The King's Gambit(59)

Also, I was unhappy that the boy had been so close and once again had escaped me. Only he could lead me to the amulet that had been taken from this very room. With this thought, I looked to make sure that the ornamental bronze bars I had commissioned were in good order. For what it was worth, they seemed to be. I was beginning to believe that the creature was supernatural, though, and that no mere barrier would be proof against him and his strangling cord.

Wincing at the pain, I lay back on my bed and closed my eyes. I had learned much, and yet it was still not enough. Thus ended another day.





9


THE NEXT DAY I COMPOSED A LETter. It was something I had been pondering since I had seen the palanquin carrying one of the vestals a few days before. I had toyed with the idea, then discarded it. Now I picked it up again. What I was contemplating was not merely extralegal, it was sacrilegious. However, I now believed that the good of the state was at stake. Also, my life had been threatened, and that gives one a different perspective on man’s relationship to the gods.

“Reverend Aunt,” I began. “From your obscure nephew Decius Caecilius Metellus, greeting. I would esteem it the greatest personal favor if you would allow me to call upon you at your earliest convenience. My reasons for wishing to visit with you are twofold: First, I have for far too long neglected my familial obligation toward you, and because of a certain sensitive matter of state which I believe you may be able to help me with, if you would be so kind. If it is at all possible, please send your reply by this messenger.” I rolled the papyrus into a scroll and sealed it with wax. On the outside I wrote: “For the eyes of the Reverend Lady Caecilia Metelli.”

I gave the scroll to a slave boy borrowed from a neighbor and told him to deliver it to the House of the Vestals and wait there for a reply. The boy scampered off, doubtless wondering what sort of reward he would earn. It was customary to tip generously when you employed somebody else’s slave.

The captain of the vigiles had reported the four bodies found in the street that morning, but I was able to delay looking into it since, first, it looked like any other gang killing and, second, I could claim that the murder of Paulus took precedence. The deaths of four more thugs would not reach the Senate even as a rumor and I would only need to find out their identities and scratch their names off the grain dole, if any of them were citizens. In all likelihood, no one would come forward to identify them and in three days the bodies would be taken to the mass burial pits and would be forgotten.

As soon as the early part of the day’s business was transacted, I excused myself and went to the Ludus Statilius to call upon Asklepiodes. He was surprised to see me again so soon.

“What?” he said. “Surely there has not been another exotic murder for me to analyze, has there?”

“No, but there almost was. However, the victim is up and walking around this morning, and has come to you for treatment. Are your slaves discreet?”

"Come in,” he said, concerned, standing aside as I entered the chamber in which he had nearly throttled me two days before.

“You are the most interesting person I have encountered since coming to Rome,” Asklepiodes said. I sat on a stool and dragged my tunic over my head. He stripped off my amateur attempt at wound-dressing and called for one of his slaves. The man came in and Asklepiodes gave him instructions in some language I did not recognize, then he returned to his examination of my wound. “I have lived in some uncivilized places, but I have never known a public official to be assaulted quite so frequently.”

“You were among my attackers,” I said, wincing at the pain in my flank.

“Purely an educational exercise. But this fellow”—he poked the cut with a finger, drawing another grunt of pain— “clearly intended to take your life. This was inflicted by a gladius or a rather large, straight dagger with some curvature to the edge. You note the slight nicking here at the beginning of the cut? That is where the point first pierced the flesh before commencing its incision.”

“I know what sort of weapon it was,” I said with some impatience. “I saw it myself, along with the thug who wielded it. It was an arena gladius.”

“Just as I thought,” Asklepiodes said triumphantly.

“I rejoice that, once again, your judgment is vindicated. Now, what may be done about this wound, which I feel this morning may be more serious than it felt last night, when I was exhausted and the light was uncertain?”

“Oh, there is little cause for concern, unless mortification sets in, in which case you will almost surely die. However, that seems unlikely since you are young and strong and the wound is a clean one. If there is no swelling and suppuration in the next few days, all should be well.”