Conspiracies of Rome by Richard Blake

Author:Richard Blake [Blake, Richard]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi, pdf
Tags: Action & Adventure, Hewer Text UK Ltd http://www.hewertext.com, Fiction, Sagas, Historical, War & Military, General
ISBN: 9780340951132
Google: mE_AGAAACAAJ
Amazon: 0340951133
Publisher: Hodder & Stoughton
Published: 2008-01-01T23:00:00+00:00

27

The wine dealer had his shop at the foot of the Caelian Hill, just by the road leading to the Lateran. The old watchman and another slave were sitting together in the doorway when we arrived with Martin. From the size and state of the jug at their feet, they’d drunk nearly a gallon of pale wine.

‘So, back at last, O little Celt,’ the old watchman called. ‘Will you have a drink with us now?’

Then he remembered himself and got up to bow to Lucius and me. He pointed at the other slave. ‘This is the one you want, sirs,’ he said. ‘Davus found the dying man.’

Davus was so drunk he could barely stand. I took him by the arm and led him in out of the sun. As my eyes grew accustomed to the dim light within the shop, I saw that we were in a large, cool hall, stacked high and deep with ceramic jars. Each one was labelled with a papyrus slip, showing the vintage and the price per gallon. There were steps leading down to a basement, where perhaps the finer vintages were stored. We sat down at a central table that I guessed was used for letting customers sample the wares.

At first, I thought Davus was too drunk to give us anything. But he drank deep from a jug of red, and seemed to pull himself together. His master was away on business, he explained, and he had been left in charge of the shop. The slave evidently thought himself lucky to be on his own.

Poor master, I thought.

As you might expect, he gave his story in a slow, digressive manner. The previous morning, he’d got up early to open the shop. As he was pulling down the little awning over the entrance, he’d been taken short and had gone over to the entrance to an ancient sewer across the street. Pissing into it, he’d heard a faint groan beneath.

With help from a couple of passing slaves, he’d managed to reach down and get the man out of the sewer. It seemed he’d been stabbed some while before and dumped as if already dead in the sewer. Perhaps his attackers had thought he was dead. He was pale and weak from loss of blood. Davus had sat him up and poured some wine into him. But the manhandling had caused the last of his blood to gush out. With a gasp, he’d died. Shortly after, men from the Lateran had come over and removed the corpse.

‘Did he say anything before he died?’ I asked. ‘Anything at all?’

Davus thought hard. ‘He said many things. But he was weak and I had trouble hearing him. One thing he did say clearly. “It was the Column of Phocas,” he said. “Destroy the Column of Phocas.” ’

I looked at Lucius. He looked back at me.

‘Whatever could that have meant?’ I asked.

‘Search me,’ said Lucius.

‘Perhaps he really said something else, sir,’ Martin added.

‘No!’ cried Davus. ‘I know what I heard. He said to destroy the Column of Phocas.

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