Part Three
Justice
27
Something remarkably hard and immense rushed up and struck me from below: packed, dry earth. As if I'd been scooped up by a giant's hand, I felt myself pitched forwards, rolling head over heels and then abruptly coming to a complete stop. Beside me I heard Tiro moaning. He was complaining about something, but his words were slurred and indistinct. For a moment I forgot about Magnus entirely. All I could think of was how remarkably thin the air is, and how extraordinarily dense the ground seems by contrast. Then I came to my senses and looked up.
Magnus's glowering face seemed incredibly far away; how could I have possibly jumped such a distance? There was no chance that he would follow — no sane man would take such a leap except to save his life. Nor would Magnus dare to raise a general alarm, not with Sulla in the house — that would risk raising too many questions and unpleasant complications. We were as good as free, I thought. In the time it would take Magnus to scurry through hallways and down stairs we would have long since disappeared into the night. Why then was he suddenly smiling?
The sound of a moan drew my eyes to Tiro, who shivered on his hands and knees beside me on the parched grass. He rose to his feet, or tried to, then fell helplessly forwards; tried again, and fell again. His face was twisted with pain. 'My ankle,' he whispered hoarsely, and then cursed. I looked up again at the balcony. Magnus was no longer there.
I scrambled to my feet and pulled Tiro upright. He clenched his
teeth and made a strange gurgling noise — a howl of pain swallowed by sheer will.
'Can you walk?' I said.
'Of course.' Tiro pushed himself away from me and promptly collapsed to his knees. I pulled him upright again, clutched him against my shoulder, and began to walk as quickly as I could, then to trot. Somehow he managed to limp beside me, hopping and hissing with pain. We made our way a hundred feet or so before I heard a faint scuffling behind us and felt my heart sink.
I glanced over my shoulder to see Magnus dashing into the street, silhouetted by the blazing lamps of Chrysogonus's portico. Following him was another figure — the lumbering hulk of Mallius Glaucia. For an instant I saw the blond giant's face, lit by blue moonlight and framed by sputtering torches, streaked with blood and looking hardly human. They froze in the middle of the street, peering this way and that. I pulled Tiro into the shadow of the same tree from which we had watched Sulla's arrival, thinking the darkness might shield us, but the movement must have caught Magnus's eye. I heard a yell and then the slap of sandals against the paving stones.
'On my shoulders!' I hissed. Tiro understood immediately and hobbled to comply. I ducked between his legs, scooped him up, and started running, amazed at my own strength. I glided effortlessly over the smooth stones. I took a deep breath and laughed out loud, thinking I could run a mile and outdistance Magnus with every step. I heard them shouting behind me, but faindy; mostly I heard the pounding of blood in my ears.
Then, in an instant, with the drawing of a single breath that came up shorter than the others, the thrill of the moment subsided. Step by step the burst of energy dwindled.. The level ground seemed to tilt uphill and then to melt, as if I were running through mud. Instead of hughing I was coughing, and suddenly I could hardly lift my feet; Tiro was as heavy as a bronze statue. I heard Magnus and Glaucia behind us, their footfalls drawing so near that the back of my neck began to twitch, flinching at the prospect of a knife between the shoulder blades.
We staggered along a high wall hung with ivy. The wall came to an end. That was when I saw Caecilia Metella's house to my left. The portico was lit with a single brazier, flanked by the two guardians stationed there for the safekeeping of Sextus Roscius.
A breathless citizen carrying a slave piggyback was probably the last thing the two bleary-eyed guards expected to come rushing at them out of the darkness. They rumbled for their swords and jumped to their feet, looking like startled cats.
'Help us!' I managed to gasp. 'Caecilia Metella knows me. Two men are running after us — street criminals — murderers!'
The soldiers drew apart and held their swords ready, but made no move to stop me when I bowed my head and let Tiro slip from my shoulders onto his feet. He took one limping step and then crumpled with a moan in front of the door. I stepped past him and began beating on the door, then looked over my shoulder to see Magnus and Glaucia come to a skittering halt just within reach of the brazier's light.
Even the armed guards stepped back at the sight of them — Magnus with his wild hair, scarred face, and flaring nostrils, Glaucia with blood streaming down his forehead, both clutching daggers in their fists. I banged on the door again.
Magnus turned shifty-eyed, lowered his blade, and gestured to Glaucia to do the same. 'These two are thieves,' he said, pointing at me. Despite his wild appearance, his voice was measured and even. He wasn't even winded. 'Burglars,' he declared. 'Housebreakers. We caught them forcing their way into the home of Lucius Cornelius Chrysogonus. Hand them over.'
The two soldiers exchanged confused glances. They had been ordered to keep a prisoner inside, not to keep anyone out or to keep peace in the street. They had no reason to help two wild-eyed men with knives. Nor did they have any reason to protect two unexpected callers in the night. Magnus should have told them we were escaped slaves; that would have obligated the soldiers, as fellow citizens, to hand us over. But it was too late to change his story now. Instead, when the guards made no response, Magnus reached into his tunic and pulled out a heavy-looking purse. The guards looked at the purse and then at each other, and then, without affection, at Tiro and me. I beat on the door with both fists.
Finally a slit opened and through it peered the calculating eyes of the eunuch Ahausarus. His gaze shifted from me down to Tiro and then beyond us to the assassins in the street. I was still breathing hard, fumbling for words to explain, when he opened the door, ushered us inside, and slammed it shut behind us.
Ahausarus refused to wake his mistress. Nor would he allow us to stay the night. ('Impossible’ he sniffed haughtily, as if hosting Sextus Roscius and his family were taint enough on the household.) Magnus might still be waiting in ambush outside the house; even worse, he might have sent Glaucia for reinforcements. The sooner we left the better. After some hurried negotiations (mostly I begged while the eunuch arched his eyebrows and stared at the ceiling), Ahausarus was quite happy to see us off with a team of yawning litter bearers to carry Tiro, along with some gladiators from his mistress's personal bodyguard.
'No more adventures!' said Cicero sternly. 'There's no point in it. When she hears of it in the morning, Caecilia will be scandalized. Tiro's injured himself. And there's no telling what sort of repercussions might have come of it — spying on Chrysogonus in his own house, with Sulla in the very room! My own slave and a disreputable henchman — forgive me, Gordianus, but it's true — caught wandering about a private home on the Palatine during a party to honour Sulla. It wouldn't be hard to make that out as some sort of threat to the security of the state, would it? What if they'd caught you and dragged you before Chrysogonus? They could have called you assassins as easily as thieves. Do you want to see my head on a spike? And all for nothing — you didn't learn anything new from the whole escapade, did you? Nothing of importance, as far as I can see. Your work is done, Gordianus. Give it up! Everything depends now on Rufus and me. Two more days — tomorrow, and the day after, and then the trial. Until then no more of these absurd adventures! Stay out of the way, and try to stay alive. In fact, I forbid you to leave this house.'