A Bitter Chill (40 page)

“I’ll go outside too,” Candidus said. “If the boat’s in danger, then I want to look after it.”

Quintus nodded. “Have you any weapons here?”

“No swords, I’m afraid. But there’s an axe, and a couple of good cudgels.”

“I’ve got a small dagger.” I touched the spot where it was hidden under my cloak. “How about you, Albia?”

“I’ll fetch mine.”

“Oh no!” Candidus was horrified. “You two girls must stay out of harm’s way. Barricade yourselves into the kitchen and wait there till this is over.”

“I’ll do no such thing,” Albia retorted. “I’m not missing all the action! I don’t know who or what you’ll find, but you’re not going in there without me.”

“Or me,” I agreed. “Candidus, if you’re marrying my sister, you’ve got to realise that we Aurelius girls don’t appreciate being left behind ‘out of harm’s way’.”

“Don’t argue with them about it, that’s my advice.” Quintus smiled ruefully. “I’ve tried, and I never win.”

While Rufus and Candidus went outside, the rest of us collected in the small hallway, facing the warehouse door. Quintus and Taurus stood shoulder to shoulder in front, Quintus with a dagger and Taurus holding an axe. Albia and I, with our daggers drawn, were the rearguard. Quintus fitted the key gently into the lock, and looked round.

“Ready?” he whispered.

We all nodded. He turned the key and flung the door wide.

It was a big box of a place, the walls made of crude planking, the floor just coarse gravel. In the light from the high window we made out six men sitting round a makeshift plank table playing dice, while two more sprawled on a pile of blankets by the left wall. They were strangers, except one: Diogenes.

As the door banged open, they glanced up casually, and then leapt to their feet. “Everybody stand still! Hands on your heads!” Quintus bellowed, but they ignored him. Suddenly they all had daggers in their hands and were rushing for the big door at the far end.

Two of them wrenched at the handles of the solid door, but the strong lock held. They all faced back into the room. We four were still bunched together in the doorway, blocking their escape route into the house.

“The window!” One of the men leaped for the small unglazed square next to the door. It was above shoulder height from the ground, and only just wide enough for a man to squeeze through, but these were fit young soldiers, and the first of them was out in the blink of an eye, with one of his comrades giving him a helpful shove from below.

“Stop them!” Quintus yelled, and he and Taurus charged across the floor. Two men turned and grappled them, while their comrades climbed out through the window. That left Diogenes, who took one scared look round and ran straight for the door where Albia and I were standing. He was holding his dagger as if he knew how to use it.

He charged at us, and we both instinctively moved apart, just enough for him to push through between. But I stuck out my foot to trip him as he passed. He stumbled, then almost regained his balance, till Albia kicked out at him and he fell face down on the gravel floor.

“Keep still, Mustela!” I yelled, and threw myself down to kneel on his back, pressing my dagger point into his neck. Albia sat down hard on his legs, which caused him to cry out in pain.

“No, please! Don’t hurt me!” He began to moan like a hurt animal.

“Stay quiet!” I yanked his head back by the hair and pricked the dagger into the soft skin near his throat till it drew blood. “What’s up with him, Albia? Is he injured, or just shamming?”

“His right leg’s badly swollen,” she answered, “and he’s got a bandage on it. He has an infected wound there, I’d say, quite a bad one. How did you come by that, Weasel?”

He said nothing.

“Well?” I jerked his head back hard.

“One of your mules kicked me. Get off my leg, you’re hurting me.”

Albia didn’t move. “When was this?”

“I was in the stables at the mansio.”

“Spying, you mean? Looking for evidence against Albia and me?” I was suddenly shaking with anger, almost out of control. I wanted to hurt him badly, to make him suffer for everything he’d done to us and our friends. “Albia, I’d hate to see Diogenes come to any harm because of one of our mules. Why not try lancing that leg of his with your dagger? I’m sure it’s the right medical procedure.”

“No! Please, no!”

Quintus’ voice came from behind us. “We’ve got two of them, and you have the pick of the bunch there, by the looks of things. He’s making a lot of noise. What have you done to him?”

“Nothing yet,” I said, “but we’re just about to start. Apart from betraying Margarita and Gaius, he’s been spying on us at the Oak Tree, trying to incriminate us.”

“I haven’t!” Diogenes whimpered. “Please, tell them to stop hurting my leg. I can’t stand the pain.”

“Give us some truthful answers,” Quintus said, “and I’ll consider it.”

“Who sent you to spy on us?” I asked.

“I haven’t been spying, I swear it!”

“Albia, I do think that leg would benefit from a little surgery, don’t you?”

Albia told me later she didn’t even touch his wound, but his scream brought Candidus into the warehouse at a run. “What’s going on, is someone hurt? Diogenes! What are you doing here, trying to escape among a bunch of army deserters?”

“Save me, Master Decimus, please!” the Weasel whined. “They’re torturing me. I’ve told them the truth, but they won’t leave me alone!” He stretched out his hands towards Candidus’ boots.

“Save you?” Candidus stepped back. “After you let Margarita and Gaius go to the Wolf-pack? I won’t allow anyone to torture you, but I’m sure they weren’t doing that in any case. Otherwise you’ll get no help from me.”

“We’ll take him into the house,” Quintus decided, “and the other prisoners can stay in here for now. How many did you catch, Candidus?”

“Two. The others got away, heading towards town.”

“We’ve got four altogether, then. That should be enough for Lucius.”

“Lucius? You mean Albia’s brother? What’s he got to do with this?”

“I’ll explain later. For now, can I borrow some strong rope, please?”

Quintus and Rufus tied the four prisoners up. They began to protest loudly and forcefully that they were soldiers, but Quintus merely shrugged. “You’re not in uniform, you’re dressed as slaves. Why should I believe you’ve suddenly turned into free men? I’ll take you back to the fortress, and we’ll see what your officers have to say.” That quietened them down, and we left them in the warehouse, guarded by Rufus.

The rest of us walked through into the sitting-room, Taurus keeping a tight hold on Diogenes. “I’ll tell Nasua to go outside and keep watch,” Albia said. “He’ll warn us if he sees anyone coming.”

Quintus turned to Titch. “Victor, I need you to take a couple of messages into town for me urgently. One for the duty guard commander at the fortress, and the other for Lucius.”

“Right, sir. Except I don’t know where Master Lucius is.”

“Neither do I, but the innkeeper at the Wolf’s Head will be able to contact him. The password is Midas.”

“Midas. Is Master Lucius out of trouble now?” Titch asked.

Quintus grinned. “After today he will be.”

“That’s good.”

“It is,” I agreed. “Very good.”

Diogenes was sitting against the wall, with Taurus towering over him. He was shivering, though it wasn’t cold. I wondered if his infected leg was making him feverish.

Albia saw me looking at him. “I wish you’d let me clean that wound for you, Diogenes.”

“No, don’t touch me!” he cried out, and tried to shrink away from her.

So much the better, I thought. I don’t care if his leg rots, especially if it’s followed by the rest of him.

Quintus looked down at the prisoner. “Diogenes, if you’ve murdered your master, I can’t save your life. But if you tell us everything you can, I’ll make sure you get a quick clean death.”

“I didn’t murder him. And I’m a free citizen now. You’ve no right to hold me against my will.” It seemed the Weasel had begun to use his wits. “I shall appeal to the local magistrate. To the Emperor, if need be.”

Quintus was equally calm. “What makes you say you’re a free man?”

“My lord Plautius gave me my freedom in his will.” He spoke slowly, as if explaining something to a particularly slow child. “I mourn for him, of course, but now that he’s gone to the Underworld, his last wish should be carried out.”

“Oh, it will be,” Quintus answered. “He insisted that the will he already had, the one everyone calls the ‘old’ will, should stand.”

“I know. With a codicil to disinherit Master Decimus.”

“That’s correct. And there was one more change to it.”

Diogenes stiffened. “What change?”

“Plautius crossed out the clause granting your freedom.”

“He wouldn’t do that. He promised!”

“All the same, he did.”

Diogenes stared at him, then relaxed and smiled. “You’re lying, trying to catch me out.”

Without a word, Quintus got up and fetched the copy of the will that we’d brought for Candidus and Albia. He opened the scroll out and held it, and Diogenes read it.

“I haven’t been given my freedom?”

“No.”

“You swear this is true? It’s not some kind of trick?”

“I swear it’s true.”

“Master Decimus!” Diogenes turned to Candidus, his calm giving way to panic. “You’re an honest man, I know you are. Do you swear this is what the will says?”

“I swear it, Diogenes.”

“Gods,” the Weasel muttered, “how they’ve used me!” He looked as if he might burst into tears—tears of rage, not grief. “All these years I’ve served them, tried my best to please them. ‘Yes, my lord! At once, my lady!’ I’ve done everything they asked of me, and more, and in return I was promised my freedom when the master died. I was
promised!
And now he’s broken that promise. He’s betrayed me.” Two tears ran down his face, but he shook his head angrily. He spoke so quietly he was almost whispering. “You may as well kill me now. I don’t want to live any more of my life as Sempronia’s slave.”

I had some sympathy with that, and even felt sorry for him briefly. But he was still a weasel by nature as well as by name, and I saw how we could turn his disappointment to our advantage. “Candidus,” I said, “could I have a word with you outside please?”

We went into the hall, and I briefly outlined what I wanted to do. He agreed readily, as I’d expected. We rejoined the others in the sitting-room.

“Diogenes,” Candidus said. “I intend to find out who killed my father. Was it you?”

“No, Master Decimus.
I
didn’t kill him.”

We both picked up the slightly odd emphasis on the word “I”. Candidus asked, “Do you know who did?”

“I can make a good guess.”

“Will you tell us who it was?”

“Why should I?”

“I thought,” Candidus said, “that you wanted your freedom. I’m prepared to give you the chance to earn it.”

He took the bait. Even the craftiest weasel will take bait, if it’s sufficiently tempting, and this one had nothing to lose. His dejected look vanished and he stared into Candidus’ pale blue eyes. “What are you suggesting?”

“It’s simple enough. If you help us catch the man who killed my father, assuming it wasn’t you yourself, then I’ll grant your freedom. I promise I will.”

“You’d do that?” He was pathetically eager, like a child who’s been offered a treat when he expected a beating. Then he controlled his emotions and became the Weasel once again. “But how do I know I can trust you?”

“Have you ever known me to break a promise?” Candidus countered.

He thought about it. “No. You’ve always been honest. And there are witnesses here.” He glanced round at the rest of us.

“We’re all witnesses,” Quintus agreed. “Give us information that leads to the murderer, and when he’s caught, you’ll go free.”

“All right. I think the person who stabbed Idmon and Leander also killed my lord Plautius,” Diogenes said slowly. “And I know for certain who murdered the two slaves. That was Timaeus. But killing Idmon was a mistake. He was trying to kill
me
. He thought I was sleeping in my lord’s bed that night.”

I said, “Horatius told me that Plautius arranged for different servants to sleep in his place when he felt afraid for his safety. That night it was your turn, was it, Diogenes?”

He nodded. “Timaeus didn’t know I’d swapped with Idmon, nobody did. We only changed late at night, because I had stomach pains and felt unwell.”

“Why did Timaeus want to kill you?” Candidus asked.

“Because of Margarita. We both wanted her, and he was afraid she would prefer me.”

Frankly I thought the Nile would freeze over first, but that might not stop Timaeus fearing a rival. “He was jealous enough to try to kill you? Is that what you’re saying?”

The Weasel nodded again. “Of course he denied it. When I confronted him with it, he admitted he meant to kill Idmon, because they were rivals for that little maid Ebrel. I suppose it’s possible, but I didn’t believe him. Anyway, the point is he didn’t intend to kill the master.”

“And then,” Quintus said, “when he realised he’d stabbed the wrong man, he killed Leander and tried to make the death seem like suicide?”

“That’s right.” The Weasel licked his lips. “Could I have a drink of water, please?”

While Taurus fetched it, my brain was racing, filling in the gaps in his account. Odious as Diogenes was, I realised he could be telling the truth. It all fitted together. He and Timaeus clearly hated one another, they’d made no secret of it. Rivalry over Margarita might be enough to turn Timaeus into a murderer…. Except somehow it didn’t feel right. But then Quintus would say I was letting my personal liking for the handsome doctor get in the way of the truth, and perhaps I was.

“Let’s accept that Timaeus killed the two slaves,” I said. “Why did he go on to murder Plautius?”

“Because he was so furious that my lord allowed the kidnappers to take Margarita and Gaius.”

“I understood that was Sempronia’s idea,” I said.

“Originally it may have been. But it was my lord who had the power and gave me instructions to make a deal with the Wolf-pack if I could. That was the way they often worked, my lord and lady. She made the arrows, and he shot them.”