“She heard a pig squeal outside, and went to look out the window. When she turned around, the soldier was standing there with Caelius, who was surprised to see her. He thought she’d left. He told her to remember that she’d been with Maecenas all night, if anyone asked. She went downstairs, and that’s all she saw.
“But a little later, she heard noises upstairs, and Caelius came down and-and hit her. He told her that if she repeated anything she’d seen or heard, they’d mutilate her. I don’t want to say how, you can use your imagination. Then he had the idea to get Galla to pretend to be Stricta, because they were friends, and nobody would pay attention to Galla, anyway, because she was a drunk.
“Galla talked too much, as you know. Caelius found out, and-beat her to death. Stricta had been planning to kill herself, but she wanted to revenge her friend. So she used a little of the poison to drug a customer who’d paid for the whole night, and left while Caelius was still …” She shuddered. “The rest you know.”
I held her at arm’s length. “Have I told you today how beautiful you are?”
“No. But don’t start, Ardur, I feel terrible hearing that poor woman’s story, and knowing that man wanted to-wanted to-”
“Yes, I know. And I know you miss your father. As soon as I can catch my breath we’ll see him. If he gave you to Caelius, it was only because he was ill, and his mind was clouded.”
She twisted a ring on her finger. “I think Caelius has some sort of hold on him. He wouldn’t listen to me, wouldn’t believe me when I told him Hefin and I would be in danger. All he could think of was the money.”
I took her hand. “That was the illness talking. Not your father.”
She looked at me doubtfully, and I kissed her head. “I’m right. You’ll see.”
A loud banging on the door drew Draco from the kitchen where he was eating.
He was at the front door in a few strides, a determined look on his face. He came in the dining room a few minutes later, his mouth still full of oat cake. “It’s a message, sir.”
I unrolled the scrap of papyrus, and recognized Avitus’ handwriting. It said: “Have a few to check. Bring the woman.” I grunted and showed it to Gwyna. “Draco, I need to go to the fort. It’s still a few hours until dark, but I’d like you to stay here. I need to take Stricta.” I looked at Gwyna. “I’d better get Bilicho.”
A tap on his door brought him out immediately. “Yes, Arcturus?”
“I’m sorry, Bilicho. I just got a message from Avitus. They’ve found some men who answer Rhodri’s description, and Stricta is the only one who can identify the right one. Can she come?”
A thin brown hand grasped Bilicho’s shoulder, and he turned. Stricta stepped into the hallway, meeting my eyes with that peculiar grace that was all her own. She was too thin, like a stripped leaf in the winter time. But her eyes were clear, and they were strong.
“Of course I’ll come, Arcturus.” She spoke Latin with a pronounced Greek accent. Bilicho would have to learn Greek now. I told her so in that language, and she laughed, a low, throaty sound that seemed to fill his chest with enough pride and joy to make him float to the ceiling. I was getting even for all the times he’d given me those funny looks.
“What did you say?”
“I told Stricta you’d have to learn Greek.”
“Can you teach me?”
“I think she can teach you better,” and winked at him. He blushed. He was hopeless.
Stricta took her green cloak. It covered most of her face. I nudged Bilicho in the ribs. “Keep an eye out, now. Don’t get so soft that you’re not good for anything.”
“What are you talking about? I’m as hard as a rock.”
I leaned over and whispered: “Yes, but in all the wrong places.”
He blushed an even deeper red, and said: “You’re as bad as Antonius.”
Stricta said nothing. She knew we were scoundrels.
We arrived at the fort a little over an hour later. I didn’t want to hurry. Stricta was physically weak, and I was worried about her, though I didn’t tell Bilicho that. When I gave my name to the guard, they told us to go straight to the principia, the officers’ building and the most formal one in the fort.
There seemed to be a lot of activity, and the thin woman with the stained green cloak drew attention we didn’t need. Bilicho and I flanked her.
The primus pilus was there to greet us, along with Quintus Claudius Corvus, Agricola’s head of staff. Avitus was beside him.
“That was quick. It took longer to get here than to receive your message.”
“When you left I found I had one myself. Seems one of our temple members told his centurion that one of the men in his contubernium had been asking a lot of questions about the temple, and the rites, and so on. It made him nervous. The fellow is a frumentarius, and of course our man worried that if he didn’t tell him what he wanted to know, he wouldn’t get his daily ration.”
“What’s the man like? Does he know why he’s here?”
Corvus replied. “He’s been told there’s a change in the ration order. We also picked some other men who might fit the description Avitus sent us. They’ve joined him in the office there.” He nodded to his left.
“As for what he’s like, he’s been a very honest frumentarius. He travels to the city frequently, deals with merchants, and is always searching for better bargains for our fort. Our main foodstuffs are supplied by conscript, of course, but the men get tired of oats and barley. He’s tried to liven up the diet.”
“But what is he like, Corvus? How does he act? What gods does he worship?”
Corvus shook his thick head. “No one seems to know much about him. His name is Sextus Narbo. He’s a very intense man, very single-minded, a good soldier. He keeps himself to himself. Not a bad idea, if you ask me.”
I nodded. Avitus said: “Where’s your eyewitness?”
I held Stricta gently by the elbow. “She’s here, gentlemen. Let’s get on with it.”
We walked toward the room on the left. The doorway was open, and the soldier standing guard at it saluted Corvus and Avitus, and stood aside.
Inside, there were five men sitting in front of a desk, most looking bored. Some were thin, some were dark, one or two were both. But one-and only one-stared at us as we walked in. His eyes burned like coals, and even from a distance I could tell they were an uncommon brown-green, more like an animal’s than a human’s. There was something familiar about him-I wondered if I’d seen him before. He made me uncomfortable. I kept my back stiff to keep from squirming.
He wasn’t wearing a green scarf and a gold pin. Just a tunic, and they’d taken his sword. But he was poised to run or strike. I could feel it. He was the man.
Corvus and Avitus both looked at Stricta. She slowly removed her hood. Bilicho and I held on to her. I could feel her body weaken, but her resolve was stronger. With a long finger that didn’t tremble, she pointed at him and said in a low voice: “That is the man.”
Panic seized him. He looked around the room for a place to hide, found nothing, and bolted for the door. He made it past Corvus, but not the two guards. They held him, struggling, his face hard and bitter and full of something else-something fanatic. I’d seen faces like that in Rome during the Magna Mater celebrations, men in fits of ecstasy that would try to castrate themselves out of love for the goddess. He didn’t look like a gallus, but the madness was there.
With a crook of his finger, Corvus sent two soldiers to search his belongings. The primus pilus, whom I hadn’t met, was trying to question him and getting nowhere. Bilicho’s arm was around Stricta, and she leaned into him.