kiss her ear. ‘I will come back,’ I said. ‘After five days I return. So the man promises.’

I saw her cheeks tighten and her jaw tremble. She blinked rapidly, and I noticed the fan of wrinkles that time had gathered at the outer corner of her eye. She stared at the blank wall before her. ‘It would be different if I knew where you were going.’

I smiled. Bethesda had known only two cities in her life, Alexandria and Rome, and except for the voyage between has never ventured a mile outside either one. What could it matter to her whether I was going to Cumae or Carthage?

‘Well,’ I sighed, ‘if it will give you any comfort, I suspect that Eco and I will be spending the next few days somewhere in the vicinity of Baiae. You’ve heard of it, haven’t you?’

She nodded.

‘It’s a beautiful little region down the coast,’ I said, ‘inside the Cape of Misenum, situated on the bay which the locals call the Cup, across the water from Puteoli and Pompeii. They say the views of Capri and Vesuvius are quite splendid. The richest of the rich build fine homes on the seashore and bathe in hot mud.’

‘But how do you know where you’re going if the man won’t tell you?’

‘It’s only a guess.’

Bethesda softened beneath my touch. She sighed, and I knew that she was reconciled to my going, and to the prospect of being the mistress of the house for a few days, having sole command over the other slaves. From previous experience, I knew that in my absence she was a thoroughly ruthless tyrant. I only hoped that Belbo would be able to bear up under her harsh rule. The thought made me smile.

I turned and saw that Eco waited in the doorway. For an instant his face held an expression of intense fascination; then he crossed his arms and rolled his eyes, as if to deny any interest or sympathy with the moment of tenderness he had interrupted. I quickly kissed Bethesda’s cheek and turned to go.

Marcus Mummius was pacing in the vestibule, looking weary and impatient. He threw up his hands when I appeared and hurried out the door, not even waiting for me to catch up, only giving me a look over his shoulder that showed what he thought of wasting so much time to say goodbye to a woman, and a slave at that.

We hurried down the steep path that descends the Esquiline hill, watching for pitfalls by the light of Eco’s torch. Where the path ended, spilling into the Subura Way, four horses and two men awaited us.

Mummius’s men looked and acted like legionnaires out of uniform. Beneath their light woollen cloaks I caught the glint of knives, which made me feel safer at the prospect of venturing through Roman streets after dark. I reached inside my cloak and touched my own dagger. Mummius had said that all my needs would be supplied, but I preferred to bring my own weapon.

Mummius had not counted on Eco, so I was given the strongest mount and he rode behind me, clutching my waist. Where my body is broad and thick through the shoulders and chest (and in recent years, through the middle as well), Eco’s is thin and wiry; his added weight was hardly enough for the beast to notice.

The evening was mild, with only a faint early-autumn chill in the air, but the streets were nearly deserted. In times of trouble, Romans shun the darkness and lock up their houses at sundown, leaving the streets to pimps, drunks, and thrill seekers. So it was in the turmoil of the civil wars and the gloomy years of Sulla’s dictatorship; so it was again now that the revolt of the Spartacans was on everyone’s lips. Terrifying stories were told in the Forum about whole villages where citizens had been overwhelmed and roasted alive by slaves who ate their former masters for dinner. After sundown Romans refused party invitations and vacated the streets. They locked their bedchamber doors to keep out even their most trusted slaves while they slept, and they woke up from nightmares, drenched in sweat. Chaos was loose in the world again, and his name was Spartacus.

We clattered through the Subura past alleys that stank of urine and rotting garbage. Our way was lit here and there by the glow from open windows along the overhanging upper storey; snatches of music and drunken laughter wafted over our heads and faded behind us. Above us, the stars looked very far away and very cold, a sign of a frosty winter to come. It would be warmer down in Baiae, I thought, where summer lingers in Vesuvius’s shadow.

The Subura Way emptied at last into the Forum, where the hooves of our horses echoed unnaturally loud about the deserted squares and temples. We skirted the more sacred areas, where horses are not allowed even by night, and headed south across the narrow valley between the Capitoline and Palatine hills. The smell of straw and dung predominated as we passed by the great cattle market of the Forum Boarium, quiet except for the occasional lowing of the beasts in their pens. The enormous bronze ox on its pedestal loomed above us, a great horned silhouette against the starry sky, like a giant minotaur poised on a ledge.

I tapped Eco’s leg and he leaned forward, bringing his ear to my lips. ‘It’s as I thought,’ I whispered. ‘We make for the Tiber. Are you sleepy?’

He tapped me emphatically twice.

‘Good.’ I laughed. ‘Then you keep watch while we drift downriver to Ostia.’

More of Mummius’s men waited on the riverbank, ready to take our horses as we dismounted. At the end of the longest pier our boat was ready. If in my sleepiness I had pictured a slow, casual journey down the Tiber to the coast, I was mistaken. The boat was not the tiny skiff I had imagined, but a small barge oared by a dozen slaves with a helmsman at the rear and a canopy amidships, a vessel built for speed and strength. Mummius wasted no time in ushering us aboard. His two bodyguards followed, and we cast off immediately.

‘You can sleep if you care to,’ he said, indicating the space beneath the canopy, where a mound of blankets had been haphazardly tossed. ‘Not very luxurious, and there’s no slave woman to keep you warm, but there are no lice. Unless they’ve crawled off one of this lot.’ He gave a sharp kick to the shoulder of one of the rowers. ‘Row!’ he bellowed. ‘And you’d better keep sharper time than you did on the journey upriver, or I’ll have the lot of you moved onto the big ship for good.’ He laughed without mirth. Back in his element, Mummius was beginning to show a more jovial personality, and I was not sure I liked what I saw. He placed one of his men in charge and crawled under the blankets.