Gordianus The Finder Omnibus (Books 1-4) (44 page)

A heartbeat later Magnus was joined by his henchman, the blond giant, Mallius Glaucia. The scar rent across his face by Bast looked raised and ugly in the pale light. He held his blade at the same angle as his master, tilted up and forwards as if poised to gut an animal’s belly.

‘What are you doing here?’ Magnus said, twisting the knife in his fingers so that the blade glimmered in the moonlight. His voice was higher than I had expected. His rural Latin was overlaid with the grating nasal accent of the street gangs.

I looked into both men’s eyes; they had no idea who I was. Glaucia had been sent to my house to intimidate or murder me, no doubt at Magnus’s order, but neither of them had actually seen me, except as a passing stranger on the road in front of Capito’s house. I slowly withdrew my hand from my tunic. I had meant to reach for my knife; instead I slipped the iron ring from my finger. I threw my hands in the air.

‘Please, forgive,’ I said, surprised at how little effort it took to sound meek and humble in the face of two giants bearing steel blades. ‘We’re the slaves of young Marcus Valerius Messalla Rufus. We were sent upstairs to fetch him, before the entertainment began. We lost our way – so stupid!’

‘And is that why you’re spying on the master of this house and his guests?’ Magnus hissed. He and Glaucia separated and approached from two sides, like the flanks of an army.

‘We paused here, just to have a look over the balcony and get some fresh air.’ I shrugged, keeping my hands in sight and doing my best to appear pathetic and confused. I glanced at Tiro and saw that he was following my lead admirably, or else was simply frightened out of his wits. ‘We heard the singing, found the little window – stupid and presumptuous of us, of course, and I’m sure the young master will see that we’re beaten for such insolence. It’s just that it’s not often we have the chance to look down on a gathering of such splendour.’

Magnus grabbed me by the shoulder and shoved me onto the balcony, into the moonlight. Glaucia pushed Tiro against me so that I tripped backwards against the waist-high brick wall and had to grab the edge to steady myself. I looked over my shoulder. The yawning abyss below resolved into a grassy knoll dappled by the moon shadow of the cypress trees. From below, the balcony had not looked nearly so far from the ground.

Magnus pulled at my hair and poked the tip of his blade into the soft flesh below my chin, forcing me to turn and face him. ‘I’ve seen you before,’ he whispered. ‘Glaucia, look here! Where do we know this dog from?’

The blond giant scrutinized me, pouted his lips, and wrinkled his forehead. He shook his head, baffled. ‘Don’t know,’ he grunted. Then his face lit up. ‘Ameria,’ he said. ‘Remember, Magnus? Just the other day, on the road, right before we got to Capito’s villa. He was coming the other way, riding alone.’

Magnus snarled at me. ‘Who are you? What are you doing here?’ The knife pressed harder, until I felt the skin break. I imagined my blood trickling down the blade.
Never mind who I am
, I wanted to say.
I know who you are, both of you. You murdered your cousin in cold blood and stole his estates. And you broke into my home and left a bloody message on my wall. You would have murdered Bethesda if you’d had the chance. You’d probably have raped her first.

I brought my knee up with a jerk, straight into Magnus’s crotch. By reflex he reached downward. The blade ripped against my tunic, grazing my chest. No matter; I knew I was doomed anyway – Glaucia was right beside him with his dagger poised to strike. I braced myself for the blow to my heart. I even heard it, a sickening sound of ruptured flesh.

Except that no one had stabbed me, and Glaucia had tumbled to his knees, dropping his blade and grasping his head. Tiro stood over him holding a bloody brick in his hand. ‘It came loose from the wall,’ he explained, staring at it in amazement.

Neither of us thought to reach for Glaucia’s blade, but Magnus did. He snatched it up and retreated a few steps, then advanced with a blade in each hand, snorting like a Cretan bull.

I was over the wall before I even realized it, as if my body had leaped and left my head behind. I was falling through blackness, but not alone. To one side and a little above me, another body was dropping through space – Tiro. A little beyond him, plummeting like a burnt-out comet, was a fragment of brick, tumbling end over end and smeared with blood that glinted purple in the blue moonlight. Magnus was a furious face that peered over a wall high above, flanked by two upright daggers, growing smaller by the instant.

Part Three

Justice

XXVII

Something remarkably hard and immense rushed up and struck me from below: packed, dry earth. As if I’d been scooped up by a giant’s hand, I felt myself pitched forwards, rolling head over heels and then abruptly coming to a complete stop. Beside me I heard Tiro moaning. He was complaining about something, but his words were slurred and indistinct. For a moment I forgot about Magnus entirely. All I could think of was how remarkably thin the air is, and how extraordinarily dense the ground seems by contrast. Then I came to my senses and looked up.

Magnus’s glowering face seemed incredibly far away; how could I have possibly jumped such a distance? There was no chance that he would follow – no sane man would take such a leap except to save his life. Nor would Magnus dare to raise a general alarm, not with Sulla in the house – that would risk raising too many questions and unpleasant complications. We were as good as free, I thought. In the time it would take Magnus to scurry through hallways and down stairs we would have long since disappeared into the night. Why then was he suddenly smiling?

The sound of a moan drew my eyes to Tiro, who shivered on his hands and knees beside me on the parched grass. He rose to his feet, or tried to, then fell helplessly forwards; tried again, and fell again. His face was twisted with pain. ‘My ankle,’ he whispered hoarsely, and then cursed. I looked up again at the balcony. Magnus was no longer there.

I scrambled to my feet and pulled Tiro upright. He clenched his teeth and made a strange gurgling noise – a howl of pain swallowed by sheer will.

‘Can you walk?’ I said.

‘Of course.’ Tiro pushed himself away from me and promptly collapsed to his knees. I pulled him upright again, clutched him against my shoulder, and began to walk as quickly as I could, then to trot. Somehow he managed to limp beside me, hopping and hissing with pain. We made our way a hundred feet or so before I heard a faint scuffling behind us and felt my heart sink.

I glanced over my shoulder to see Magnus dashing into the street, silhouetted by the blazing lamps of Chrysogonus’s portico. Following him was another figure – the lumbering hulk of Mallius Glaucia. For an instant I saw the blond giant’s face, lit by blue moonlight and framed by sputtering torches, streaked with blood and looking hardly human. They froze in the middle of the street, peering this way and that. I pulled Tiro into the shadow of the same tree from which we had watched Sulla’s arrival, thinking the darkness might shield us, but the movement must have caught Magnus’s eye. I heard a yell and then the slap of sandals against the paving stones.

‘On my shoulders!’ I hissed. Tiro understood immediately and hobbled to comply. I ducked between his legs, scooped him up, and started running, amazed at my own strength. I glided effortlessly over the smooth stones. I took a deep breath and laughed out loud, thinking I could run a mile and outdistance Magnus with every step. I heard them shouting behind me, but faintly; mostly I heard the pounding of blood in my ears.

Then, in an instant, with the drawing of a single breath that came up shorter than the others, the thrill of the moment subsided. Step by step the burst of energy dwindled. The level ground seemed to tilt uphill and then to melt, as if I were running through mud. Instead of laughing I was coughing, and suddenly I could hardly lift my feet; Tiro was as heavy as a bronze statue. I heard Magnus and Glaucia behind us, their footfalls drawing so near that the back of my neck began to twitch, flinching at the prospect of a knife between the shoulder blades.

We staggered along a high wall hung with ivy. The wall came to an end. That was when I saw Caecilia Metella’s house to my left. The portico was lit with a single brazier, flanked by the two guardians stationed there for the safekeeping of Sextus Roscius.

A breathless citizen carrying a slave piggyback was probably the last thing the two bleary-eyed guards expected to come rushing at them out of the darkness. They fumbled for their swords and jumped to their feet, looking like startled cats.

‘Help us!’ I managed to gasp. ‘Caecilia Metella knows me. Two men are running after us – street criminals – murderers!’

The soldiers drew apart and held their swords ready, but made no move to stop me when I bowed my head and let Tiro slip from my shoulders onto his feet. He took one limping step and then crumpled with a moan in front of the door. I stepped past him and began beating on the door, then looked over my shoulder to see Magnus and Glaucia come to a skittering halt just within reach of the brazier’s light.

Even the armed guards stepped back at the sight of them – Magnus with his wild hair, scarred face, and flaring nostrils, Glaucia with blood streaming down his forehead, both clutching daggers in their fists. I banged on the door again.

Magnus turned shifty-eyed, lowered his blade, and gestured to Glaucia to do the same. ‘These two are thieves,’ he said, pointing at me. Despite his wild appearance, his voice was measured and even. He wasn’t even winded. ‘Burglars,’ he declared. ‘Housebreakers. We caught them forcing their way into the home of Lucius Cornelius Chrysogonus. Hand them over.’

The two soldiers exchanged confused glances. They had been ordered to keep a prisoner inside, not to keep anyone out or to keep peace in the street. They had no reason to help two wild-eyed men with knives. Nor did they have any reason to protect two unexpected callers in the night. Magnus should have told them we were escaped slaves; that would have obligated the soldiers, as fellow citizens, to hand us over. But it was too late to change his story now. Instead, when the guards made no response, Magnus reached into his tunic and pulled out a heavy-looking purse. The guards looked at the purse and then at each other, and then, without affection, at Tiro and me. I beat on the door with both fists.

Finally a slit opened and through it peered the calculating eyes of the eunuch Ahausarus. His gaze shifted from me down to Tiro and then beyond us to the assassins in the street. I was still breathing hard, fumbling for words to explain, when he opened the door, ushered us inside, and slammed it shut behind us.

Ahausarus refused to wake his mistress. Nor would he allow us to stay the night. (‘Impossible,’ he sniffed haughtily, as if hosting Sextus Roscius and his family were taint enough on the household.) Magnus might still be waiting in ambush outside the house; even worse, he might have sent Glaucia for reinforcements. The sooner we left the better. After some hurried negotiations (mostly I begged while the eunuch arched his eyebrows and stared at the ceiling), Ahausarus was quite happy to see us off with a team of yawning litter bearers to carry Tiro, along with some gladiators from his mistress’s personal bodyguard.

‘No more adventures!’ said Cicero sternly. ‘There’s no point in it. When she hears of it in the morning, Caecilia will be scandalized. Tiro’s injured himself. And there’s no telling what sort of repercussions might have come of it – spying on Chrysogonus in his own house, with Sulla in the very room! My own slave and a disreputable henchman – forgive me, Gordianus, but it’s true – caught wandering about a private home on the Palatine during a party to honour Sulla. It wouldn’t be hard to make that out as some sort of threat to the security of the state, would it? What if they’d caught you and dragged you before Chrysogonus? They could have called you assassins as easily as thieves. Do you want to see
my
head on a spike? And all for nothing – you didn’t learn anything new from the whole escapade, did you? Nothing of importance, as far as I can see. Your work is done, Gordianus. Give it up! Everything depends now on Rufus and me. Two more days – tomorrow, and the day after, and then the trial. Until then no more of these absurd adventures! Stay out of the way, and try to stay alive. In fact, I forbid you to leave this house.’

Some people are not at their best when roused from bed in the middle of the night. Cicero was snappish and rude from the moment he arrived in the vestibule, summoned by a slave to witness the bizarre nocturnal visitation of tramping bodyguards and a slave borne in a litter. His eyes were hollow with dark pockets beneath; I suppose in his dreams there was no friendly goddess handing out thunderbolts. Weary or not, Cicero talked constantly, mostly to deride me, while he hovered like a brooding hen near Tiro, who lay belly-down on a table as the household physician (who was also the head cook) examined his ankle, turning it this way and that. Tiro winced and bit his lip. The physician nodded gravely, his eyes red and puffy from interrupted sleep.