Scorpion Rising

He rose, smoothed his hair back from his face and ran his fingers down the delicate leaves of the acacia.

'The Hundred-Handed wield the same spiritual influence as the Druids, except they interpret the cycle of life as a five-pointed star which they call the pentagram. The tips represent birth, growth, maturity, decline and death in sequence,' he said, 'but the difference is, the priestesses do not believe in gods like the Druids. They preach worship through nature and advocate peace in all things.'

'Sounds very noble.'

'It is.'

'But?'

Gabali turned his face away. 'One of the initiates, a girl of a mere twelve summers, was found murdered close to the sacred boundaries of the College. Her name was Clytie, she was killed on the spring equinox and her murder has never been solved.'

There was no point in asking where this was leading.

Claudia stared at the Spaniard's straight back and wondered why a day in midsummer should dawn so chill.

'The priestesses aren't celibate,' he continued, 'but no man is permitted to set foot inside the precinct, not even the tribal Chief, and thus, since no proper investigation was conducted, Clytie's killer remains at large.'

'Call me slow, Gabali, but I don't see where I come in.'

'No? I was rather thinking that if you were to talk to the priestesses-'

'Excuse me, this is Gaul you're talking about?'

'Yes.'

'And you haven't forgotten that we're in Rome having this conversation?'

'No.'

'Or that I'm not a priestess?'

'No.'

'Or that I'm unfamiliar with the Gaulish language?'

'I assure you, I have not forgotten any of those things.'

'Well, I'm glad we cleared that up. Do carry on.'

'Thank you.' He bowed. 'Clytie's death was similar to previous murders that plagued Santonum two years before, but then a group of vigilantes caught the brute kneeling over his victim with his hands round her throat. I won't go into details. Sufficient to say, this monster was put to execution.'

'You think it was a miscarriage ofjustice?'

'I do not.' Gabali was clear about that. 'Although Clytie's arms were arranged like this,' he positioned his own in an outstretched position, 'her hair fanned out and her face painted-'

'Like the previous victims?'

'Like previous victims, si' but this time the body was not found in the town, there was no sexual assault and no signs of strangulation. Little Clytie bled to death from cuts on her wristsAre you all right?'

'I'm… fine.'

From inside the house, skillets clacked in the kitchens as breakfast was cooked, the sound of heather brooms could be heard sweeping the cellars and the smell of freshly baked bread filtered out from the ovens. With every ounce of self control she had left, Claudia thrust the memories of her mother's drained corpse back into the dark pit where they belonged and concentrated on staying alive.

'You obviously don't feel there's a copycat killer on the loose, either,' she said, because why else would he be proposing this bizarre exchange?

'That is the story Beth, the Head of the College, is putting about, but me, no. I do not believe it.'

As daylight turned the leaves from dull grey to green and the first blackbird began to sing, Claudia wondered why she'd thought her wine business important.

'Gabali, you seem a level-headed sort of chap, let me ask you a question.' She swivelled round on the bench to face him. 'Why me?'

He shrugged. 'I'm assuming you don't want to die.'

Fair point. 'Then let me ask you another question.' She stood up and walked across to where he was standing. 'What's to prevent you from killing me, once I've discharged my obligation?'

Blackmailers don't stop once they've got their claws into their victim, and she was unlikely to be useful for anything else. Also, he said himself the Scorpion was a ruthless thug and that no one who double crosses him lives.

'Because I give you my word.'

'Which, as an assassin and extortionist, is worth what, exactly?'

He ran his tongue under his upper lip. 'In their thirteen years of Roman occupation, the Aquitani have not confined themselves solely to the import of wine and olive oil. In the past, of course, their slaves comprised fellow Gauls, captured in raids or taken as trophies of war.' His mouth twisted up at one corner. 'But thanks to you Romans, a whole new global market in human flesh has opened up.'

'Including Spaniards.'

'The Andalus yielded an especially rich harvest, si. I have the distinction of being one of their earliest exports, and never let it be said the Hundred-Handed don't move with the times.'

'I thought you said men weren't allowed in the College?'

'That's right, they're not.' Gabali plucked a late cherry from the tree and munched carefully. 'They live in a compound on the hill behind the College, where they're set to tending the livestock, brewing and general maintenance work.' He spat the cherry stone into the centre of the fish pond. 'We work like dogs but are kept as stallions, if you follow my meaning.'

'The Hundred-Handed might be a matriarchal society, but they still can't manage to father their own children?'

'It seems we have some uses,' he said, with a lopsided grin, and whilst Claudia could see how he might be bitter, she understood why the priestesses had picked him. 'Once the children are born, they're placed into communal custody, where they're raised by those women who, for one reason or another, didn't qualify for the fifty elite, so you see, even the mothers don't spend time with their own children, much less the poor fathers.'

Oh, sweet Janus. 'Clytie was your daughter?'

'Those bitches wouldn't let me near her when she was alive,' he said thickly, 'but I'm damned if I'll let them betray her now that she's dead.'

It was a convincing argument, Claudia thought. Had it not been for the fact that he killed people for a living and was as trustworthy as his scorpioidal boss 'I make no promises,' she told him bluntly. 'I'll happily go back to Aquitania' — as though she had a choice — 'and ask around at the College, but I can't guarantee finding your daughter's killer, much less bringing them to justice.'

'If you find the killer, I will see to the justice part,' he murmured. 'As to the rest, all I ask is that you do your best and, as a woman, you will have a better chance of finding the truth.'

Claudia doubted that.

'What about the Scorpion? If he knows I'm not only alive, but on his patch-'

'Do not worry about the Scorpion, Merchant Seferius. You will be perfectly safe in Aquitania.'

Claudia doubted that even more.

'Can I hope you will be packed by midday?' he asked in a manner that brooked no negotiation.

'My dear Gabali, I shall be packed in a hour,' she breezed back. Because this Spanish assassin might be a mine of infor mation and a pedant for detail, but what he couldn't possibly have gathered from watching her house was that Claudia Seferius didn't just play rough, she played dirty.

And strangely enough, excelled in both.

Three

In the centre of the world between earth, sky and sea, at the point where the realms of the universe meet, the whisperings slowly came together. Swirling jointly in excitement and confusion, they jumbled through the halls of falsehood, rumbled down the trail of dreams, until finally they tumbled through the gates of confidence as truth.

Unlike Rumour, Truth carried conviction.

Carried on the soft warm wings of night, she soared over bright, shiny basilicas and painted stone tribunals without stopping, for there was no one to listen to her there. On and on she flew, past fountains, statues, bathhouses and barracks, watching broad metalled roads below give way to narrow rutted tracks as six-storey tenements fragmented into single-storey thatch. With every rolling hill and wooded river valley that she passed, Rome became more and more distant. For though the conquerors pulled on the oars of administration and finance, it was the Druids that steered the spiritual tiller.