Marilyn Todd - Black Salamander

More pertinently, however, was that at this juncture in their lives, both Maria and Dexter were too self-absorbed to venture beyond their own selfish needs-although it had given Claudia something of a shock this morning, seeing Maria decked out in the Spider’s colours. But these were ancient Sequani insignia, too, and Maria was out to impress the governor.

The tiny tots were finally pulled apart, to be led away squealing and squabbling, bawling and blubbing, leaving the Forum reduced to a carnage of fabric ears and woollen tails, of spots and stripes and manes. A fire-eater came along to take the crowd’s attention away from the sweepers.

‘Oh, and before you put forward our chubby priest as a murderous contender,’ she said, ‘take a look at his face.’

Was there ever a more graphic picture of misery? No prizes for guessing whether Clemens had heard about Ecba’s murder before he’d had time to hand his pouch over! There he sat, head in hands, rocking backwards and forwards, his mouth working silently, although whether this was to recite more taboos or to argue his case with the Salamander, Claudia couldn’t possibly tell.

‘Eliminating suspects could take days.’ Orbilio scrubbed his face with his hand. ‘Could-it-be-him, could-it-be-her, cases for, cases against.’ He shook his head and sighed. ‘It seems so long ago, the blocked ravine, the trek over the hills, that I’m starting to question whether the whole thing wasn’t a product of my own imagination.’

‘Why don’t you just arrest me and be done with it?’

‘You, young lady, have a fetish about manacles and as much as I’d like to pursue this interest of yours, have you seen Theo this morning?’ His eyes scanned the crowd. ‘I want to pick his brains about the eight men sent to meet us on the road. Strange, how no word’s come back.’

Claudia frowned at the fire-eater. How did he do that

‘Theo?’ She knew the sword swallowers’ trick-specially made collapsible blades-but fire? ‘Can’t say I have.’

‘You said he was a courier?’

‘So?’ The key had to be a special coating on the stick, so that the flames, though large, were at the same time lacking in heat.

‘Claudia, in case you haven’t noticed, the Salamander’s map carriers haven’t had an overly successful mortality rate.’

Fire-eaters were instantly forgotten. ‘You can’t imagine he’s in danger? He’s a soldier, for gods’ sake, he-Marcus?’ His eyes were staring into space, his mind somewhere between Africa and the moon. ‘Yoo-hoo. Anybody home?’ A glacier took hold of her body, chilling her flesh and freezing her marrow. Holy shit! Suddenly her lungs wouldn’t work. ‘Theo’s another of the agent’s victims, isn’t he?’

Orbilio said nothing. He simply stared deep into his thoughts. And the chill inside her bones deepened. She pictured his boyish face, the freckles, the wide silly smile. ‘Marcus? For gods’ sake, answer me! Is Theo dead?’

‘What?’ His gaze came back into focus. ‘Oh. No,’ he said, and his voice was strange. Kind of strangled. ‘No, actually. I don’t believe Theodorus is dead. In fact, I don’t believe he’s in danger.’ Serious eyes burned into Claudia. ‘But I do believe we’ve found our killer.’

Think about it. Who’s the one person Libo, working undercover with the Security Police, would trust? Who’s best placed to dispose of the other two legionaries in the pre-arranged rock fall? Who’s in an ideal position to arrange which person travelled where in the convoy? And who’s word would never be doubted when it came to taking the secondary route round the mountain? Who resented Marcus from the outset?

All these points Orbilio made to Claudia, and in fairness she could argue with none of them. On the other hand Theo had applied no pressure on whether the convoy should wait for the rescue party or press on by themselves, she pointed out. Hadn’t he been as earnest as the next fellow to recover the dead? He’d spotted Arcas’s fire while it was still in its infancy, the killer would have played for time. Most importantly, Theo carried a pouch, which could hardly be for the purpose of establishing his cover. Each courier had been led to believe they were acting alone in smuggling gems to Vesontio.

‘Who’s to say how many other pouches he had hidden under his cloak?’

No, no, this was nonsense. The suggestion that he had a whole cache of them-Claudia couldn’t buy that. This was Marcus again. Under pressure. Overwrought. His face was drawn and pale with the strain. She knew he hadn’t slept last night (he’d found Ecba at three in the morning), and heaven alone knows when he last had a good meal. Well, it serves him right, she thought, flicking an imaginary speck off her knee. Not content with spiking Galba’s guns to allow the Emperor to live and breathe another day, oh no, Hotshot here has to be a bloody hero.

She knew full well the reason. In sending his report back to Rome, that oily weasel of a boss of his would arrest Galba, elicit a confession, round up the co-conspirators, prevent a mass assassination, save the Empire…and should the name Orbilio crop up, that would be purely an oversight. The credit would rest on the squat shoulders of the Head of the Security Police. It would be he, not Marcus, on whom medals and honours were heaped! To get any kind of mention, Orbilio would need to get results in Vesontio. A list of rebel chieftains, for instance, would advance his political ambitions greatly. As would arresting a multiple killer before Galba got round to squealing on his agent. And if he could hand over the map pinpointing the spot where Galba had stashed the State Treasury, then by Jupiter, he might even outwit his smarmy boss and attract all the kudos himself, for which lack of sleep and lack of food rated not at all in his view.

But he ought to put things in perspective.

Theo was no mass murderer. He lacked leadership qualities and authority, and took refuge in a good sulk. Hardly the demeanour of a savage killer. More than that, and this is what swayed it in Claudia’s opinion, was that Galba’s agent would know that Orbilio, having skirted the rock fall which blocked the ravine, would have seen the iron wedges which screamed sabotage. Had Theo been the killer, he’d have had ample opportunity to kill Marcus when they were evading the Spider’s war party. A quick stab, perhaps to the horse, bringing both down and abracadabra, the Sequani take home a trophy.

There was one other point, too. Equally valid. Namely, that Theo had risked life and limb to rescue Claudia when that loose saddle strap had sent her flying through space. On the slippery edge by the animal’s lair, it would have been simplicity itself for him to nudge her over the side and pretend she’d slipped before he could hook up the rope.

Indeed, Claudia would have outlined her objections, had Supersnoop not jumped up as though stung by a bee. ‘Stay close to the group,’ he warned. ‘Just this once, Claudia, do what I ask.’

‘Don’t I always?’

He let out a less than genteel snort of laughter through his nose then, with a wink, he worked his way to the end of the aisle. If I’m right, he’d said, and Theo’s the killer, he’ll have skipped town and not shown up at the barracks. I need to check, and so he was off, darting between the horn players and the pipers, on another wild goose chase, which would at least set his mind at rest, she supposed. And maybe throw light on the eight missing soldiers, for that was really quite odd.

You don’t lose eight men very easily. Not on a main road.

‘Pssst.’

Assuming they’d stuck to the road? Perhaps they’d reached Vulture Valley, seen that it was blocked, taken note of the abandoned wagons and taken it upon themselves to follow the trail over the hills.