But there was a depressing lack of conviction in Leo's denial and a few more pieces of the puzzle started to slot into place. The arson attack, for one. Upping the stakes in whatever game was being played out on this paradise island. It explained the pirate's cool demeanour in the bay — that low insolent bow. It explained why he hadn't simply stormed the place, too. The Villa Arcadia might boast strong defences, but if Jason gathered a small pirate navy, they'd be no match for Leo's resistance and heaven knows there were enough spoils on this site to go round. Whatever it was Leo had and Jason wanted back, it was something Jason couldn't simply come in and take.
So why didn't Leo simply ignore the ship in the bay? Why bother to go after the Scythian?
'This remains strictly between ourselves,' he warned Qus. 'No one else is to know about these spears, understood?'
There was a slight pause. 'Of course.'
Leo leaned into his face. 'Cross me, boy, and I'll have you demoted to labouring before you can even say "sorry". Do I make myself clear on that?'
'Absolutely.' Pause. 'Sir.'
'Good man. Now let's go strip the hide off some pirates!' Flexing his shoulder muscles, Leo grinned and slapped his bailiff on the back. 'Show 'em what fibre we Romans are made of.'
Maybe it was a trick of the light, but Claudia could have sworn she saw the big Ethiopian flinch.
Three speared warnings, each creeping that little bit closer than the last, was the classic hallmark of the psychopath as he piled on the psychological pressure. Arson had probably been his original intention last night. So close to the villa, it had been meant as a warning. But then he'd found Bulis wandering about — and Jason didn't strike Claudia as the type to kiss an opportunity goodbye. Wrong man in the wrong place at the wrong time, poor sod, Bulis had been a matter of simple expediency. By killing the young apprentice, Jason's warning could not possibly be ignored.
And Leo, the blockhead, had taken the bait.
Every piece of ornamentation on that Scythian lance was a symbol of the warrior's courage and skill. The rattles represented the swiftness of his horse's hooves. The carvings reflected the tattoos on the warrior's skin: totems to protect him. The feathers were the feathers on his arrows, those deadly instruments of death that even Rome's finest bowmen couldn't match. The yellow ribbons exemplified the rays of the sun god. And the clumps of hair? Actually, they symbolized nothing. These were trophies pure and simple.
Scalps of the men the warrior had killed.
Sweet Janus, who did Leo think he was tangling with here? Hadn't he learned any lessons from history? You just do not mess with these people!
Scythia was the vast and rugged country to the north and west of the Black Sea. No matter what Rome had thrown at her over the years, Scythia had withstood every attack, had repulsed every advance, not an inch of territory had been conceded. Pity. Because Scythia controlled trade and shipping; a nice little earner for Imperial coffers if the country had fallen. But the point was, if the whole might of the Roman Empire couldn't defeat these superlative warriors, what hope had Leo in the Medea?
This, remember, is the race who scalp their enemies and use their flayed skins to cover their quivers. The race who gild the skulls of their enemies and use them as ceremonial goblets. The race where human sacrifice is still practised…
Leo, dammit, had not only chosen to go head to head with one of these barbarians but to hell with anyone caught in the crossfire.
Claudia slipped quietly through the gate which led to the herb garden, where the the apple fragrance of camomile mingled with the scents of mint, coriander, thyme and spicy basil. Sun, shining through the feathery fennel, dappled the lemon balm, and bees buzzed around the hyssop and the lavender. Same old Silvia, she thought. Immaculate and unruffled, regardless of the crisis, be it fire, pirates or — hefting pots of lilies? Her fair hair gleaming in the early morning light, she was sitting on a bench while an oriental slave girl sang about unrequited love as she gave her mistress a pedicure.
'You do know there's a pirate ship in the cove?' Claudia asked.
'The captain's a Scythian and his name is Jason.' Silvia indicated to the girl to continue singing. 'Apparently his mother's an Amazon and he gets his looks from her.'
Claudia imagined Jason would get looks from hundreds of women.
'Aren't you worried about a galley full of barbarian thugs on your doorstep?' she asked. Dammit, this woman was a mother of three. She couldn't always be this detached, could she?
'He's just taunting us,' Silvia said, holding out her other slender foot for attention.
'Maybe so, but your brother-in-law has taken the bait.'
'Then he's a fool.' Silvia picked up the tortoiseshell lyre on the bench next to her. 'Water is Jason's element and Leo should know better than to charge off making a fool of himself.'
She wasn't serious? 'A boy's dead, Silvia. He's bound to feel passionate about exacting revenge.'
'Revenge!' Silvia began to strum softly. 'No individual can possibly take on Jason single handed and win.'
'You're not suggesting Leo lets him get away with this outrage?'
'Don't be silly, dear.' She might have been talking to a small child. 'We're merely saying it's high time our brother-in-law used his head for a change. Or more pertinently, his family connections.'
'Trust Leo to have a naval commander in the family.'
'No, no. His cousin Marcus is attached to the Security Police-'
'What?' Some spiteful Cressian god is playing tricks with my ears. 'Orbilio is Leo's cousin?'
'Know him, do you?'
'We may have met.'
Silvia adjusted the tension on the second string. 'Well, then, you'll know that with Marcus's clout, we could get troops, boats, artillery, whatever is necessary to rid the Gulf of these desperadoes.'
Dammit, Claudia should have paid more attention that day Leo came calling! Vaguely (now!) she recalled him mentioning that his cousin Marcus had suggested he pay her a visit, but come on — there are an awful lot of Marcuses in Rome and besides she'd been too busy wondering how Hylas the Greek had traced her so fast and worrying what size of dossier the Security Police had been compiling on her doping activities to venture into family histories. Stupid cow! Claudia ground her heel into the camomile. Croesus, she'd even remarked on the family resemblance. Same tall build, same lean physique, same thick, dark, wavy hair. No dimple on the chin, of course, but instead of putting a simple two and two together, she'd been too busy digging an escape tunnel from Rome. Shit! Orbilio had counted on that, dammit. That's how he'd sprung his trap.
'Younger than Leo by a decade,' Silvia drawled, 'but twice as handsome and ten times as ambitious. Has his sights on the Senate, you know.'
'Actually I do know.'
And guess who's his fast track? Given that the more results a man can clock up, the closer it takes him to the Senate, think how much faster his travel when the perpetrators conveniently hand over the incriminating evidence themselves!
'If only Leo were not so obstinate on the issue of assistance.' Silvia laid the lyre on her lap and fixed her big blue eyes on Claudia. 'Given the laurels he'd win for ridding the Liburnian Gulf of marauders, Marcus would not be sole to resist the challenge.'
Much less if his cousin got himself killed out there this morning! Dear Diana, a snapping turtle could sink that pathetic little crate, never mind a seasoned warship. What on earth was Leo thinking of? The only good thing that could possibly come out of it was that the death of his cousin at the hands of a bunch of pirate rebels would fire a crusade so strong, so fierce in his proud patrician breast, that Orbilio would comb every inch of this secretive landscape until he had the Scythian at bay. What's more, he would have the backing of the whole damn Roman Empire behind him, there would be nowhere for them to hide.