Gladiator: Vengeance

5

Lupus’s eyes were gleaming with excitement in the dim glow of the oil lamp that Festus lit on his return.

‘I’m sorry it took so long, but Pindarus spent most of the afternoon at the bathhouse.’

‘Pindarus?’ Marcus interrupted.

‘That’s his name. I overheard one of his friends call him that. After he left the slave pens he went to the baths. I followed him inside. He met with some men and they talked business most of the time. I was close enough to overhear.’

‘He didn’t seem suspicious?’

‘No, Marcus. I’m sure of it. He was too busy talking to notice me. I just kept to myself and looked down at the floor.’

‘It was an unnecessary risk,’ said Festus. ‘I told you to follow him. That’s all.’

‘And that’s what I did. But when he went into the bathhouse I was afraid I might lose track of him. I thought it would be best to keep close enough to see him. That’s how I was able to overhear what he and his friends were talking about.’ Lupus leaned towards Festus. ‘I heard him mention Decimus’s name!’

‘What?’ Festus started. ‘Are you certain?’

Lupus nodded. ‘As far as I could make out it seems that Decimus is sending a man to the auction in three days’ time to buy some slaves for his estate.’

Marcus and Festus exchanged a look of surprise before Marcus beamed with delight. ‘The Gods favour us! Finally. We just have to wait for the man and then follow him when he leaves Stratos with the slaves that he’s bought. He’ll lead us straight to the place where my mother is being held.’

Festus thought a moment and frowned. ‘It sounds too good to be true. But perhaps you’re right. This is the work of providence. Or it seems like it. But what if there’s more than one estate? Decimus is a rich man. He’s made a fortune since he went into business with Crassus. A man like Decimus may have more than one such property. We have to be certain we find the right one before we go charging in.’

Marcus felt his surge of hope begin to subside.

‘What if we follow Decimus’s man, then ambush him and force him to tell us if he knows where Marcus’s mother is?’ Lupus suggested.

‘He won’t be alone,’ Festus mused. ‘Decimus’s agent is bound to have some men with him to guard the slaves he buys. It’s too dangerous to take them on. It would be safer if we followed him back to the Peloponnese. Then we can spy on the estate and make enquiries among the local people to see if they know anything about your mother.’

‘What if we don’t find anything?’

‘Then we find out if Decimus owns any other properties and scout those out as well.’

‘It could take some time,’ said Lupus.

There was a brief silence before Marcus spoke again. ‘There’s something else to consider. If Pindarus is a good businessman, then he should keep detailed records of every sale that goes through his auction house. While my mother and I were never officially sold, there might be some record of our being there, and where we were being sent on to before I escaped. What do you think, Festus?’

The bodyguard thought for a moment. ‘It’s risky, but worth a try. The question is, where would he keep such records? It’s most likely he keeps everything at his business, in an office. That’s where we should look first. The trouble is the place is locked and kept under guard.’

‘What if he keeps them in his home?’ asked Marcus. ‘If the slave pens are kept under guard then it might be better to search his house first.’

Festus considered the idea and nodded. ‘Assuming we can get inside.’ He turned to Lupus. ‘What is his house like? How many doors off the streets are there?’

‘Three,’ Lupus answered. ‘I checked. One at the front and a smaller one down a side alley, and then there’s a yard at the back, where the slaves can come and go.’

‘How many slaves did you count?’

Lupus thought a moment. ‘Three in the yard.’

Festus stroked his jaw. ‘It’s likely that’s where they will sleep. Pindarus and his family will be in the main house. If we wait until the middle of the night we might get over the wall and find his study, then see if any records are kept there. You and I will do the job, Marcus. Lupus will stay outside in the street to keep watch.’

‘What for?’ Lupus demanded. ‘Why can’t I come with you?’

‘Because two will make less noise than three,’ Festus said firmly. ‘No arguments. Now I suggest we all get some rest. We’ll need our wits about us later on.’

A waxing moon hung in a clear, starlit sky and cast a pale light over the slumbering town of Stratos. Three barefoot figures hugged the shadow of a wall as they crept along the street towards the house of Pindarus. Lupus was leading the way and he paused to point across the road at an imposing door set in a high wall. On either side were the locked shutters of shops rented out by the auctioneer.

‘That’s the one,’ Lupus whispered. ‘The house has two alleys running down each side.’

Marcus looked at the other houses and noted that the area was similar to the wealthier neighbourhoods of Rome where narrow passages divided many of the larger houses from each other. These would provide good cover for the three of them as they went about their mission.

Festus looked each way along the street but nothing moved, except for the dark shape of a cat boldly making its way down the middle of the road as if it owned the town. He gestured for the two boys to follow and they padded across the street, then ducked into the alley at the side of the house of Pindarus. The walls rose up one on each flank, two storeys high, but ahead Marcus could see they dropped down where the garden began. Festus stopped when he came to the lowest point in the wall and turned to the boys.

‘I’ll need a leg-up. Both of you, make a step.’

Marcus and Lupus intertwined their fingers and offered their hands up to Festus. He used Marcus first, trusting the tougher of the two to bear his weight most readily. Resting his hand on Marcus’s back, he pushed himself up and quickly found Lupus’s hand. Marcus grunted with the effort of bearing the man’s weight but held him up.

‘All right, lads,’ Festus whispered. ‘Lift me, nice and steady.’

Straining his muscles, Marcus braced his back against the wall for support. Beside him he could hear Lupus groaning lightly with the effort. Festus was right about him, Marcus reflected briefly. Lupus needed toughening up.

‘I’m going to use your shoulders,’ said Festus. ‘Ready, Marcus?’

‘Ready.’

He felt Festus’s foot lighten as the bodyguard drew himself up to the tiles on top of the wall. Festus scrabbled for Marcus’s shoulder and then thrust himself up. The sound of his heavy breathing and scuffling as he struggled astride the wall sounded deafening in the confined space of the alley and Marcus glanced anxiously in both directions, but there was no sign they had attracted any attention.

‘Your turn, Marcus.’

He saw Festus reaching a hand down to him, and used Lupus to step up against the wall. His fingers groped in the air and then he felt the man’s powerful grip clamp round his wrist, and he clutched at Festus’s forearm as the latter drew him up the side of the wall on to the tiles running along the top. Marcus felt his heart pounding in his chest, partly from the effort but mostly from the anxious excitement of the moment. Looking down into the garden, he saw a long arrangement of paths, neat flower beds and ornately clipped shrubs. The sound of water tinkling in a fountain came from the far end, close to the slave quarters at the very rear of the property. The main house itself was dark and silent.

‘Come on,’ Festus hissed as he swung his legs down and lowered himself cautiously behind a large bush from which a sweet scent rose into the cool night air. Marcus followed suit and eased himself down before dropping the last few feet and landing softly on the soil. Both of them waited a moment before Festus emerged on to the path beside the flower bed. Fortunately, it was paved rather than gravelled and they made almost no sound as they followed it up to the rear of the main house. An outdoor dining area stood to one side, in the Roman style with long, low stone couches on which cushions could be spread for the comfort of guests. Next to the dining area was a portico with a corridor leading into the darkened interior of the house.

‘How are we going to see our way inside?’ Marcus asked as loudly as he dared.

Festus pointed into the darkness. ‘By the front door. I’ll wager there’s a lamp burning beside the shrine to the household Gods. We’ll use that.’

Marcus followed him into the dark corridor. They proceeded slowly, feeling their way cautiously along the wall. Some twenty feet further on, the corridor opened out into the atrium and a small amount of moonlight shone through the opening above the shallow pool that collected the rainwater. A staircase led up to the second level of the house where the bedrooms were arranged round a landing overlooking the pool. A faint sound of snoring came from above. On the far side was another short length of corridor, at the end of which a wan yellow glow came from a tiny flame.

‘I thought so,’ Festus muttered. ‘Wait here.’

He padded round the edge of the pool and returned a moment later with a small oil lamp. The wavering flame gave just enough light for them to make their way back down the corridor in the direction of the garden. Festus stopped outside the first door and eased it open. He leaned in and raised the lamp high enough to see the interior, then backed out. ‘Just a storeroom.’

The door on the next room let out a dull creak from the hinges as Festus opened it and both of them froze, straining their ears for a few heartbeats. But no one stirred and Festus resumed, easing the door open very slowly, while Marcus winced at each creak of the hinges. When there was enough space to squeeze through, Festus entered the room. Marcus followed and saw by the dim glow of the lamp a desk and a wall covered in sectioned shelves that were piled with scrolls and waxed tablets.

‘Looks promising,’ Festus whispered. ‘Let’s get started.’

He set the lamp down on the desk and indicated the shelves. ‘You start at that end and I’ll begin with the other.’

‘What exactly are we looking for?’ Marcus asked.

‘Anything with a reference to Decimus, Thermon, or any estate in the Peloponnese. Your name, and your mother’s, of course.’

Marcus nodded and padded to the end of the shelves, taking down a small pile of documents, then returning to the desk to look through them. There were bills of sale, inventories of each week’s auctions, a running record of expenses and commissions relating to each sale, and a daily log. Pindarus was clearly in the habit of recording his business affairs in detail and Marcus felt his spirits rise. Such a man would have made some reference to the events of two years ago. Marcus and Festus worked methodically and silently through the scrolls and slates, section by section, being careful to replace them as they had been found. It was a while before it dawned on Marcus that he had been reading through documents in date order. He paused and looked up at the shelves, counting back to where he had started.

‘Of course!’

‘Shhhh!’ Festus hissed.

‘Sorry.’ Marcus pointed to the shelves. ‘I’ve worked it out. Each shelf, starting from the top left, represents six months. Which means that the one we are looking for is …’ Marcus counted the shelves silently and then pointed. ‘It should be that one.’

He crossed to it from the desk and bent down to retrieve the documents. Placing them in the light of the lamp’s flame he opened a scroll and pointed to the date. ‘There. It’s the same year, two months from the date we were kidnapped by Thermon’s men.’

Festus replaced the documents he had been looking at and began to sift through those Marcus had brought to the table. They examined them eagerly and Marcus felt a rising sense of excitement as he wound his way through the scroll on which Pindarus had neatly completed his log at the end of each day. Then he stopped.

‘Here it is … Arrival of cart with six slaves; two Nubians (nameless), two boys from Lesbos (Archaelus and Demetrius), one woman (Livia), her son (Marcus). Placed in cell XIV for auction next day.’ Marcus looked up triumphantly.

‘Read on,’ Festus ordered. ‘Does it say anything about Decimus?’

Marcus began to wind the scroll, then stopped and looked up quickly.

‘What’s the matter?’

‘I heard something. Outside in the corridor.’

Festus turned towards the door as a shuffling noise came closer. Then the handle turned and the door swung inwards. Blocking the door frame was Pindarus, in a flimsy linen nightshirt, oil lamp in hand. His flabby jaw dropped in astonishment as he stared wide-eyed at the two figures poring over the documents on his desk.

Festus reacted first, throwing down the waxed slate he was examining as he snatched out his dagger and raced towards the door.

His movement broke the brief spell and Pindarus lurched backwards, screaming in a high-pitched voice. ‘Help! Thieves! Murder!’