I panted after him. ‘We have lost the others,’ I said.
He shook his head. ‘It is not important. The kiln is straight ahead along this track. If they follow us, they will come to it.’ He turned to me, and there was a strange look in his eyes. ‘I thought you wished to be alone with me. Is that not why you dragged me from my father’s house, an hour before his funeral?’
He was more perceptive than I thought. ‘Perhaps,’ I said. I looked at him. ‘When did you last consult the soothsayer?’
He thought for a moment. ‘It was days ago. The last time I lost heavily at dice. I wanted her assurance for the future, but she had nothing to say. She was unwell, she said; she had a headache and she could not read the signs. I had to come away.’
‘You lost at dice?’ I said. ‘Or was it that you had to pay your comrade at the baths?’
He scowled. ‘Oh, so you know about that too? A little of both. That is why I had staked so high. With a little luck I could have paid all my debts.’
There was no answer to that, and I tried a different tack. ‘And do you know what she promised Flavius?’
He sneered. ‘I thought you had heard the tale. Rollo told everyone. Flavius was to make two tokens from a piece of bone and when the two parts were reunited, Julia would be his. It is not an unusual superstition.’
‘But it is a superstition,’ I said. ‘I wonder that you believed her at all.’
He turned away and strode on, and nothing that I said could provoke an answer. In any case, there was no room for speech. The path leading into the valley was narrower now, and wetter, and every step had to be made with care. If the light failed, I thought, we should need more than torches to get us back on the road dry shod. Then, just as I was beginning to despair, we turned a corner and Maximilian cried, ‘There it is. That is the place.’
It was indeed an abandoned kiln — more abandoned than I had imagined. It lay at the bottom of the valley, a rectangular chamber half set in the ground, its pierced roof crumbling and its entrance archway cracked. A trickle of water ran along the pathway to the door, flooding the tiled culvert which had been built to contain it. Through the hole in the roof it was possible to see the close-set walls of the over-chamber, where the tiles would have been made, and the arches which supported them over the central flue that ran the length of the kiln. Somebody had thatched over part of the roof, covering the smoke holes, and made a narrow chamber, scarcely the width of a man, between two of these inner walls, while stagnant water lapped under its base and rats scrabbled at the sides. It was the most unlovely dwelling I have ever seen.
I came a little closer and saw that it was even more unlovely than I thought. The woman was there, a pile of old shards and shattered phials beside her. She seemed to be asleep, lying alongside the lower aperture, beside the blackened remnants of a fire.
I looked at Maximilian, and he at me. Then together, we slithered down the slope towards the kiln. But one look at her face told me the dreadful facts. There would be no prophecies today. The soothsayer was dead.
Junio, behind us, had hesitated on the bank, and I called to him. ‘Fetch the others. Run!’
Junio set off like a stone from a ballista, and we heard him calling faintly down the path. ‘Come quickly, come quickly, the woman is dead.’
She had died of a fever, by the look of it, for she was wizened to the bone, her lank hair was plastered to her head, and beneath the warts the death-pale skin was still blotched and red in patches. Maximilian went to move her and I pulled him roughly away. ‘Don’t touch her. Do you want to be the next? Have you not heard what happened a few years ago in Rome? Thousands died of a fever much like this.’
He drew back, horrified, and I saw the expression on his face.
‘You cared for her?’
‘I hardly knew her,’ he said. ‘But there has been so much death. Although,’ he went on, his eyes widening in horror, ‘I spoke to her some days ago. I hope she did not have the fever then.’
I might have answered him, but there was the sound of feet on the path and Junio and Sollers came running up, with Flavius and the guards not far behind.
‘What is it?’ Sollers said, clambering swiftly down to join us. ‘Dear Hermes, the spotted fever. Do not touch her, either of you. We must get a litter for this body, and have it burned before the fever spreads.’ He took a corner of the ragged skirts and pulled it gingerly towards him. The corpse rolled over grotesquely. Junio, who had climbed down after Sollers, drew back in horror.
‘How long has she been dead?’ I asked.
He shrugged. ‘I cannot tell. Not long. A day or two perhaps, no more. The body is cold, although it would not take long to chill it here. But see these reddened marks upon the back — I have seen this before on slaughtered soldiers. The blood seeps down a few hours after death, and where the body lies it makes these bruise-like marks. Yes, poor hag, she has not long been dead.’ He got to his feet as Flavius came up, red-faced and flustered, followed by the slaves and soldiers.
Flavius came to where the kiln pit was and peered down. There was a long pause when he saw the body huddled there. His face turned from fiery red to white, and back to red again and then he burst into nervous laughter. ‘Where are your spells and omens now, old hag?’ he cried. ‘Much good they did us, either of us!’ He was shaking with emotion.
‘I should. .’ Sollers said, and moved towards him, but I motioned to the soldiers.
‘Seize him,’ I said.
Chapter Twenty-five
Even then, Sollers was too quick for me. Before there was time for anyone to move, he had whipped out his knife and was holding it to Maximilian’s throat with one hand while he pinioned the youth’s arms with the other.
‘If anyone takes another step,’ he said, ‘the boy dies.’
Flavius stopped laughing. ‘What is this?’ he demanded, whiter than a toga again. ‘Sollers?’
‘He killed Quintus,’ I said. ‘And Rollo too, although I was too stupid to see it. I was not sure of that until a moment since, when he was telling me about the woman here.’
Sollers gave me an unpleasant smile. ‘Yes, that was an oversight of mine. I should have realised you would see the implications.’ He jerked the knife upwards, making Maximilian flinch. ‘Now, I am going to walk away from here. I will take the boy. You will not follow me, unless you want him dead.’
Maximilian was pallid with fright, but he made no sound beyond a sobbing breath. His head was motionless, as if he feared to blink, but his eyes were fixed downwards, watching the hilt of the knife. Sollers began to move away backwards, very slowly, holding the boy in front of him like a living battleshield.
One of the soldiers drew his sword, and Maximilian screamed. ‘No!’ There was a trickle of blood from his chin where the knife had nicked him. It ran slowly down to drip upon his mourning toga, staining the sober border like a reproach. Sollers was moving again, his eyes flickering suspiciously from me to Flavius, to the soldiers and slaves and back again.
I lifted my hands to show that they were empty, and began to speak. ‘What do you hope to gain from this, Sollers? You cannot escape for long. As soon as you have gone we shall alert the watch and they will be searching for you throughout the province.’
Everyone turned to stare. I felt the eyes of them all upon me. That was what I wanted. On the area by the kiln, behind Sollers, Junio was on his knees and, infinitely stealthily, was lifting one of the stones in the culvert. It would leave a jagged hole in the path over the stream. He was skilled at handling stones, and if anyone could do this, it was Junio — but it was essential that no one else should see. The faintest flicker of interest from the soldiers and somebody was dead. I feared it would be Junio.
I was talking for his life. ‘Sollers,’ I said, ‘Marcus is on his way. He has a litter ordered. If he gives the word you will be hunted across the Empire.’