Murder on the Appian Way (40 page)

"Papa? Are you all right?"

"What?"

"Your hand's shaking. You dropped the stick." Eco stooped and retrieved it for me.

His voice returned me to the moment. I clutched the stick in my hand, more firmly than I needed to. I reached out and slowly scraped another numeral into the wall, keeping my hand and my voice as steady as I could. "And now the more immediate questions, which surely must be related in some way to the first four.

"Five: Who waylaid us upon our return to Rome? We can be sure, I think, that they were not common kidnappers, looking for a ransom. They'd have wanted me to write something on a scrap of parchment, to prove I was alive. And they'd have figured out by now that there's no ransom to be had. We'd already be dead." The numerals on the wall began to lose their meaning again and I looked away, at the dank mound where Eco had buried the newest rat that morning. "Unless we're dead already."

"Of course they're not common kidnappers," Eco said, pretending not to hear my muttering. "They acted for someone who didn't like what we were up to on the Appian Way."

"More precisely, someone who was afraid of the information we might be bringing back to Rome. Therefore, six: To whom did we make ourselves dangerous with our investigation on the Appian Way?"

"But isn't it obvious, Papa? Milo, of course. We know he lied outrageously at Caelius's contio, with that tale about an ambush, and we know how to prove it. It's as you said to Felicia when you advised her to fly south — Milo is in a desperate situation, willing to commit desperate acts."

"Which leads us to the final question." I scraped the numeral VII into the wall. "Why were we kidnapped, not killed? If Milo - or whoever - merely wanted to dispose of us, why did his henchmen not murder us and steal our valuables, to make the incident look like another robbery by nameless bandits by the Monument of Basilius? If he wanted to ascertain what we had uncovered first, why were we not questioned, and then killed? Why did Milo not finish us off, as he finished off Clodius? Does he have some future use for us? I can't imagine what. It makes me wonder whether it was Milo who put us here after all."

"Who else? The only other person you kept asking questions about was —"

"Marc Antony," I said.

The stable door rattled open.

"Perhaps this is the day we'll find out,'- whispered Eco. I dropped to the floor of the pit, hugging myself.

The inspection of the bloody urine proceeded like a ritual, with our keepers - both of them had come in together - peering into the bucket like augurs studying some poor chicken's entrails.

"Your father doesn't look well," said the one who usually stayed outside.

"What, have you just figured that out?" Eco sounded outraged, frightened, frustrated. There was a quaver in his voice. Some of this was acting, but I could tell that the quaver came not from desperation, but from its opposite, a sudden exhilaration so acute it made him tremble like the plucked string of an instrument. Had the moment come at last? Yes! I sensed it, too. A frightful, wonderful rage welled up inside us both, a joyous fury that had been suppressed for long days in the dark but finally, finally, at that very instant, was ready to be released.

"Your father had better come with us," said the one who usually stayed outside. He bent to unlock the chain that held the trapdoor shut. The two of them pulled up on the heavy iron door and let it drop back onto the grille with a clang.

The door of the cage was open.

"I don't think he can stand." Eco's voice broke like a boy's as he fussed over me, acting helpless.

"How in Hades are we going to get him out?" complained our usual keeper.

"Get your father onto his feet somehow," said the other. "That's it. Get him to raise his arms. If he can't raise them himself) raise them for him! By Hercules, is the fellow still alive or not? There, now we'll each grab a forearm. Be careful leaning over, you fool!"

The greatest mistake a general can make, as Caesar and Pompey would agree, is to underestimate the strength of your enemy. I had convinced them that I was weak, in pain and very ill. They took hold of my forearms to haul me up, expecting a frail body that offered no resistance. The instant before they heaved together, I pulled downward with all my strength. Eco joined in, jumping up to grab their arms above the elbows.

All could have been lost in that instant. They could have kept their balance and pulled themselves free, leaving me to fall onto my backside, looking like an utter fool. The door would have hurriedly clanged shut, our keepers would have cursed us and then laughed at us, and we would have been left alone in the pit once more, to follow the same maddening thoughts in the same dogged circles, to sleep amid rats, to despair for our loved ones, to lie in anguish and wonder how much longer we could bear it.

But that was not what happened.

First, their heads collided with a loud knock. The sound had a lower pitch than two stones struck together, but higher than two hollow gourds. It was one of the sweetest sounds I ever heard.

What followed happened very quickly.

One of them, the one who usually stayed outside, tumbled headfirst into the pit. I fell upon him at once. Eco's marking stick was still in my hand. In the past few days we had managed to sharpen it to a fine point by whetting it against some of the stones in the pit. I stabbed him at least once before I realized there was no need. The fall had broken his neck.

I turned and saw that I was alone with his lifeless body in the pit. Eco -had already scrambled up and out. I heard the sound of a struggle taking place in the stable above.

I put the makeshift dagger between my teeth, tasting blood, and leaped for the opening. I grabbed one of the iron bars and pulled myself up. We had practised this movement every day, leaping and pulling ourselves up, strengthening bur arms. Still, I thought that pulling myself through the opening would be a greater challenge than it was. Instead I seemed almost to fly upward, as if an unseen hand pushed me from below. Cold fury propelled me, and the certain knowledge that Fortune had turned in our direction.

Eco and the keeper were rolling on the floor, thrashing at each other. Eco was by far the smaller of the two, but he was
driven by the same fury that drove me, and he was managing to hold his own. I ran towards them, raising the crude wooden dagger. There was already a patch of blood on the man's forehead. There was more blood, and a loud scream, when I brought the dagger down on his neck. He escaped from Eco's clutches and ran for the door, blood spurting between the fingers that clutched his neck.

We followed him outside, dazed by the full light of day. I girded myself for more fighting, but there was no one to be seen. We were alone on a patch of weedy ground in front of a disused stable, surrounded by trees and overgrown farmland.

"The other one is still in the pit!" said Eco. He ran back inside, lifted the trapdoor single-handed and dropped it shut with a great clang. "Ha! See how you like that! Now you'll tell us where we are and who you work for, you son of a sow!"

I followed Eco inside, still exhilarated but suddenly weary. "Come, Eco. We'd better hurry. Who knows where the other one went, or if he has more friends close by? We're not out of danger yet."

"But, Papa-"

"Eco, the fellow is dead."

"No!" Eco peered down into the dim pit. The man had landed in a convoluted heap that no living person could contrive. Still, Eco was unconvinced until a large rat went scurrying over the fellow's head.

"Papa, you lolled him?"

"No. The fall broke his neck. It happened in the blink of an eye."

"Too bad. He should have suffered!"

I shook my head, unable to agree. The fellow had never shown us any cruelty, as many men would have, given such power over others. He had been our servant, in fact, bringing us food and disposing of our wastes. Our argument was not with him.

The fact that I was able to think so calmly was a dangerous sign. The cold fury had begun to leak out of me. The bloody stick in my hand revolted me. The moment of escape towards which all had been building had come and passed. If more adversaries were to arrive, they would find me with my edge for violence blunted. The truly dangerous part of our escape was just beginning.

XXIV

We were alone and friendless in unknown territory. We had no money. We did have a day's ration of bread - the food that our keepers had brought for us that morning.

We were somewhere in the countryside. That was unfortunate. In a city, we could have stolen what we needed — new clothes to replace our filthy rags, enough small coins to visit the local baths and a barber to make ourselves look respectable—and then proceeded to ask questions of strangers and move about without attracting undue notice. In a city, we might have found someone we knew, or who knew a mutual friend, and so might agree to loan us money or arrange for our return to Rome. But the countryside was another matter. Walking on country roads, we could not help but be conspicuous. Enemies searching for us would have a great advantage. Given our wretched appearance, strangers might take us for runaway slaves, despite our citizen's rings. It is easier to skulk through a crowded alley than across an empty field.

Where were we? From the surrounding hills and farms, there was no way to tell. I could determine directions by the sun, but was Rome north, south, east or west? Near or far? There was no way to begin the journey home except to begin walking, keeping out of sight as much as possible. I tried to keep track of our route, so that we could find our way back later, but I was dazed and exhausted and every field looked the same.

We slept that night under the open sky. We were cold, and snuggled together for warmth, and I woke before dawn with a gnawing in my belly and-my feet like ice.- But for the first night in many nights I did not dream of Eudamus and Birria, and the sight of the open sky above when I opened my eyes was very sweet indeed.

We came upon a paved road that was clearly a major highway, but which? All roads lead to Rome, but only if you go in the right direction.

"North or south?" I said.

Eco scmtinized the road for a long "moment. "South." "I agree. Do you think we might be like dogs, and find our way home purely by instinct?"

"No," he said bluntly. He was beginning to feel hungry. So was

I.

We proceeded south, avoiding other travellers as best we could.

"When Fortune smiles, the Fates may yet play a joke." So goes the old Etruscan aphorism.

Stomachs growling, feet aching, we walked for hour after hour, thinking that sooner or later the road must lead to some place where we could at least determine where we were. We came to a region where the road traversed a series of low, rolling hills, so that we were able to see, intermittently, what was coming our way a considerable distance ahead. We first saw the approaching entourage three hilltops away, then two. Someone in their party had probably seen us first, since there were so many of them and some of them had the higher vantage point of riding on horseback. It would almost be more suspicious to attempt to hide beside the road than to simply pass by with heads lowered. They could hardly be a search party, since they were coming towards us, and not from behind. Still...

We reached the next hilltop. There they were, cresting the hill just opposite us, with a small valley between.

"If any of them should question us," I said to Eco, "allow them no liberties. We are citizens, after all. We have every right to be on this road ... wherever it is. And -"

"Papa..."

"And if they do speak first, then we might as well ask how close the next town is, and what it's call-" "Papa!"

"What is it, Eco?"

"Can you not see with your own eyes?"

I stopped and stared at the approaching group of men. They looked like serious travellers on serious business, sober-faced and dusty from, hard riding. Some were obviously bodyguards. Others ...

"By Jupiter, Eco! Can it be?"

Eco nodded and raised his hand in a gesture of greeting. After a final moment of disbelief, I did the same. Even, so, the, riders hardly glanced at us. No doubt they took us for a pair of bearded derelicts. It was Tiro who gave a start, muttered an exclamation of surprise and reached for his old master's sleeve. The entourage came to a halt.

"By all the gods!" Cicero leaned forwards and peered at me as if I were some freakish curiosity being shown off in the arena. "Can it be Gordianus, beneath all that hair and filth? And Eco?"

"You're alive! Both of you, alive!" Tiro's voice caught in his throat. He leaped from his mount and rushed to embrace us both, weeping with joy.

Cicero managed to restrain any such feelings and remained on his horse. He caught our scent and made a face. He stared at me and slowly shook his head. "Gordianus, you look frightful! What on earth have you been up to?"

"Your disappearance has been much talked about in Rome," said Cicero that night, as we dined in a private room at an inn outside the town of Ariminum.

"I'm surprised anyone noticed I was gone."

"Oh, quite the contrary. You're better known than you might think. There's been no end of speculation. Even vendors in the fish markets talk about the inexplicable disappearance of the Finder and his son; so my slaves tell me, anyway.-Of course, Rome has been full of all sorts of strange happenings and curious rumours in the last month. Your vanishing was just one more."

"But my family is well?" I had already asked this question more than once.

Tiro patiently reassured me. "Quite well. Just before we left Rome, I paid a visit to see if there was any news of you. They were all in good health — your wife and daughter, your son's wife and children. They were quite worried about the two of you, of course ..."

Eco shook his head. "We should be hurrying back to Rome right now, Papa, instead of sitting here stuffing our faces!"

"Nonsense," said Cicero. He gestured to a slave to refill my cup of watered wine and bring more food. "I think you have no idea just how wretched you both looked when I came upon you this afternoon. Fortunately, the town of Arirninum has good baths, so we were able to get you decently washed and barbered. And this inn has decent food, so hopefully we can begin to fatten you up a bit, as well. You've almost begun to look like human beings again. As for the idea that you should go riding breakneck back to Rome, I advise against it. You need rest and recuperation, good food, country air and sunshine, and above all the safety of travelling in an armed company. Oh no, I insist that you stay with me, at least until we reach Ravenna tomorrow."