Time to Depart mdf-7 Read online

  Then the door cracked open. Tibullinus did not bother bringing light into the room. He flung his captive headlong, gave him a good kicking, chained him up, spoke his usual attractive oration, and marched out again.

  'Brisk,' I said into the familiar darkness. 'Though comforting in its warm predictability.'

  My new companion groaned. Maybe he was suffering from being kicked. Maybe he was just happy to be sharing his captivity with me.

  After a few moments he recovered himself sufficiently to break out into banter. 'This is the last time.' His voice was hoarse. He forced himself to have a rest. 'This is the last time, Falco.' I laid my head against the pillar behind me and sighed reflectively. 'Next time you're in deadly danger, I'll stay at home and stroke the cat.'

  'Thank you,' I said, inserting a quiet note of humility which I knew would drive him wild. 'I'm touched at you coming to assist me – though it's not much use if you get yourself trussed up as well. But thank you, Lucius Petronius, my loyal friend.'

  LXI

  Time passed.

  Something dangerous was happening to my arms. I mentioned it to Petro. He was not so tightly shackled as me, probably because he had been chained up only after being knocked downstairs, hammered, and hit into the middle of next week with a large vase. He had not had my opportunities for increasing the torque by wild acrobatics. He expressed kind concern for my predicament, followed by the logical question of what did I expect him to do about it?

  More time passed.

  'Petro, where are your men?'

  'What men? When Helena Justina had finished berating me, I ran straight here.'

  'Wonderful.'

  'Anyway, how could I call for reinforcements? I'm not here. I've been sent to the country.'

  'You didn't go.'

  'You bet I didn't. Not once I heard you'd cajoled that fool Martinus into some disastrous scheme.'

  'Well I'm glad you're here,' I told him warmly.

  'Go to Hades,' he instructed, though in the tone of a friend. After a while I said, 'I heard about the attempt to get you.'

  'Stupidity.'

  'Balbinus is not stupid. He knows you're the one he should worry about.'

  'You're right. I should have expected trouble.' Petronius agreed to discuss it. His personal danger had been preying on his mind, and there was no one else with whom he could share his thoughts. His wife Silvia would have run amok in distress, and presumably Rubella thought imposing temporary leave showed sufficient sympathy. 'The false fire alarm was a setup, of course. Someone knew I was working late that night.'

  'Any ideas?' I enquired, with caution.

  'Someone in the team. Whoever set up Linus, presumably.' The merest change in his voice acknowledged at last that I had been right about the cohort containing a traitor.

  'Know who it was?'

  'I've had suspicions for some time. I haven't tackled the issue yet.'

  There was a silence. He did not tell me the name of his suspect. Well that was fine. Nor did I tell him mine.

  'So,' I exclaimed brightly. 'Why were you working late? Reports?'

  'No. While you and Martinus were playing hide-and-seek in a chop shop, some of us had work to do. Well, Rubella's idea of it. I've been caged up with the Temple of Saturn auditor – you know, the one who was working on the confiscation of the Balbinus estate.'

  'Anything useful emerge?'

  'Not unless you want to split your sides at the news that Plato's Academy is a lease Balbinus had laundered. This henhouse had been given away as part of his daughter's dowry. So its landlord is wimpy Florius.' We laughed.

  Probably Florius had never realised. He would not be the first clean-living, self-righteous equestrian whose portfolio, unbeknown to him, was bursting with legendary brothels and cover joints.

  I shifted. It was agonising. I was yearning to escape. 'When you got here, did you see Martinus, Sergius and the rest?

  'Martinus was hustling out some half-dead pickpocket-an informant, I presume.'

  'Igullius?'

  'If you say so. I didn't see the others.' Petro's voice was clipped. 'And if they had any sense they'd make damn sure they weren't near me to be seen.'

  Tibullinus must have left the door on the catch. A draught had blown it ajar slightly. All noises had ceased in the entertainment room now, as though the night must be well over. The audience and performers had gone home. Well, they had slunk off somewhere more private anyway.

  Nobody else had been brought to join us. Maybe that meant the others from the troop had found nothing of interest, maybe they had abandoned us. Typical of Martinus, Petro commented. I said nothing. In view of my presuming on his deputy's disloyalty, I was treading with care.

  Tread was the wrong word. I could hardly move. Any attempt was torture. My flesh had swollen and my arms felt as though they would never work again. I tried various ways of manipulating my body, but there was only one that permitted any kind of relief. So, if only to help my bruised feelings, I let out a mighty belch.

  Then a small female voice outside the door whimpered, 'Uncle Marcus, is that you?'

  I heard a sharp intake of breath from Petro. Keeping damn hysteria as much as possible, I managed to sound like an uncle who had a pocket full of honeyed dates. 'Tertulla! Goodness, you'll be my favourite niece for this. Tertulla, pick up one of those big torches. Make sure you don't touch the flaming part, then bring it in to us…'

  'I don't want to play this game.'

  'But come in and say hello to us,' Petronius said. 'Anyway, we haven't told you yet what the game is.'

  There was a pause that made me ache with irritation, then a squeak, then the door widened and in came a frightened little figure. She wore a dress that even her mother would disapprove of. She was dirty and exhausted, but she tad the mournful air that told us she was terrified of being in trouble yet now wanted to go home. If we promised her a big enough bribe – for instance, protection against her distraught mother – Tertulla might be on our side.

  LXII

  Petronius Longus had always possessed a special smile, which he kept for certain situations when whatever he was planning did not require my presence. Now I learned that with this smile, subtly applied while talking quietly in that slow and friendly manner, Petronius could make a woman forget entirely that she did not want to co-operate. It was probably practice. He was, after all, the father of three little girls.

  Somehow Petronius engaged Tertulla in the game of unwinding the chains that trussed him, then he and she together worked for a much longer time on the vicious cat's cradle that had been pinioning me.

  He jerked my arms up and down. 'Does this hurt?'

  'Ow! Yes.'

  'That's good,' he said. 'You've still got some nerves left.'

  The entertainment room was deserted. Its floral decor had suffered a pounding. Behind the large obscene statue of the peculiar group intertwining, we spotted a window. It led onto a roof, which gave onto the street. I had to admit that my arms were unlikely to take weight yet; the pain was excruciating as the blood came back. So it was Petro who carefully lowered himself outside, who prayed that the tiles would hold him, and then dropped to the ground. Tertulla needed no encouragement to trust herself to the open if this wonderful man would catch her. Now his fervent devotee, she was soon out of there and jumping into his arms. I had had to grab her dress to hold her back until Petronius was standing in place.

  We had agreed it was time to be sensible. I waited until I saw Petronius hoist my niece in his arms and lope away. He would carry the child to safety, then come back with reinforcements – this time convincing the sober Rubella that the Sixth Cohort had no sensibilities we needed to respect. Left alone, I too would be sensible. I would just wait quietly out of sight.

  As soon as he had gone I tossed that thought aside, and crossed to the doorway which would take me to Lalage's room.

  It was all very quiet. I knocked gently, in case she was engaged in work of a sensitive nature, then I ventured in.<
br />
  She was standing opposite, against a curtain. She appeated to be alone. Though she had not replied to my knocking, I was welcomed in with a deliciously courteous wave of one arm. The room was deeply scented with its usual perfumes. Lalage was wearing the bracelet I had mended. Her gown was of glowing golden silk, so fine it both covered and expressly described the magnificent womanhood beneath. Straight-backed and bejewelled, this fabulous creature had come a long way from the girl I had once known. I was angry and battered, but I warmed to her dangerous magic.

  'Marcus Didius! Why do I feel that I should have expected you? Welcome to my bower.'

  I paused, staring around. There could be no one behind the curtain. It was attached to a rod that would allow it to be drawn modestly to hide a bed in an alcove I had never seen before. Maybe it was her own bed. Even prostitutes have to sleep. Maybe once she lay flat just to dream, a prostitute of her calibre earned the luxury of privacy.

  The curtain was now gathered up in a tasselled cord against the wall. Nobody was concealed there, as I said. It was not clear why Lalage continued standing there. But she did, erect as a javelin, with one slim hand catching on to the embroidered folds. Her fingers were buried so deeply in the material I could not see whether she was wearing rings.

  I folded my arms. The air in this place was alive with danger of all kinds tonight. My eyes wandered to all the furniture, continuing until I was satisfied. I could see floor space beneath the bed in the niche, and also under the couch where she normally sat. Tables, stools, display shelves, all looked innocent. No windows. The ceiling was solid plaster, no rafters to crouch in. I searched the walls for doors; none visible. The filled rose-coloured fittings were too flimsy to hide a fugitive.

  Lalage smiled. 'Done like a professional.'

  'We all have skills. I know how to use mine.'

  'Are you working tonight, Falco?'

  'Afraid so.' I knew that tonight we were on equal terms. I permitted myself a rueful grin, which she took up with a quiet incline of her head. 'Where is he?' I asked in a low voice.

  'Not here. He fled.'

  'Are you prepared to explain?'

  'Do I need to?' Her voice was arch. 'The big villain was so powerful he conquered and swept me aside. Balbinus took over the establishment, while I languished helplessly.'

  I had to laugh. 'I don't believe that!'

  'Thank you.' Her eyes were bright though her sigh seemed weary. 'You have good manners, Falco. In addition to a desirable body, attractive intelligence, and gorgeous-eyes.'

  'You're playing with me.'

  'Oh we all have skills!'

  'Where is he?' I asked again stubbornly.

  'Gone to a place where he holes up. He's probably in disguise. His hideaway is on the Aventine. I don't know where. I was trying to find out for you.'

  'Not for me.'

  'For myself then. The plan-oh yes, there was a plan, Falco – was that I pretended to be terrified of what he would do to me for speaking against him in court. I let him use the brothel, so that I knew where he was.'

  'If you're claiming to be helping, why did you not call in the vigiles as soon as he arrived?'

  'Here? The contemptible Sixth?'

  'You could have contacted Petronius. He's straight. He told you he would buy the information if required.'

  'It was not for sale.' I believed that. If Lalage chose to betray anyone, it would be for her own reasons. Reasons she felt were strong enough to put the whole contract outside mere commerce. Selling was what she did with herself. She would do something else with her enemies.

  'So what has gone wrong, Lalage?'

  'You mostly.' She said it with diffidence, as if sorry to be involving me. 'Tibullinus told him tonight that you were outside watching Plato's. Balbinus blamed me.'

  'It was nothing to do with you!'

  'Does it matter?' She closed her eyes briefly. It was a shadow of her alluring glance, but almost too slight to count. I glimpsed a woman for some reason pushed beyond her normal strengths. She almost looked ill. 'Anyway, Balbinus left at once. I ordered Tibullinus and Arica to get out as well – so that's us finished here.'

  'Don't worry about them. Tibullinus and Arica – and the entire Sixth Cohort if needs be – will be under a judicial review for corruption in the near future.'

  'I'll believe it when I see it, Falco. Better hop off quick. They're still in service, and I reckon they will be coming back with their whole cohort.'

  'What about you?'

  'Don't worry about me.'

  I was worrying about something else. The curtain hanging above her began to pull away from its fixings. A small shower of plaster dust scattered on her hair. Instead of letting go of the material, she held on more tightly.

  'Oh Jupiter, girl – '

  I leapt forward with my arms open and caught Lalage against my heart.

  The curtain rod collapsed. She had dragged it from the wall – with her weight as she tried to support herself. I managed to buff aside the pole with my shoulder. The cloth engulfed us for a moment, then fell to the floor.

  Lalage crashed forwards onto me. My knees bent as I braced myself. She suppressed a cry, then I stood there aghast, clutching her under the armpits and tying not to yell. Deep in her back was a knife blade. Once I looked over her shoulder I was seeing blood evetywhere – soaking her gown, pooling the floor, staining the curtain now draped around her feet.

  She was still alive. The gods know how. 'Ah, Falco… Sorry about this. Balbinus of course – in case you're too shy to ask. How will you put me down?'

  'Well, not on your back for certain. You're the expert in fancy positions. What do you suggest?'

  'Have to be on top…'

  'You're enjoying the situation.'

  'Always a game girl…'

  'Well I realise some of your finer clients would pay a lot for this.'

  I had sunk on one knee. Bringing her with me, I managed to lower her carefully. Then there was only one thing for it. I had to stretch out on the floor myself, balancing on one elbow and holding Lalage above me in my arms. That way, I could keep her weight off the knife. She laid her head against my collarbone with the small contented smile of a sleepy child. 'Oh this is nice.'

  'I'll get help.'

  'No, stay with me, Falco.'

  'I'm doing you no good. It's ridiculous.'

  'Just be patient. It'll be over soon. How like a mare. I must be tired today. Not at my best.'

  She was smiling. For some hideous reason I was smiling myself. 'Ask me questions, Falco. Take the chance.' She was right. I ought to be demanding last-minute information. Not indulging in crass witticisms while she lay dying in my arms.

  'It doesn't matter any more.'

  'Why should I die for nothing? I told you about Balbinus. Listen, who was that young officer you asked me about?'

  'Linus,' I forced out obediently.

  'Linus. I can tell you how Balbinus found out about him being oh the ship – Tibullinus and Arica.'

  'They're damned for it then. Did he tell you who told them?'

  'Someone in another cohort. A youngster they got friendly with…' She was fading. People always say the eyes glaze over, but Lalage's were so bright it broke my heart. 'I wanted to ask you -'

  She began but never finished. I thought I knew what she might have been wondering. When I pulled out the knife and turned her over gently, I touched the scar that still strikingly marred her ear. I straightened her limbs and her clothing, then partly covered her in the rich material of the curtain. Although she lay upon the floor, she looked as stately and comely as any queen in a mausoleum.

  Stumbling to my feet, I crossed to her couch and sat. For a moment I stayed there remembering. Rillia Gratiana: the astonishingly pretty daughter of the snooty stationer, whose first day at school had been on the Ides of October, twenty- five years ago. A day that had been turned into a local scandal when a small boy who was frightened she was going to steal his school fees had reacted just a little to
o quickly and found his snarling teeth had met female flesh long before he was ready to cope with girls.

  I wanted to tell her. I had been wanting to tell her ever since that day when we were seven: biting her ear had been an accident.

  Well it was too late now.

  LXIII

  The commotion burst out as I made my way downstairs. Things had been quiet, so much so that I even entertained the wild hope that Balbinus might still be in the brothel, convinced that by murdering Lalage he had secured his hiding place.

  It had been too quiet. At some point during my long captivity with Petro; all the lads who came in with me had been rounded up and locked away. No one could believe so few of us had invaded the place, so a protracted search must have ensued. Goodness knows how many outraged males had their evening of delights interrupted by Tibullinus, Arica, or the bunch of thugs who had been secretly living there. The annoyance of these mere customers was ignored – a highly misplaced piece of arrogance.

  Enraged at losing money, Plato's customers became a defiant lot. Lalage would never have denied their pushand-shove in this outrageous way. Promising them refunds only produced a sullen crowd at the door, half of them still in their undertunics as they went on hoping for entertainment. After an hour of haggling with Macro, the inevitable happened: by some process of natural democracy a leader emerged. He roused the rest, then led them back into the brothel for a tiff.

  Their first action was to find Sergius and the lads, and set them free. Sergius explained the position, and naturally made it plain (with a wink) that his duty to the public compelled him to advise the disappointed customers to run for home. As I may have remarked, Sergius was a big, handsome fellow whose main talent was thrashing folk. He only had to be thinking about this to give others the idea. A wink from Sergius was enough to turn Plato's normally furtive customers into marauding Gauls.