Murder Imperial by Paul C. Doherty

Author:Paul C. Doherty [Doherty, Paul C.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: historical, Rome
ISBN: 9780755350216
Google: lqAzAgAAQBAJ
Amazon: B00GU35UWO
Publisher: Headline
Published: 2012-10-30T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 8

‘We who are about to die salute thee.’

Acclamation of gladiators

before the games

‘They either want to see me or have words with you, Claudia,’ Paris declared once they were out into the back streets. He pulled her closer. ‘Who are you really? What are you doing?’

‘My business, not yours!’ she retorted sharply, drawing back.

‘One final drink,’ Paris murmured. ‘But in a place I know.’

They threaded through the alleyways. Claudia realised they were going back towards the Palatine by a circuitous route. Against the starlit sky she could see the monuments and pillars, though here there were only shabby, dirty houses. Prostitutes, decrepit and aged, stood in doorways, leering out at them.

‘I’ll do you and your friend!’ one of them called out.

Paris turned, made a filthy gesture and pushed Claudia into the Oil Lamp, a small eating house. The air was savoury and sweet, the floor of its dining hall clean, with spacious drinking booths and a gallery above them. Paris was immediately greeted, people coming over to shake his hand. He smugly accepted their plaudits. Mine host showed him and Claudia to a booth and brought them two cups of what he called the best wine from Campania. A young man came swaggering up: thin-faced, with blubbery lips and popping eyes under close-cropped blond hair.

‘Paris!’ he drawled and sat down.

Claudia recognised Iolus, a famous actor until he drank too much and made a fool of himself on stage.

‘I know you,’ he slurred, pointing at her. ‘So, brave Paris is back.’

‘What?’ Claudia queried.

‘When Maxentius ruled the city,’ Paris explained, ‘I performed a mime at the theatre. Severus didn’t like it; he thought I was mocking his master. So I had to flee. I spent most of my time hiding in a cellar. I didn’t return until Constantine arrived. Aren’t I glad there’s been a change in government!’

‘You were never one for knives and blood.’ Iolus sipped from Claudia’s cup. His face became serious. ‘Can you use your influence, Paris? I’ll take any job.’

‘I have one for you at the moment.’ Paris pushed a silver coin across the table. ‘We are going to leave by the back entrance. Claudia, our guests have arrived!’

A group of thugs were now elbowing their way towards them. She glimpsed unshaven faces, hard eyes. Paris grabbed her by the hand and was pushing her towards the door. Iolus immediately created a disturbance to distract their pursuers. They reached the alleyway by an outside staircase.

‘Come on!’ Paris was no longer the arrogant, care-free actor. In the dim twilight he looked pale and anxious. Claudia obeyed. This was not the first time she had fled assassins, and it followed the same pattern, slithering and slipping, avoiding pot-holes, turning and twisting. The further they fled, the more Claudia became aware of how frightened Paris really was. Now it was up to her to grasp him by the wrist and urge him on. Then, like the end of a race, they reached the main thoroughfare leading up to the Palatine. She glimpsed guards and horsemen.

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