The King's Gambit(57)

“I had some calls to make,” I told Milo. “Now it’s too late. Well, it hasn’t been a bad day’s work as it is.”

He was less pleased with the prospect. “I wish we could have got here sooner.” His eyes scanned the river docks with suspicion. “It’s going to be chancy, now it’s almost dark.”

“What do you mean?” I asked.

“I mean Claudius has had two days to nurse his wounded patrician pride. He’s liable to call on us before we can reach our homes.”

I hadn’t considered that. If he was still set upon thwarting me, he would have men stationed at the Ostian gate and the river docks. I was still armed, and Milo seemed to have little need of arms, but we were sure to be heavily outnumbered. At that time, it was not unusual for a political adventurer like Claudius to maintain a retinue of twenty or thirty thugs and be able to whistle up a mob of two hundred or more at short notice. Of course, he was just beginning his disreputable career, but I was certain that he could easily have a dozen bullyboys and bravos out looking for us.

“We should have picked up some hooded cloaks in Os-tia,” I said. “A disguise would be desirable just now.”

“If it’s dark enough,” Milo said, “they may not be able to see us.”

I was not certain of that, no matter how dark the Roman streets were. “There is somebody in the city who can see in the dark better than a cat. The break-in at my house, the stranglings of Sinistrus and Paulus, all of those things took place in pitch blackness.”

“It could have been a ghost,” Milo said. I wondered if he was serious. “But I never heard of a ghost strangling anyone, or stealing things, or taking an interest in politics. No, it must be something more substantial than a ghost.”

Darkness comes quickly so late in the year. By the time we tied up at the dock the stars were out, although the moon had not yet made an appearance. There were the usual late idlers hanging about the docks. There was no way to tell if any of them were on the lookout for us. We climbed the ladder to the wharf and walked through the warehouses, alert to any sign of pursuit.

“I’ll accompany you to your house,” Milo offered.

“I thank you.” I wasn’t about to let any foolish pride compel me to go alone. “You may stay there for the night, if you wish.”

He shook his head, the gesture barely visible in the gloom which deepened with every step we took. “It’s you they’re after. No one will bother me.”

Soon we were feeling our way along like blind men. The feeble light shed by the stars barely revealed the outlines of the larger buildings, and it reflected dimly from pavement wet from a recent shower. I jerked as Milo touched my shoulder. He leaned forward and whispered in my ear: “Someone behind us.” We were still several streets from my house.

Quietly, I reached into my tunic. With my right hand I grasped the hilt of my dagger and drew it. On my left I slipped the caestus. We walked on for a while and Milo whispered again.

"There were four behind us. Now there are two. Two others have slipped around a block to get ahead of us.” Whoever they were, the one with cat’s eyes was their guide. I could hear them, but Milo was better at judging their number. He was also a better tactician. “Let’s turn and get the ones behind us first,” he said, “then tackle the other two afterward.”

“Good idea,” I acknowledged. We whirled in our tracks and I could hear the two nearing us; then I heard their footsteps falter as they realized that our steps had stopped. There was a whispered consultation between them.

“Now!” Milo said, rushing forward. I heard him collide with one and I rushed in as blindly, leading with my dagger. I could feel someone there, but I wasn’t exactly sure where he stood and I was afraid of stabbing Milo. Then there was a face near mine and a blast of winy, garlic-laden breath and I knew this was my target. I thrust with my dagger as I saw starlight glitter on something coming toward me. I managed to bat the sword aside with the bronze strap over my knuckles just as I felt the dagger blade strike home.

At times of such desperation, such urgency of immediate action, all things take on an air of unreality. Time has a new meaning. As the man before me fell, I was whirled around by his collapsing body and saw coming up behind me a faint, diffuse glow, like the marsh-light that flickers over swamps to lure unwary travelers. In that moment, I think I truly believed that there was a ghost after us. But whose? There had been so many new-made lately.

Beside me there were multiple thuds and grunts as Milo took care of his own attacker. Then two more were on us and I reached out, grasped cloth and pulled it toward me, thinking that this was a tunic and I was dragging another man within reach of my dagger. Instead, I jerked a cloak from a lantern held by a man who gripped a sword in his other hand. Another stood crouched next to him, and behind them I could just glimpse a third hanging back. That meant five in all. So much for Milo’s superior hearing.