The Devil's Treasure (The Byzantine Saga Book 4) by Richard Blake

Author:Richard Blake [Blake, Richard]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Lume Books
Published: 2017-08-10T04:00:00+00:00

Chapter 6

A dungeon cell is an excellent place for thinking. There’s little else to do. But not at first. And, when it did come, thought was less ordered than Rodi found useful.

He’d finally put Scruto to the back of his mind. When error is irreparable, repentance is useless. Repeat that often enough, and you’ll eventually believe it – for a while. For the moment, Rodi had reached a working compromise with the fact of the death. It created some space for other thought.

First reflection, then – Aripert was stuffed. A king may be a bone-idle and mostly drunken debauchee. But a king is still a king, and there’s a limit beyond which he won’t let himself be pissed-off. Aripert had reached that the dinner before last, and had been on borrowed time ever since. If he might not be joining Great-Uncle Sigmund as part of the family silverware, he’d not be Mayor of the Palace. Nor would he be stepping into the Eunuch’s shoes as Emperor of Italy.

That was his problem. It would only become Rodi’s once out of this place. One way or another, this wouldn’t be too hard to achieve.

He’d guessed right he was included in the arrest. Compared with most he’d known, it was a genteel arrest. He’d not been beaten. He’d not been raped. He’d not been thrust into some stinking common bin for human refuse. He’d not been chained. He had a cot with a blanket, and a chamber pot of lead. If, now and again, fingers of the miasma from the lower reaches of the dungeons would poke into his cell, he had air and reasonable light. Since being locked in, he’d been brought clean water and passable bread.

More important, he hadn’t been searched. He had his picking tools about him, and could be out as soon as everyone was gone off for the night. He’d already checked by reaching through a gap in the otherwise solid door. One padlock – easy to reach, easier to pick.

But that would be a last resort. Everything about the arrest had told him it was temporary. The temporary had now stretched rather long – no longer, though, than Rodi would have left it. For all this was a luxury cell, as these things went, the smells and sounds of human despair were enough to incline anyone to whatever cooperation might be suggested.

He'd be out soon enough. In the meantime, keep quiet. Keep still. Keep up a show of docility that wasn’t entirely a show.

And try to think.

The flash of understanding on looking into that box had been a false dawn. To be sure, Scruto had stolen it from the priest Ambrose. It had once also contained the clasp Rodi still had on. Those ambassadors had been associates of Ambrose. They wanted the box back. It was a joyous surprise for them to find Rodi in possession of the lost clasp. A reasonable assumption they’d wanted to lay hands on him the night before, to get the clasp he was wearing, and to force him to give up the stolen box.

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