‘Is this true?’ he said to Redux. ‘You use poison in this fashion and keep it in this phial?’
Redux shrugged. ‘It’s true that I do add wolfsbane to my ink — as many people do — but why he has this bottle I have no idea, or even whether it is really one of mine.’
The soldier nodded. ‘And there’s another thing. I notice that you are carrying a knife.’
Redux looked shaken and turned pink again. ‘For dining, that is all.’ He moved his hand towards the wine jug on the shelf, as if he would like to pour a reviving glass of it, but then withdrew it as the tribune glanced at him.
The soldier smiled grimly. ‘Of course. Yet this man, who has been attending the same feast, does not seem to have one. Unless it is the one the victim is carrying in his back? And, citizen, if I were you I wouldn’t drink that wine.’
Redux looked momentarily appalled and ran his hands across his chest. ‘Why ever shouldn’t I? You don’t think. .?’ He gestured towards me.
The tribune gave a self-important smirk. ‘I have seen a body or two that have been stabbed before. And I can tell you this, it isn’t easy to stab someone in the back just once and have them die so instantaneously. It’s hard to be sure you have hit the vital place. Not unless the killer has a special skill with knives, or the victim conveniently sits quite still for them — as at first sight it seemed this fellow did. Or unless the blade is poisoned, naturally.’
Redux looked at him with dismay, and pushed the wine jug surreptitiously away. ‘You think the blade was poisoned? But who on earth would do a thing like that? And where would they get the poison from?’ He was gabbling.
‘I don’t know, citizen. Unless they were using it to protect their manuscript from rats?’ He smirked and put his blade away. ‘But I do know this. It’s possible that both of you have had a hand in murdering this man. I’ll have to ask the pair of you to come along with me. And we’ll have your servant too. Now, will you come quietly, or shall I send for help? I have sent for reinforcements to come up anyway — and I think that I can hear them in the stairwell now.’
It would have been hard to miss them — the clattering of hobnail sandals as a quartet of soldiers took the staircase at a run, and a moment later they had burst into the room.
‘You two — ’ he indicated a couple of them with his hand — ‘keep a watch here until arrangements can be made about the corpse. You others, search the building and find out if anyone was spotted coming in and out of here, except our fine friend and the pavement-maker here. I’ll take them into custody meanwhile.’
‘Take us to the garrison, if you take us anywhere,’ I said, suddenly having visions of being dragged off to the jail. ‘The commander knows me, he’ll tell you who I am.’
‘May be true, sir,’ the eldest soldier said. ‘I believe I have seen this citizen before.’
For the first time the tribune looked less than confident. ‘The garrison? Well, if you say so, citizen. It can’t do any harm. But if it proves to be some kind of trick, believe me you will wish you’d never been born.’
‘Perhaps you could send to Helena Domna, while you’re taking us,’ I seized on the little advantage that I seemed to have. ‘The commander would wish you to call the witnesses.’
He hesitated, visibly this time. Then he turned to Minimus. ‘Very well,’ he said. ‘You can run back to Helena Domna’s house and tell them what has happened and what we need from them.’
Minimus glanced nervously at me. I nodded and he needed no bidding after that. He had disappeared before the tribune had the chance to say, ‘If you know the commander, I suppose it’s different. I won’t take you at sword point, but be sure of this — if either of you make any move to run away at all, I’ll run you through. I am the quickest sword in all the garrison — I used to practise with the emperor for his displays of skill. And it wouldn’t be a nice quick death, like this poor fellow had. So, if you are ready — let’s be on our way.’
Sixteen
The appearance of a troop of Roman soldiers in full uniform cleared the staircase as surely as a pail of water will get rid of dogs. Not even the ancient dice players were there to see us leave, though no doubt there were unseen figures still watching from above. Still, our exit was less ignominious than it might have been.
The tribune was as good as his promise, too — he did not draw his sword, although the way he marched us down the street, with himself between us and a half a pace behind, made it quite clear that this was not a pleasant social stroll.
The streets were busy at this time of day — everything from egg-women to imperial messengers — and we attracted a good many frank and curious stares. But no one hemmed us in. When people suspect that you are under guard, they tend to pass by on the other side, and give you as wide a berth as possible, as if you have some terrible disease which they might catch. Today was no exception, and though the streets were thronged with traders, shoppers, slaves, animals and groups of wealthy councillors emerging from the baths, the crowd seemed to open up miraculously to allow us through.
So it didn’t take us very long at all to walk across the centre of the town and turn down the wide and handsome thoroughfare towards the southern gate, where the garrison commander had his headquarters.
Redux had begun by trying to look bored and casual, but the tribune forced us to maintain a brisk and steady pace and it wasn’t long before the warehouse keeper was out of breath again. Scarlet and panting, he leaned on a wall, begging to be allowed to rest, but the young officer was keen to show his power. He threatened to march us at sword point if Redux stopped again, much to the entertainment of a scrawny boy, who was sweeping up the street.
‘I’ll put you in this bucket, citizen, and carry you,’ he mocked, waving the stinking pail of manure: droppings from the animals which had been driven to the forum market earlier that day, which he was doubtless picking up to sell. ‘Can’t have a fine gentleman like you marched off like a common criminal.’
Redux flushed more than ever and struggled on again, though he was getting more out of breath at every step. I was finding it difficult to keep up, myself.
So there was no chance of any conversation on the way, and when we reached the gatehouse finally it was a huge relief to be allowed to stop. Though even then there was no rest for us. The tribune gave the password and the guard let us in. We were marched into the courtyard where troops were forming up, for some sort of route-march by the look of it. We huddled in a corner and were told to stand and wait, while the tribune sent a passing soldier scurrying upstairs to let the commander know that we were there.
‘Give him a report. Say it’s from the tribune who arrived here yesterday. Tell him two suspects await him in the yard. Arrested in suspicious circumstances at a murder scene. Between them they have daggers and an empty phial — both of them are common tradesmen and though they’re citizens, I doubt that either of them was of Roman birth. Tell the commander that — and that one of the wretches claims acquaintanceship with him. I’ll have them guarded, until he sends for them.’ And with that he disappeared into a guardroom opposite, where I saw a centurion get up at once and offer him a seat, even before the door had time to swing closed after him.
It was a long wait, standing in the dusty wind, but we were not permitted to sit down, or squat, or even lean. As surely as we did so, the centurion came out and rapped us round the legs with his confounded stick. Obviously he’d been detailed to keep his eye on us. I tried to have a word to Redux as we stood — to ask why he had not spoken up in my defence — but our guard saw me whispering and rapped my legs again, bellowing that I had not been told to talk. In the end there was nothing for it but to stand there and endure.
After what seemed like an eternity, a different soldier came clattering down the stairs and announced that the commander was awaiting us. I was about to take him at his word and climb the steps, when the tribune reappeared — obviously anxious to be seen in charge. He drew his blade and ordered us to precede him up the stairs, while he urged us onwards with sword pricks from behind.