Black Salamander (30 page)

‘If you want to put a stop to his trade before it starts,’ she said, ‘simply have a quiet chat with Iliona. Talk to her about land-locked Arcadia, where goat-legged Pan is worshipped. Reminisce about the sights of the Nile, the pyramids, spooky hieroglyphs and jackal-headed gods. Oh, and don’t forget to toss in a mention of Babylon, where the dead are buried in honey and bitumen forms fireballs on the ground in a thunderstorm. Then see how she fancies settling down to a rigorous winter in Gaul!’

That girl will put adventure before wealth any day, sweeping her husband along on her tidal wave of passion.

‘Happy ever after, eh?’ His laughing eyes swivelled towards the bookbinder and his wife. ‘Can you say the same for those two?’

Down in the Forum, a little hippopotamus was raining blows on a squirming crocodile, and the zebra pulled the whiskers off a wailing hyena. The polar bear was on her knees in floods of tears, because her white coat was black down one side.

‘Maria is bitter,’ Claudia explained sadly, ‘because life hasn’t come to her door, perfumed and covered with roses. She’s barren, and she channels her frustration through Dexter by convincing herself that this resentment has been brought about by marrying beneath her.’ Claudia crossed one leg over the other and rested her elbow on her knee. ‘For his part, Dexter has become the child he never had, his succession of ailments a means of getting noticed.’

But as for happy ever after? Oh dear. Gemma might be overweight and frumpy, but she was barely seventeen with twice as many childbearing years ahead of her as Maria. Were she to bestow on Dexter the attention he so desperately craves, and the signs were already there, who knows where it might lead? Maria, though, had already recognized that threats don’t always come in obvious packages and she was shrewd enough to see that the risk of losing Dexter might force her to re-evaluate both their lives. Well, she still had a marvellous figure. Time to use it, Claudia reckoned. Tonight in her husband’s bed.

More pertinently, however, was that at this juncture in their lives, both Maria and Dexter were too self-absorbed to venture beyond their own selfish needs—although it had given Claudia something of a shock this morning, seeing Maria decked out in the Spider’s colours. But these were ancient Sequani insignia, too, and Maria was out to impress the governor.

The tiny tots were finally pulled apart, to be led away squealing and squabbling, bawling and blubbing, leaving the Forum reduced to a carnage of fabric ears and woollen tails, of spots and stripes and manes. A fire-eater came along to take the crowd’s attention away from the sweepers.

‘Oh, and before you put forward our chubby priest as a murderous contender,’ she said, ‘take a look at his face.’

Was there ever a more graphic picture of misery? No prizes for guessing whether Clemens had heard about Ecba’s murder before he’d had time to hand his pouch over! There he sat, head in hands, rocking backwards and forwards, his mouth working silently, although whether this was to recite more taboos or to argue his case with the Salamander, Claudia couldn’t possibly tell.

‘Eliminating suspects could take days.’ Orbilio scrubbed his face with his hand. ‘Could-it-be-him, could-it-be-her, cases for, cases against.’ He shook his head and sighed. ‘It seems so long ago, the blocked ravine, the trek over the hills, that I’m starting to question whether the whole thing wasn’t a product of my own imagination.’

‘Why don’t you just arrest me and be done with it?’

‘You, young lady, have a fetish about manacles and as much as I’d like to pursue this interest of yours, have you seen Theo this morning?’ His eyes scanned the crowd. ‘I want to pick his brains about the eight men sent to meet us on the road. Strange, how no word’s come back.’

Claudia frowned at the fire-eater. How did he do that

‘Theo?’ She knew the sword swallowers’ trick—specially made collapsible blades—but fire? ‘Can’t say I have.’

‘You said he was a courier?’

‘So?’ The key had to be a special coating on the stick, so that the flames, though large, were at the same time lacking in heat.

‘Claudia, in case you haven’t noticed, the Salamander’s map carriers haven’t had an overly successful mortality rate.’

Fire-eaters were instantly forgotten. ‘You can’t imagine he’s in danger? He’s a soldier, for gods’ sake, he—Marcus?’ His eyes were staring into space, his mind somewhere between Africa and the moon. ‘Yoo-hoo. Anybody home?’ A glacier took hold of her body, chilling her flesh and freezing her marrow. Holy shit! Suddenly her lungs wouldn’t work. ‘Theo’s another of the agent’s victims, isn’t he?’

Orbilio said nothing. He simply stared deep into his thoughts. And the chill inside her bones deepened. She pictured his boyish face, the freckles, the wide silly smile. ‘Marcus? For gods’ sake, answer me! Is Theo dead?’

‘What?’ His gaze came back into focus. ‘Oh. No,’ he said, and his voice was strange. Kind of strangled. ‘No, actually. I don’t believe Theodorus is dead. In fact, I don’t believe he’s in danger.’ Serious eyes burned into Claudia. ‘But I do believe we’ve found our killer.’

XXIX

Think about it. Who’s the one person Libo, working undercover with the Security Police, would trust? Who’s best placed to dispose of the other two legionaries in the pre-arranged rock fall? Who’s in an ideal position to arrange which person travelled where in the convoy? And who’s word would never be doubted when it came to taking the secondary route round the mountain? Who resented Marcus from the outset?

All these points Orbilio made to Claudia, and in fairness she could argue with none of them. On the other hand—

Theo had applied no pressure on whether the convoy should wait for the rescue party or press on by themselves, she pointed out. Hadn’t he been as earnest as the next fellow to recover the dead? He’d spotted Arcas’s fire while it was still in its infancy, the killer would have played for time. Most importantly, Theo carried a pouch, which could hardly be for the purpose of establishing his cover. Each courier had been led to believe they were acting alone in smuggling gems to Vesontio.

‘Who’s to say how many other pouches he had hidden under his cloak?’

No, no, this was nonsense. The suggestion that he had
a whole cache of them—Claudia couldn’t buy that. This
was Marcus again. Under pressure. Overwrought. His face was drawn and pale with the strain. She knew he hadn’t slept last night (he’d found Ecba at three in the morning), and heaven alone knows when he last had a good meal. Well, it serves him right, she thought, flicking an imaginary speck off her knee. Not content with spiking Galba’s guns to allow the Emperor to live and breathe another day, oh no, Hotshot here has to be a bloody hero.

She knew full well the reason. In sending his report back to Rome, that oily weasel of a boss of his would arrest Galba, elicit a confession, round up the co-conspirators, prevent a mass assassination, save the Empire…and should the name Orbilio crop up, that would be purely an oversight. The credit would rest on the squat shoulders of the Head of the Security Police. It would be he, not Marcus, on whom medals and honours were heaped! To get any kind of mention, Orbilio would need to get results in Vesontio. A list of rebel chieftains, for instance, would advance his political ambitions greatly. As would arresting a multiple killer
before
Galba got round to squealing on his agent. And if he could hand over the map pinpointing the spot where Galba had stashed the State Treasury, then by Jupiter, he might even outwit his smarmy boss and attract all the kudos himself, for which lack of sleep and lack of food rated not at all in his view.

But he ought to put things in perspective.

Theo was no mass murderer. He lacked leadership qualities and authority, and took refuge in a good sulk. Hardly the demeanour of a savage killer. More than that, and this is what swayed it in Claudia’s opinion, was that Galba’s agent would know that Orbilio, having skirted the rock fall which blocked the ravine, would have seen the iron wedges which screamed sabotage. Had Theo been the killer, he’d have had ample opportunity to kill Marcus when they were evading the Spider’s war party. A quick stab, perhaps to the horse, bringing both down and abracadabra, the Sequani take home a trophy.

There was one other point, too. Equally valid. Namely, that Theo had risked life and limb to rescue Claudia when that loose saddle strap had sent her flying through space. On the slippery edge by the animal’s lair, it would have been simplicity itself for him to nudge her over the side and pretend she’d slipped before he could hook up the rope.

Indeed, Claudia would have outlined her objections, had Supersnoop not jumped up as though stung by a bee. ‘Stay close to the group,’ he warned. ‘Just this once, Claudia, do what I ask.’

‘Don’t I always?’

He let out a less than genteel snort of laughter through his nose then, with a wink, he worked his way to the end of the aisle. If I’m right, he’d said, and Theo’s the killer, he’ll have skipped town and not shown up at the barracks. I need to check, and so he was off, darting between the horn players and the pipers, on another wild goose chase, which would at least set his mind at rest, she supposed. And maybe throw light on the eight missing soldiers, for that was really quite odd.

You don’t lose eight men very easily. Not on a main road.

‘Pssst.’

Assuming they’d stuck to the road? Perhaps they’d reached Vulture Valley, seen that it was blocked, taken note of the abandoned wagons and taken it upon themselves to follow the trail over the hills.

‘Pssst!’

In which case, they could be tripping over their own beards before they reached civilization again!

‘Pssst!’
Is there a snake on the loose? ‘Madam!’

Junius? Told you so! Knew he wouldn’t sneak off without a word. ‘Where the hell have you been?’ Nevertheless, Claudia felt her shoulders slump with relief as she followed his urgent beckoning.

‘This town is dangerous,’ he said in a voice like gravel. ‘Like raw naptha beside a lighted candle, it could blow any time. You need to leave. Fast.’

‘Don’t believe every rumour.’ She laughed. ‘Sometimes the good guys win.’

‘I’m not talking about the plot to overthrow Augustus,’ he said irritably. ‘Those make-believe intertribal skirmishes, or the cut-and-run attacks on the legions. No, the Spider is involved in a dynastic war of his own, a challenge to both Rome and his king, which depends sod-all on the outcome with the Treveri and the Helvetii. He’s using this as a smokescreen for his own civil war. You daren’t stay here.’

Across the Forum, the elephant was trumpeting its head off.

‘Have you been taking medication from Titus?’

‘Did you know the Spider’s men butchered the soldiers sent out to meet us?’ He drew the flat of his hand across his throat. ‘All eight of them.’

Claudia pulled him under the wooden supports of the grandstand, out of the sun, out of main view. ‘How come you know so goddamn much?’ Her heart was pounding like a blacksmith’s hammer.

‘I’m a Celt.’

‘You’re a spy.’

For several minutes his blue eyes held hers, and it was hard to imagine the boy was barely twenty-one. Then his drop-dead sexy mouth twisted into a lopsided grin.

‘For the Parisii, though, not the Sequani.’ There was another long pause. ‘I’ve packed,’ he said. ‘Drusilla’s caged up, there’s a fast trap harnessed and waiting outside the Neptune Gate.’

Claudia glanced over her shoulder in the direction of the barracks. ‘I’ll take my chances here,’ she said. Junius meant well, but…!

‘Madam, your room was turned over, it looked like a hurricane had blown through,’ he said. ‘And you must have heard about Ecba? The Spider’s responsible for that, he knows about the map, that’s why the slave dealer was killed. For the pieces he was holding in safekeeping.’

Shit.
Shit, shit, shit.

Claudia drew a deep breath and tried to steady her nerves. ‘Drusilla’s all right? The cage, I mean.’

‘Would anyone dare tangle with her? She has a hump the size of Mount Atlas, but her cage wasn’t damaged, you picked a good carpenter there.’

Claudia’s breath came out in great shudders. How far to the Neptune Gate? Half a mile? And then what? Five hundred miles of open, hostile territory between Vesontio and Rome.

‘I ought to warn the other couriers,’ she said.

No use feigning ignorance with Junius. He seemed to know just about everything there was to know about this wretched mess, which meant he must have been spying on her and Orbilio, too. Goddammit, she didn’t know whether she should give him a raise or sell him at the very next auction block!

‘Madam, it’s a flat choice,’ he said grimly. ‘Your life or theirs.’ He scoured the heel of his hand against his forehead. ‘Believe me, I’ve grown every bit as fond of them as you have,’ he said wearily. ‘If I could save Clemens, Volso, Theo—in the name of Father Dis, don’t you think I would? But in warning them, panic will set in, which in turn puts the Spider on the alert.’

Claudia’s head was spinning like a child’s top. ‘Who is this Spider? Does anyone know?’

She could inform the governor, he could crush this rebellion with the snap of his fingers. True, the rebel army would be scattered throughout the Sequani province, Rome could never hope to unearth them. But take out the ringleader and you’re laughing.