Now that I had found the ingots, I crossed to examine them and introduced myself, as any lead mine slave would, by giving them a friendly kick. I hurt my toe, but did not care; at least I knew for certain this ghostly mass was real. As I bent to rub my foot my hand hit a small object hidden against the leaden stack. I held it up: it was a plain brass inkwell, its contents long ago dried up. All three of us looked at it but none of us spoke. I put it in the pocket of my tunic slowly, then shivered in my holiday cloak.
Helena Justina spoke up with a hint of dramatic urgency: "You are trespassing, Falco. I want you to go."
I turned. As our eyes met, I felt the sudden familiar lift in my spirits. I felt certain, too, that we were partners sharing a charade.
Now there was three of us in the vault, a new tension had taken effect. It felt like belonging to a geometric problem where certain fixed elements would enable us to draw the figure if we followed Euclid's rules. I smiled at her ladyship.
"I finally worked out that a few barrels of nutmeg were not enough to keep bringing down the roof of the Cloaca Maxima. Lead bars would though! The political plot has foundered; so the ringleader probably intends the ingots for himself. I've also worked out that he'll make for the pigs and then make off. There's a neat row of heavy-duty waggons in the yard that I reckon are due to leave laden with silver after curfew tonight. When he comes for them, here I am."
"Falco!" cried Helena, apparently in outrage. "It's my father you cannot arrest papa!"
Titus could. Still," I commented drily, "in cases of treason we spare senators the inconvenience of a public trial. His honour can expect to receive a warning note in time to fall tidily on his own sword in the privacy of his very select home"
There is no evidence," Helena argued.
Sadly I disagreed. "A great deal of circumstantial evidence has always pointed direct to Decimus. From his first volunteering to assist his friend the praetor, through to the way you and I were ambushed, and on to an unsavoury man who was planted in my rooms during the period when your father was so conveniently paying my rent… As a matter of interest, ladyship, why have you never mentioned the existence of this vault? What are you intending to do let your father make good his escape with what silver there is? Very loyal! I'm certainly impressed!" She stayed silent, so I turned to her uncle, still playing the ingenuous part. "Bit of a turn up for you, sir? Your highly placed brother named as Domitian's paymaster"
"Shut up, Falco," Helena said, but I went on:
"And madam here, who so admires an Emperor who will do the paperwork, yet seems magically eager to allow her noble father to diddle the Mint… Helena Justina, you know you can't do it!"
"You know nothing about me, Falco," she muttered in a low voice.
I whipped back, perhaps more intensely than I meant: "But oh my soul, I wanted to find out!"
I was desperate to get her away from here before things started getting rough as I had no doubt they soon would.
"Sir, this is no place for a lady," I appealed to her uncle. "Will you instruct your niece to go?"
That is her decision, Falco." His mouth compressed slightly in his practised, indifferent way. He had a strangely static face; I guessed he had always been self-sufficient, private to the point of being odd.
I was standing with my back to the cold bulk of the stacked lead bars, with Helena to my left and her uncle on the right. I could see he knew that whatever I was saying to her, I was always watching him. I tried again.
"Listen to me, ladyship. When you and I were in Britain you said Sosia had told me who the conspirators are. So she did."
Then you lied to me, Falco!"
"Not knowingly. But I know now, that before she died she identified the men involved. Titus Caesar is in possession of the evidence. So will you do as I say, Helena, I beg of you? What has happened here, and what happens today, need be nothing to do with you"
Publius Camillus Meto finally broke in: "Wrong, Falco!"
Helena Justina was hugging her light mantle against the chill which lapped our skin. Wearing his toga, as a man of any standing would on a public festival, Publius held his arms folded just above his waist, like a soldier on a mission reassuring himself subconsciously that his dagger and his sword were still to hand. He was looking directly at me as he searched to discover the truth of what I really knew. I lifted an eyebrow, encouraging him to go on.
Then he said in a voice that became creamy with vindictiveness: "If you were properly informed, you would realize Helena Justina has been at the centre of this scheme since she was married to Pertinax!"
Odd how your mind works sometimes; before I even turned back to her, I had accepted that what he said was true.
My head spun. Our eyes met. She made no attempt to deny it. I ought to have known. With my brutal luck, I had bound myself to her wholeheartedly and until now had never doubted the lady's honesty!
As she watched me accept it, I saw the contempt in her face. I had trained myself never to react visibly, yet I realized everything I felt for her had become all too obvious in my face. I could not change my expression. Simple distress held me rooted where I stood against the ingots, unable to accuse her, unable even to speak.
Then blackness exploded at the back of my skull, and among the blackness penetrating lights.
LXI
Nothing she had ever said was true. Nothing she had ever done was real… I was unconscious but I still saw her stark face, frozen at that moment when she watched me realize.
I was recovering my senses enough to know I was lying on my face, while someone Camillus Meto himself was tying up my arms and feet. He had made quite a good job of it, though he had made the mistake of not trussing the two lots of rope together as I would have done myself. If he left me alone, I might manage to obtain a degree of mobility.
Odd how your mind continues working even in unconsciousness. As I came round, I could now hear an indignant voice asking the questions I ought to have demanded immediately: if it was Helena, why did she tell me Pertinax owned the contraband ship? Why did she give Titus Caesar the conspirators' names? Why did she send me Sosia's bracelet today?…
I must have groaned.
"Keep still," Meto grunted.
I had always suspected that bland exterior might conceal a jaggedly clever man. He had selected the one statement that would devastate me; then clubbed me with the pommel of a sword, which I could now see lying near. Trying to distract him I started to mumble, "I haven't felt so stupid since an army training officer told us the session was over, then ran at us with his drawn weapon as we left the exercise ground… The lesson was, never to trust your opponent until he was carrion On second thoughts I added innocently, "Or until you have him very securely tied up!"
Standing directly above me Meto apologized insincerely. "Sorry!"
Really, there was no pretence any longer. And I had no doubt; the moment he had struck me down he acknowledged his own guilt.
"Where's Helena?" I demanded.
"I've got her outside."
I tried to keep my voice level, but that news left me frantic. What had he done to her? What would he do to her?
"People will start looking for me, Metol"
"Not yet."
"Did you have to say that about her?" I was violently angry.
"It only matters if you cared for her"
"Oh no!" I interrupted gratingly. "It only matters if she ever cared for me!"
Laughing, he picked up the sword. "Well, Falco, if she did you bungled it!"
"Oh I bungle everything!" I admitted with regret.
But I knew a horse who could have sworn an affidavit that that was untrue.
I lay still. I had an idea Camillus Meto might be the type to kick me in the ribs; mine had suffered enough on this case and still pained me as it was. While I was a slave I had braced myself for constant mistreatment, but now I had convinced myself that was over I could feel uncontrollable panic rising at the mere threat.