I had almost schooled my heartbeat to a moderate pace when a new danger set it to racing again. I had completely missed seeing the door that suddenly crashed open, spilling lamplight into the darkened stable and bringing my heart bounding in terror into my throat. It was flush with the wall I was crouching against, and made from the same rough planking. It was flung open with such violence that it crashed all the way back to the wall, missing me by inches, and then rebounded to mask me from the man who stepped through the opening, muttering under his breath. He crossed the open floor in eight great strides and busied himself with closing and barring the outside door, all the while keeping up a string of curses and imprecations.
Quietly and carefully, my heart still pounding in my throat, knowing that he could turn and see me at any second, I stood up and stepped around the open door into the short passageway beyond, hoping against all hope that the place I was going to would be empty. It was — empty and almost dark. The only light came from two lamps and a few narrow cracks between the boards of the shutters that sealed the single window. The door leading to the street was solid-looking and solidly barred.
The place was a chandler's shop, cluttered with clay lamps of all shapes and sizes and amphorae and smaller jars of oil. It smelled pungently and aromatically of oils and camphor. To my left, a set of dangerous-looking steps led up to another loft, where the owner obviously lived. I crossed the room quickly and pressed my eye to one of the cracks in the shutters. There was chaos in the street outside; people were running in every direction and the scene reeked of panic. As I watched, I saw an old, grey-bearded man being hauled bodily across my line of sight by two hulking bullies. I had time to see no more, for from behind me came the roaring voice of the shop owner, arguing with someone. I looked again for somewhere to hide as I heard a slamming noise from the stable at the rear and the quick, angry sound of approaching footsteps. I moved quickly and tried to conceal myself behind the rickety steps in the corner just as the man came back into the room.
He was big — tall and broad-shouldered — so that he had to stoop coming through the doorway. As he began to straighten up, he saw my feet and froze for a heartbeat, and then he straightened up completely, eyeing me warily. He made no sound, and I saw that he carried no weapon. He looked me straight in the eye, and then his gaze dropped to my left knee. I remained motionless, my hand on the hilt of my sword. Unhurriedly, he closed the door behind him and moved two steps into the shop, coming to rest facing me with his buttocks resting against the small counter that held many of his wares. There was no fear in his eyes. The only sounds came from the street outside, where one woman screamed above the general noise, her voice ululating like a demented owl's. When he spoke, his voice was deep, and clearer than I would have expected.
"There's a lot of grief out there," he said. "I hope you're worth it."
I reached into my tunic with my left hand and pulled out a heavy purse. I tossed it onto the countertop beside him, where it landed with a solid, full sound.
"The price on my head is ten gold auri," I said. "There's at least that many in that bag, perhaps a few more. That presents you with an important choice. You can yell for help and die now, or you can pretend to help me and claim the reward later, hoping you'll get it. My guess is you won't smell it, once I'm taken, and you won't get what's in the bag there, either."
His face was expressionless. "There has to be a third choice, one where I keep the money. What is it?"
I told him. "There's a ropery, about two streets from here. You know it?"
He nodded. "I know it."
"Well, my men are there, loading a wagon with hemp. They don't know what's going on. Bring them here, to your back door, the one you just closed. Once I'm safe in the wagon, covered up, we'll leave, and you can keep the purse."
"Ten gold auri! Do you take me for a fool? You'd leave me choking in my own blood for a tenth of that. A twentieth!"
I shrugged. "I wouldn't. The money's not important. I can't expect you to believe that, but nevertheless, it's true. I carry it with me in case I ever find the opportunity to buy iron."
He was glaring at me sceptically. "Iron? You buy iron with gold?"
I nodded my head. "That's right, I do. Raw iron. Ingot iron. At least I would, if I could. But iron ingots are becoming more hard to find than gold auri." I could still see doubt and disbelief in his face, and I shrugged. "Take my word for it. We're going to have to trust each other, I fear."
He was silent for a spell, looking me straight in the eye with a speculative glare, then, "Look, stranger, I don't know who you are and I don't want to know, but nobody is worth ten gold auri, that's too ridiculous for words."
I nodded to the pouch. "Count it."
"Oh, I believe it's there. That's a heavy little purse, and you didn't pack it with flat stones knowing you'd be meeting me. But what I'm wondering is this: what did you do to Quinctilius Nesca that makes your hide worth ten gold auri?"
I could have lied to him, but something in his expression prompted me to tell him the truth.
"I broke his favourite nephew's face and carved my initials in his chest."
"You what?" There was laughing disbelief on his face now.
"You heard me."
"Aye, I heard you." He shook his head. "Who was his nephew?"
"He still is — I didn't kill him. I just put my mark on him. Caesarius Claudius Seneca."
His eyes grew round. "The crazed one? Him? He's Nesca's nephew?"
I nodded. "Aye, or his cousin. They're related."
He frowned. "But isn't he the Procurator?"
"He was. He's disappeared. But he was here before, about six years ago, visiting on business for the Emperor. That's when we — met."
He shook his head again and then moved suddenly to the window. I tensed and jerked my dagger out, prepared to throw it, but he merely put his eye to a crack as I had done and made no move to open the shutters. I relaxed slightly, and after a few seconds he turned back to me.
"You haven't a hope of getting out of this town today. Not a chance. They're searching door to door, and the less luck they have the harder they'll look. Nesca's a powerful man and a bad one to cross. He won't stop looking for you until he's tossed this whole town upside-down. You're safe here, for now at least. They've already been here. That's why I shut up shop, and why I knew who you were the minute I saw you. How did you get in?"
"You passed me on your way to close the back door. I slipped in here while your back was turned."
"Just as well you did. They came there, too, while I was shutting up — the same ones who had searched the front here earlier. I sent them packing."
"They searched the stable?"
"Not thoroughly, just had a quick look. I told them there was no one there and I was still angry at them from the first time, so they believed me. Why?"
I decided to hold my peace and said nothing.
"Hmmm," he said, tapping a thumb-nail against his teeth. "You're a lucky man."
I grimaced. "Lucky? You think so? Why?"
"Got away from them, didn't you? And you finished up here."
"That makes me lucky? I suppose it does."
"It does, friend. That makes you lucky."
He was hinting at something, but I didn't know what.
"How? I don't follow you."
He picked up the bag of gold and opened it, pouring a stream of coins onto the countertop. One of them he picked up and held towards me, between finger and thumb. "Because of this," he said. "And because I hate Quinctilius Nesca's lard-filled guts because of this." I said nothing, waiting for him to continue. He flipped the coin. "If I'd had ten of these, six years ago, I could have kept the business I had for five years before that gross slug came into my life. I borrowed some money from him and then lost my venture. He took everything I had. Even my wife. Not that she went to him. She just left me. Couldn't adjust to the pauper's life." His big fist closed suddenly over the gold coin and he scowled. "This Seneca, Nesca's cou
sin. It never occurred to me the Procurator might be the same man. What does he look like?"
"Why do you ask that? Have you seen him?"
The big man shook his head. "I don't know. I may have. You said he was here in Britain six years ago. That's when I had my trouble with Nesca, and he had a fellow with him at that time who caused a deal of trouble around here. I'd never seen him before, and neither had anyone else. But he was a really unpleasant bastard, handsome as a god and evil as a snake." He jerked his eyes away from mine and moved towards the window.
"That sounds like Seneca," I said. "He was always good to look at, providing you didn't look too deeply. Did he offend you personally?"
"Aye, you might say that." His voice was low and deep in his throat. "You might indeed." He moved back to the small counter he had been leaning against and began to smooth his thumb over its wooden surface, concentrating tightly on the grained pattern of the wood. "I had a son, a boy of five. He disappeared, and we never saw him again. Wolves, we were told, or a bear in the woods. Stupid to say the boy knew he was forbidden to go into the woods. He was gone. My wife was, too, soon after..." His voice choked into silence, and I saw his shoulders shake, but then he went on. "Later, months afterward, I found out that there were five young boys went missing that summer. Five of them. And it worked out that they all disappeared while Quinctilius Nesca's unpopular houseguest was in residence. And there were witnesses who saw the houseguest with two of the boys just before they were reported missing... Seneca. His name was Seneca...
"When we went looking for him. he had gone, back to the Court in Constantinople. Nesca laughed at us and threw us off his land. And the witnesses against his houseguest disappeared, the same way the boys did."
"I see." It was time to change the subject. My host's self-possession was deteriorating rapidly. "What business were you in?"
He blinked his eyes rapidly, clearing them of the tears that were gathering there, and he flipped the gold coin again.
"I was a wine importer. Not a big one, but comfortable. I learned the ins and outs of shipping the stuff while I was in the navy. Started small, once I got out, and did well. Then I saw a chance to operate on a bigger scale and borrowed the money to do it."
"And?"
"The ship sank. Or pirates got it. Either way, it makes no difference to me. Nesca took everything I had."
"How long were you in the navy?"
"Fifteen years. Got out when I was thirty."
"And after fifteen years, you risked everything on one shipload?"
He smiled, without humour. "No, on two, but the second one didn't arrive within three months of its expected date. By the time it did, it was Nesca's."
I felt a stab of sympathy. "He wouldn't wait any longer?"
"He wouldn't wait at all, the fat son of a whore. He paid the second shipmaster to take a tour. I found out afterwards. That was seven years ago, so you can keep your money, it's too late to do me any good. I'll get my satisfaction out of cheating that fat pig out of his. Are you hungry?"
Suddenly I was ravenous. I nodded.
"Good," he said. "Let's eat. There isn't much, and it isn't epicurean, but it'll fill our bellies. I'm Tertius Pella."
I gripped his outstretched arm. "Publius Varrus."
He produced bread and cheese and onions pickled in sour wine and we devoured them, and then he brought out a jar of truly wondrous wine, rich and red as blood, and I stopped with the cup halfway to my lips.
"What's the matter?"
I lowered the cup. "Guilt. You're giving me your hospitality and I've brought you more trouble than you know."
"How so?"
"There are two dead men in your stable, under the hay."
"Ayee!" He twisted his face. "That's awkward. Two of Nesca's?"
I nodded. "I'm sorry."
"So am I! They're bound to come back this way and search again. We'd better move them."
"Move them? Where to?"
"Dump them into the cellar under the floor and cover the door with straw. I'll bury them later."
"What about the blood stains? If they search, they'll see them."
"Are they bad?"
I nodded. "They bled like pigs."
"Not inappropriate. But where are they? I didn't notice them when I was out there."
"You weren't looking, otherwise you couldn't have missed them."
"Damnation! I can't claim ignorance, even though it's the truth. They'll never believe I didn't know the bodies were there when I wouldn't let them search. They'll haul me in front of Nesca, and as soon as he sees my face I'm done for. He knows I know he robbed me. This will be a perfect chance for him to silence me for good."
He stopped and looked at me strangely.
"Where will you go when you get away from here? Where do you live?"
"On a villa, about forty miles south of here."
"A villa, eh? You own it?"
I shook my head. "No, it belongs to a friend of mine. You'd like him."
"Can I come with you?"
He had surprised me again. "Come with me? You mean for good? What about your business?"
He looked around the shop. "What business? Nesca can have it, as a shrine for the bodies in the cellar. I'm sick of it."
I laughed, quietly. "Tertius Pella," I said, "if we ever get out of here alive, you will be welcome at our villa."
"Excellent!" He lifted his cup in a toast. "Here's to new friendships, new futures and a lingering, evil death for fat thieves!"
We emptied our cups, and he rose and went again to the shutters and stood there for a time, peering out through the cracks. The noise in the street outside had died away almost completely. Finally he spoke over his shoulder.
"You said you had a wagon being loaded with hemp. Is your driver a big, red-haired fellow, wearing a blue tunic?"
I was at his side in a second, and there was my own wagon, outside in the street.
"That's it! Get him in here! Can you do that? His name's Cerdic."
"Cerdic. Give me a minute."
It took him about three minutes, and then they were both back, Cerdic as glad to see me as I was to see him. My men had recognized me from the description they were given by the searchers, although they had said nothing to any of them. They had split up then and were now combing the town looking for me. Cerdic had stayed with the wagon, unwilling to abandon it. They had planned to reassemble at our camp outside of town and spend the night there before renewing their search for me tomorrow.
Cerdic was in a fever to get me into the wagon and covered up from sight. He had just been searched, he said, at the end of the street, and if we moved quickly, he thought he could go back the same way without being searched again. It was time for a quick and dangerous decision. Tertius showed him the back entrance and I waited there for them, opening the door when I heard them returning. Cerdic backed the wagon in immediately and I dived into the evil-smelling hemp and burrowed deep. I could feel Tertius Pella rearranging the load to hide all signs of my entrance. We pulled out again immediately and within ten minutes we were back at the checkpoint where Cerdic had been searched. I heard the watchman's challenge.
"Come on, man!" Cerdic roared. "You've just searched me! You've been through the whole whoreson wagon! I went to the end of the street to pick up my friend, here, at the mansio. Do you want us to strip for you? Want us to empty the whole whoreson lot right here on the road? If you're going to search, get to it! I've got better things to do than waste my time squatting here while you shed your fleas all over me."
I couldn't hear the answer he received, but we sat there for long, long minutes. I felt somebody's weight moving around on the wagon bed, standing on the cargo piled above me. I imagined whoever it was to be stabbing at random among the hemp with a spear, and my mouth dried up as I waited for the point of it to find me. It was hot and uncomfortable under there, and I started to have difficulty breathing. My throat grew dry and raspy, and I began to develop an urge to cough. I worked my tong
ue frantically, trying to generate saliva to kill the dryness. And then the wagon lurched forward and we were moving again, for a few paces. I heard Cerdic shouting something else, but I couldn't hear what he said. After a few more minutes, we moved on. The relief was overwhelming, and I lost the urge to cough.
As the wagon rattled through the cobbled streets, I found I was protected from the jarring by the springiness of the hemp, and I was almost lulled to sleep. Strangely, I thought, we were not stopped again for a long time, and when we did stop it was only for a second. I heard Cerdic shout goodbye to someone and wondered what was happening up there. Had Tertius Pella changed his mind about leaving after all? I knew that Cerdic would call me when we were safe and not before, so I made the best of my enforced idleness by going over the list of supplies that I would not be taking back to the Colony this time.
Suddenly we stopped again. There was a commotion above me, and I felt cool air on my face.
"Publius? Are you all right?"
I spat hemp out of my mouth and sat up. "I'm well. Are we safe?"
Cerdic laughed. "Aye. We're out of it. Thank the gods you kept your mouth shut. I didn't know if that first guard had killed you with his spear, but there was nothing I could do about it until we were safely out of the town, beyond the gates."
"What happened to Tertius Pella? Why did he leave?"
He looked puzzled, standing there staring down at me. "Leave? He didn't. He's here."
"Then who got off the wagon?"
"Oh, that!" He laughed. "That was the centurion who was riding with us. He got us through all the guard posts and we dropped him at the gates. That's why I was glad you kept your mouth shut. If you had squawked, I'd have had to kill him, and we'd really have been in trouble. Let me help you out of there."
Half an hour later we were at our camp. All of the other wagons had arrived ahead of us, and only two men were missing. They had stayed in Aquae Sulis, lodged at the mansio in the hope of hearing news of my escape or capture. They would rejoin the others in the morning.
I introduced Tertius Pella to his new neighbours. When I told them all the story of my misadventures that day, and how he had befriended me, they welcomed him as one of themselves.
[A Dream of Eagles 01] - The Skystone Page 46
