My stomach dropped a little. I couldn’t tell the general that I’d already told Urien’s daughter. “One of the leads I’ll be following up. And some of the money was owed to Urien, so when-”
“-If I’m still governor, I’ll see the man gets paid. Go home and get some rest, Arcturus. I need you at your best.” His eyelids drooped beneath the shaggy brows.
“Good night, sir. You’ll hear from me soon. Vale.”
He grunted, and closed the door behind me. No guard waited for me; luckily, I already knew the way out.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
I was dreaming of Camulodunum-green and yellow with buttercups and narcissus and daisies in the springtime. Blood began to drip down the petals, and splashed against the elms. I asked the Syrian, who was trying to saw off the rest of his head, if he knew how to stop it. He nodded, and the head came off and rolled at my feet. I picked it up, and my hands were useless, soft and swollen with decay. Then it turned into Agricola’s head, and then my eyes opened.
I sat straight up. The dark room was suffocating. I shook my own head to clear it, gingerly checking my neck to make sure it was still attached.
When I walked out of the room, the house was still and cold. Before dawn, then. Good. I’d need to be at the procurator’s at dawn. My house shoes made a comforting skidding sound on the floor, as I walked through the hallway to Draco’s room. I’d sent him to bed when I got home last night, and hadn’t bothered to wake up Brutius for door duty. I opened the door, and the squeak of the hinges was enough to make him jump.
“Master?”
“Yes, Draco. Wake up Venutius and Brutius, and have Brutius heat up the caldarium for me.”
I could just barely make out his form springing from the bed. “How is Bilicho?”
“I don’t know yet. I’m going to check right now.” I left him fumbling in the dark for a robe. I was seeing qualities in Draco I didn’t know existed.
I walked back through the hallway, passed my room, and carefully swung Bilicho’s door a few inches. I could hear his breathing: it was regular, even, and untroubled. I’d wait until I lit a lamp before I looked him over. I opened Coir’s door, and made my way to the side of her bed. Before I could wake her, she sat up, shaking.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you.”
I could hear the sounds of Brutius lighting the furnace, and Venutius clanging a pot. No roosters yet. Did I even go to sleep last night?
“What would you like, Master?”
She let out a deep breath, rubbed her eyes and yawned, her short hair sticking out all over. I smiled. “Some light. I need to see Bilicho.”
It only took a few minutes for the household to seem like it had never slept, like there was never a night at all. I smelled oat porridge from the kitchen, and started to feel some warmth beneath my feet. I could hear the dogs barking outside, waiting for Brutius to put down their food. Draco was whistling, while he lit the fire in the triclinium, and I was watched a grumbling Bilicho still propped up in bed.
He was better. No sign of fever, and his pupils were normal. Best of all-he was complaining.
“I’m fine. Let me up! I can’t do a damn thing lying here.”
“One more day’s rest, Bilicho. Two would be better. I’ll compromise that far-and only that far.”
He glared at me. “My doctor thinks he’s my mother.”
“You had a mother?”
We grinned at each other.
“All right. Can I at least go lie down on the couch in the dining room?”
I helped him up. I could tell he was still sore and dizzy. He’d need another draught to relieve the pain and help him sleep. By the time we got to the triclinium, Draco had built a steady fire, and Venutius was serving porridge with honey for breakfast. The oats wouldn’t hurt Bilicho, but even he had to admit he wasn’t very hungry. So while I ate, I told him about last night.
“So the upshot is that Meditor-who’s always hated your guts-will be making your life as miserable as only he can, and Avitus is also on your back. This is what happens when I’m out of commission.”
“You don’t get all the credit. Avitus is pissed off because I kept my mouth shut about Maecenas. And Meditor is-well, you know what Meditor is.”
Bilicho started to nod, and then winced. “Yeah. Luckily for him his ass isn’t as narrow as his brain, or he wouldn’t be able to shit. So what happens now?”
“After I make up a tonic for you and take a quick bath, I’m going to see the procurator. He might’ve known Maecenas, or maybe he heard something. And Agricola asked me to. I’ll leave for Camulodunum tomorrow.”
“Makes sense.” He shot a glance at me while I finished the apple preserves. “So you think Rhodri dug him up?”
“Uh-huh. Probably Rhodri and Madoc. Sometime before dawn yesterday. And when they couldn’t find the money, Madoc went to Lupo’s to find out what happened. Then he followed me, to figure out what I knew, and what I was doing, and maybe to give me some friendly-or even unfriendly, it’s hard to tell these days-advice. They had even more reason to knock you on the head, if Rhodri had unburied a corpse a few hours before and left it on top of the mithraeum. I’d want to get the hell out of town, too.”
“They didn’t need to leave him on top the temple. That’s just pure spite.”
“Maybe. Maybe it’s also a warning.”
“What do you mean?”
I rubbed my neck. “I think the killer is after Rhodri and Rhodri knows it. If he exposes the body, word gets out, and that means the vigiles, the beneficarii, everyone will be after the killer.”
Bilicho wrinkled his forehead for a minute. “But what if everyone thinks Rhodri’s the killer?”
My mouth felt a little tight. “They will. As soon as Meditor finds out about that brawl. It was a desperate move-like the sacrifice squeeze in latrunculi. But apparently Rhodri and Madoc feel they stand a better chance of survival if the murder is brought into the open-because maybe it will bring the murderer into the open.”
“That is desperate.” He felt the back of his head, tenderly. “I won’t hold this against them.”
“Your bump on the head and the Syrian’s return visit last night are what convinced me that Rhodri’s innocent. But his only chance is if I find him or the murderer before either Meditor’s men or the murderer himself.”
“So how many crimes now?”
“I don’t know. I think the murderer is the same person who laid out Maecenas like a roast pig. But I don’t know whether he took the papers, or Rhodri did. Or even someone else. We can figure out why someone would want to dig up Maecenas, but I still don’t know why someone killed him. Unless it was to protect Agricola, which doesn’t make sense. Nothing much does.”
I stood up. I could tell what Bilicho was thinking, and what he was about to ask, and I didn’t want to talk about it. “I’ll make your drink. Burnet and valerian, I think.”
He lowered his lids and said nothing. I called Coir to help me, and my back felt relieved when it couldn’t feel Bilicho’s eyes on it.
* * * * *
By the time I finished bathing, he was asleep. The valerian would keep him out for hours.
I felt cleaner, but not as clean as I’d like. My mind flitted over the last two days, searching for a way out or a way in-I wasn’t sure which. What I needed was less thought and more action. I had too much to think about to think about it.
It was a little after dawn when I headed for the procurator’s house. For once, it looked like the rain might be pouring on someone else, and some sun trickled over the muddy streets. Still icy, still Londinium.
I’d left Draco behind. With Meditor and his boys on my tail, I needed to be inconspicuous, which was hard enough for one tall man. At least I could trust Mollius. I’d helped him get the assignment with the vigiles. Meditor wouldn’t give his men anything like the truth, and he’d probably try to make something up about me. But whatever scent he was on, Mollius would let me know. If I couldn’t stay one step ahead of Meditor, someone should slit my throat.