David Wishart - Sejanus

He moved on to another slab. This one showed a series of figures.

'The myth of Keret.' His finger touched a helmeted figure in a kilt, clutching a knife. 'A Phoenician folk-hero. He was defeated in battle by enemies invading his country. The Supreme God arranged for him to have a magical son who drove out the invaders.' He smiled. 'This was long before the Romans came, naturally.'

'Is that so?' I said. Just then there were footsteps on the wooden floor of the corridor outside. I looked up expecting the wine slave, but it was the girl with the beautiful eyes. She was even more of a looker than I'd thought. She paused when she saw me, then came in.

'I'm sorry, Father.' The eyes were lowered; she could've been fifteen, certainly no older. 'I thought you were alone.'

'That's all right, my dear.' Marius opened his arms and she moved into them like a fish drawn in by a line. He kissed her forehead, and I thought she shuddered. 'This is my daughter, Corvinus. My Ta'anit.'

'Yeah?' Something was wrong somewhere, although I couldn't quite put my finger on it. 'Unusual name.'

'Oh, officially she's Marilla.' His lips brushed her hair. 'A good solid Latin name. But to me she is Ta'anit-pene-Ba'al, the Face of the Lord. Isn't she beautiful? Quite perfect. And she will breed perfect sons. Marvellous sons.' He paused. 'Magical sons.'

The girl looked up at me with scared, ashamed eyes, and I knew.

'Yeah,' I said softly. Oh, Jupiter! Jupiter Best and Greatest! Madness was only the half of it. 'Yeah, she is beautiful.'

Someone coughed: the wine slave this time, for sure. He'd come too late for me. My skin was crawling, and my belly churning. All I wanted now was to get out.

'Master, Crito is downstairs,' he murmured.

'Tell him to wait.' With his free hand Marius held out his cup for the slave to fill. 'I have a guest.'

'No,' I said. 'That's okay. I'd best be getting back.'

'Really? But you've only just arrived.'

'Yeah. Well.' I tried a shrug. 'You know how it is. Thanks for the information. And for the tour.'

'You're welcome.' His fingers were absently teasing open the neck of the girl's tunic. 'And if you do decide to sell that cylinder-seal then let me know first, won't you?'

'Sure.' I handed the slave my empty wine cup. 'Thanks again. Don't worry, I can find my own way out.'

I was glad to get into the fresh air of the Janiculan; but then after Marius's house even a walk along the Tiber would've smelt good.

I was almost clear of the Janiculan and heading along the path towards Trans-Tiber when the guy stepped out in front of me from behind a rock. I was lucky; I had a moment to duck, and the iron bar just brushed the top of my hair and clipped my left shoulder. As I drew my knife I was thinking, Oh, shit, not again! This was my second visit to the Janiculum in ten years and I'd been mugged both times. It seemed I'd only to set foot across the Sublician for the word to go out to the local yobbos that Corvinus was out to play.

At least this time I'd give myself better odds. Ten years back there'd been three of them, all professionals, and although this guy was big he was no Suburan hard-man. Most of him was flab, and he was breathing heavily already. He'd hesitated when he saw the knife, losing the advantage, and now we were standing staring at each other like actors who've forgotten their lines.

'Boo,' I said at last.

He scowled — no sense of humour, these amateurs — and swung the iron bar on a collision course with my left temple: predictable as hell, and years too late. I ducked into the swing and took him in his exposed side, but the jerkin he was wearing turned the knife and it only cut leather. We grappled, and I straightened up and drove the top of my head hard into his chin. His head snapped back and he let go, falling away from me and lashing out with the bar as he went. The tip caught the blade of my knife and sent it clattering out of sight among the stones somewhere to the left.

Bugger! I backed off quickly. It had been a fluke, sure — Ganymede was looking as surprised as I was — but it left me knifeless and facing three feet of iron thicker than my thumb. Not the best of scenarios, and it served me right for being cocky. Ten years ago I could still have taken him without breaking sweat. Now I wouldn't've liked to bet any more which of us would come out the other end. He moved forward, grinning now and breathing hard, while I started thinking about which way to dive and whether or not I could kick his kneecap loose when I did…

'Hey! You stop that!' The shout came from behind me. I wasn't fool enough to look round, but Ganymede's head went up and his grin slid away like oil off a hot griddle. Then he turned and ran. Fast: he may not' have been able to fight for nuts but where running was concerned he could've given a hare lessons. I stooped for a rock and flung it at his head, but it fell miles short.

'After him, Lamprus!'

I turned round finally just as something that was just arguably human hurtled past me and threw itself along the path. Gods! If that was Lamprus then I wished the other guy luck, iron bar or not. Then I saw who'd been doing all the shouting. A prim little man in a neat lemon tunic was picking his way carefully across the open ground towards me. If this was what I had to thank for saving my life, I thought, then it was positively embarrassing.

'You're hurt, sir?' he said when he reached me.

'No.' I massaged my shoulder where Ganymede's first attempt at taking my head off had caught it. 'No. I'm okay.'

'Isis be praised! What a brute!' He was sweating worse than I was; I could see the beads of moisture glistening among the thin strands of hair combed carefully across his bald scalp. 'A dreadful experience. Simply dreadful.'

'I've had worse.' I was looking around for my knife. I found it eventually wedged between two stones, far enough away and invisible enough to have ruled it out if I'd really needed it. 'Thanks, friend. He'd've had me cold if you hadn't come along.'

'Don't mention it, sir. We're only too glad to have been of service.' He took a napkin out of his tunic and mopped his forehead. 'The authorities really ought to do something about these footpads. Nights are bad enough, but when a gentleman can't walk the public streets in daylight without being set upon there's something sadly wrong with the world.'

'The Janiculan's hardly the Market Square,' I said. I could've added, And that guy was hardly an ordinary footpad , but I didn't; it would only have led to questions. I wiped the knife and slipped it back into its sheath.

'No, that's true. Even so…' He looked beyond me. 'Ah. Here's Lamprus back. I don't think he caught your friend. Did you, Lamprus?' The man-mountain gave a negative grunt and came over to stand beside him. It was like watching a warship docking. 'A shame. He's willing, sir, but he's no Pheidippides. Still, we'd better see you safely through Trans-Tiber just in case.'

'Thanks, but there's no need for that. I'm fine now.' I frowned; something smelt fishy here, although I couldn't quite say what. 'Uh, by the way, I didn't catch your name.'

He paused and smiled. 'Felix.'

'A freedman?'

'Yes, sir.' He ducked his head.

'Whose?'

'I used to belong to Sextus Titius Sabinus, sir.'

Uh-huh. The smell of rotten fish was getting stronger. I knew the name, sure I did. Sabinus was one of the men on my original shortlist, the close friend of Agrippina set up by a crowd of informers and executed for treason three years back. Now here was one of his freedmen jumping up out of nowhere with a tame gorilla in tow, just in time to save my neck for me. Neat; too neat. Coincidences like that happen, but I'd bet a year's income to a pitted olive that this wasn't the time. Felix and his big pet had been shadowing me.