Black Salamander

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.

‘A man called Sualinos, built like an oak tree, apparently, with about as much charm. Reckons he has a genuine claim to the throne. Says the king’s father diddled his father, there’s lots of talk of bastard sons with only half-royal blood in their veins, but mainly he’s whipping up his storm by insinuating that the king is in bed with Rome in a ploy to keep his people in oppression-slaves, if you like-to cream off the profits for themselves.’

‘Bullshit.’

The one thing Augustus sought above all was prosperity. Only through wealth could peace be achieved.

And then Claudia remembered the Spider’s insignia. Red and gold. Riches through blood.

Two powerful men, Augustus and the Spider. Both after prosperity, but whereas one saw peace as a goal, the other schemed to keep his people down, spilling their blood for his own grubby ambition. Bastard.

‘Come with me,’ she instructed her bodyguard. ‘We need to tell this to the governor.’

‘The Spider’s nest is hidden deep in the countryside,’ Junius said. ‘But its tentacles reach everywhere and the spread is wider than you can begin to imagine. Look around this city, madam. Surrounded by water, there’s barely six hundred paces between the two loops of the Doubs, Vesontio could be under his siege within hours.’ With only a skeleton guard remaining, the governor had no troops capable of holding off an army of fleas, much less a band of trained warriors. His only choice would be to close up the gates, sealing in heaven knows how many traitors.

‘Not for long, though,’ she reminded him. ‘The Spider could hold it for no longer than it takes the nearest legion to march on him.’

‘By which time,’ he said savagely, ‘you’d be dead. Sualinos operates a policy of terror, it’s how he maintains his fierce grip. He has agents swarming all over the capital, there’s no mercy for anyone who sells him out. You could never be sure that what you were eating wasn’t poisoned, or what you were drinking, whether that apple-cheeked maid was an assassin, the attendant in the latrines, maybe the landlord in your lodgings.’

Claudia’s vision was blurred. She was familiar with men like the Spider. Psychopaths who fed on power and terrorized their victims into submission. His first target would be Drusilla. Somehow he’d get to the cat and Claudia would find her proud, Egyptian corpse served on a platter. Then it would be her bodyguard’s turn. They would torture Junius and send him back in pieces, one by one.

A lot could happen in the shortest of sieges, and Junius was right. On the other hand. She swayed and fell against the nearest wooden pillar. She couldn’t just leave the others to be picked off, one by one, either, as the Spider sought to piece the treasure map together.

‘Put your head between your legs,’ Junius urged. ‘You won’t pass out then.’

Elegant, no. Practical, yes.

‘If only I knew which one of the party’s our murderer,’ she said.

‘Don’t you have any clues?’

‘Supersnoop thinks it was you.’

‘Me?’

‘He and I went through the list until we were blue in the face and since none seems a likely candidate, he went for the option which made him happiest.’

And yet, as sure as the moon will rise in the sky, one of that group is a killer. Somewhere along the line, she and Marcus had missed something. A vital clue, pinpointing the identity of Galba’s agent.

‘Maria. Dexter. Titus. Iliona. Hanno. Theo. Volso. Clemens. Take your pick,’ she said. ‘Because one of them’s a cold-blooded assassin.’

What the hell was it they’d missed?

Claudia stood up, shook the pleats of her aquamarine robe and adjusted the lie of her brooch. ‘Junius, I have reached a decision.’

Hadn’t she drummed it into Orbilio’s thick skull often enough? One man cannot fight a war. ‘We’ll leave Vesontio immediately,’ she said crisply. ‘Although I shall leave a note forewarning Orbilio.’ Knowing him, he’ll confiscate every courier’s papers and burn the leather maps in public, sending a blatant message to this wretched Spider character that he could take on Rome if he wished, but he’d have to do so without the benefit of the State Treasury.

‘Then I beg you, madam, write it outside the Neptune Gate.’

Junius turned to leave, but Claudia grabbed hold of his tunic. ‘Wait.’ How could she phrase this. ‘Can I trust you?’

For ten solid seconds, pained eyes stared into hers, his Adam’s apple working overtime, his jaw clenched.

‘Madam,’ he rasped, ‘I would stop an arrow for you.’ Then he smiled. ‘But given a choice, I’d rather not, so can we please get the hell out of here before neither of us is left with the option?’