Lindsey Davis - Three Hands in The Fountain

'That's him.'

I should have known.

Titus wanted to give me directions, but there was no need: I had to ride up the Via Valeria to the point where the aqueducts were taken from the River Anio, then turn off along the road to Sublaqueum. I had to do it, moreover, not in the whole day it would normally take for such a journey but in the few hours before dark.

I left a message with young Titus in case helpers ever followed me. I had no hope of support now. There was no time for them to get here. I was in this alone.

The Imperial post couriers can ride fifty miles in a day if they change horses, and so could I. Being already in possession of a cursus publicus mount helped me bluff. I managed to swap the grey for a stocky chestnut with a blaze at a relay station just before the road to Horace's Farm. Another lost opportunity to visit the Bandusian Spring. I didn't care now. I had gone right off water.

The light was growing murky. I passed the aqueduct sources at the thirty-fifth and thirty-eighth milestones. On I galloped down the Sublaqueum road for four more miles until I came to the large mud reservoir. I stopped, looking for Bolanus. One of his public slaves soon appeared.

'Bolanus saw a cart drive by earlier. He went after it on a donkey.'

'Alone?'

'We've finished cleaning the basin. There was only him and me and a dragnet. He told me to wait here and warn you if you came.'

'I know where he's gone. Stay here in case help follows me; give them directions to the Rosins Gratus estate, will you?'

Upstream of the sluice that directed water into the basin, I could see the dragnet they had roped up across the river. Chilled, I prayed they had not caught anything today. I rode on, spurred by desperation. Now Bolanus had put himself in danger too. With his stiff back and his dim eye he would be no match for a vicious killer.

At the Rosius Gratus estate I slowed my mare to a canter. On the track to the house I saw nobody. The villa buildings lay silent; no slaves making their own entertainment here. My previous visit had given me the impression there was only a small staff. The housekeeper was here, anyway, because she had heard the horse and came out to investigate.

'Name's Falco. I was here the other day. I need a word with Thurius – is he back from Rome?' She nodded. 'What's he doing?'

'No idea. I don't keep track of that one.' She sounded disapproving. It all fitted.

'Where shall I look for him?'

'He should be in the stable, but if not you'll be hard put to find him. He goes off into the woods somewhere.' She looked curious, but was preoccupied with her work and let me go by myself.

'Thanks. If you see him first, don't mention me; I want to give him a surprise.'

'All right.' Obviously they left Thurius to his own devices. That was probably because they found him awkward to deal with. It was all as I expected: a loner; odd habits; unpopular. 'You look all in, Falco.'

'Long day.' And I knew it was not finished yet.

I tried the stable first.

I failed to find the driver, or Bolanus, but I did come across the cisium. Its two horses, still steaming, had been watered and fed. I stabled my own alongside them.

I walked around the elderly vehicle. As everyone had said, it was a high-based simple spin-along. Two big iron-bound wheels and a seat with space for two passengers. Under the seat was built a box, fastened by a strong padlock so that if the cisium was parked its luggage could be safely left. It was locked now.

I banged gently on the box. Nothing. With relief I noticed that what looked like crude air holes had been driven through the planks. I looked around for the key. No luck. Naturally. I had not expected this to be easy.

This was a stable; there had to be tools. I wasted a few seconds doing one of the pointless things you do; trying to pick the lock with a nail. Ridiculous. I was too tired to think straight. A lock that could be undone that way would be useless. I needed something stronger. Keeping an eye out for Thurius, I went and searched the outbuildings until I found a store. As at most remote villas, it was well-equipped. A crowbar partially bent the hooks of the lock, weakening the metal, then I struck it off with one furious blow of a hammer. Sweat poured off me: not from exertion but from sheer anxiety.

I stood still, listening. Nothing moved here or at the house. I braced myself and flung open the box.

There were several filthy smells, human in origin. But apart from some sacking, the source of these odours, there was nothing inside.

I would have to search the woods.

I wanted to shout her name: Claudia! If she could hear my voice it might give her strength to hang on.

It had grown too dark. I went to the house, begging a lantern. I knew I needed help. I asked the housekeeper to summon the other slaves who worked there. There were not enough of them, yet quite quickly – as though they had been waiting for something to happen – a motley crew of short- legged, shambling, shifty labourers assembled and stared at me.

'Look, you don't know me but my name is Falco and I am working for the government. I have to find Thurius. I believe he has kidnapped a young girl, and he intends to kill her.'

I noticed a few exchanged glances. Nobody had ever voiced suspicions, presumably, yet they were none of them surprised. I fought down my anger. They could have saved who could say how many women and girls. Well, at least they could help me try to rescue Claudia now.

'If you think you see him, don't approach. Just yell loudly for the rest of us.'

They did not need telling twice.

We patrolled the woods from dusk until it grew too dark to carry on even with torches. We called. We searched cattle byres and woodstacks. We thwacked bushes with branches, startling wildlife who had lived in the coppices undisturbed for years. We set up flares along the track and in clearings. A loose donkey did wander out of a thicket to greet us; it must be the one that Bolanus had used, though there was no sign of him. Thurius never showed himself and we never flushed him out, but he must have been there, and he must have realised we were after him.

My lack of stealth was deliberate. It was my last hope of deterring him from touching the girl.

I kept them at it all night. Wherever he was sheltering, I had to pin him down as long as it was dark. We kept the racket up, moving from place to place until eventually the first rays of light began to slide across the placidly running waters of the Anio. Then I passed the word that everyone was to sit tight, stop calling out, and keep absolutely still while we watched for Thurius to emerge from his hiding place.

I had spent much of the night near the river. Something drew me there and held me. I had snatched some rest, crouching down on my heels with my back to a tree bole, while my brain raced and continued listening. Now I was awake, as much as a man can be who has not seen a bed for two nights.

As the first light crept over the hills, I walked to the riverbank quietly and washed my face The water was cold. So was the air, much chillier up in these hills than back in Rome. It was so early that sound carried a vast distance. I let the water from my cupped hands ripple back into the river as gently as possible, making no more noise than the splashing of a mountain trout.

Against a stone in the water something bright just showed in the early light. I bent down and stared. It was an earring. Not a pair to the one Bolanus had shown me; that would be too great a coincidence. This was a simple hoop, probably not even gold. There was a socket for a pendant bead, but that was missing. I dipped my fist into the cold river for it, then turned back to land, pausing to shake off the water and shove the jewellery into my purse. Standing there in the Anio I suddenly felt exposed. The killer must be very close. If he knew I was here, he could even be watching me.