At length, I stumbled upon an area that had recently been disturbed. Overturned rocks exposed the worm trails beneath, and clods of earth had been dug up. Some instinct led me to move a particular stone, and behind it I discovered a narrow defile, just large enough for a man to stick his arm inside.
The idea that a snake or a spider or something even more terrible might live in such a crack gave me pause. I took a deep breath, then reached into the dark hole.
My fingers touched something cold and scaly, and I heard a slithering noise. I drew back my hand, then had a glimmer of realization. I reached inside again and felt my hand immersed amid bits of smooth, cold metal. I trapped one of the coins between my forefinger and thumb and pulled it out.
The silver was tarnished almost black, but the images were so finely cast that I could easily make out Bellerophon astride his winged horse, Pegasus. On the reverse was an image of the monstrous Chimera slain by the Corinthian hero. The coin was thick and heavy in my hand.
I became so lost in studying the images that I didn’t hear the approach of the horse and rider. When their shadow fell on me, I looked up, startled. The sun formed a blinding halo around the soldier’s gleaming helmet.
“Beautiful, isn’t it?” said Marcus. “The coin, I mean. It’s a funny thing, how some objects are beautiful because they’re one of a kind-like that figure of Hercules you took from me. But coins become more beautiful the more of them there are. And there are a great many in that little hiding place you’ve discovered. It took me months to dig up those coins, along with all the other treasures I’ve found amid the ruins.”
“Treasures?” I said, my mouth dry.
“Vases and such. A lot of the things I find are broken to bits, or melted by the flames, but every so often I find something so perfect I can hardly believe it. Like that little figurine of Hercules that Tullius found yesterday and dared to slip into his coin purse. From what I overheard, he and his friends agreed ahead of time to split anything they found evenly between them, and when they found this particular cache of treasures, they agreed to leave it intact and come back for it later. That was naughty of Tullius, to slip the Hercules into his coin purse while the others weren’t watching. What if Menenius had come across it while searching the dead bodies, and realized where it came from?”
I frowned. “Overheard? When did you hear Tullius and the others talking?”
“Yesterday, as they went about their business here in the ruins. They clucked like hens the whole time-and had no idea I was watching and listening. I can thank my training for that. Quintus Menenius may be one of the stupidest men the gods ever made, but he did teach me a thing or two about stealth and surveillance. That sort of thing comes in handy if you want to scavenge treasures from an area that’s off-limits, and keep anyone else from doing so.” He shook his head. “Titus Tullius and his friends thought they could come here, loot to their hearts’ content, and run off with the spoils, and no one would lift a finger to stop them. What fools!”
“Why didn’t you simply report them to Menenius? Wouldn’t he have arrested them?”
“Menenius would have clicked his tongue, given them a stern lecture, and sent them on their way-then barred all visitors to the ruins, posted guards night and day, and sent a full report to the Senate asking for further instructions. My treasure stores would have been discovered. My little operation would have come to an end. I’d have nothing to show for all my hard work.”
“How long have you been doing this?”
“Scavenging the ruins? For months. Almost since the first day I was posted to this gods-forsaken place. I couldn’t believe no one else had thought of doing the same thing. The locals are all too superstitious to go nosing about the ruins, and so are most of the Roman soldiers. That silly Lucius keeps the others frightened half to death with his stories about witches and ghosts. I encourage him at every turn, of course. Meanwhile, I come here as often as I safely can, and go treasure hunting. Usually I find nothing. Sometimes I find a ring or a stray coin. And every so often I make a real discovery, like a cameo from a brooch, untouched by the flames and in perfect condition. Or a bag of coins that must have been buried by some wealthy Corinthian, thinking he could come back later and claim it. I hide the things I find. There’s no safe way to smuggle them out without someone noticing, and nowhere in this gods-forsaken place to spend the money or sell the precious stones, so my treasures just keep accumulating. How Tullius and his friends were lucky enough to stumble on this particular hiding place, I can’t imagine.”
“Lucky? Surely it was misfortune that led them here.”
Marcus laughed. “Yes, since I observed them doing it. I couldn’t report them, because that would ruin my own scheme. And I had no intention of letting them come back here the next day, and the day after that, plundering the treasures I’ve worked so hard to accumulate. Ugh, this thing is hot!” He took off his helmet and tossed it on a soft patch of ground, then combed his fingers through sweat-soaked tufts of blond hair streaked with gray.
“So you got rid of them,” I said. My mouth was so dry I could hardly speak. I was so dizzy I thought I might fall. “Did you kill every one of them, all by yourself?”
“I certainly did. With this.” He pulled his short sword from its scabbard. “Had a terrible time cleaning all the blood off afterward.”
“But how did you manage it? Why didn’t they resist? No, wait-I think I know. You’re not alone in this scheme. The innkeeper is in it with you.”
“How did you deduce that, Gordianus?”
“The way Zoticus and I slept that night-we were tired from the long day and the heat, but not that tired. It wasn’t natural. Some sort of drug was put in our food or wine. Something that made us sleep like dead men. The innkeeper did it.”
Marcus gave me a shrewd look.
“And he did the same thing to Titus Tullius and his party,” I said. “He put something in their wine that sent them into a deep sleep-so deep that not one of them woke while you killed them at your leisure. Why didn’t you kill Zoticus and me, as well?”
“I’m a soldier, Gordianus. I kill from necessity, not for enjoyment. Clearly, your interest in the ruins was historical, or in the case of your old tutor, sentimental. A Roman pup wandering amid the rubble and a doddering Greek declaiming poetry posed no threat to me. I told Gnaeus to drug you so that you’d sleep through the killing; I saw no need to kill you as well. It seems I made a mistake-which I now intend to rectify.”
He deftly swung one leg over his horse and dismounted, keeping the drawn sword in his hand. He tightened his grip on the hilt, making ready to use it.
I backed away and tried to stall him with more questions. “The witch’s curse-the lead tablet among the bodies-was it a forgery?”
He laughed. “Can you believe the coincidence? Gnaeus and I found it when we searched Tullius’s room after the killing. We couldn’t believe our luck-a genuine curse tablet, scary enough to make Lucius faint and even old Menenius lose all common sense.”
“But who made the tablet?”
“Ismene, I’m sure. Lucius always said she was a witch. I took the lead tablet downstairs and hid it among the bodies. It was perfect, that Lucius should be the one to find it. And the way you read it aloud, with that tremor in your voice-like an actor on a stage! Even I had to shudder. ‘Egyptian Ufer of the Mighty Name!’” Marcus laughed so hard he stopped in his tracks. But he was still holding the sword.
“Lucius said something about other soldiers who died, in their sleep,” I said. “He blamed witchcraft.”
Marcus shrugged. “That was my doing. Aulus figured out what I was up to, and demanded a share. So I poisoned him. A month later, Tiberius did the same. Lucius was sure they died by witchcraft and told everyone so. No suspicion ever fell on me.”