‘Oh, fuck off, Simon!’ I laughed. ‘I’d be more touched by your concern for me if you didn’t so plainly want the horror for yourself.’ Was that another faint tremor behind me? Just in case, I bounced up and down. I focused on the bearded faces that looked nastily out from behind Simon and hoped he didn’t notice the terrified fart that my innards managed despite the lack of breakfast and lunch.
Simon let his arms fall back to his side. ‘You can’t sit there all day,’ he sneered. ‘Yes, even barbarians must eventually understand when they’re trapped.’ I shrugged and looked once more into the yard. Except for the man I’d knocked off the walkway, and who still had enough strength in his shattered body to wave at the dogs who were quietly closing in on him, everyone was up here and waiting at each end of the walkway. The sun was beating down on my bare back. Forget spiders and webs — much longer out here and I’d dry up like a slug in the afternoon sun.
I took my sword out and waved it, with a look on my face of careless happiness. ‘I may only be a barbarian,’ I said. ‘But you’re a bloody traitor. One of these days, I’ll finish the job of burning you to death. You’ll be tied to a stake in the Circus and whoever lights the pitch barrels heaped beneath you will be cheered on by a mob of seventy thousand. If you’ve heard about the law I persuaded Caesar to issue last year, about strangling victims before the flames reach them, be assured you’ll get the full old-fashioned service.’ I raised my voice. ‘You’ll all burn as traitors.’ I smiled at the nervous rustle of clothing behind Simon. ‘You’ll never spend a clipped penny of whatever the Persians have promised you.’ I repeated myself in Syriac.
‘My Lord Alaric assumes he will somehow remain influential in the counsels of the Empire,’ Simon replied with gloating ill humour. ‘You’ll find the Emperor himself isn’t that steady on the throne. I can see no place for a meddling barbarian in a government committed to peace and a restoration of the proper order of things.’
Ah — something else worth hearing. This was turning out, all considered, a most productive afternoon. ‘Do you really think Nicetas will be grateful for any of this?’ I asked. This time, though, Simon kept his mouth shut. I smiled again. Now everyone was looking at me, I might as well put on a proper show. I got unsteadily to my feet and braced myself against the renewed swaying of the walkway. I looked along its length and up and down the wall of the far building. I looked at another walkway that passed underneath mine at a right angle twenty feet down. I shut my eyes and thought. I turned and walked six feet closer to where Simon was standing. So long as I kept telling myself I was only six inches off the ground, I was surprisingly steady.
‘I thought you’d see reason,’ he gloated. Without turning, he ordered one of his men to reach forward and take my hand. But he’d broken too soon into his triumphant smile. I sat down again and waited for the renewed swaying to stop. I leaned forward and, paying no attention to arms that fully outstretched could pull my hair, sawed halfway through one of the supporting ropes, then halfway through the other.
‘What are you doing, you fool?’ Simon cried. ‘You’ll kill yourself.’
I looked up and smiled again. ‘Oh, I’m conducting an experiment that will leave one of us very disappointed,’ I said with fair success at a nonchalant tone. ‘Since I think mathematically and have a good eye for distance, I rather think it’s you who’ll be disappointed.’ I slashed quickly at both ropes and twisted about to hold fast on to one of the bigger and more solid slats.
The terrifying sense of having stepped off a cliff ended when my severed walkway hit the one below in a sudden change of direction that almost shook me loose. It buckled and arched, and picked up speed again as I saw the darkness of the first-floor window come closer and closer. With a burst of exhilaration, I realised I’d be spot on. I reached a low point about six feet from the ground, before swinging slightly upwards and slowing. I let go and, not so much as scraping myself on the window frame, landed on my feet inside the room. I steadied myself and sheathed my sword. It had been a perfect escape. Even if he’d been up to dashing straight after me, Simon would take ages to get down here. The one man on the top floor would be taking his life in his hands if he came downstairs at more than a crawl.
I went through the motions of brushing dust from what little clothing I still had on. ‘Perfect, my dear boy — perfect!’ I said aloud in Latin. I went into Greek: ‘Sometimes, I amaze even myself!’ I bowed to a wall of mud bricks. The thought then hit me of everything that might have gone wrong. And, from the moment I’d been approached by the compounder, anything could have gone wrong. It had been a continuing miracle that I wasn’t the poor sod, bleating out his last on that dung heap. Having no audience now to think less of me, I wondered if I’d fall down and vomit. But I heard a whimper, and reached for my sword.
For some reason, I’d assumed the room was empty. It wasn’t. Once my eyes were adjusted to the gloom, I saw a vastly obese creature, wallowing in straw as he was serviced by a couple of child prostitutes. He struggled to sit up, and the turd one of the children had deposited on his chest slid down, to be squashed beneath a fold of his belly fat.
‘What is the meaning of this?’ he demanded. ‘What are you doing here?’
I peered harder at the man. ‘Why, hello, Timothy,’ I said. ‘I didn’t recognise you without the wig.’ I realised I was standing on the outer garment of his Prefect’s uniform, and stepped on to the rough boards. I glanced out of the window. Simon had gone from where I’d last seen him. I thought about asking for the loan of Timothy’s cloak. My leggings were gone below the knees and their backside felt wholly ripped out. He’d probably refuse. I dropped the thought. My boots were sound. All else was secondary. I went for the door. ‘I’ll see you tonight,’ I said without turning.
Chapter 30
The only question worth asking about the carrying chair was how long its owner and his slaves had waited before buggering off. I couldn’t blame them in a place like this. I looked both ways along the narrow street before deciding to go left. Far away, I could hear Simon’s voice raised in wild shouting.
I’d rounded a corner when some piece of trash about my own age tried jumping me from above. ‘Oh, ho ho!’ he roared, nearly landing on my shoulders. I stunned him with the pommel of my sword and kicked him out of sight into a doorway. I didn’t check if he was breathing. I didn’t look about to see if he’d had friends. I’d have given more attention to scowling at a dog. Oddly cheered, I hurried forward. Unless I was mistaken, it couldn’t be more than a few hundred yards to the western side of Imperial Square.
It was a shame about the compounder. He’d been dragged into this against his better judgement. If I hadn’t taken my detour the previous day, he’d still be in the drugs market, innocently selling his wares. I tried to feel sorry for the old astrologers but failed. Besides, they might still be calling nonsense at each other from inside their pentagram of safety. I stopped in the silent street and looked at the contents of a chamber pot someone had flung from an upper window.
At whatever cost in frayed nerves, I’d found out something. I didn’t know how or why it had come to me but the cup had been awaiting collection by Heraclius. It had been stolen by Simon. What he had to do with Nicetas, and what Shahin was doing in our home waters, remained unclear. I bent and stared closer at the excrements spread out before me. They were wormy and streaked with blood, and had the squashy look you get from eating porridge rather than bread. How had the compounder come to his misapprehension — the correct misapprehension, I should say — about the cup and me? I hadn’t exactly flown from my hall of audience to the drugs market. Even so, I couldn’t believe word had been carried to him any faster than my own movements. How many other people knew I had the cup? Excepting Simon, those who’d seen it at the audience surely didn’t know what it was. Could I get away with holding on to it till Heraclius came back from Cyzicus, then leaving it in the place set aside in the Imperial Palace for anonymous gifts? Or should I tell everything to Heraclius and hope for the best? He had no one else who could balance the Imperial budget and otherwise tell him what to do.