The House of the Vestals by Steven Saylor

Author:Steven Saylor [Saylor, Steven]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Publisher: Robinson Publishing
Published: 2011-01-30T07:00:00+00:00

The next morning I rose early and put on a red tunic, as the ransom letter had specified. Before I went downstairs to the tavern I told Belbo to find a place in front of the building where he could watch the entrance. ‘If I leave, follow me, but keep your distance. Do you think you can do that without being noticed?’

He nodded. I looked at his straw-coloured hair and his hulking physique and was dubious.

As the day warmed, the tavern keeper rolled up the screens, which opened the room to the fresh air and sunlight. The waterfront grew busy. I sat patiently just inside the tavern and watched sailors and merchants pass by. Some distance away, Belbo had found a discreet, shady spot to keep watch, leaning against a little shed. The bovine expression on his face and the fact that he seemed hardly able to keep his eyes open made him look like an idler eluding his master for as long as he could and trying to steal a few moments of sleep. The deception was either remarkably convincing, or else Belbo was as dull as he looked.

I didn’t have long to wait. A young man who looked hardly old enough to have grown his beard stepped into the tavern, blinked at the sudden dimness, then saw my tunic and approached me.

‘Who sent you?’ he asked. His accent sounded Greek to me, not Cilician.

‘Quintus Fabius.’

He nodded, then studied me for a moment, while I studied him. His long black hair and shaggy beard framed a lean face that was accustomed to sun and wind. There was a hint of wildness in his wide green eyes. There were no scars visible on his face or his darkly tanned limbs, as one might expect to see on a battle-hardened pirate. Nor did he have the look of desperate cruelty common to such men.

‘My name is Gordianus,’ I said. ‘And what shall I call you?’

He seemed surprised at being asked for a name, then finally said ‘Cleon,’ in a tone which suggested he would have given a false name but couldn’t think of one. The name was Greek, like his features.

I looked at him dubiously. ‘We’re here for the same purpose, are we not?’

‘For the ransom,’ he said, lowering his voice. ‘Where is it?

‘Where is the boy?’

‘He’s perfectly safe.’

‘I’ll have to be sure of that.’

He nodded. ‘I can take you to him now, if you wish.’

‘I do.’

‘Follow me.’

We left the tavern and walked along the waterfront for a while, then turned onto a narrow street that ran between two rows of warehouses. Cleon walked quickly and began to turn abruptly at each intersection, changing our course and sometimes doubling back the way we had come. I kept expecting to walk into Belbo, but he was nowhere to be seen. Either he was unexpectedly skilled at secret pursuit, or else we had eluded him.

We drew alongside a wagon, the bed of which was covered with a heavy sail cloth. Looking around nervously, Cleon shoved me towards the wagon and told me to crawl under the cloth.

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