Ovid

'Nonsense. We'll go in together.'

'Ground rules, remember.'

'But…'

'Don't worry. If Davus is there I'll come back out and get you.'

'Be careful, then.'

'Yeah, sure.' I grinned.

'Marcus, I mean it!'

'I know. I'll be careful.'

I took the knife from its scabbard at my left wrist — I'd got a new one since my brush with the muggers — and walked towards the gates. My left shoulder was still stiff, but Scylax's massage had worked wonders and I reckoned I could handle myself pretty well if anything did go wrong. Not that anything would go wrong, of course.

I paused at the entrance to the warehouse. The double doors were unbarred, which was curious: like I said, everything we'd passed had been locked up tight for the holidays. But then again I didn't know why Davus had chosen this place. Maybe he worked here. Maybe he could come and go when he felt like it and had left the front door open for us. All the same I held the knife ready and went in carefully.

'Davus?' I shouted.

No answer. It was dark, of course, after the sunlight outside. I stood still and waited for my eyes to become adjusted. Then I looked around me.

Paquius was obviously in the grain trade like his neighbours. Down each long wall of the shed stood a series of corn bins. Their lids were open and I could see that most of them were full of dried grain. At the back was an industrial size mill with bags of (I supposed) flour stacked against the wall beside it ready for distribution when the warehouse reopened the next day.

I shouted again. 'Davus!' Still no answer. Maybe he was hiding until he knew it was safe to come out. Not that there was anywhere in that place to hide. 'Hey, it's okay. I'm a friend. Valerius Corvinus. Harpale sent me.'

Something scuffled to my left and I whipped round, knife levelled; but it was only a rat. I walked up the centre of the warehouse towards the mill at the end.

The gate of the last bin had been lifted and the grain was lying in a pile on the stone floor. Resting on the side of the pile, its sole turned towards me, was a sandal. Or maybe not just a sandal. I went over for a closer look, the hairs lifting on the back of my neck because I already knew what I would find.

I was right; but I moved the grain away, just to make sure.

How he'd died was obvious enough as soon as I turned him over and saw the gaping flap below his grey-stubbled chin. His throat had been cut from ear to ear with one slash of a very sharp knife. I checked the grain beneath him. It was dry, and there was no sign of blood. While I did it his eyes stared up at me, blankly, accusingly.

So much for getting the name of our fourth conspirator. If Julia's door slave had known who the guy was he wasn't going to pass it on now. I'd come to a dead end. Literally.

'Fuck,' I whispered.

Just then, I heard footsteps behind me. I spun round.

'Corvinus, if you expect me to stand around outside while you…' Perilla began.

Then she saw what was left of Davus, and it was too late for explanations.

22

The journey back was hellish, even with the Boys to help. I had to half-carry Perilla most of the way to where we'd left the litter, which caused quite a stir at times. Then even when I'd got her under a familiar roof — the Fabius place had been the nearest — it took two cups of neat wine and a lot of quiet talking before she looked even half herself.

I never wanted to go through anything like that again. Ever.

The iron was back in her spine now, and she was sitting up straight in her chair and talking rationally; but her eyes were still strange and I knew it would be a long time before the lost look disappeared from them.

'Marcus, who'd want to kill Davus?' she said. 'He was only a harmless slave.'

I sipped carefully at my own wine, holding the cup with both hands so it didn't spill. Finding the old guy had shaken me too, more than I'd've liked to admit.

'Davus wasn't harmless,' I said. 'Or at least what he knew wasn't. And he was killed as a warning to me. That's clear enough.'

'What makes you think that?'

'It wasn't done at the warehouse. There was no blood. Someone brought him there specially and left him for us to find.'

Perilla shuddered. 'Let's give this up,' she said. 'It isn't worth it.'

I shook my head. 'I can't. Especially not now. Davus may not've been a client of mine but I was responsible for him. He trusted me and I let him down. The least I can do is find his killer.'

Her eyes suddenly opened wide.

'How are we going to tell Harpale?' she whispered. 'I gave her my word nothing would happen to him.'

Yeah, I'd been wondering that too, and I wasn't looking forward to it, although the old girl probably knew already through the slave grapevine. Not the details, only that Davus was dead.

'Send for her now. Please, Marcus!'

I signalled to the wine slave, who was shifting nervously from foot to foot as close to the door as he could get. He left quickly.

'It wasn't your fault,' I said. 'If anyone was responsible I was. I knew I was being watched. It wouldn't've been difficult for whoever was tailing me to follow Harpale when she took the message.'

'Then they could've killed you as well. They could have been there waiting.'

'And had the Gauls to face? No, like I said this was just a warning. Davus was the important one. Our only witness, and I pointed them straight at him.' Brilliant, right? I thought bitterly. Smart move, Corvinus. Score one for the home team.

The slave came back in with Harpale. She knew, that much was obvious from her eyes. Their accusing look reminded me of Davus's.

'I'm sorry, Harpale,' Perilla said.

'He was dead when we got there.' I couldn't face the old woman's eyes. I got up from where I'd been kneeling beside Perilla and crossed over to my own chair.

Harpale ignored me.

'What happened, madam?' she said quietly.

'His throat was cut. They left him for us to find.'

The old woman nodded, as if she'd been expecting it. Maybe she had.

Then she turned to me.

'You promised, sir. You promised.' No accusation in her voice; she was stating a fact. 'You promised he'd be in no danger.'

Shit. 'I know I did,' I said. 'But there was nothing I could do.'

Suddenly, without warning, the old woman folded up like someone had pulled the bones out. Perilla caught her as she fell and steered her towards her own chair. We watched guiltily, neither of us touching her, until she came round.

'I'm sorry, madam,' she said. Her voice was thin as a ghost's.

'That's all right. Just…'

'You see Davus was my brother.'

Perilla shot me a startled look. I signed to the wine slave hovering in the background. Perilla took the cup he handed her and held it to Harpale's lips. She shook her head.

'I'm all right, madam. Just give me a moment. Please.' We waited until her breathing calmed. 'He always knew they'd find him. After he ran away he got work, down at the docks where they don't ask too many questions. I was the only one who knew where he lived.' She looked straight at me. 'It was my fault, wasn't it, sir? I led them to him.'

'No,' I said. 'You were just the messenger. Whoever's fault it was, it wasn't yours.'

But the old woman wasn't listening. She'd begun to rock back and forwards gently; the way peasant women do at a death.

'He knew he shouldn't have seen the gentleman's face,' she said. 'He told me. Told me he knew him. That was all, he wouldn't tell me the name. Then when the master was took, the self-same day, he packed his bag and left the house. Said it wasn't safe any more. He was always clever, was my Davus. Too clever for a slave.'

"The master". That would be Paullus. Davus had run away the day Paullus had been arrested for treason. So he'd known how important his information was. And what it could do to him. Clever for a slave right enough.