by Alex Gough
‘Listen,’ said Manlius. ‘Let me go out there. I am a veteran. I know how to handle myself.’
Camilla shook her head. ‘You don’t know who is out there. We just need to pray the vigiles or urban cohorts come before he finds me.’
‘Finds you? Why would he want you?’
‘No, stay back!’ It was Villius’ voice from the hallway. High-pitched and panicking. She heard him hammering again, a different door this time. Clearly all her colleagues had taken the same option as her and barricaded themselves in their rooms.
‘Where is she?’ The other voice was deep, hoarse, full of menace. ‘Where is Camilla? I know she is working here today.’
Villius had never struck her as one to whom bravery and self-sacrifice came naturally, but maybe there was something about being threatened in his own territory, maybe he knew he was about to die. Whatever his thinking, Camilla heard him say in a voice that quavered despite the defiant words, ‘You will have to come through me first.’
‘So be it.’
Camilla tried to picture what was happening right outside her room, from the crashes, cries and gurgling noises. Whatever the reality, it was short-lived. Moments after it started, all was quiet. Then the gravelly voice came again.
‘Camilla? Where are you?’
Her skin went cold as if an ice wind had blown across her.
‘I know you’re here. I asked around.’ She heard him pacing up and down. ‘You’re brave, I’ll give you that. I think most would have hidden or fled, after our last encounter. I thought it would take a long time to find you. But no, not you. You are too full of pride to run. Pride. Ha. You should be too ashamed to show yourself in public ever again.’
There was a crash, the sound of splintering wood. A woman’s scream.
Camilla flinched, but it was not her own door caving in. A man’s voice, a yell of outrage cut short with a thudding sound. More screaming, then sobs, then chokes, then quiet once more.
Manlius had a face as white as her toga, unable to comprehend what was happening.
‘Is it him?’ he asked her in a whisper. ‘The madman who has been doing this killing?’
Camilla nodded, tears trickling down her face. Where were the vigiles? The legionaries from the cohorts? When would they arrive?
There was a thump at her own door, and the boards creaked, and the bed gave a few inches. Without prompting, Manlius helped her shove the brace back into position, and leaned against it.
‘Ah, you’re in this one, aren’t you? Why delay the inevitable? You can’t escape. And no one is coming to save you. There is no Carbo here today.’
‘No Carbo?’ whispered Manlius, puzzled. ‘But I heard it was Carbo that…’
Another crash, and the door lock burst apart. Manlius and Camilla were thrown back into the room. Quickly, they rushed back to the improvised fortification. But more impacts followed. The door planks broke apart, meaty hands tore then away, and now Camilla saw Cicurinus’ face, a mask of fury.
With the door in pieces, it was trivial for Cicurinus to grab the bed and hurl it into the room. He stepped into Camilla’s chamber, and she saw he held a short knife that looked tiny in his meaty hands.
Manlius stepped forward. Whether he felt bravery or terror was irrelevant. It was clear that he had to fight or die.
Camilla backed to the far side of the room as the naked Manlius confronted the much bigger Cicurinus. Cicurinus looked down at him with sneer. Manlius threw a punch, a firm jab, whose speed took Cicurinus off guard. Cicurinus’ head snapped back, and he retreated a step. The punch had landed on his cheek, and Cicurinus explored the developing bruise with his fingertips.
Then, faster than Camilla would have thought possible for a man of his size, he thrust his blade into Manlius exposed abdomen. The naked man had no time to react, to dodge or flinch. His eyes and mouth flew open wide, and he stared down at the hilt protruding from just under his rib cage.
Cicurinus drew the blade savagely downwards, opening him from sternum to groin. Slippery, glistening ropes of guts spilled out onto the floor accompanied by a shower of blood and intestinal contents. Manlius dropped to his knees, then pitched onto his face.
Camilla had her back to the wall, staring in absolute terror. At some point, she hadn’t noticed when, her bladder had let go, and the inside of her legs were wet with urine.
‘Why?’ she whispered. ‘I don’t understand.’
‘No,’ said Cicurinus, and his voice held a tinge of sadness. ‘I don’t suppose you would. Your face is buried too deep in the filth of the gutter to be able to look up and see the stars. Just know that each death of one such as you takes Rome and Germania further on the path back to greatness. And there is the added bonus of killing you that it implicates Carbo even further. That’s why I came for you in the baths. You’re a well-known associate of Carbo. Your death is the final nail in his crucifix. Everyone will believe he finally snapped and killed you as well.’
‘But,’ said Camilla desperately, ‘That won’t work. Carbo, he…’
In the dim, flickering light of the oil lamp, the knife flashed.
Camilla fell to her knees and he watched her bleed out, her sentence unfinished.
Chapter Sixteen
‘What do you mean it wasn’t him?’
Pavo sounded both petulant and exasperated. He looked at Vespillo from behind his desk, his palms pressed down onto the wooden surface.
‘It can’t have been. He was locked up when these new murders took place. In my cell, under guard the whole time.’
‘And the details are the same? Same sort of people? Same graffiti on the walls?’
‘Well,’ said Vespillo. ‘Same sort of people, certainly. It was a killing spree inside a brothel. The leno, his bodyguard, prostitutes and clients. But no, no graffiti this time.’
‘So it may have been unrelated? Someone else, with a grudge?’
‘Who goes to a brothel and slaughters everyone there on the basis of a grudge?’
‘So he had an accomplice. There are two of them.’
‘Does that really seem likely?’
‘Likely or not, you hold in your station the man that Titus Servilius Ahala believes murdered his son, and that man will be the one that pays the price.’
‘Even if he’s innocent?’
Pavo spread his hands placatingly. ‘Look, Vespillo, I know this Carbo is your friend. But you have to be professional about this…’
‘Are you questioning my integrity?’ said Vespillo, his voice rising. ‘I imprisoned my friend because I believed him guilty. I was prepared to hand him over for execution because I thought that was right. Don’t you dare question my professionalism.’
‘Now, now, calm yourself. I’m just saying that he must stand trial. If he is innocent, as you say, then the courts will find him so.’
‘Even with Ahala’s money in the jury’s pockets?’
‘Careful now, Vespillo. Those sort of allegations can be very damaging without proof. To the person making them.’
‘I need to release Carbo.’
‘You shall do no such thing. He is pending trial. You can release him after that, if the jury so decide.’
‘This is wrong, Pavo, you know it.’
‘Since when has the law been concerned with right and wrong, Vespillo.’
* * *
Carbo was sitting on the floor when the cell door opened. He looked up and saw Vespillo enter, looking sombre.
‘Come to give me more good news, old friend?’ asked Carbo sarcastically.
‘Mixed,’ said Vespillo. ‘You’re free to go.’
Carbo got slowly to his feet, regarding Vespillo with suspicion. ‘Don’t mess about with me. That’s not worthy of you.’
‘I mean it. I don’t believe you committed these murders any more.’
Amazement, disbelief and relief warred inside him.
‘What’s changed?’
Vespillo rubbed his hand over his beard, hesitated, then said bluntly, �
��Camilla’s dead.’
The air left Carbo’s chest in a rush. It felt like he had been punched. Of course that was why they were letting him go. Because the killer had struck again, while he had a rock solid alibi. And of course it was Camilla who had died. Just as Carbo had predicted.
‘I warned you,’ said Carbo. ‘I told you she was in danger!’
‘I know. I’m sorry. Look, let’s go to a tavern. I’ll buy you a drink.’
‘You think that is enough of an apology?’ spat Carbo. He looked at the open door. ‘You said I can leave.’
Vespillo nodded.
Carbo strode to the exit, looked back at Vespillo. ‘Fuck you. I hope your conscience can handle this.’
He swept past Taura and Pinarius, who stepped back hastily to get out of his way.
* * *
With his head down, Carbo marched out of the vigiles station, mind whirling. His footsteps led him automatically into the heart of the Subura, and before he even realised it, he was standing outside his old tavern.
He looked up and down the street. It was busy, but few were considering starting drinking at this hour, mid-morning, and he knew from his time as an owner that it was usually empty around now. He eased the tavern door open a crack and peered inside.
He saw Marsia bustling about, and a figure sitting at a table. As his eyes adjusted to the gloom, the man’s face resolved itself into Vatius’ distinguished features. Carbo let out a sigh of relief and eased himself inside.
Vatius saw him first and lifted a hand in greeting.
‘Carbo, what a pleasant surprise.’
Myia, who had been asleep on Vatius, jumped down and barked excitedly for a few moments, jumping up on her back legs and running in tight circles. Carbo reached down to fuss her head, and when she had checked his hands for treats and found none, she scuttled back to the comfort and warmth of Vatius’ lap.
Marsia stared at him with an expression of guarded joy. Her eyes continually darted to the door, to the back room, as if something was going to happen, someone was going to come and take him away again.
Carbo stepped forward and put his arms around her, crushing her against him, and she hugged him back tightly.
When the embrace broke, she stepped back and looked searchingly, anxiously into his eyes. ‘How are you here? Did you escape?’
Carbo gave her a half smile. ‘Vespillo released me. He doesn’t think I am a murderer any more.’
Marsia seemed to sag in relief, a tension visibly departing her.
‘But how? What made him change his mind?’
Now Carbo’s expression was grim. ‘More murders. While I was locked in Vespillo’s cell.’
‘A fine alibi,’ commented Vatius happily. But Marsia could see the pain in Carbo’s eyes.
‘Who?’
Carbo pursed his lips, let out a breath. ‘Camilla.’
Marsia put her hand to her mouth and turned away. Carbo stood helplessly, looking at her back. She blamed him. He blamed himself.
‘I know you are angry with me, Marsia. It’s all my fault, and I put her in danger to save my own skin.’
Marsia turned back and her expression was resolute. She gripped his arm. ‘No, master. She had much to pay for, for her part in your ruin. It was only right that she try to make amends. It is very sad that it cost her life. But the guilt is with the killer. Not you.’
The words were like a sip of water to a man dying of thirst. Not enough to quench the awful feeling, but a drop of comfort nevertheless.
Marsia took Carbo’s hand and ushered him to sit. She sat opposite him, leaning forward, not releasing her grip on him.
‘What happened?’ she asked.
‘You don’t know?’
She shook her head. ‘All I heard was that you had been arrested, and Camilla went missing at the same time. I had no idea.’
Carbo glanced over at Vatius, who was well within eavesdropping range.
‘Don’t worry about Vatius,’ said Marsia. ‘He is absolutely trustworthy.’
Carbo nodded, then recounted what had happened in the baths, his arrest, his meeting with Pavo and Ahala, and his release.
Marsia took it all in, not interrupting to question. When he had finished, she asked, ‘What do we do now?’
‘Do?’ asked Carbo. ‘What do you mean?’
‘About the killer. What are you going to do about him?’
‘Now they know I am innocent, I think I should leave Cicurinus to Vespillo.’
Marsia let go of his hand and sat back in surprise.
‘You aren’t serious?’
‘Why would you think that?’
‘Master, look at what he has done. Leaving aside the many people he has killed, people we have bumped into in the streets, served drinks to, gossiped with, think of what he has done to you personally. Impersonated you, to make the authorities think you were the culprit. Attacked you. And murdered Camilla. Yes, she had her faults. But she died because she was trying to help you. So don’t tell me you are going to do nothing.’
Carbo flushed. ‘Well, I… Of course I’m going to do something.’
‘If you are hesitant,’ put in Vatius, clearly listening to every word from his seat a dozen feet away, ‘think of this. Vespillo may be convinced of your innocence, but from what you have said, the dead noble boy’s father, this Ahala, thinks he has his man, and is likely to need a lot more to convince him not to make sure you are punished for the crime. And no doubt he has Pavo in his pocket.’
‘I said I would do something,’ snapped Carbo. Then he ran his hand over his face and looked down. ‘But I have no idea what.’
‘You need to catch him,’ said Marsia firmly. ‘Show him dead or alive to the witnesses, to Pavo, so they can see it was him who did the killings and not you. It will prove your innocence once and for all, and stop the murders.’
‘But how do I find him? I tried to draw him out before, and look what happened. Besides, he will be wary of me now.’
‘Well, what do we know about him?’ asked Marsia. ‘What is driving him to do these things?’
‘He’s mad,’ said Carbo, simply.
‘So are many men,’ said Marsia, ‘but they still have motivations.’
Carbo thought. What had Cicurinus told him?
‘He said that he is being urged on, coached, by this German priestess, Veleda. He respects the Germans, wants both Rome and Germany to keep each other strong and pure, noble opponents, like, I don’t know, famous gladiators or mythological heroes.’
‘So he respects Germania and the German gods?’
‘I would say so, yes.’
‘So if someone was showing the German people and their deities disrespect, he would be angry?’
‘Yes, and so would Veleda.’
‘So, we need to find someone to be rude about Germania, and see what he does about it.’
‘Maybe,’ said Carbo. ‘But who would we ask to do such a dangerous thing?’
‘I’ll do it,’ said Marsia immediately, but Carbo shook his head vehemently.
‘Out of the question. I will not put you in any more danger.’
Marsia opened her mouth to protest, but it was Vatius who spoke next.
‘Have you ever read Ovid’s Metamorphoses?’
‘No,’ said Carbo, at the same time as Marsia said, ‘Yes.’
‘Of course you have,’ said Vatius to Marsia. ‘I would have been disappointed if you had answered otherwise. You remember Tiresias?’
Marsia looked up, trying to recall. ‘He was the man who had to settle the dispute between Jupiter and Juno about who got the most pleasure from sex? Because he had been turned into a woman, and lived as a woman for many years, so had experienced it from both sides.’
‘Quite so,’ said Vatius. ‘And for the record, he confirmed that women get more pleasure from the act than men.’
Marsia rolled her eyes, but Carbo cut in. ‘Vatius, this really isn’t the time for one of your lessons…’
‘Marsia,
do you remember why he was turned into a woman?’
‘He… hit two snakes with a single stick?’
‘Exactly.’
‘I’m not following,’ said Carbo, but Marsia was nodding slowly.
‘It seems to me,’ said Vatius, ‘that you have two problems, Carbo. One is Cicurinus, and all the threat he still holds for you. The other is Olorix, who took everything from you. Including Marsia, who suffers terribly for it.’
‘Two snakes, one stick,’ said Marsia thoughtfully. ‘I think I have an idea.’
* * *
The smack across her face knocked Marsia to the floor. She had actually started to throw herself before the blow landed, both lessening the physical while accentuating the dramatic impact. She had quickly learned that Olorix liked to see his chastisements have an effect, and stoicism only heightened his anger.
She stayed on the floor for a moment, lying on her hip, hands planted in the clean straw that she had only just spread out. Hidden by the hair drooping down over her face was a half-smile, as she thought of what was coming his way.
‘Get up, useless slave,’ spat Olorix. Slowly, with exaggerated stiffness, Marsia got back to her feet.
‘Now explain to me again why takings are so poor.’
‘Master,’ said Marsia, keeping her voice timid and respectful. ‘Men do not visit. It is all the former owner’s fault. He drove them away, and now they have all found other places to drink. They have no reason to return.’
‘Maybe I should have you flogged naked in the tavern every evening. That might draw a crowd.’
‘Master, if I may be so bold, I do have an idea.’
Olorix looked at her suspiciously. But he was nothing if not avaricious, and if his slave had come up with a moneymaking plan, he would want to hear it out.
‘Get me a cup of unwatered wine and tell me what you have in mind.’
Marsia hurried over to get him his drink and proffered it to him where had now settled his considerable bulk.
‘Well?’