Paul Doherty - The Song of the Gladiator

‘Were any guards here?’ Claudia asked.

‘Outside the far wall, yes, but I didn’t think two corpses needed to be protected. Apparently a servant smelt smoke and came running out. By then the flames were licking through the door, so the alarm was raised.’

‘Why burn two corpses?’ Claudia asked.

Gauis pulled a face.

‘When you took Dionysius’s corpse to the Death House,’ Claudia continued, ‘how exactly was it done?’

Gaius glanced back towards his men and ran a thumbnail around his lips.

‘I found the corpse,’ he began slowly. ‘I was with a patrol. We were going for a pleasant walk rather than anything else. The Empress was called, and the villa physician, a garrulous old man with watery eyes.’ Gaius smiled. ‘I remember him because he made me laugh. He inspected the corpse very carefully and then pronounced, “Yes, your Excellency, the man is dead.” Even Helena smiled. One of my men tried to cut the ropes, but there was very little slack between the dead man’s wrist and the peg, so we pulled the pegs out. A stretcher was brought, and the corpse was loaded on.’

‘With the ropes and pegs still around wrists and ankles?’

‘Yes, yes, I’m sure! It was then taken to the House of Mourning. There are slabs around the walls, and the place stank from the old beggar who had been found earlier that morning. Anyway, we placed Dionysius on a slab and left him.’

‘What would have happened then?’

‘I’ll make enquiries, but I suppose a slave was sent to strip the corpse and wash it.’

‘So what would have happened to Dionysius’s clothes, and the ropes and pegs?’

‘They would probably have been left in the Death House,’ Gaius replied, ‘unless the slave took them to the rubbish heap. Why?’ He peered at Claudia.

‘If it was arson,’ Claudia declared, ‘the person who started it wanted to hide something. I wonder what? But you’re right.’ She stared at the sky. ‘It must be near midnight.’

She thanked Gaius and walked back to the palace, pausing to admire a bust of the Emperor’s father. Rufinus and Chrysis came out of a chamber, talking quietly to each other. They fell silent when they saw Claudia. Chrysis glared at her malevolently. He resented her presence and her influence with the Empress. Rufinus was about to smile but turned away, then clicked his fingers and came hurrying towards her.

‘Claudia, I knew there was something I wanted to ask, Murranus, is he well?’

‘A little embarrassed,’ Claudia declared, ‘but ready to fight again.’

‘I know, I know.’ The banker scratched his thinning silver hair, his lean face tense with concentration.

‘I hope it doesn’t happen again.’ Chrysis spoke up. ‘Rufinus is my witness, I placed a heavy bet on your boyfriend; we thought we’d at least get our money back.’

‘You had such confidence in Murranus?’

‘I know Spicerius,’ Chrysis retorted, leaning closer like a conspirator. ‘He drinks wine and spends too much time bouncing the divine Agrippina. They say he is slowing up. I actually laid two wagers: the first that Murranus would win and the second that there would be a kill within the hour. Didn’t I, Rufinus?’

‘He laid the wager with me,’ the banker confirmed. ‘All of Rome is talking about what we should do. Did Murranus win? Did Spicerius lose? Should the money be given back?’

‘And what have you decided?’ Claudia tried to keep her voice steady.

‘Well, as you know,’ Rufinus smiled sourly, ‘in a week’s time special games are to be held to celebrate the Emperor’s birthday. All being well, Murranus and Spicerius will meet again. The bets will be carried forward.’

Rufinus bade Claudia goodnight, Chrysis waggled his fingers obscenely at her and they both went back along the corridor.

Claudia decided to wander the palace. She felt physically tired, but her mind teemed like a beehive. She found herself near the peristyle garden and asked the guard where the cellar was. He gave her directions. Claudia first went to the kitchens, where she borrowed a lantern horn from a sleepy-eyed cook, who lit the oil lamp inside, secured the small door and handed it to her.

‘Don’t walk too fast,’ he warned. ‘Let the wick burn fiercely for a while.’

Claudia sat outside on a bench and watched the flame in the lantern horn strengthen before picking it up and finding her way to the cellar. The door was now unguarded, off the latch. She went carefully down the steps. The door at the bottom was flung open and Claudia went inside. She walked slowly, tapping the ground with her sandalled foot. The floor was of hard baked brick; the lime-washed walls had some cracks and crevices, the occasional gap, but there was no opening or any sign of another entrance. The ceiling too looked firm and secure, ribbed by heavy beams, the plaster in between hard and even.

Satisfied, Claudia approached the great circle of sand and sat down on one of the stools, staring up at the chain. She noticed how the links were well moulded and the hook at the end long and sharply curved. She closed her eyes. How could the robbery have happened? Gaius had been sleeping in the garden. The door to the chamber was held secure by two different locks and guarded by the Empress’s own mercenaries. Timothaeus and Burrus had unlocked it. The steward had explained to her how he checked the cellar three times a day to make sure that all was well, although, he confessed, he also wished to venerate such a holy relic. Claudia opened her eyes and glanced over her shoulder at the door.

‘So you came in here, Timothaeus,’ she murmured, ‘reached the edge of the circle, stared at the chain, and noticed the sword was gone?’

Claudia could understand Timothaeus’s shock; no wonder he’d fainted! The disappearance of the sword, not to mention the Empress’s wrath, would unnerve the strongest man. She stared down at the sand sprinkled with gold dust; now it had been disturbed by those who had come to search the cellar afterwards.

‘Claudia! Claudia!’

She turned round and gaped in horror. A figure shrouded in a cloak stood in the doorway. Claudia, hand trembling, lifted up the lantern. ‘Who is it?’ she called. The figure remained still.

Claudia rose, carrying the lantern before her. She was halfway across the chamber when she realised that whoever it was had not only hidden their body under a heavy cloak but also their face under a hideous mask of a satyr. Claudia’s mouth turned dry. She almost dropped the lantern as the figure moved quickly, coming into the chamber, slamming the door shut. Claudia moved back.

‘Who are you?’ she demanded. She tried to recall the voice, but it could have been anyone’s. In the light of the lantern the satyr mask looked malevolent. She noticed the long stabbing dagger this grotesque now carried. She kept moving back, desperately trying to recall if she had seen anything in the cellar she could use to protect herself. Her leg hit one of the stools, and she picked this up and moved back into the circle of sand. She’d made a mistake! The sand was very soft and deep and her feet immediately sank, the sand coming up to her ankles, impeding her retreat. The figure walked slowly forward, carefully, measuring each step. Claudia lunged forward, trying to extricate herself from the sand. She flung the stool at her attacker. It narrowly missed. She picked up another stool. Retreating round the circle of sand, she began to scream and yell, throwing one stool after another, trying to discourage this nightmare figure, so silent, so menacing.

At last, desperate, Claudia threw the lantern. It crashed at the feet of her assailant, and the flame burst out and, by mere chance, caught the edge of the grotesque’s cloak. Claudia, almost hysterical with fear, gabbled a prayer as the flame caught the dry cloth, and her opponent quickly retreated, taking off the cloak. The cellar door was flung open and the assailant fled. Claudia immediately ran after, through the half-open door, but there was no sign, nothing but a dirty cloak lying on the steps. She picked this up. The cloak was threadbare, soiled and smelt rank. The flames had died, leaving a charred, frayed edge lit by the occasional spark. Claudia stamped on these and returned to the cellar, picking her way carefully through the fallen stools. The lantern was smashed, the flame extinguished. Claudia cursed her own foolishness. She shouldn’t have come here in the first place; perhaps it had been even more stupid to return. She ran to the door, slamming it behind her, and raced up the steps.