The Sacrilege(40)

“Someone’s probably dumped a chamberpot here,” I said. “See if you can get that torch going.”

“Doesn’t smell like shit,” Hermes insisted. “It’s sticky, though.” He whirled the torch around his head and the flames sprang to life again. By their light he examined the stains on his hands, legs and tunic.

“If you’ve ruined that tunic, I’ll flog you to—”

“It’s blood!” he cried, interrupting rudely. Now we both saw a whitish heap on the cobbles a few steps ahead. “A body!” he cried again.

“You’ll see lots of them after you’ve been in the Subura a while,” I informed him. “I wish the gangs wouldn’t do their dirty work so close to my door.” We went closer and Hermes lowered the torch. That was when I saw the red sandals decorated with the ivory crescent at the ankle. I gripped my weapons more firmly.

“Uh-oh. Not an ordinary corpse after all. Well, let’s see who we have here.” I crouched by the head and Hermes lowered the torch further. “Well, well,” I said. “Here’s somebody we know. Pity it isn’t Clodius, though.”

“Pollux!” the boy exclaimed. “It’s that little patrician shit who tried to poison you!”

And sure enough, there lay young Appius Claudius Nero, with a neat puncture in this throat and a circular dent in his brow.





8

I left him there until morning. he’d been no friend of mine, and I saw no point in waking up a lot of citizens just to come and gape at the little lout. Still less did I feel like losing a night’s sleep on his account. I’d had a long day and I was tired. So I just tossed a handful of earth over him and went inside. I bade Hermes soak his tunic in a bucket of water before he retired. As usual I was low on funds and did not want to have to buy him a new tunic.

I slept like a corpse myself and woke feeling much better. Cato brought in a basin and my breakfast at first light. I splashed my face and downed a mouthful of bread and cheese as I laboriously recalled the previous day’s sequence of events. As the cobwebs of sleep cleared, I realized that it had been a more-than-usually-eventful day. I ordered my thoughts while I munched on boiled eggs and fruit and finished off with a crust soaked in sweet wine. My father always told me I was a degenerate for eating breakfast in bed. Eating breakfast at all, for that matter. He thought it was an un-Roman practice and effete to boot. He was probably right, but I did it anyway. Just as I finished, Cato came back in.

“Master, there’s some sort of commotion out front.”

“Whatever might it be?” I said innocently. I had decided to keep quiet about finding the little wretch the previous night. “Where is Hermes?”

“Sick. Says he has a bellyache. I found his tunic soaking in a bucket this morning, so he must have fouled it last night.”

“Tell that malingering little swine to get in here immediately,” I said.

“He’s not faking it, master,” Cato insisted. “He’s puked all over his room.”

“How does that boy find so many ways to annoy me?” I said. I got up and went to his room. The reek of vomit was strong as I opened the door to his cubicle. The boy lay on his side on a pallet, his body curled around his fists, which in turn were pressed into his stomach. I squatted by him and felt his brow. He was not feverish and I sighed with relief. All I needed was pestilence in the house.

“When did this start?” I asked.

“In the middle of the night,” he groaned. “I woke up with cramps.” His scarlet face drained and turned pale. He sighed and sat up. “They come and go. I’m all right now, but it’ll start again in a few minutes.”

“Are the spasms getting worse?” I asked him.

He shook his head. “No. They’re not as bad as they were a few hours ago, and they’re farther apart.”

“Did you eat at Milo’s last night?”

“Yes. A couple of his men took me to the kitchen and I ate better than I do here.”

“They probably slipped an emetic into your food. They have a rough sense of humor. Be careful around them. Milo may be my friend, but his men are all murderers and criminals of all kinds.”

“Yes, sir,” he said weakly. He didn’t fool me. He yearned to be just like them.

“Listen, Hermes. I’ve decided to keep finding Nero’s body last night secret. Say nothing to anyone about it.”

“Yes, sir,” he said meekly. Apparently he was too miserable to protest.

“Good. I’m leaving now. You’ll probably have the runs next. If so, Cato will help you to the public jakes down the street. No sense making the smell in here worse than it already is.”