Food for the Fishes (Marcus Corvinus Book 10) by Wishart David

Author:Wishart, David [Wishart, David]
Language: eng
Format: azw3, epub
Published: 2015-02-01T16:00:00+00:00

15

Bathyllus’s precognitive faculties were obviously at their usual razor-sharp level, and when I hobbled up the drive he was already standing by the open door with the obligatory jug and cup, eyes fixed in horror on what was left of my mantle and tunic. No surprises there: as far as sartorial elegance went, I wouldn’t’ve given a month-old scarecrow a decent run for its money. I took the cup from the little guy’s nerveless fingers and drained it. Beautiful!

‘Dinner started?’ I said.

‘Yes, sir.’ He poured a refill and cleared his throat. I could see that the muscle in his right cheek was beginning to twitch: a normal day’s wear and tear is one thing, but having the master come back in a state that would’ve disgraced a third-grade Tiber scavenger offended Bathyllus to his respectable core. ‘Ah...perhaps you’d like to change first, sir.’ He sniffed. ‘A wash wouldn’t go amiss, either.’

I grinned: from the tone, the sniff and the look I was still getting I had the distinct impression that the finicky bugger would cheerfully have made it a hosing down at short range by the local fire brigade. Not that he was totally out of line, mind: after what I’d been through that day I’d’ve killed for an hour in the bathhouse. Still, with dinner already served there wouldn’t be time for that, even if the furnace was lit. ‘Yeah, okay,’ I said. ‘Fair point, pal, no arguments.’ I stripped off the mantle. ‘Give this a decent burial, will you?’

‘Yes, sir.’ He took the thing from me in a fastidious one-finger-and-thumb grip. ‘A pleasure. Interesting day, sir?’

‘It had its moments.’

‘So I see.’ Sniff.

‘Sod off, Bathyllus.’ I was still grinning. Disapproving major-domos or not, it was nice to be home; to be alive and home. That was enough for the moment. I’d think about the implications of our friendly pebble-slinger later.

I downed the refill, held the cup out for more and then went upstairs for a sluice and a change.

When I came back down the starters were already half gone.

‘Uh...sorry I’m late,’ I said, easing myself onto the couch beside Perilla as naturally as I could manage. Evidently not naturally enough, though, because Perilla was frowning at me.

‘Are you all right, Marcus?’ she said.

‘Sure. Never better.’ I reached - gingerly - for the wine. Luckily, Diodotus’s bandaging was hidden by the tunic - she’d see it later, of course, but that was a confrontation I intended to put off as long as possible - and I’d managed to tidy up the worst signs of the cross with the homicidal slinger. ‘Just a bit stiff from walking, that’s all.’

‘Hmm.’ She dipped a stick of raw carrot in the fish sauce. ‘So how was your day?’

‘Busy.’ I’d been casting covert glances at Mother and Priscus on the other two couches. Oh, hell. Evidently there had been Developments, and I didn’t need to be an augur to see that the signs weren’t good: the equivalent of all the sacred chickens at once keeling over and handing in their feed pails.

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